#this is on ao3 under the name 'from the enemy domain'

[thetomorrowshow]

hi i’m the anon who asked to make more of the reverse au

i realised i’m actually pretty terrible at writing and am terrified of posting my work anywhere but i still have so many ideas. i thought i’d just share them here in case you or anyone else is interested (you don’t have to read them i just want to get them out of my head)

-scott and jimmy become pen pals and write to each more and more until it’s a daily occurrence. through the letters jimmy tells scott everything that was said in dissonant air (he can’t control his powers, he never meant to hurt anyone, the depressing thoughts, etc)

-they see each others real faces during a poorly timed letter delivery. scott had come to give jimmy his letter in his civilian get-up at the same time jimmy was leaving his apartment

-scott didn’t return to being a hero between the times he was kidnapped from his injuries and from his fear of seeing xornoth again. he stayed trapped in his house writing letters. his friends were more than happy to help him buy groceries and stuff every once in a while. nobody noticed when he got kidnapped except for jimmy, since the letters stopped coming. at first jimmy thought scott had come to his senses and stopped talking to him but still had a feeling something was wrong

-jimmy tried to tell the other hero’s something was wrong but they didn’t trust him. after days of constantly bothering them and insisting major was in danger they finally complied. jimmy told them about scott’s previous kidnapping and they got on the case

-the hero’s tried to find xornoths lair by themselves (they wouldn’t let jimmy help for obvious reasons) but gave in after months of failure and let poor jimmy help. he used what information he could find from all of the letters he was sent. it wasn’t a lot but it was enough to work with

wow this got long. sorry about that! there’s still other stuff i had in my head with this (like with what was going on with scott during all of this and how they get him out) but idk if you’d want to hear more. sorry if this was bad i’m not the best with writing and grammar

I never thought I would write anything else for this au of an au. But hey, here we are.

For clarity's sake, Jimmy is 'S' and Scott is 'M'.

---

Hey! Hope everything’s good. Sorry about your security camera :/ I think I broke it… But I just wanted to say thank you for not mentioning me to the police. Or the reporters. Yeah. Sorry. But I hope you’re getting to feeling better! Thanks again and sorry again

Thanks

S

~

Thank you for your help.

-M

~

Hey, just wanted to let you know I got your note! Glad I could help, really. I feel like I never do anything right, so it was nice to be able to help someone for once. On a related note, I think your groceries went bad. Sorry :( I should start pre-writing these so that I don’t stand on your doorstep for so long. But how does getting groceries delivered work? I’ve been wanting to try it for a while because supermarkets are a landmine. But I hope you’re well! I hope you’re eating enough. Sorry about the groceries.

Thanks!!

S

~

Please do not stand on my doorstep to write notes.

You visit the store’s website and click the delivery option.

-M

~

Thanks for the advice about the whole shopping thing! I haven’t done it yet because I dropped my phone into an incinerator the other day and I’m still trying to buy a new one but the power goes out every time I walk into an electronics store. I’ll try it out once I have a new one though!! And I’m so so sorry I know I shouldn’t stand on your doorstep because like anyone could pass by, which is why I’ve only been stopping by at night, but I think Pearl almost saw me the other night so I’ll be more careful.

Sorry again!!

S

P.S. Sorry I’m standing on your doorstep but I was just wondering why you haven’t done any interviews?? You’ve been back for while now and people are going to worry… just checking to make sure you’re okay! Getting kidnapped can kind of take it out of you for a while :/

~

Sorry you haven’t said anything I just wanted to let you know that I tried out the delivery thing!! It worked really well actually I didn’t have to sign for it or anything just came right up to my doorstep. A lot of the stuff wasn’t what I ordered and the jam I wanted had shattered but it worked and it was way less stressful than usual so you’re the best for telling me how to do it thanks so much!

S

P.S. sorry sorry sorry but you don’t have to write me back if you don’t want to, I just wanted to check that you’re doing okay! Have a good week :) 

~

If they sent you the wrong items, you should get a refund.

Thank you. I don’t plan on any public appearances until I don’t panic when I go outside for the time being. I am recovering well.

-M

~

Okay you didn’t say to stop writing but it was good to hear from you! I felt really bad that I couldn’t help you more that night so I just worry. I’ve been thinking lately though that you probably don’t want to hear from me though so I can stop.

I do need to say something first, though. I mentioned it when you were at my at that apartment with me, but I don’t know how much you remember from then or anything. But basically I’m so so sorry about everything. Like literally everything. I’ve never forgiven myself for Aeor and I don’t expect you to, either, but I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry. If I could change everything I would. Believe me I would. I’ve hurt too many people. It would be better if I didn’t exist. I don’t deserve to I’ve hurt I should just start a new note at this point, haha. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I understand if you don’t want me to write any more notes. I’ll stop. I hope you’re doing well and you continue to recover!

S

P.S. last time I got kidnapped I was really scared of going back to my apartment so I moved and I felt better, so maybe you need a bit of time out of the city to help you get tip-top :)

~

Thank you for the apology.

And my therapist thinks that might be an unhealthy way of coping, as much as I might agree with you that getting away sounds nice. I’m working through it.

You don’t have to stop writing.

-M

~

I AM SO SORRY I DIDN’T KNOW YOU WERE AT MY DOOR BEFORE I WALKED OUT LET’S NEVER TALK ABOUT IT AGAIN

Anyways wow you have a therapist that’s good!! My advice isn’t really good haha sorry. I actually did therapy for a little when I was in school but then everything went really bad with my powers and but then things didn’t work out. I don’t know why I crossed that out. Basically I was in therapy to try and learn how to control my powers and well we know how that ended up.

Quick question maybe I haven’t paid enough attention to you on tv but are your eyes naturally that blue? Because it’s really blue.

S

~

This is my natural eye color.

I didn’t know that there was a therapy program for children who struggle to control their powers. You said it didn’t help, though. I’m glad that you were able to figure it out without professional help.

You were kidnapped before. Does it get any easier? I’m sorry to hear that.

-M

~

Oh so about the therapy thing yeah my powers came when I was like 15 and that’s usually a little old for that therapy but they made a special exception. But no it didn’t work. Actually my parents were planning to send me away to a specialist where I could get the help I needed but it never ended up happening. So I just never learned how to control them.

On a related note a giraffe ate my new phone but I tried out the delivery thing again before that! I kind of expect to get the wrong things because of my powers haha so I’m not going to complain about my ten bottles of ketchup. But my jam did shatter again so I have to decide if it’s worth the anxiety of going to the store.

The first time I got kidnapped, I was really scared. I didn’t know what was happening. They wanted information, I think? I was panicking really bad because they kept pointing guns at my head. I got out pretty quick but it was bad for a long time. I didn’t want to leave my apartment. I mean I never do, really, but it was even worse.

I don’t know when I moved on. I think my sink broke and I was forced to leave the house, but moving isn’t the same as moving on, you know? Like you can run anywhere but it’s usually just running away. You have to face it.

S

~

Thanks for the advice. I really liked that last thing you said.

I don’t want to face them, though. I know I have to, but what if they take me again?

I’m sorry. These are my problems, not yours.

-M

~

Oh gosh I didn’t mean you have to face Xornoth!! No that sounds bad! They literally kidnapped and tortured you for like a month dude! Honestly forget what I said about the whole running away thing, you should really try to get away from this situation if you can. You shouldn’t feel responsible for Xornoth when they hurt you like that, let someone else deal with that! There are tons of supers in the city, just tell one of your friends that you don’t want to be involved with Xornoth and they’ll take care of it!

S

~

I’m the Primary Protector, though. It’s my job to face the city’s greatest threats, and Xornoth is one of them. I should be able to handle them.

I don’t want my friends to see me any differently. They already give me weird looks. I honestly wasn’t very badly hurt—I was mostly malnourished. They don’t understand why I’m not back in the game yet. I don’t know how to tell them.

I wish I could leave.

-M

~

:(( it sounds like you’re really struggling. Do you think you might have PTSD? You don’t have to answer that. But you should take your time! If it was anyone else, I think they’d have moved very far away to get away from the danger which is smart. It’s actually really upsetting that you can’t. Maybe you can work out like a code with your friends so that they can come in and handle Xornoth if they show up while you’re working? Honestly just the fact that they were able to kidnap you once means that there should be extra protection for you. Heck maybe I can do something.

If you need anything though I’m here. I don’t get it exactly but I kind of know what it’s like. I mean yeah I’ve been kidnapped before a couple of times but I know what it’s like to not want to go outside in general. To be scared of what could happen. Well you have other friends but I’m here to help if I can. I don't make promises ever because they never work out for me but I'm here.

S

~

Thank you for the offer. I don’t think there’s anything you can do to help.

I have been diagnosed with PTSD, actually. I’m also readjusting to my antidepressants still, so my therapist thinks some of my anxieties come from the meds change and will even out in time.

I think I’ll do a public interview soon. I don’t want them to think that they’ve scared me away.

They’re dangerous. Please don’t endanger yourself. They experimented on me They might try to It isn’t worth the risk.

-M

~

The craziest fight happened downtown!

Okay so I was really just trying to get to the Planet Fitness to take a shower (I’m not homeless haha my shower is broken again) but Mythics was battling Pearl downtown and it was WILD. Like they were not pulling any punches, and I thought they were kind of friendly rivals but this was just crazy! But then the Oracle got involved? So the fight just kind of stopped when he touched them and then he left. I thought the Oracle was a villain but that was vigilante behavior if you ask me. I get it though, if I could’ve done that I would’ve. Like maybe he just needed to take a shower too.

Anyways my powers decided to make everything ten times worse like usual so a giant worm burst out of the ground. Maybe I should have let the Oracle touch me too so that I could join Mythics and Pearl on the ground crying. They’re fine btw some civilians dragged them out of the way of the worm. I was too busy trying to figure out a way to deal with the worm. I think Mythics woke up and magicked it into one of his portal things.

But anyways it was crazy. Well you probably already saw it on the news or something.

I hope the interview goes well!! How does that even work? Like does somebody come to your house or do you go to the news station or what? I'm assuming you've done a couple of interviews before idk.

S

~

I saw about the attack. You should look up ‘tired man throws phone at giant worm video’ if you haven't seen it.

For the interview, I reach out to a news outlet and set up an interview (or, more often, they reach out to me). Then we usually meet in a nice room in their office. I've done tons of interviews, you can find them on my twitter or on youtube.

I'm nervous about the interview. I tried to get a reporter I like but I just know that they'll ask me why I've been away. I don't want them to think I'm weak. It isn't your problem, anyways. I'll talk about it with my therapist.

Really though, you should watch that video.

-M

~

NOOO THAT'S SO BAD THAT SHOULD BE A CRIME

In my defense I was really tired and I just threw whatever was in my hand at the worm, I didn't realize it was my phone.

I've never given an interview before but man that sounds stressful. I hope it goes well! I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention me in it of course but you know that. Good luck and let me know how it goes!

Also if it helps at all taking time off definitely doesn't make you weak. Sometimes it's even stronger to admit you need a break than to keep powering through. Especially after being held captive and tortured for a month.

Good luck again!!

S

P.S. your cat is super cute but maybe she shouldn't be outside? It's really dangerous for cats to live outdoors and I don't want to accidentally hurt her :((

~

Thanks for the kind words.

I can send you the link to the interview if you tell me your phone number. Or I can dm it to you on twitter—is the verified account actually you? The one that mostly shares scam links and random ip addresses?

Also I'm working on leash training Elle, so that we can go on walks and she can be an inside cat.

-M

~

I've tried to write this note like fifty times but the paper keeps tearing so I'll keep it short. My phone number changes a lot and I currently don't have a phone (giraffe again) but I'll just look it up when I get one! And yep that's my twitter, I try to delete the old pictures of me it posts but I gave up on when it posts my location.

Good luck again!

S

~

Why don’t you delete twitter?

-M

~

I did :( 

S

~

Solidarity, your life kind of sucks.

-M

~

You’ve got no room to talk, mister.

S

~

So that’s what it is, isn’t it? We’re just two losers.

-M

P.S. but, for the record, your life is way worse than mine.

~

Okay I’ve got a new phone and I watched the interview! You did incredible, I think I would’ve run away like two seconds in. Like even when they asked that one question about why you weren’t back to work when you’re pretty much physically all right, you really kept it together. I was genuinely so impressed.

Also you’re looking good! I don’t know how to explain it haha, but you look a lot better than you did on my living room floor. How are you doing? Do you think it went well?

S

~

I’d look a lot better in your bed Thanks for watching. It was hard. It was really hard. But I think it helped. I feel kind of better about getting back into it all. Not yet, but maybe soon.

Do you ever wish you’d chosen a different path in life?

-M

~

I never really had a choice to make.

S

P.S. but if I wasn’t powered, I think I’d want to do something with my hands. I used to think subways were the coolest thing ever. I wouldn’t mind learning how to fix a subway car.

~

I studied to be an architect. I loved city architecture. I wanted to design skyscrapers.

I didn’t ever plan to be a hero full-time, but I do like it. I enjoy my job. I’m famous, I live comfortably, I do cool stuff on TV.

But what if I would’ve been happier as an architect?

Sorry, this isn’t your problem. I should talk to my therapist about it.

-M

P.S. Maybe you can take a community college mechanics course?

~

I really can’t, cars tend to break down around me. I don’t even take Ubers anymore (not related to the car breaking-down thing, but because last time the driver held me at gunpoint and stole my phone and wallet).

Honestly mate, if you want to be an architect I'd say go for it. Even if it's only something you can do on the side you know? There's tons of people who never got the chance to do what they love. You deserve a good life.

S

~

Thanks. I'm sorry that you never got to choose. You deserve a good life, too.

I can't let Xornoth win. If I run away, it's defeat. If I don't do anything about it, they might hurt someone else.

I need to take care of this myself.

-M

~

That sounds like a suicide note.

S

~

Wouldn't be the first time.

-M

~

You should ask your friends for help. You don't have to do this alone. You shouldn't face them alone.

S

~

I haven't really talked to anyone since I got back. I know it isn't healthy but I can't. They don't get it. They don't know what Xornoth did to me. I can't let it happen to anyone else. They're a danger to the city and it's my duty to take them down. Alone.

I'm sorry.

-M

~

You aren't alone, okay? If you have no one else, you have me.

S

~

Thank you.

-M

P.S. it means so much to me. I consider you a friend. You have me, too.

~

I saw you on the news fighting the Engineers. You looked good! The fight went really well. How do you feel about it? Is there anything I can do to like support you?

S

P.S. Elle won't stop begging me for belly rubs but each time I try she nips my fingers :(

~

Hey are you doing all right? I mean you took a little bit of a hit in that fight so it's okay if you can't make it to my apartment to drop off a note haha. You can email me if it's easier awsumwingback8@yahoo.com.

S

~

Major please just like let me know that you're okay.

S

~

I may have broken into Blossom’s house (I meant to just knock but the door fell down) and she kicked my butt but she hasn't seen you in a while, she said. Are you okay? I'll break into your house next haha.

S

~

I know you told me not to write notes while I'm on your doorstep but if you don't open the door by tomorrow night I'm breaking in. Elle keeps trying to get me to follow her inside. I'm going to watch your house until tomorrow night, okay? You don't have to write back, just open the door.

I'll come for you.

S

P.S. I didn't mean to sound weird or creepy I mean I have your back. I'll come save you if they got you. 

I promise.

[porcelainseashore]

Into the Ether (8)

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Toreador! Leon Kennedy x Fem! Reader

Summary: At the all-night events cafe you run, you’ve become acquainted with an elusive patron, Leon, though you can never remember the last moments of your interactions together. After a harrowing encounter, a love-hate relationship develops between the two of you as you grapple with your newfound status in a world of darkness and investigate the reasons behind the untimely attacks.

Content & Warnings: 18+ Resident Evil x Vampire: The Masquerade crossover, horror, mystery, romance, slow burn, strangers to enemies to lovers, angst, fluff, eventual smut, swearing, smoking, alcohol, drug references, non consensual blood drinking, blood bond, vampire turning, violence, injury, mild gore, torture, religious themes, minor character death, RE ensemble, VtM concepts.

Author's Note: Implied torture and mild gore ahead.

Taglist: @admirxation @angelstargel @miss-oranje-disco-dancer ❤️‍🔥

AO3 Link

Chapter 8: The Chantry

He should’ve known you would be sharp enough to pick up on his remark about the suitor back at the cafe. Damn him and his big mouth. Well, you would’ve gotten wind of it somehow anyway, especially since Wesker had put you on this case with him too.

You waited patiently for his answer, as you saw a range of emotions sweep across Leon’s face. Unlike his compatriot, Luis, he was not a great talker. You’d experienced that first hand when he tried to reveal his nature to you.

“I don’t know who he is exactly, but most likely a higher-ranking Anarch,” he divulged, eyeing you intently to gauge your reaction. “The guy wanted to use you as a way to bring the East Side under their domain.”

A bunch of mixed feelings churned within you as you lamented the fact that just when you were beginning to reach an understanding with the man, fate decided to throw another roadblock in your path. “So, you Embraced me first to prevent that,” you deduced, the hurt in your voice evident as you made the following observation, “Was I just some political tool to you?”

“No, angel—” he caught himself as he accidentally let slip his term of affection for you. “You have never been, and will never be, a tool to me.”

Reaching over, he laid his hand protectively atop yours, tracing delicate patterns across its back. To his surprise, you didn’t berate him for using that pet name, nor did you shy away from his touch. Perhaps you had given in, your fire extinguished to smoky cinders.

“You know I feel a great deal for you… and regardless of what you may think, I’ve always wanted you to have a say in your Embrace,” he reiterated undeniably.

You bit your lip, still doubtful of his words. “What would you have done if I had said no?”

There was a thoughtful pause before he replied, “Probably be devastated, but I could never force you. Not like that.”

With a bitter laugh, he commented further, “I might’ve killed that son of a bitch before he got to you though.”

All at once, you were reminded of the side that made him inhuman, talking about murder as if it were a normal part of his daily routine. It irked you, but it also comforted you that he would do anything to keep you safe.

“And risk Final Death?” you asked, wondering if he was joking, or if he really would break the last of the Traditions for you. Unless the Prince had issued a Blood Hunt on a specific individual or group of Kindred, he would be forbidden to destroy another of his kind.

“Would’ve been worth it,” he quipped under his breath, his searing gaze unabashedly roaming across your body, following every contour of your silhouette as he admired what was before him. 

You wore things differently from his sire, which was all he had ever known. When he reminisced about Ada, bold, bright reds, like a fountain of blood, flooded his mind. Blood which he drank from every Sunday, worshiping martyrs and sacrifices, up until the point he had strayed. Blood which gave him a taste of life and death, anger and passion, lust and love. Blood from a broken hymen on bleached white sheets, like the innocence he’d lost when he stepped into the underworld. Blood drained from a pig to drench him in when he was hazed, the resulting humiliation he had felt after and his reddened cheeks, just like the shame that carved out a hole within him when Ada left. His throat tightened, just like the way her clothes hugged her body like a boa constrictor.

And then there was you, in emerald greens, deep burgundies and swatches of black — duller, yet no less luminescent beneath the surface. Something he had to work for, digging to unearth the gem of humanity he had squandered away over restless nights and bouts of insomnia. Your flowy dress robes and kaftans transported him to gap year adventures under the starry skies in Morocco, sand filling your shoes, and the scorching heat on the desert breeze. He had never been, never left the city since he was turned. But he loved to imagine a future where he could travel there with you. Dancing with wild abandon, in dark kohl eyeliner and that carefree smile. God, that smile… and your fire. You could captivate him for days. He never thought he could feel so intensely for another person again, but he was wrong — and he was glad to be.

From your end, you regarded him with reservation. The love he declared for you bordered on instinctual passion and obsession, and you couldn’t decide if you found it flattering or problematic. As a Toreador by blood, would you end up like him? It was still early days, yet he treated you as if he had been pining after you for a century. You wondered if this was just a temporary, fleeting thing and he would eventually tire of you in time to come.

Almost as though he could read your mind, he broke away, avoiding eye contact with you as he apologized, “Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Adjusting his collar awkwardly, he cleared his throat, coming back to his senses as he uttered, “We should, um, discuss about the Tremere.”

You nodded in agreement, dabbing your palms against your forehead and cheeks, letting the coolness seep into your warm, flustered skin. “So, I’m guessing you found something?”

“Not quite,” he sighed, gently rubbing the temples at the sides of his head.

Pushing himself up off the couch, he went over to his desk, grabbed a bunch of papers, and handed them over to you. Thumbing through the sheets, you briefly scanned its contents, realizing it was a shift schedule of all the Umbrella scientists based in NEST, as well as a couple of reports, though signed under a different name from the person you were meant to get in contact with.

Ms. Rebecca Chambers. The up-and-coming Tremere prodigy who had recently returned from a stint at the Hartford Chantry, renowned for their work on mind and memory alterations. Like the rest of the clans, the Tremere were a secretive sort, and even more so. They guarded their research and activities closely within their base of operations, known as chantries. Leon had mentioned to you about their adeptness in matters of the blood or ‘Blood Sorcery’ as it was named. They had once been a group of mages who discovered immortality through undeath, though they had wrangled their power at the expense of other Kindred. No wonder Jill had called them ‘ursupers’. You didn’t like the sound of their schemes and ploys either.

“Rebecca’s not in any of the schedules, and there’s no trace of her anywhere, even though she works directly under Wesker,” he put forth. “She’s not even credited in the projects she’s meant to be researching on.”

“It’s all signed off by this guy: Glenn… Arias?” you took a shot at pronouncing his name while flicking through the pages.

“Yeah, that’s her Regent,” he pointed out. “And a jealous one at that.”

“What do you mean?” You stopped rummaging, peering at Leon with a quizzical look.

“Well, word has it that he intends to hold onto his position for as long as he’s unliving. Meaning, capable apprentices are considered a threat to be dealt with,” he expunged.

“But he can’t just make someone relatively high-profile like Rebecca disappear,” you stated, pinching your chin in a thinker’s pose. All this sleuthing reminded you of those classic black-and-white noir films from the 1940s. Pity you were missing the whiskey and cigars.

“Yes, he can,” he insisted, pacing the room like a lead detective hot on the case. “He’s already doing it now — scrubbing out her achievements, making sure she leaves an invisible trail, and hoping that she’ll be forgotten among the sea of neonates who dazzled a little too brightly.”

“And of course the fucker is taking all the credit for her work,” you sneered, disliking this guy already before you even met him.

“Looks like you and I have something in common then,” he noted with a lopsided smile. He hated the man as much as you did. “Unfortunately this leaves us with no choice. If we want to get to Rebecca, then we’ll need to go through the fucker.”

You slumped back into the couch, your weight causing the upholstery to mold to your body. “Gonna need a whiskey beforehand.”

Shaking his head as he laughed, he took a seat on the coffee table directly opposite the couch facing you. “Sure, just be prepared to throw it up an hour later.”

━━━━━━━━━━━

When nightfall came the next day, you found yourself sulking in the passenger seat of Leon’s jeep as he drove towards the northwest of Raccoon City, heading straight into Raccoon Forest. It would be several miles before you’d reach your destination. In the background, grunge rock music from one of the local radio stations played at a low volume through the car speakers. Resting your head against the window, you heard Leon humming along to the melody as he tapped the steering wheel in time with the steady beat of the track.

“Funny, didn’t take you as a rock’n’roll kinda guy,” you muttered, still peering out of the glass pane, unwilling to look at the man who you were dead certain was wearing a giant smirk on his face right now.

“Glad I can continue to surprise you then,” he answered jovially. “I was young and rebellious once you know.”

“You? A rebel? Please…” you scoffed, rolling your eyes so far back into your head you probably could’ve popped them out of your sockets if you wanted to.

Instead of replying, he belted out the chorus lyrics in his annoyingly smooth voice. Frankly, you were a little sore about your exchange earlier back at his place when he had kept his word, and allowed you to have a sip from a cask of fine French whiskey stored in his vitrine. The problem was, he didn’t tell you that it would taste like shit.

Seeing as your undead body wouldn’t be able to digest it, you were prepared to risk throwing up just to have a shot of alcohol running through your veins. However, it turned out that everything except wine would taste like ashes and dirt. You didn’t even need to force yourself to regurgitate the contents; you did it naturally, spewing it out like a spray while Leon howled with laughter. Some fucking joke that was. Asshole.

“Still pissed off, huh?” he questioned. You could sense a hint of remorse in his voice.

“Take a guess.”

You felt his fingers brush against your arm. “Hey, I’m sorry. Sometimes I get a bit carried away,” he whispered apologetically, his tone subdued, as if he was a dog who’d been chastised.

“Mm.” You pursed your lips, shrugging noncommittally.

“If you want, I can teach you how to be able to enjoy things like before,” he offered as a form of consolation. “But to experience the effects of alcohol, you’ll need to drink from the inebriated.”

Finally, you faced him to catch his midnight blue gaze, and he gave a weak smile. “Time for me to get wasted then.”

He took that as a sign that you had forgiven him, and you were back to bantering again. “No drinking on the job,” he warned.

“Yes, boss.”

With that, you turned your attention to the changing scenery outside, which blurred past your window. Gone were the city lights in the distance; you were now deep within the thicket of the forest. Tree branches shaped like claws scraped the sides of the vehicle and peculiar winged creatures flew in and out of the shadows. The only source of light was the car's beam, focused directly on the path ahead. At times, you thought you could make out pairs of glowing red eyes from the bushes in the dark surrounding you. Clutching the door armrest, you felt pinpricks of cold sweat forming on your palms, and you couldn’t wait for this segment of the journey to end.

As you reached a clearing, you saw the pale moonlight gleaming overhead through the clouded sky, its pearlescent light casting a silvery sheen across everything in sight. That’s when you spotted the imposing mansion in front of you as the car made its way up the driveway. There was a bluish tinge to its white-painted exterior, and although the building was well-kept, there was a decaying quality to it, as if it had been abandoned by its owners decades ago. You observed its towering columns and large lancet windows, noting the intricate details carved into the eaves of the roof. Who knew there was a mysterious grand manor situated in the middle of nowhere within the woods? You felt like an extra in a B-movie horror film.

After parking the car, you and Leon hopped out of the vehicle, walking over towards the main entrance of the house. Except for the sound of gravel crunching underfoot, it was eerily silent and nothing stirred. It began to dawn on you why the place was so unnerving: there was no rustling of animals or chirping of insects; it was completely devoid of life.

Spencer Mansion. So, this foreboding construct was Raccoon City’s Tremere Chantry. Perhaps there were worse clans to be part of, you ruminated.

Raising his knuckles, Leon was about to knock on the front doors when they creaked slightly ajar on their own, until a strong gust of wind materialized out of thin air, swinging them wide open as they rattled against the walls of the house. “Nice party trick,” he mumbled sarcastically.

“I heard that,” a voice boomed from the main hall.

The hallway was as opulent and musty as the building's facade, with smooth, spotless marble-tiled floors and a red carpet rolled out from the door towards the stairs. There was an elegant chandelier suspended from the vaulted ceiling, as well as decorative candle stands and sconces in every corner. Despite the multitude of light sources available, the room still seemed dimly lit.

In the center of the carpet stood a woman in a preppy tweed pantsuit, picking at her fingernails as she eyed the two of you haughtily. Even though she was alone, you had the strange sense that there were plenty of others in the room hiding in plain sight, and watching you from the shadows.

“An acolyte,” Leon whispered, making sure he was out of earshot this time.

It was just a fancy name the Tremere gave to a fledgling. Essentially, she was at the bottom rung of the pyramid, a newbie like yourself, and yet she was behaving as if she owned the entire manor.

“The Regent is waiting for you in the bar,” she informed. With a slight, dismissive wave of her hand, she indicated for you to follow her.

“Stick close to me,” Leon instructed, drawing you in until your arm bumped against the side of his chest. “You don’t want to get lost here.”

Definitely not. You’d heard about the chantry traps that the Tremere were famous for, designed to keep out both malicious entities and those unfortunate souls who had accidentally stumbled in, blissfully unaware of the nature of this place. Ending up like them would be worse than a disaster.

As you passed through the main hall, a stately set of doors on your left caught your eye. They were cracked open, and through the gap, you could see two rows of people seated opposite each other at the long cherry wood dining table. A large burlap sack, bound with rope, lay on its surface; whatever was inside squealed and kicked about. You could hear its muffled screams when suddenly, all the diners turned their heads to face you, completely expressionless.

Gasping in shock, you instinctively huddled against Leon’s body, seeking refuge from the chilling scene you had just encountered. He hooked his arm around your shoulder, allowing your head to burrow in the crook of his neck as you continued onwards. An odious grin crept over the acolyte’s face as she witnessed your reaction.

Climbing up the stairs, the whole mansion descended into a torturous maze. It was a nauseating feeling to lose all sense of direction, unable to distinguish where you were or where you were going. Each corridor looked the same; you took countless left and right turns, and it felt as if you were being led around in circles. Even your depth perception was off; objects shifted and merged, and passages stretched and compressed as you walked through them. It became increasingly difficult to judge your distance from anything in sight.

You tried to focus on the acolyte, using her as a beacon to guide you through this complex web. Although Leon was faring better than you, he too appeared to be struggling to keep up with the pace. You were ascending levels only to head back down again, no longer sure which floor of the mansion you were on. Was this some cruel joke she was playing on the two of you, or were they trying to ensure you’d never remember how to navigate a route through the building?

The next time, it was Leon who saw something unspeakable. Red light emanated from a narrow doorway at the side, and within it, a naked man was strapped to a sturdy mahogany chair. His head lolled on his chest and his frail body was bruised and battered. Pieces of his flesh had been carved out in strange shapes; some of the slabs were scattered on the floor. His festering wounds were weeping and if not for his feeble, trembling groan, Leon would have assumed he had been long dead.

“Christ, this is some sick shit,” he hissed under his breath in revulsion. You peered in the direction he had glanced at, but there was only an austere portrait hanging against a blank wall. Were the both of you going mad and imagining things?

Shaking his head, he advised, “You don’t want to go looking for it, trust me.” 

At last, the acolyte came to a stop, ushering you into a modest-sized room with checkered tile floors, reminiscent of a chessboard, and an oak bar counter at the side where a clean-cut, impeccably dressed man sat. There was a grand piano facing the bar, and Moonlight Sonata was playing on its keys despite there being no musician present at the instrument.

The room was vacant, apart from the lone person by the bar, whom you presumed was Glenn. He appeared to be a middle-aged man with graying hair and a deep scar across his left eyebrow. His long suit coat was a well-coordinated palette of grays, reds and blacks. As he imbibed the ruby red liquid in his crystal tumbler glass, a dash of it spilled out by accident, though it hovered in the air. Setting the glass down, he sucked it into his mouth with ease; his mouth twisting into a sinister smile.

“Please, make yourselves at home,” he welcomed both of you, gesturing to the unoccupied bar stools before him. Despite his mild mannerisms, his gaze was cold and calculating, honed through years of corrupt transactions and political backstabbing.

When you had settled in, the acolyte closed the door shut, leaving you with the man. It was then that he spoke up again, “There’s no need for pleasantries, so let me cut to the chase. You wish to see Ms. Chambers, yes?”

“On Prince’s orders,” Leon highlighted.

At this, Glenn laughed contemptuously, “I thought you knew better than to use threats against me, Mr. Kennedy.” He extended his gloved finger, wagging it scathingly in front of Leon’s face. “Unlike what the rest of you neonates think, the P-word doesn’t hold much weight here.”

Retracting his hand, he reiterated, “For your sake and the sake of your childe, I suggest you learn to play by my rules.”

You watched as Leon lowered his head in submission as your hatred towards Glenn grew. Were all the Tremere stuck-up assholes? You had a hunch that such behavior was largely shaped by this man himself.

“Excuse my earlier transgression, Mr. Arias,” Leon apologized rather perfunctorily. “Is there something we might offer in exchange for the inconvenience?”

“That’s more like it,” Glenn remarked, curling his finger over his lip as he nodded favorably. “Well, now that you mention it, I suppose there is.”

From under his coat, he pulled out a thin folder of documents, handing it over to Leon. “You see, for some reason, it’s been a tradition in my clan to divide the roles between Regent and Primogen, when really, they could just be handled by the same person.”

“And you want the Primogen title,” Leon surmised.

What else would he expect from a power hungry Tremere, who wanted the best of both worlds? As a Primogen, he would be considered his clan’s representative within the Prince’s Council — the first port of call the Prince would consult on various matters. That, along with being the figurehead of the Chantry, would allow him to elevate his status to what would essentially be a dictatorship within his clan.

“You said that, not me,” Glenn pointed out sneakily. “I’m merely exposing the incompetence of the current appointee.”

He tapped the documents in Leon’s hands. “Anyway, back to business. It’s quite simple, I’d like you to plant these documents in the office of the current Tremere Primogen. Discreetly, of course.”

Pausing for dramatic effect, he drummed his fingers on the counter. “And then we’ll see about your visit with Ms. Chambers.”

“What’s in them?” you questioned abruptly.

His eyes snapped sharply to you. “Oh, so she speaks!” he mocked. “Let’s put it this way, it’s enough to get her for treason.”

You were about to counter with a barbed remark when Leon cut in, talking over you, “Mr. Arias, would you be so kind as to allow my childe and me a few minutes to converse over this matter in private?”

An acerbic smirk appeared on Glenn’s face. “Of course.” He nodded slightly and took his leave.

“So you’re just gonna sit there and accept this slimy motherfucker’s offer?” you goaded, already irritated about being interrupted by your sire earlier.

“Language!” Leon hissed, reproaching you gravely. “The walls have ears.”

This only served to incense you even more, as you slammed your palm on the countertop in defiance. Glenn’s empty glass skittered across its surface, though Leon caught it just in time before it shattered onto the ground. 

“You’re condemning an innocent person to Final Death or worse!” you accused.

A dry chuckle slipped from his lips. “Innocent? No one in that sort of position, let alone this world, is innocent.”

For once, you were at a loss for words, only able to articulate how you felt about him in the moment. “You disgust me.”

“Honestly, I disgust myself at times,” he admitted rather self-deprecatingly.

Some part of you could understand that perhaps this was all he knew: lies, deceit, and shady dealings. Could you change that and make him see things from your perspective? You had to try.

Placing your hand over his, you squeezed it, peering into his brilliant blues as you reasoned, “How many compromises are you going to make until there’s nothing left in here?” You prodded his chest gently with your finger, urging him to reflect on what made him human.

“I—” He scrunched up his face, a tormented expression blooming across it as he turned away, unable to look you in the eye. “I-I can’t…” His voice was pinched and strained, as if it would hurt him to utter any more words.

“This is just how it works in the Kindred world,” he asserted, his shoulders slumping in defeat.

Your anger dissipated into pure disappointment, weighing like a stone in your heart. “Keep telling yourself that,” you stated simply as you let him go, resigning yourself to your original position. Coward, you denounced internally.

As if on cue, you heard three sharp knocks on the door before Glenn came back in. “So?” he questioned, glancing over at the two of you in anticipation.

Leon’s features stiffened as he met the man’s gaze head-on. “We accept.”

[zombryz]

: ̗̀➛ Sparks and Cursed Shadows

˗ˏˋ hello again, dear reader ˎˊ˗   Here is my new series :3

Chapter One

masterlist | Next Chapter 2  | ao3

Pairings: Satoru Gojo x afab!reader x Suguru Geto

A/N: hehehe I am so excited for this one. I've already written 20k words and are planning on posting once a week. I usually write these for myself and will almost always make the reader afab, however, I am always open to requests and can write for any gender. As always, thanks for reading my brain rot :3

Summary: Years had passed since you last saw him—the formidable sorcerer, Satoru Gojo, with his innate six eyes, your old classmate, and first love. When Suguru Geto decided to part ways with Jujutsu High and abandon sorcery altogether, you went with him, both of you unintentionally breaking Satoru's heart. Now, after years and years, your heart aches as Suguru, your now lover, succumbs to the ancient curse of Kenjaku. Suguru—no—Kenjaku threatens to kill Suguru inside of his own mind if you do not confront your once-beloved Satoru Gojo, killing him to bring balance back to the world of curses.

Warnings: (current, may change throughout the story) **Possible Anime/Manga spoilers throughout** PSTD, Death, depression, angst, possessiveness, jealousy, uneven power dynamics (obviously because Gojo is the strongest), eventual lemon/smut, slowburn, right person wrong time, friends to lovers to enemies to lovers again, touch starved, unprotected first time, virgin!reader, virgin!gojo, betrayal, possible pregnancy (undecided but will make it cute, not annoying), fuckboy!gojo, kind of poly!reader (she loves them both at the same time), gore/blood/violence scenes that will be graphic

Word Count: 8.5k

Monday, July 9th 2018

“Do you want to go see Human Earthworm 3?” Mahito annoyingly leans into your shoulder hoping that Suguru won’t see him pestering you. You roll your eyes internally and move your head to the left a little now that Mahito is blocking all the sunlight. He sits in the beach chair next to you after he realizes you’re not going to answer him. “Oh c’mon, Geto has you on such a tight leash it’ll be fun.” He says this in a sing-song voice hoping to get you on-board. 

You scoff and try to ignore his childlike teasing and pull your sunglasses down from the top of your head to block your eyes from Mahito in hopes of getting him to leave you alone. 

“No one will even see me so it’ll be like you’re seeing the movie alone. No need to be embarrassed.” He adds hoping this would somehow change your mind. Ugh, he was so aggravating.  You remember when Suguru introduced you to Mahito, the patch-faced, human-like curse. You initially thought he was cute until he opened his mouth. Nothing has changed since then, he’s just gotten more and more under your skin. 

“Enough Mahito,” Suguru interjects and is suddenly standing over the two of you with his arms crossed. His voice made it seem like he was unbothered by the situation entirely but his body language read a little differently. Mahito slumps back into the beach chair with a clear frown plastered across his face. “Y/N, can you come with me please.” He doesn’t look at you when he says this. Instead, he turns on his heel and walks towards the floating door in the middle of the sand. You were in Dagon’s beach domain. It was mostly relaxing and this was where most of you spent your time in hiding these days. 

“What is it?” You ask as the two of you approach the door. You avoid his blatant eye contact. Lately, you’ve been having a really hard time looking at the man you love because that's just it; He isn’t the man you love, well, not anymore. One day last year he came back from a “mission” extremely injured with stitches across his head. He said that he was no longer Suguru Geto but instead a man by the name of Kenjaku. At first, you thought that the injury on his head made him lose his memory but soon you realized he had been possessed by a curse that you had no idea how to exorcise. He stopped touching you and acted like he barely knew who you were and became very serious-natured. Suguru was never this cold. He tried to imitate his love for you but you knew better. It was all a facade. After all, he had told you the truth, that man was no longer Suguru Geto. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to mourn him or save him. You chose the latter and never gave up hope that one day you would get him back. You knew he was still in there, somewhere. Until then, you would do whatever he wanted you to do. It was like you were his slave. You would cry yourself to sleep at night almost every night since. Your Suguru was no longer there to hold you close, to tell you how much he loved you, to have you by his side. You were no longer of importance to him.

Only once had you attempted to exorcise him. That was the day you almost died. He was too strong and you got the only evidence you needed that he was still in there, trapped inside his own body. His body betrayed Kenjaku and didn’t allow him to hurt you anymore. Suguru had stopped himself from killing you. 

“There is something I need from you.” He shuffles his hands awkwardly. Seeing him come off so confident is weird, although his body language betrays him whenever he speaks to you. In the beginning, it was tough to watch but now, you're just numb to it. God, you wish he’d just get on with it so this conversation could be over. It still hurts and you feel your tears threaten to spill. Now all your relationship was was transactions. You stayed close because you loved him and he took advantage of that. “I need you to kill Satoru Gojo.” Your heart sinks at his request. You had secretly hoped that Kenjaku wouldn’t find out who Satoru was or who he was to you and Suguru but several months ago Kenjaku had devised a plan to trap Satoru. That plan you could live with but this? Satoru’s name still sounded foreign on his pseudo-Suguru’s tongue. Your mind flashes to Satoru’s ocean-blue eyes and his cocky but warm smile. How could he say that about his best friend? Your best friend? He probably had this planned this whole time. You were being naive. It was probably because Satoru posed a serious threat to him. How could you forget that Satoru was the strongest Sorceror? You couldn’t, but instead, you just wished he wasn’t.

“I thought we planned to trap him in the prison realm, that’s what you said!” Your voice betrays you now and you’re not trying to shout but you are. You’re upset and visibly so, why is he saying all of this?

“We’re not certain the prison realm will be enough to hold Satoru Gojo, after all, he is the strongest.” He laughs and you just scoff at his words in disbelief. If Suguru heard himself say this he would be so heartbroken. It had been years since you saw him, the strongest sorcerer, the man who held the innate gift of the six eyes, your old classmate, your first love, Satoru Gojo. Almost ten years to be exact. He would be almost 30 now. So much has changed since then. You wondered if he remembered you and if he thought of you as much as you thought of him.

“I can’t. I won’t-” your voice cracks, “-do that.” The tears from earlier start to spill now. You had hoped that running away with Suguru to follow his dream would mean that you would never have to see Satoru again. You were fine with that but this, you weren’t fine with. Your heart would never allow you to kill Satoru Gojo. You weren’t even sure why Suguru was so confident that you could. Maybe because it wasn’t a request from Suguru…

“Yes, you will. If you have any hope of seeing Suguru Geto again you will.” Your eyes flick up to his forehead where you look at him through wet lashes. You look at the stitches that hold his skull together with haste. He’s still in there and you just wanted him back. “You’re the only one out of all of us that has the best chance of getting close to him. After all, he once loved you. Didn’t he?” Your cheeks burn and your stomach drops at his words. You feel like you’re going to be sick. If you were being honest with yourself, you didn’t know if he once loved you or not. “Even if you don’t kill him, you’re able to get close and weaken him, then we can trap him.”

“Fine.” You wipe the single tear from your cheek and turn to walk away but before you can Kenjaku reaches for your arm and grabs a hold of your wrist tightly making you wince.

“I think you should go with Mahito. It could give you a chance to scope out Satoru’s whereabouts. I hear he has a few students of his own now.” His voice is deep and low making you curious as to why he was whispering. Is this because he doesn’t have faith in the little curses he keeps around him? Are you the only person completely loyal to him? Maybe, you thought. Then your mind wanders to Satoru. You wonder if he’s gotten any taller, his hair any longer, or if he is the same old Satoru. Your lips turn upwards slightly at the thought of his laugh as you leave Suguru and make your way over to Mahito.

“Come on patch-face. We’re going to see your movie.” You throw a towel at him and roll your eyes at the excited face he makes. He reminds you so much of a child and sometimes you don’t know why you can’t stand him. 

Later in the day

You arrived at the movie theater and bought one ticket for Human Earthworm 3. Mahito stood next to you eager to get into the theater. There were only a few other people in the theater, a few boys sitting by the front and a lone teenage boy. Good thing you didn’t care about the movie all that much because the boys up front would not shut up. The lone boy sitting at the top left of the theater wore a purple shirt and his dark hair fell over his face. He looked sad but you tried not to think anything of it. 

“Should I shut them up?” Mahito leaned over to whisper in your ear. His words were laced with evil and you could hear the smile across his lips. You shiver at his words but try to play it off.

“If you want, I don’t care.” You wave him off with an annoyed sigh. The boy in purple looked up at you and you imagined he thought you were crazy for talking to yourself. Whatever. You had gone through your wallet during the movie and found your old jujutsu high ID card. Yep, just as you thought you were once a grade-one sorcerer. You flip over your ID and run your fingertips over the scratched-up surface. There was a smiley face drawn in Sharpie that was slightly smudged. That’s right, Satoru drew this. You smiled sweetly to yourself at the memory. He was so annoying back then but you adored him and his goofy self. He was somehow always so cocky. He was beautiful though, he was tall and hadn’t completely grown into his height yet. You remember his messy white hair and his angelic blue eyes. You even remember him stealing your ID card and holding it above your head so you couldn’t reach it. He always made it a point to joke with you about being short. He was always so playful with you. 

Your mind wanders to something darker as you hold the plastic between your two fingers. Were you really going to have to kill him to bring Suguru back? What if he could help you instead? Did he even still care about you or Suguru enough to do that? This all felt so heavy. Were you even going to be able to kill him if he said no? Kenjaku seemed to think you could. Yes, you were once a very strong sorcerer and if you had to guess you’re probably well past a special grade now but that just means he is too. Even back then Satoru was the strongest, he was a special grade even then. You sigh to yourself. You try to remind yourself that you were the descendant of one of the strongest sorcerers in history. You were part of the Kashimo clan, your great-great-great grandfather was titled the god of lightning. You tried to talk yourself into feeling stronger but it wasn’t helping. The truth is Satoru would kill you in an instant if he wanted to. Maybe because you deserved it and wouldn’t fight back or maybe just because you were weak.

Before you knew it Mahito was bored. He no longer had any interest in the movie and you were snapped out of whatever trance you were just in. He stood up and started walking to the exit but not before completely transmuting all three of the boys who were talking during the entire movie. You roll your eyes and follow him out stuffing your ID card back into your wallet and then into your purse. Such a drama queen.

As you’re walking back to the building where your hideout was you hear someone call out to you. You consider ignoring it but then he yells out, “Hey, you, patch-face with the lady!” Suddenly your eyes widen as you turn around to face the same sad boy from earlier—the one who wore purple and had one side of his face covered by his dark hair.

“Y-you can see him?” You blurt out pointing at Mahito, not even acknowledging that he was going to say something first.

“Yeah, and I also saw what he did to them.” He steps back a little, losing the confidence he just had. He seemed sweet and you knew he wasn’t at all a real threat. Suddenly he seemed sweaty and scared. 

“What, were they your friends or something?” Mahito interjects and you allow him to speak to the poor boy. You feel a small drop of water fall on your face and when you look up you notice it's starting to rain. You pull your hood over your head and lean against a wall under an air conditioning unit so you don’t get wet.

“Can I..” he hesitates, “Do that too?” The boy asks while staring down at his feet. There seems to be something troubling him for him to be asking dangerous strangers for help.

“Come on, I’ll show you.” Mahito grins creepily and that was your queue to leave. You didn’t care to listen to him go on and on about curses when he just learned about it not too long ago himself. After all, he was a new curse.

“You two go on without me. Suguru will want to hear about this.” You share one last look at Mahito and the boy before drifting back into the shadows of the alleyway to make your way back to the hideout. 

The next day 

Mahito tells you that the boy's name is Junpei. He can see and manipulate cursed energy and Mahito has taken it upon himself to personally “train” the boy. You’re slightly annoyed but just happy that Mahito won't be bothering you as much anymore. You tell him to be nice to the boy and that if he hurt him in any way, you’ll kill him. You can’t help it, something about him reminded you of a younger Suguru and it warmed your heart. 

Suguru on the other hand didn’t care as much as you thought he would. He was more disappointed to see that you had returned with no news on Satoru’s whereabouts. You promised to go back out today and see what you could find out. You met up with Mahito who happened to be spying on Junpei. Apparently, Junpei had crossed paths with The king of curses, Sukuna’s vessel, Yuji Itadori, a young boy with bright pink hair and a red hood attached to his Jujutsu High uniform. You could feel just how powerful his cursed energy was from a mile back. His aura sent chills down your spine. Everything about Sukuna freaks you out. You’ve only ever heard stories about him as you and Suguru spent a couple of years searching for his twenty fingers. You also remember that your great-great-great grandfather made it his dying wish that one day he would get to fight Sukuna. You guessed that never happened since your grandfather was the one 6 feet under. 

“He told him about us,” Mahito says while playing with the ends of his hair and swinging his feet out beneath him. He was sitting on a park tree near where Junpei and Itadori were talking but was careful to be out of sight.

“What do you mean?” You weren’t following what he was saying.

“Junpei told Itadori that he saw us yesterday and described what we looked like. Should we go ahead and kill him to preserve Geto’s plan?”

“No, that would just stir the pot. Maybe this could work in our favor. We got word from Jogo that Sukuna’s vessel was one of Satoru-I mean- Gojo’s students, right?” Now Mahito was the one not following. His face is full of confusion. You flick him in the forehead, “That means that Gojo will come to us stupid. Now we won't have to find him. He isn’t going to send his weaker sorcerers to fight us knowing that we’re multiple special grades.” 

“Oh, right!” Mahito smiles and turns to face Junpei once more. “I also fought a blonde sorcerer yesterday! Even more the reason to come.” Mahito sings as he continues to swing his feet humming a tune. 

Your heart drops. A blonde sorcerer? Could it be? 

“Mahito… this blonde sorcerer…” you start but your voice gets stuck in your throat. “Did you kill him?” Your throat suddenly felt like pins and needles.

“The businessman? No, it was a pretty even match actually and we had to draw.” 

Nanamin.. Of course, it was him. You anxiously ran your fingers through your hair. Thank god, he’s still alive. You tried to keep tabs on most of your other old classmates, except Satoru. You thought Nanami quit being a sorcerer but maybe your intel was wrong. 

“Please don’t hurt him.” You turn toward Mahito practically begging. 

“I never thought I’d hear you say that Y/N! Wow, you are a softy arentcha? Well, either way, I do what I want.” Mahito gets close to your face and smiles. You had about enough of him and were this close to exorcising him right then and there when you noticed Itadori and Junpei leaving. Killing Kenjaku’s favorite curse would have to wait. The two of you continued to follow Itadori and Junpei.

Later that day 

You had devised a plan. You overheard Kenjaku and Mahito talking, they were going to use Junpei to create a diversion to see how much control Itadori had over Sukuna, or best case scenario, they were planning on getting control over Sukuna’s vessel themselves. 

The whole plan made you sick. Poor Junpei. You knew what you had to do. You had to be there in the shadows to protect Junpei and to leave with Satoru, however you needed to. This was your only hope of saving Suguru. 

When you weren’t sleeping in Dagon’s domain, you were in a room over at the motel you were all staying at. You used to share this room with Suguru and you just couldn’t be alone in there anymore, it was too much. You began packing a few of your things when you heard someone knock on your door softly.

“Come in.” You call out to them. 

The door opens and when you look up you see Mimiko, her long brunette hair laying at her shoulders and her body language makes it seem like she has been tiptoeing around Kenjaku herself. You can’t believe how much she has grown since you and Suguru found her and her twin sister years ago. For a long time, you all felt like a family. You and Suguru even used to make sweet jokes about how Mimiko and Nanako were your daughters. You once asked Suguru if he thought if you had children together ironically you would also have twin daughters. He chuckled but you knew deep down he never wanted to bring more kids into the world. Sometimes you wish your relationship with him could’ve been different. You would’ve really loved just being about to go on dates and worry about paying rent with your normal careers. Maybe you both would’ve worked at Nanami’s office and made Fridays your movie nights and Tuesdays would be when you invited Shoko, Nanami, and Haibara over for Dinner. Satoru would come sometimes when he wasn’t busy with his new girl of the week. Sadly though, that was all just a dream; but maybe in another life, it wasn’t just a dream. 

“It’s just me.” You say and turn to continue packing with a straight face.

“Oh, okay,” she immediately relaxes. “Where are you going?”

You completely ignored her question, you didn’t want her to start getting worked up. “Where is Nanako, I want to say goodbye to the both of you.” 

“You’re leaving us? No! You can’t, please don’t leave us here with him.” Her voice cracks and it breaks your heart. They both have been through so much. 

You rush over to her to quickly stop her from crying. You lower your voice so that it is above a whisper while you gently rub her shoulder, “It’s okay, it’s not for good. I’m doing this for us Mimiko, I am going to get help so that we can get Suguru back.”

“Really?” She questions while sniffling. 

“Yes, but I need to hurry before he notices. Can you cover for me?” 

“Well, Nanako is with him…” 

“Where?” You say with slight irritation in your voice.

“Upstairs.”

You give her a big hug before making your way up the dirty motel staircase. Luckily, you see Nanako’s blonde hair coming around the corner and she is alone. You run up to her and give her a big hug as well. 

“I love you. Tell Mimiko I love her too. She’ll explain everything.” You don’t even give her a chance to ask any questions before taking off down the other side of the outside hallway. You try to be stealthy and quiet but you’re not quiet enough. Suddenly an arm reaches out to you, jolting you to a stop. It was him. His grip made you wince once more.

“And where are you going, Y/N?” He asks with a borderline sinister smile. You shudder as you go to look at him trying your hardest to pretend like everything is fine. 

“I’m going on your secret mission, remember? I just said goodbye to our daughters.” You hiss up at him. This time you look directly into his eyes so that he feels your anger. 

He didn’t seem to like this, he reached out and grabbed your throat to pull you closer to him. Your teeth clench together and cry out in pain. He’s not quite choking you but he’s holding you hard enough to leave bruises behind. 

“Good luck then.” He mutters in your ear. When he pulls away he places a small chaste kiss on your lips making your heart flutter a little. The entire interaction was giving you whiplash. You figured this was his way of saying ‘Don’t betray me or I’ll kill you’. He lets go of your throat and you cough trying to catch your breath.

You look at him with hate in your eyes one last time before turning and running down the motel stairs. You had one more stop to make for your grand plan to work. Mahito. 

The next day

You wake up the next day in a room unfamiliar to you. The night before you had left your motel and went to a hotel that was closer to Jujutsu High. You showered and put on a little bit of makeup. As you were getting dressed in your family's traditional attire you couldn’t help but feel nervous. Today you were going to see Satoru. What if he didn’t want to see you? Who were you kidding of course he didn’t. You would be lucky if he paid you any mind at all. But what if you had to fight him? Your heart was beating out of your chest as you put on your all-white haori. As you wrapped bandages around your fists and lower arms you breathed out deeply preparing for the worst. You pulled your hair back into two buns and grabbed your quarterstaff before leaving for the school. It had been a long time since you’d had to fight anyone let alone dress in your traditional attire.

You arrive at the school that you heard Mahito mention to Kenjaku the day before. It was the school where Junpei attended. You decided to keep your distance from the fight because you couldn’t give up your position or your plan. When you walk toward the back of the school you see the veil had already been lowered. This was Mahito’s viel which means Kenjaku wasn’t here. He most likely didn’t want to run into Satoru to raise any red flags about your arrival. When you entered the viel you hoped that Mahito had noticed your energy like you planned. You walked through the school and up the stairs. It was dead, where was everyone? There was glass all over the floors from the windows. They must’ve already started fighting. 

You turn the corner to where you thought you heard fighting and that's when you see him. Junpei. No, no, no, you were supposed to protect him. You were too late. Mahito had already gotten his hands on him and turned him into a transmuted beast. You clench your eyes shut as you walk past his body. Your heart sinks and your face twists in anger. Maybe the next part of your plan would be real then. Mahito of course will think you’re putting on a show for the sorcerors like you had planned.

When you walk over to the windowsill you see them. Sukuna’s vessel, Itadori and Nanami were fighting Mahito. Quite frankly, Mahito was getting his ass whooped. You wanted to see how this would play out but that's when you realized one of the most important parts of your plan. Satoru isn’t here. Where was he? Why did they only send Nanami? 

You take a deep breath. Okay, you had two choices. Bail or improvise. You chose the latter. 

With a war cry and your charged cursed energy, you jump from the window and land behind Itadori and Nanami. You tap into your rage and your hair starts emitting cursed lightning that bounces from each of your buns. Your eyes began glowing yellow and you lightly tap your quarterstaff on the ground causing the school courtyard to shake.

“MAHITO!” You scream at the top of your lungs, haste dripping from your tongue. Just as planned, Mahito would change direction and start fighting you. 

Both Itadori and Nanami look your way. Itadori is extremely confused about whether or not you’re also an enemy and when he starts to make his way toward you Nanami reaches his arm out to stop him. He looks back at Nanami and he simply shakes his head signaling him to trust him. 

Mahito then takes the opportunity to shape himself into a giant spiked beast and attempts to slice you where you stand. You jump over his additional spiked body parts and use one of his arms as leverage to jump across to the other side of the courtyard. He tries to hit you again and you redirect his hand using taijutsu and infuse your quarterstaff with cursed lightning and hit him directly in the chest. The impact makes him fly across the courtyard and he starts shaking from the electrical energy in the blast. Damn, you need to dial it back a bit if you want this to be believable. You turn toward Nanami and Itadori. Your eyes meet Nanami’s and your heart flutters in your chest, you haven’t seen him since his hair was long. He was so tall and cute and now he is a big, strong man. His blue dress shirt is snug across his chest and you’re just completely surprised by how much he's grown. His cheeks were much more defined and he was aging like wine. He still wore his signature frown.

Perfect moment to be distracted. Mahito takes the opportunity you give him and turns his arms into little spikes. He pierces the back of your thigh causing you to scream out in pain. What was he doing? This wasn’t the plan. You cry out as you feel two more spikes go through your gut. When he pulls them out you look down to see your all-white haori covered in blood, your blood. Well so much for dialing it back, you trusted Mahito enough to not kill you but maybe that was his plan all along. This fake fight was a ploy for him to kill you.

“Y/N!” Nanami yells out as he runs over to catch you before you fall. 

“N-na-namin” you respond breathlessly as you fall to your knees. There was blood pouring from your mouth. Nanami catches you and you hold your stomach as you shake in his arms. Did Kenjaku know your plan all along? Why would Mahito kill you? You felt yourself slipping out of consciousness and all you could think about was the fact that you wouldn’t get to see Satoru after all. Maybe this was for the best. If you can’t be with Suguru you don’t care whether you lived or died. 

As your eyes start to close you can feel Nanami squeeze you tighter as he hugs you against his chest. You hear Itadori yell out that Mahito is getting away and Nanami tells him to let him go, and that it wasn’t worth it. Then you hear Itadori ask if Nanami knew who you were to which he replied, “Yes, I know her well.” 

---

Two days later

You wake up to the smell of cigarettes and hear muffled talking in the background. When you sit up frantically in shock you see that you are handcuffed to the bed. You begin to panic, your charged cursed energy threatening to spill out until you realize that you recognize where you are. You’re in the medical office at Jujutsu High. You’ve been here for many injuries, most of which were self-inflicted from your training with Satoru. Damn, his stupid infinity, your attacks would almost always bounce back causing you to get hurt. When you look down you see your thigh wrapped in bandages as well as your lower abdomen. 

“That special grade curse got you pretty good.” You scoff at the statement that Mahito was a special grade curse. Screw him. But wait, you know that voice, that sweet voice coated with years of cigarettes and liquor.

“Shoko?” You yell out whipping your head back and forth to search for her.

“Hey squirt, it’s me don’t get all frizzy on me now.” She wheels her chair over to your bed and stands to take your temperature while simultaneously rubbing your head trying to stir up your electrical cursed energy. That’s right, she always called you that because you were a little younger and a little shorter than her. She also loved annoying you by making your hair frizzy. You didn’t even care that she was making your hair a mess, a huge smile was plastered across your face. She looks much older, you bet it's from her bad smoking and drinking habits. She’s still beautiful though, just has dark circles under her eyes and her hair is much much longer. She’s still the same Shoko. God how you missed her. 

“Why am I chained to the bed?” You ask but you already know the answer to that question. 

“You know why squirt…” Her face drops and she wheels away from your bed now. 

“Well, what happens now? Am I to be executed now that I am in the school's possession again?” You ask with a small laugh but deep down you have a genuine concern that that might be the case, this was one of the reasons you never came back after deserting the school with Suguru. 

“You know there are very strong people here that would never allow that to happen.”

Was she talking about Satoru? She had to be. Unless someone else from your class sprouted up and became strong enough to overpower those in charge. You decide to assume she’s talking about Satoru.

“I’m not so sure about that. Last time I saw him he seemed perfectly okay with the idea of me dying.” Your voice gets quiet as you say this, it’s as if the wound is still fresh. You don’t allow her to say anything to that, “Anyways, where is he?”

“He got back yesterday, as soon as he heard you were here.” Suddenly there are butterflies in your stomach. You thought you were going to die at Mahito’s hand but it seems he missed all of your vitals. So you get to see Satoru after all. Why were you suddenly so nervous?

Without warning, the big metal door to the facility opens and you see Shoko stand to greet whoever it is. Part of you hoped it was Satoru and the other part of you was scared shitless. 

“Y/N.” A stern male’s voice states your name causing you to jump a little.

Your eyes start watering, “Nanamin?” You turn your head to see him walking over to you. 

“You know I hate when you call me that.” Nanami gets closer to your bed and unlocks your handcuffs freeing you. You giggle at his defensiveness, it’s good to see he hasn’t gotten any more expressive with his emotions. You jump into his arms and hug him. He is reluctant to return your hug but he ultimately does. You’ve missed him so so much. 

“Why are you freeing me?” You step back and rub your wrists looking down to see they’re starting to bruise. When you reach up you feel a bandage around your neck too. You look at Shoko confused until you remember the moment you had with Kenjaku before you left. You rub the bandage gently reminding you of why you’re here. He had hurt you. You want Suguru back.

“We have some questions.” He reaches around your back and puts new handcuffs around your wrists. He is gentle with his movements though so that he doesn’t hurt you. You sigh, just when you thought you were free. You understood why though, it was going to take a lot of work for anyone here to trust you again. Nanami walks you down the hall to Principal Gakugangi’s office. Memories of this hallway flood your brain. You remember the time you, Satoru, and Suguru raced down this hallway. Of course, Satoru won because he had the longest legs.

You’re brought to a room next to the principal’s office that has a chair seated at the front of the room directly under multiple TV screens. Across from that, there were a bunch of seats that were set up auditorium style. All of your old teachers and classmates were already seated, all except Satoru. You started to explain to ex-principal Yaga and principal Gakuganji why you were there. It was as if you were reading from a script. It was the story you fabricated to get here, although most of it was true. You told Shoko, Nanami, Utahime, Mei-Mei, Gakuganji and Yaga. You wished Satoru was here to listen but you figured there was a reason he wasn’t. You went on about how after you left Jujutsu High years and years ago with Suguru he was possessed by Kenjaku and forced you to work for him. You lied and told them how you heard that Mahito could transmute souls and that you went looking for him to help touch Suguru’s soul to kill Kenjaku inside of him. Everything in your story came together so perfectly, you mentioned how you were fighting Mahito at the school because he had betrayed you and told Suguru your plan and was ultimately trying to kill you. This explained why Itadori told them Junpei saw you at the movies with Mahito and why you were trying to kill him afterward. 

Finally, Utahime spoke up and asked, “Why did you never come back to us, Y/N?” She sounded so dejected as she said this. You were starting to regret coming back at all, it was already stirring up way too many old emotions that you thought you tucked away years ago.

This question hit harder than you expected it to. Your chest started to feel tight. You held your wrists together to wipe your face of the tears that were now spilling out on their own. Bending forward you rest your head in your arms before continuing, “I wanted to come back, trust me I did!” You pause and look at all your old friends sitting on the edge of their seats listening to you with such care in their eyes. “I was scared because of the death penalty and also I wanted to protect you guys the best I could from Suguru, h-he was not himself.” You sniffle and stare down at your bound hands, you internally debate saying this last part but they deserve to know, “a-and, I loved him.” You hesitantly correct yourself, “I do love him.” You’re suddenly brought back to the first few years together with Suguru after you both had abandoned Jujutsu High. You were severely depressed and would cry almost every night to Suguru about how you missed everyone at Jujutsu High and how you wanted to go back. He would comfort you but couldn’t understand your reasoning. He didn’t ask you to follow him and he never really understood why you did. He did, however, reassure you of his love whenever you need it. You don’t think he ever felt sad about his past which allowed him to pour himself into both you and his purpose. 

You watch as everyone’s eyes quickly dart toward the door behind you. When you look over your shoulder with puffy eyes you see what they were looking at. You finally see him. The strongest sorcerer, the man who held the innate gift of the six eyes, your old classmate, your first love, Satoru Gojo. He is, where do you even begin? If your heart wasn’t hurting so bad you could probably talk about how he was taller than the door frame for hours. His hair was slightly longer than you remember and still as white as snow. It sat perfectly on top of his head with a black blindfold that covered his beautiful blue eyes that had been burned into your memory for years. He upgraded from the little black sunglasses you used to steal from him. His lips looked as soft as you remember and when you look down you see his arms crossed over his chest. His arms look so much bigger now that he has grown into his lanky self. He looks strong and his hands are huge. You can’t even focus, the room was spinning and your heart was beating out of your chest. How embarrassing. No one said a thing. You hated that you couldn’t see his eyes. You knew him though, more than probably anyone else in the room. Your presence made him uneasy and nervous just as much as yours did his. He continued to stare at you through his blindfold. Everyone fell into an unbearable silence. It felt like you were swallowing nails every time you took a breath. You wanted him to scream or yell at you, you wanted him to do something other than what he was doing. Your eyes were begging him to take you away from all the eyes in the room so that you could talk one-on-one, but he wouldn’t do that. Not anymore. You wanted to know if he still cared at all if he even missed you.

“I thought I told you not to get distracted in a fight,” Satoru speaks in a calm voice but his posture stiffens against the door as he speaks.

You open your mouth to reply but instead, Principal Yaga interjects and stands before you causing you to turn your attention to him. You just wanted to be anywhere but here. You were now very unsure about whether or not Satoru would allow the higher-ups to kill you or not. Suddenly you feel very small and weak.

“The Kyoto sister school exchange event is about to begin,” he gruffs in annoyance and points to the TVs above your head. “We’re done for today. Gojo, she is your responsibility, put her in the talisman room until we figure out what to do with her.” 

Your head shifts from Principal Yaga to Satoru, suddenly very nervous. The talisman room is where sorcerers bring special-grade human-like curses, “evil” sorcerers, or anyone who poses a threat to the sorcerer world. It was like a holding cell that drained all your cursed energy. It was where the school put those who were on death row. You freeze in your chair when you see Nanami coming over to drag you out of the room.

“N-Nanamin, please, no,” you beg, catching a sob in your throat. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” His eyes seem sincere but you knew he had no choice. He walks you over to Satoru who takes the chains on your wrist without saying a word. He is neither gentle nor harsh in the way he leads you down the hall. A tense silence falls around you. This is the closest you’ve been to him in years and you just want things to go back to the way they were. You’re too scared to look at him so you stare at the ground rethinking this whole thing. Should you try to fight Satoru here and now? No, he’s too strong and the others would be behind him. Should you make a break for it and run back to Suguru? No. You stop abruptly causing Satoru’s infinity to hit you causing you to lose your balance. He had his infinity up around you? This was ultimately a test to see if he still trusts you, even a little, but the answer was no. Your heart breaks, things are never going to be the same. Now that you are out of the sight of the others you turn to Satoru as much as your position allows, your last hope was talking to him.

“Satoru,” You hum his name, it coming out much sweeter than you meant for it to. “Please, l-listen to me.” You look up at him and try to ignore how he towers over you. He tilts his head down at you. You’re still unable to see his eyes so you just assume he’s looking at you. “I-I know you don’t trust me anymore…” Your voice wavers as you say this. “But, you’re in danger. Please list-” 

“’m the strongest.” His voice is gruff and cold as he cuts you off. It’s his way of saying ‘Shut up, no I’m not’. 

You start pulling your arms away from him to get him to understand how serious this is. He eventually gives way and you’re now facing him with your hands behind your back. He cockily puts his hands in his pocket allowing you to continue talking. He is straight-faced and almost looks bored. Oh, how you wished you could see his signature Satoru Gojo smile. 

“Suguru has been possessed by a very strong cursed spirit who has lived many lifetimes. He is planning on sealing you away!” Your voice strains as you try to plead with him. 

“Suguru is dead,” His voice is still just as monotone as before. “I should know, I’m the one who killed him.” 

First, your heart drops. Then your eyes widen and your muscles tense up. “What?” You grumble through gritted teeth as you slowly blink up at him as your mind tries to wrap around what he just said. The electric cursed energy you possess begins to flow through you in anger. You can feel the static electricity start to form between the two buns in your hair, like a radio frequency. Your hair begins to float from the friction. Suddenly your arms are free from their shackles. You must’ve tensed up so much that your strength snapped them off.

“That was you?” You say with furrowed brows as your feet naturally start to take a fighting pose. You remember when Kenjaku came back in Suguru’s place that day and explained that he found his body ‘without a host’, aka dead. You didn’t believe it, you never did. Who could’ve possibly killed him? Whoever it was had to be strong, you never guessed it would be Satoru. He was his best friend. And Suguru was still in there. He had to be.

“You know I had to do it. Don’t start this Y/N, you know I’d win.” His hands were still in his pockets and now he was just getting on your nerves. You hated that the first time you heard him say your name again was under these circumstances. 

“You’re just going to have to kill me too,” Your tears stop and you reach your arm out to summon your quarterstaff using your cursed wavelength, after a moment it shatters a window and is in your grip, “Gojo.” You twirl your staff around your head and tap it on the ground making the rest of the windows in the hall shatter. You revert to his last name and for a split second, you think you see him release a pained breath but you no longer care. There was no going back for either of you. You were now enemies. 

You run at him at full speed while building up your cursed energy in your staff. You had no idea how you were going to get him to turn off his infinity but you were okay with it ending here. There was something so beautiful about dying at Satoru’s hand. As soon as you’re close enough, you jump above him and hit right where his head would be. You can see your attack absorbed by his infinity. However, the floor and the wall behind him weren’t as lucky. They both take a huge hit and crumble away. Why wasn’t he fighting back? Why wasn’t he killing you?

Attack after attack after attack, he just allows you to come at him. You’re extremely angry and you feel like you’re going to explode. You throw your quarterstaff at the wall frustrated and instead walk up to him preparing to try hand-to-hand combat. Your lips are trembling now, you’re a sobbing mess. He finally pulls his hands out of his pockets as you incessantly pound on his infinity until you feel it slowly dwindle. Then your arms make contact with his chest. Tears run down your cheeks as your arms feel his heartbeat where they are resting against him  It even annoyed you that his heartbeat came out slower and calmer than yours. Who were you kidding, you didn’t pose a threat to him at all. You may be a special-grade sorcerer but your weakness was him, and maybe you were his too. You fall into him completely exhausted from over-exerting yourself. He allows your forehead to rest on his heart completely swallowed by sadness. You finally gave in and cried your heart out into his chest. He then slowly reaches up to grab your arms, his touch is hesitant but still gentle. It’s almost like he doesn’t want to touch you but does so anyway. He ever so slightly rubs his thumb across your wrist making you raise your head to look at him. Your eyes were wet, your lips were red, and your hair messily fell around your face. You still couldn’t see his eyes, those beautiful eyes, and that stupid blindfold.

“He’s not dead. He can’t be.” You plead again, not even sure what you’re expecting from him anymore. “I-I love him, Satoru.” You can’t believe you’re sitting here telling him this, crying into his chest like you once did what felt like lifetimes ago now,  “I know you once loved him too, he was your best friend. Please, plea-” 

He brings his hand up to your cheek and caresses it softly before bringing his two forefingers up to your forehead and gently draining you of all your energy, ultimately putting you to sleep. Your eyes roll back in your head and you fall limp into his arms. Satoru leans down to pick you up bridal style before walking over to your quarterstaff and picking it up in one swift motion. You were so light in his arms. Your head lulls on his chest as he carries you to the talisman room. Your hair was completely out of place and your lips were slightly parted as if this was the most comfortable sleep you had gotten in a while. He can't help but stare at you through his blindfold as his chest tightens with emotion. You were the same girl he fell in love with years ago, you just matured and there was a certain confidence in the way you carried yourself that you didn’t do before. Your hair was much longer and your cheeks had thinned out a bit with age. It was so strange seeing you again, now his heart was starting to beat fast. He honestly never thought he’d see you again. When he ran into Suguru last year he was sure you would be with him, fighting alongside him… but you weren't. He had hoped that meant you ran away from it all and maybe even married a nice ordinary man, someone you wanted to marry, settled down, had a family like you always talked about, and abandoned sorcery altogether. But here you were not only before his very eyes but in his arms again, still tied up with his best friend and still tied up with jujutsu sorcery. He wondered what you had been through all this time away from him. He had tried to move on, he did. He’s been on plenty of dates with other women and he even tried pursuing both Utahime and Shoko, they were the closest thing he could get and it wasn’t close at all. Shoko knew he was trying to fill your void and she respected herself too much to give in to his motives. Utahime on the other hand liked him back and for a while, they tried dating but in the end, they just weren’t compatible. None of them were you, you hurt way too much. How was it fair that in the end, you chose Suguru? Did you not love him too? Did you just love him more? Why didn’t you stay?

Satoru was suddenly very thankful that you were asleep and that he had a blindfold on, his tears escaped anyway. 

He walked past his room with you in his arms. Part of him wanted to lay you on his bed in hopes that you would wake up and this would all just be a bad dream. You would be back in 2006 laying in his bed again but instead of thinking with his heart, he went with his head. He brought you to the talisman room, sat you in the chair in the center of the room, and left to return to watch the Kyoto Sister School Exchange event.

[not-poignant]

What made you decide to host original fiction on AO3? You're the first (favorite) author doing serial original fic online that I think of these days, though I've not dabbled since independent domains were the most common strategy. I'm hoping to make progress on a project of my own in the soon, but am having trouble finding sites without fairly restrictive content policies--are there/were there other contenders for hosting Fae Tales that would have let you go so dark, or is it AO3 or bust?

Hi anon!

I think from your tone, you're starting off with the assumption that I was trying to be a professional writer and then chose AO3, and that's not the path I took at all!! No one in their right mind generally chooses AO3 if they want to make a profit off of their original writing for a lot of reasons, and a lot of fanfiction authors leave AO3 so they can make a profit off their original writing (and some do both - write fanfic under one name, and original fiction under a completely different name. My path isn't even the mainstream fanfic writer's way of breaking into original fiction, lol).

So my journey was basically that:

I was writing fanfiction on AO3 that became quite popular in its small fandom, and I put two OCs (Original Characters) into that story that got especially popular and started getting fanart during the fanfic. A few people at the time said 'I ship these two' and I was like 'eh I don't want to write it.' And then in typical fandom fashion eventually I was like 'okay I'll just give it a try.'

I wrote several PWP hatefucking chapters mostly to see if they even really worked as a couple (they did!) - since they weren't a couple in the fanfic, they were mortal enemies, lol - and these chapters popped off among a very small number of people and I thought 'you know what, these characters deserve an actual story, because I don't want their tale to have a tragic ending' (which it would have done).

So I wrote more of the story, and eventually I got a message from a reader saying 'hey can you open a Patreon account so we can support your original writing, because it doesn't feel fair that we're getting all of this for free.'

So I opened a Patreon account.

And then about 3 years later I thought 'actually...I think I can turn this into a proper job.' And I...tried lol. It's not a very 'proper job' by the standards of people who started original writing purely for income, but it is quite a proper job for me, lol. I still write fanfiction because I love it.

I never chose AO3 as a place to build a career exactly, I just put original fiction there because that's where the readers were who already liked the original characters, and it didn't make sense to put it anywhere else. I also never expected at the time to make a formal leap into original fiction, I was actually planning another fanfic and then got completely derailed because we were all enjoying Fae Tales so much.

I stay there because I can post any fictional content I like pretty much - no matter how taboo - without fear of reprisal from the site or fear of having my account banned etc. for content. I stay because the warning and tagging system is the most sophisticated in the world. I stay because the search system is also the most sophisticated in the world. I stay because I love the spirit of fandom, and the people who find my original fics there already understand reading serials and WIPs and ongoing stories. I stay because I really enjoy AO3 comment culture, which is uniquely different to anything else anywhere on the internet, but especially other free serial sites like Wattpad, Royal Road, Inkitt and more. I stay because having to invite people to come to my Tumblr to see my posts and excerpts and sometimes find out about Patreon is a feature and not a bug, because it means the people who eventually find their way to my Patreon probably want to be there more than the average reader who never needs to leave AO3.

I stay there because Wattpad needs incredibly short chapters and I like longer chapter lengths (and long serials). I stay there because the comment culture of Royal Road is a lot of 'um, actually' folks alongside some decent folks, and you really have to love constant constructive (and not so constructive) criticism even on your most viral stories, and I am baby. I stay on AO3 because my friends are there, and so are many other folks who I enjoy the thoughts and company of.

To my knowledge, the only other place that allows really taboo content officially (i.e. not 'it's against the rules but everyone does it') is probably Ream, which is a subscription site like Patreon. And they're very recent. I will be setting up a mirrored version of my Patreon account there for all the folks who can't access Patreon due to like...credit card / bank reasons.

If you want to write a super dark, taboo serial, there aren't many free serial sites in the world where that's truly okay. I'm going to take some risks on Wattpad soon with the Fae Tales canon and we'll see how we go, lmao. AO3 is particularly unique because it started for many of us fanfiction writers who were getting banned and censored on other fanfiction and fandom platforms (like Livejournal Strikethrough, which was a huge historical event in fandom around censorship), so it literally - in many ways - was invented to protect and give space to the people who are writing adult or taboo fanfiction (and then later also original fiction). It is designed to be a safe haven for those of us who understand that fiction is just fiction when it comes to sexual fantasy content.

In the past year I have considered other dedicated serial sites for my content and frankly I don't believe any of them are 'safe' for me re: the nature of my writing (I don't feel my writing is as dark as some, but it certainly has 'rape as titillation' quite a bit, and pretty broad scale dubcon). Royal Road doesn't suit my genre/s, Inkitt is possible, but I'm not sure if my work will do well there, Wattpad is a risk but is huge and I'm not mad if my account gets banned there, Tapas allows some taboo, but is very clear that it wants no serials intended for the purpose of sexual gratification and requires 500-1500 chapters maximum, which is a bit of a downer for someone like me who has 3-10,000 word chapters, lol.

If you want to be a professional writer of adult sexual/taboo content who makes money off your writing, I wouldn't recommend hosting your works on AO3, I'd recommend publishing novels and when you have enough of a backlist, potentially offering chapters of future novels as early access on Ream (Patreon will actually also ban accounts with taboo content if you're hosting it on Patreon - and while most of us are safe at the moment, they get stricter over time).

AO3 is, imho, a great place for original authors who already love writing fanfiction or reading fanfiction, and already love fandom, and want to participate in the culture with original stories. Readers on AO3 are very savvy, clued-in people who are overall likely to be suspicious rather than welcoming of original fiction on AO3 in general (many refuse to read it outright), and who also can tell when a newcomer author is just there to try and make a profit off them. But they are also some of the most ride or die, wonderful, best readers in the world once they love your work. (I know this from experience as a reader too, lol, I am ride or die for a few authors there myself).

That doesn't mean it can't be done, it just means there's a steep learning curve re: fandom etiquette (thoroughly worth it, do recommend it, it just will take some time - months, not weeks - to feel it out). AO3 also strongly prefers/requires all original fiction there be posted 'in the spirit of fandom' - which has broad interpretations, but it does mean an effort needs to be made to at least understand and enjoy fandom.

But yeah if you're purely professional career focused, AO3 is not a first-line strategy imho. That's why...there's not many people doing it this way - even viral fanfiction authors don't do it this way, anon, when they decide to writing original fiction based off their fanfiction success. Use Smashwords, Ream, your own host site for direct sales etc. there are erotica and dark fantasy authors who are making WAY more money than I am using paths like this.

I love my path, I love it, and I do believe more people could use it and make it work, but I'll be honest with you - I know I could be making more money if I chose different paths, I'm on this path because it's fun.

[ablogcalledrevenge]

Potential (A General Hux x Reader Insert Multi-Chapter Fic, Rated M)

AO3 Link

Epilogue

It was a pleasant day on Coruscant, the weather on the upper levels cool and bright. It wasn’t sunny exactly, but the sky was clear of clouds and painted everything with a gray tinge. You didn’t care, it didn’t need to be sunny. Most people would probably say it was too horrible of a situation to justify the sun.

Today your husband was being named Emperor. He would rule the Galaxy with no one above him and a legacy of greatness and progress would follow.

Kylo, supported by his Knights, would become Hux’s right hand, protector and enforcer in equal measure. He would only be bound to your requests, and otherwise free to do as he pleased.

You would be Empress. While not completely equal to your husband, you would have domain over plenty, ruling with impunity. To the people of the Galaxy, you would become their Queen, their Gem, their Mother, their Star. Their Sun to orbit around. When you died, they would mourn like children, abandoning everything to grieve you. They would love you and fear you and be better for it.

The troops were at parade rest, Kylo waiting on the platform. He had announced the death of Snoke a few days prior, the First Order chain of command scrambling like Porgs with their heads cut off until Hux stepped forward. He informally announced his new leadership role and you started to plan the coronation.

It couldn’t be anything too extravagant. You didn’t want to show off any obscene wealth or draw enemy attention for yourself. Just a televised coronation, followed by some time for you both to meet the various delegates you would be ruling over.

A command is given, the sound of hundreds of Troopers stepping on metal echoing around the hall. Then a curtain is pulled back and you walk out into the day. On either side of you are rows of troopers, then a small blockade, then some people of Coruscant. They are cheering for you, screaming out their love and praise. Perhaps there are naysayers, but they are drowned out by the simple-minded sycophants.

The Republic is gone, killed on it’s deathbed by a greater power. The Resistance is weak, separated from itself and lacking resources. Your takeover was a gift.

You glitter in the pale light, Kylo’s eyes widening in awe and affection as you approach the raised platform. Your dress is a beautiful one; a tight bodice that exploded out into a ruffled and voluminous skirt with a long train. The dress is embedded with gemstones, the color going from black to a blood red as the gazes of the people traveled from the bottom to the top.

You wear no jewelry but you know the gold headpiece Hux commissioned for you is waiting off to the side next to his crown. You had, in a fit of generosity, offered to make your coronation another day. Or to not have one in general. As the Emperor’s wife, your status would be obvious and implied. But Hux had insisted that if he were to get a new title with fanfare, then you would too.

You reach the platform, Kylo bowing to you before meeting you at the bottom most step and helping you up. He gives you a small but genuine smile, looking years younger from the lack of stress he always felt from Snoke. You nod and take your place next to your husband’s throne, the chair raised up several steps higher.

No one’s head must be higher than the Emperor’s. Not even yours.

Then another command and the curtain opens again. This time there is only silence. The crowd is quiet as they gaze upon their new leader. Through the Force you listen for thoughts with Kylo, his hand resting on his saber.

“He will be a great leader…”

“Maybe the Galaxy will have peace under his rule…”

“My goodness, he’s much more handsome in person…”

“I should kill him where he stands…”

“This is a day of ruin…”

“She looks absolutely beautiful…”

“They make a good couple…”

“The sniper is ready…”

“I love him fiercely.”

The last one is Kylo, and you’re sure he heard a similar thought from you. Kylo follows the trails of dissent, his knights reacting quickly to assess the threats and subdue them. The sniper, in a building across the way, readies his shot, but it never comes.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Kylo snaps the sniper’s neck. His skill has only increased since Snoke’s death. No longer is he shackled by his Master’s plans, kept from learning more by his Leader’s hubris. You shiver with delight at the display of pure power, eager to see Kylo grow in his capabilities.

At last, Hux reaches you. He is dressed in his formal military uniform, medals and badges cleaned and polished till they gleamed. His hair is a vibrant red, carefully styled – not gelled - away from his face. You added a blood red cape to his uniform for a little flair, the fabric ending right above his knees and accentuating the trimness of his figure and the breadth of his shoulders.

A weak beam of sunlight envelops him as he turns to face his people. How serendipitous. The crowd waits with bated breath as Kylo approaches Hux. He bows low and Hux bows his head back in respect. You step forward and your husband takes your hand, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles, before you step away once more. This is his moment, the one you have been working on for two years. Maybe more if you count all the time scheming and watching him on the holonews.

Your husband isn’t one for religion but considering there is no one to pass the monarchy down from, he had understood the tradition of allowing Kylo to present him with his crown. The Force was a universally known entity and a well respected belief system outside certain parties in the First Order. Seeing the current Master of the Force bestow Hux with the rule of the Galaxy would hold weight.

Hovering a gold laurel crown over Hux’s head, Kylo spoke, his voice ringing out over the crowd.

“Do you solemnly promise and swear to rule the Galaxy and it’s inhabitants with care and consideration for the wellbeing of both the present and future?”

“I solemnly promise to do so.”

“Will you in your divine and absolute power cause law and justice to be executed in all judgements?”

“I solemnly promise to do so.”

The crown lowers onto Hux’s head and he looks magnificent. The sunlight glitters against his crown and his medals, showing off the quality of his uniform and the shades of red in his hair. He looks wonderful and pride surges through, a zing of lust following. Then your husband turns to you, another crown floating your way. 

It is a gorgeous piece, meant to arc around your head. On the sides were gold sprigs of laurel leaves, matching your husband’s. They stopped and the rest of the arc continued in a sparkling wire with a bejeweled sun in the center. Dropping down from the sun were two strands of pearls, looping to attach to the wire and rest just above your hair.

Facing your husband, you curtsy before him. He holds the crown aloft and, though he does not smile, looks at you softly.

“Do you promise to aid me and support me in my rule, putting the people of the Galaxy’s needs above your own, showing justice and mercy to all?”

“I solemnly promise to do so.”

He lowers the crown onto your head, and offers you his hand so that you can rise. He smiles again and it’s your favorite one. The one with dimples that you hope your children will inherit. 

Then Hux steps in front of his throne. You and Kylo flank below him on either side.

“Presenting His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Armitage Hux, Ruler of the Galaxy and Supreme Commander of the First Order, and his wife, Her Imperial Majesty, Empress (Y/N) Hux. Long may they reign!”

There is a pause, where it seems like the galaxy holds it’s breath. Then the crowd speaks in unison, Captain Phasma’s voice clear and loud over it. You have won and now you can reap the rewards.

“Long live Emperor Hux! Long live Empress Hux! Glory to the First Order! Glory to the Galaxy! Long may they reign!”

The End

Thank you so much to everyone who read, liked, commented, and reblogged this fic. I appreciate you so much and I love the community we created. Happy Star Wars Day!

Tagging: @babbushka, @livy1391, @renaissance-mama, @girl-next-door-writes​, @peqchynero​, @niniita-ah, @the-temple-pythoness​, @cupofmoonlighttea​, @sincerely-cronch​, @potato-ren​, @brujademente​, @ah-callie​, @rosirinoa​, @lwtficrecs​, @theold-ultraviolence​, @mad-hatters-teapot​, @firstordermariposa, @revolution-starter, @shereadsinquiet, @isthisheaven5

[larkscribbles]

Expiration

CW: violence and character death

[ao3]

A skirmish against Muspell forces a retreat, the summoner uses a newfound hero out of desperation to try and cover their escape. The damage caused is not just limited to their enemy.

(Thank you to my beta readers (who were fed 2nd hand lore that I'm sure was incomprehensible). I shan't forget the polite comment "I'm not trying to be mean, Lark, but The Order of Heroes is a bit on the nose-" to which I responded "Oh, that's the name in the game. I didn't come up with that.")

“Lucina!” Chrom’s voice barely pierced the din of battle. He could make out his daughter’s fluttering red and blue cloak from across the battlefield. The lord threw himself between a blow, parrying the lance to the side. Like clockwork, the princess lunged forwards, pressing the advantage with a thrust. The soldier fell. They had but moments to themselves. She turned to him, the brief smile on her face quickly disappeared. His expression said it all.

“We’re falling back.” Lucina breathed. “I thought-“

“The summoner is sending reinforcements.” Reinforcement. He didn’t like this plan. He knew Lucina would like it less. He didn’t tell her. “But we have to leave now.”

“Alright, father.” Her brow furrowed. She heard his voice shake. The urgency in it. He was withholding something but now was not the time to press.

Mages aided in their retreat, flinging spells and hexes as cover fire. The lords weaved between, leaning on each other, Falchions rattling in their scabbards. They reached the backlines, battered but alive. Few advanced to meet them past that point busy with preparations, save the clerics. A set of familiar pigtails bobbed over to meet them. Lissa hurriedly flitted between them both, stave flaring with light. Exhaustion had already begun to seep into Lucina’s bones, despite the magic. She could barely understand what was being said. She found her eyes unfocusing and drifting as Lissa launched into a speech about stitching bones back together. The princess managed to pick out a familiar black robe from the crowd, hood up, setting a steady pace back towards the fight. She called out to him.

“Robin! W-“

Her words fell on deaf ears. He didn’t even bother meeting her eye. The back of her neck prickled. Chrom placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip tight.

~~~

The sky had begun to darken. Múspell forces waited. Their position remained fortified. The Order of Heroes had failed to break their defence. They would retreat, wasting resources and leaving themselves open to a counterattack. Princess Laegjarn had advised them as much and she was certainly a sound tactician. They had nothing to fear. Even so, the wyvern rider held her lance upright, remaining attentive. Her mount shuddered, suddenly restless even after the heat of battle had faded. She placed a gauntlet to the side of its neck. This did not console it. The beast seemed actively unsettled now, head bowed, whining. The realisation dawned on her slowly, accompanied by sweat beading her brow. It was too dark for the hour. Of course the wyvern would have known this, his domain was the skies after all. She looked up, fear constricting her throat.

By the gods, it was as big as the castle.

The archer saw a lone figure break the crest of the hill and nocked his arrow. The troops vaguely recognised him, he fought for the order, clad in a black, purple and gold robe. He was a tactician. Despite this, they saw no troops. It was curious, he held no flag, not that they would have accepted a surrender. What was he to do?

The arrows loosened all at once, arcing through the air. The man made no move to block them save raising his arm to shield his face. The arrows bit into him. He wore no armour and yet he remained standing, as if his skin itself was resistant. Discomfort rippled through the ranks. He advanced, annoyed scowl present from under his hood. The general barked for them to fire again. It must have been a spell, some sort of enchantment to stall for time, it would fail eventually. The soldiers drew their bowstrings back once more. Suddenly, they halted, their nerves faltering as the sky was overshadowed. The clouds began to part. Some tried to flee. It was already too late.

A long, black, snake-like neck descended in segments. Six draconic red eyes locked their sights on the battlements. The dragon’s head extended, following the scattering troops tauntingly as they tried to escape. A deep rumble emanated from its throat - eerily akin to laughter. The man once known as Robin extended his hand, a ghost of a smirk playing at his lips. The fell dragon opened its glowing maw. A jet of ash-like dark energy burst forth, reducing all in its path to dust. The castle crumbled from the onslaught, debris shooting into the sky from the impact, raining down in chunks on the mounted troops who abandoned their positions.

The archer awoke, ears ringing, unable to move. He spluttered as he tried to draw breath, tasting blood in his mouth and finding his front slick with it. He was trapped beneath part of a parapet. He tried to laugh despite the situation, delirious from blood loss, certain to die here. And even if he didn’t, deserting the army would result in his execution. He had no options. His fate was sealed. He could hear the deliberate crunch of boots on the earth. The man - if he could be called that - was coming closer, snarling as he tore arrows from his robe. He was bleeding too, barely. They locked eyes. Beneath the hood he could see they were just the same as the dragon’s - burning with malice. Nothing was said. There was nothing to say. His fate was sealed. They held not the power to stop him. The assailant continued onward and the dragon continued to destroy, carving dark scars into the earth.

The remaining wyvern rider urged her mount to fly lower, praying her position was obscured by the ruined fortress. In her mind the army were now akin to insects, powerless. Ants had cracks to crawl back into where they could not be found. She currently had no such luxury. Her mind raced. She barely understood what was happening. She spurred her wyvern towards the cover of the forest. That was their only hope.

The fell dragon watched them go, his wounds catching up to him now. He inwardly cursed his frail mortal body. He extended his hand one last time. Ultimately it did not matter whether she escaped or not, the damage was done. Dark spikes burst forth from the earth, gaining on the woman fast. Wyvern and rider swerved desperately as one. The dragon’s breath found its mark, barely, the beast’s wing torn from its socket with a sickening snap. Soldier was knocked from her saddle, the world melted into a dizzying mess of shapes before fading to blackness.

The dragon’s vessel finally took a knee, breathing ragged. A deathly silence hung in the air. It was done. It was, in fact, more than done. The summoner had only sought to cover their retreat. Instead Grima had done more - claimed the keep. Or what was left of it. Despite his addled memories keeping him from assuming his full power he had laid waste to them all the same. He briefly mulled over the summoner - they had promised to support them in the pursuit of power, an endeavour that may save their life in the future. He paused, jerking to attention as two pairs of footsteps approached. The dragon had not been alarmed by the advance, but nor did it attack. Instead, it bowed its head low to the ground so that all its six eyes could bore into them, outlining them in red.

Her voice trembled. “You-!”

Grima turned to the lords and huffed. Lucina stood, Falchion clasped in both hands, and despite the intensity of her grip the blade shook. Chrom stood next to her, lips pursed, gaze troubled, one hand on his own blade. He was the only thing giving her the strength to stand. A version of her father, who may as well have been a ghost, providing a glimmer of hope that things could be better here in Askr. It was pathetic. Grima was certain his own presence undermined this ideal to some extent. Grima circumvented the pair, the dragon half receded into the clouds. He tugged his hood up and pushed past them. The summoner’s choice of company would certainly be a thorn in his side.

[ibijau]

You’re a marked man, brother

A new ghost king emerges, and promptly marries a god A martial god's temples are being targeted by the Magpie King and it is up to Lan Xichen to deal with all this trouble

I am 100% blaming the xisang discord for this, since a large part of the plot was brought up by other people

This is a tgcf AU, not a crossover, so while I'm using some of the same settings and general rules, the characters front tgcf won't appear. I also don't think it's all that necessary to have read tgcf to enjoy and understand the story (I'm personally still just going through book 3) but since this is inspired by a certain arc in the novel, I guess this could count as spoilers.

Also on AO3

The news that a new ghost king had emerged from Tonglu mountain, thirteen years after its gates had last opened, spread like wildfire among ghosts and gods. Everyone stood anxiously to the side, waiting to see what this new Devastation would be like, especially when the Magpie King was already out there, causing all sorts of trouble whenever the mood struck him. Everyone watched as this new ghost king went to settle into the eerie Burial Mounds of Yiling and established himself there. Although nothing terrible seemed to happen at first, everyone who had breath still held it, waiting and waiting. A number of bold ghosts and demons went to Yiling to offer their service to this new king, or to beg for his protection. Some he accepted into his new domain, others he rejected, all according to criteria that no one could understand.

It was almost a relief when, nearly a year after rising from Tonglu mountain, the Yiling Patriarch created trouble and destroyed some temples belonging to a martial god. Finally, the new ghost king was living up to everyone’s expectations, acting with the sort of evil intent everyone had expected, and the world made sense again.

As far as Lan Xichen was concerned, it would have been better if the Yiling Patriarch had remained quiet. It had already been upsetting to see that Devastation take root so close to his own territory, but then the Yiling Patriarch was obviously trying to cause trouble for Lan Xichen personally with these attacks. Although the damaged temples were not his own, in some ways it would have been less troublesome if they had been. There were only a few temples dedicated to his friend Nie Mingjue on the lands Lan Xichen was responsible for, but these had been the targets of the Yiling Patriarch, which seemed a clear attempt to create strife between them.

Nie Mingjue, whose domain was up in the North, was a god with a short temper who did not take well to insult. He would have barged into the Burial Mounds without hesitation if Lan Xichen had not asked him for a chance to investigate the matter before making judgements against the Yiling Patriarch. After all, just by existing a ghost king would attract enemies, Lan Xichen argued, and it wouldn’t be impossible for some lesser ghosts to try to get rid of him by sicking a heavenly official on him before he could become too powerful. After the initial burst of burning anger, Nie Mingjue agreed that it would only be just to investigate this matter, and allowed Lan Xichen to take matters in his own hands.

As usual for matters concerning the mortal world, Lan Xichen sent his brother to check on this matter. Although Lan Wangji was only part of the Middle Court, he excelled at dealing with this sort of thing, always finding the heart of chaos and untangling whatever mess he encountered while being careful of the well-being of any mortals involved. Lan Xichen could not have asked for a better deputy than his brother, and still hoped that in due time, being involved in chaos this way would give his brother a chance to ascend on his own.

Nearly a month passed after Lan Wangji was sent down to earth to investigate, and no news came from him. Lan Xichen, at first, did not worry. It was not unusual for his brother to get caught up with things and not update anyone on what he was doing. After two weeks, this was only mildly concerning. After three, it was odd. After four, Lan Xichen started to fear for his brother’s safety. It ought to have been just a quick investigation after all, and Lan Wangji had been ordered to report to his brother without attempting to handle the situation on his own, since Nie Mingjue would probably wish to punish the culprit himself. Besides, although Lan Wangji liked the mortal world too well and could be wilful at times, he simply never disappeared so long, not once in the several hundred years he had been around.

Terrified that some evil had befallen his brother, Lan Xichen decided to start his own investigation, helped (or hindered perhaps) by his husband who he thought needed a break from his official duties. Jin Guangyao complained at length about this, pointing to the piles of work he had to do, information to collect and organise, prayers to answer, outstanding mortals to check. He also pointed out that anything which might have caused trouble for someone like Lan Wangji would pose great danger, and being a civil god rather than a martial one, he would be of little help. To this, Lan Xichen countered that Jin Guangyao was an expert in collecting information, and thus would surely help finding what had happened to Lan Wangji. As for the danger, Lan Xichen was a martial god, so he could take care of it all and keep his husband sage. Jin Guangyao, knowing how stubborn Lan Xichen could be when he’d decided they were overdue a vacation in the human world, gave in and agreed to come along.

Their first stop, of course, was the dreaded Burial Mounds of Yiling.

It was also their last one.

At the foot of the Mounds, a ghost village of sorts had sprung, where those who had been refused access to the Yiling Patriarch’s domain mingled with those who had just arrived to demand such a favour. It was a grim place, filled with the unresting spirits of criminals, demons on the lookout for their next devious plan, and a number of lost souls too hurt to move on and rejoin the circle of reincarnation. And it was there, among those miserable creatures, that Lan Xichen found his brother hanging out with the ghost of a young man toiling over a nefarious looking pot of soup.

Much as Lan Xichen wished to run to his brother, something about the scene stopped him. There was something not quite right about it, though he couldn’t find what until Jin Guangyao, equally stunned, pointed it out for him.

“I believe it’s the first time I see your brother smile,” Jin Guangyao said. “Do you think he might have been cursed?”

And that was the oddity, of course. Lan Xichen, who knew his brother better than anyone, could recognise the signs of an implied smile on Lan Wangji’s stern face, but to anyone else Lan Wangji appeared impassible and colder than ice. To see him smile outwardly was something entirely unheard of. Then, to make it worse, the young man in black and red said something that Lan Xichen couldn’t hear, and Lan Wangji laughed.

It wasn’t a boisterous laughter, nor indeed a very loud one, but even at a distance there was no mistake possible when seeing the slight shake in Lan Wangji’s shoulders: he was laughing.

Seeing this, Lan Xichen could no longer stay away. He walked toward his brother, Jin Guangyao just one step behind him. Lan Wangji stood a little straighter upon seeing him, while his companion grinned at them and waved his hand.

“You’re not the sort of people we usually get here,” the young man said, distractedly mixing his pot of soup. “I’m guessing you’re here for Lan Zhan? Ah, gongzi, could you perhaps be his brother? You do look the same.”

Hearing his brother and him be referred to so casually, Lan Xichen had to fight a smile, especially when Lan Wangji, usually so formal, didn’t protest in the least.

“I am his older brother indeed,” Lan Xichen confirmed. “I had asked him to take care of a certain business for me, but instead I find him here with you. Might I be so rude as to enquire about your name, gongzi?”

“Where are my manners?” the ghost gasped, just a touch too dramatic. He let go of his ladle, and bowed. “My name is Wei Wuxian, and I am most honoured to meet you. Am I right in guessing you two must be Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao?”

Both gods instantly tensed upon hearing that name.

There were a number of ghosts who didn’t use their name, and preferred a scary sounding title that would strike terror in the heart of enemies and future victims. Even after several hundreds of years, nobody knew who the Magpie King was, and so it had been initially expected that the Yiling Patriarch would do the same. But the Yiling Patriarch liked to do things his own way, and was well known to dislike this title he hadn’t chosen, and to prefer introducing himself under his true name: Wei Wuxian.

It was a shock for this power ghost king to be this sort of a casual looking young man dressed in plain dark robes. Certainly Wei Wuxian was very handsome, but neither his face nor his easy going aura fit what Lan Xichen would have expected from a ghost capable of rising to the rank of Devastation. And yet, it wasn’t a complete surprise either. All the other ghosts and demons around were keeping their distance from Lan Xichen and Jin Guangyao, instantly guessing they were heavenly officials, and thus a danger to them, but Wei Wuxian didn’t appear particularly impressed with them.

“I imagine you’re here for that business with Nie Mingjue’s temples?” Wei Wuxian asked, his attention going back to his devilish stew. “I’ve already told Lan Zhan when he came here, this had nothing to do with me. I’m not interested in making trouble, and I’d prefer to keep away from Heaven’s business.”

Lan Wangji nodded firmly to this, so earnest looking that Lan Xichen couldn’t help smiling again.

“Then Wangji should have come home right away and given me his report on the situation.”

As expected, although Lan Wangji’s face remained impassible, there was just the slightest hint of pink on his ears. He looked away, while next to him Wei Wuxian burst out laughing.

“Well, that one is my fault!” he exclaimed. “See, Lan Zhan and I met when I was still alive, and then again a few times here and there after I died, and we became good friends.”

“Good friends indeed,” Lan Xichen noted with amusement, while his brother’s ears turned a bright red. Lan Xichen exchanged a glance with Jin Guangyao who was also struggling not to grin now that he understood the situation.

“Maybe more than good friends,” Wei Wuxian admitted without shame. “Poor Lan Zhan was very worried that I’d disappeared for a few years in Tonglu Mountain, and so now that I’m back, he decided he doesn’t want to lose sight of me again in case I do more stupid things; And that’s how we got married. I really thought he’d warned you,” Wei Wuxian added, lightly slapping Lan Wangji’s arm. “How rude. I didn’t think I’d married someone so rude.”

“Being around the Burial Mounds makes it difficult to contact Heavens,” Lan Wangji said.

“Then you could have gone away for a little bit, send your message, and returned!”

Lan Wangji shook his head. “Where Wei Ying is, I am as well.”

That simple declaration had Wei Wuxian groaning and whining as if he’d been mortally pierced through by a blade, and he complained heavily that Lan Wangji was unreasonable and unkind and quite clearly trying to murder him with words too sweet. 

Lan Xichen, at first, was shocked and disappointed to learn that his brother had married in secret, but ultimately decided that the decision made sense. Although he was only from the Middle Court, Lan Wangji was still a heavenly official, and so for him to marry not just a ghost, but one of such a dangerous level, was really scandalous. Lan Xichen dearly wished he could have been present for such an important moment of his brother’s life, but it would have been complicated to organise, and his own reputation would have suffered. Not that he cared too much about his reputation compared to his brother’s happiness, but Lan Wangji had probably wanted to be kind in leaving him in the dark.

As for the rest, if Lan Wangji believed that Wei Wuxian really was innocent of that incident with Nie Mingjue, it had to be true. Knowing Lan Wangji, if he liked a person he would stay at their side no matter what they did, but he wouldn’t close his eyes to their fault. If anything, had Wei Wuxian really been in disagreement with Nie Mingjue, Lan Wangji would have immediately said so to Lan Xichen so he could try to act as a peacemaker and resolve the situation.

“Will you be staying here then?” Jin Guangyao asked Lan Wangji.

Lan Wangji nodded. “Hm.”

“Then we would do well to find a way to explain your prolonged absence,” Jin Guangyao mused. “Let’s avoid creating trouble for everyone. If Xichen agrees, I will go back and prepare an assignment asking you to keep a close eye on the Yiling Patriarch for an undetermined period of time. That way, no matter what others say, it won’t be a lie to say that you are here on official business.”

Lan Wangji nodded again, but it was clear he did not care much what others said about his decisions. Even after so many centuries in Heavens, he still had the firm belief that a person’s actions should be the only thing they should be judged on, regardless of gossip or social expectations. Lan Xichen found that trait charming and infuriating in turns, and so was deeply grateful to his husband for giving Lan Wangji some protection against those who would speak ill of him.

Having decided this, Jin Guangyao promptly left so he could take care of this, while Lan Xichen chose to linger a little while longer and learn more about his new brother-in-law. Since he had such an esteemed guest to entertain, Wei Wuxian abandoned his stew and the ghost village, offering that they continue this conversation inside the Burial Mounds. He’d only come to the ghost village because some of those who resided inside the Mounds had complained at length against his cooking and he didn’t want to bother anyone who didn’t deserve it.

"Then you are kinder than I might have been led to expect," Lan Xichen remarked as they traversed the village. "I suppose your mounting reputation might have more to do with memories of the Magpie King's early days than your own actions." 

"Is he really so bad then?" Wei Wuxian asked. "I think I've met him once or twice over the years, he didn't seem so bad. That is, if it was even him. He never introduced himself, eh?" 

Lan Xichen refrained a grimace. "If he likes a person, he'll make their life easier. If he dislikes them, they'd better start praying to every gods in the Heavens because the Magpie King will stop at nothing to destroy his enemies."

In fact, even heavenly officials weren't quite safe. Right after reaching the rank of Devastation, the Magpie King had taken a sudden dislike to a few minor civil gods and ruined their reputation so thoroughly that their own followers, ashamed of ever praying to them, had torn down their temples and burned their broken fondations. Since those gods had all been revealed to be corrupt nobody had really missed them in the end, but civic gods had lived in fear for years after that. Even the most upright of gods had secrets they didn't want to see revealed. Lan Xichen still remembered that Jin Guangyao had been terrified his origins would be revealed, and that his followers would turn away from him if they discovered he'd been born the son of a prostitute. 

"Maybe it wasn't him I met then," Wei Wuxian mused. "The person in question helped me quite a bit back then, and I've always made enemies of the wrong people. If I'd met the Magpie King, he'd have hated me for sure, ahah!" 

"Maybe yes, maybe not," Lan Xichen replied. "Nobody knows why he chooses to like this person and hate that one, so it's possible…" 

Someone caught Lan Xichen's attention as they were about to exit the ghost village, a silhouette not far that sent his heart racing. Without thinking he abandoned the other two and ran toward the person, a young man leaning against a tree and deep in conversation with a headless monster. With trembling hands, Lan Xichen grabbed the man's shoulder, roughly forcing him to turn around so he could see his face. 

"A-Sang?" 

Assaulted this way, and by a high ranking god no less, the poor ghost shrieked and nearly fainted on the spot. He'd been given that fright for nothing, too. Although from the back the silhouette and posture had seemed to match, from the front it was clear that there had been a mistake. 

"My deepest apologies," Lan Xichen said, bowing to the terrified ghost. "I mistook you for someone else." 

"Are you looking for someone?" Wei Wuxian asked, coming closer. "An evil ghost maybe? We're family now, so I don't mind helping out." 

"No, the matter is a personal one," Lan Xichen confessed, his cheeks burning at having behaved this way in public.

"Then all the more reason to tell me!" Wei Wuxian insisted. "Who are you looking for? An enemy? An old rival?" 

"A friend." 

Wei Wuxian looked surprised, though less so than Lan Wangji who had never heard of his brother having any missing friends. Of course he wouldn't have, when Lan Xichen had kept this matter to himself. Even Nie Mingjue and Jin Guangyao had never been told about this, so it would have been foolish to tell this stranger Wei Wuxian. And yet, if there was just a slim chance… 

"Back when before I ascended, I had a very dear friend," Lan Xichen explained. "A few years younger than me, but we got along wonderfully and made plans to travel together someday. I remember he particularly wanted to go see the stone pillars in Wulingyuan. Before this could be done, I had to return home and deal with some things there, but as it happened, I ascended shortly after. I offered my friend a chance to join the Middle Court, but he declined for the present because there was no one else in his family to take care of his parents. He said he would gladly join me once they had passed away, but for now he was happier in the mortal world."

Lan Xichen sighed. To this day, he still regretted not having insisted some more. 

"A little while after that, someone slaughtered the entire household," he lamented. "Even the children and the elderly were all killed to the last, there was no survivor."

Lan Wangji took a sharp breath, to which Lan Xichen answered by a sad smile. 

"I know what you're thinking, Wangji, and you're right. It is the same as what happened to Nie Mingjue’s family after he ascended. It even happened around the same time, and the city was the same as well, so I think the two crimes were linked. And as for my friend, his soul was not among those put to rest after, so I believe he might have become a ghost."

"What was his name?" Wei Wuxian asked. 

Lan Xichen laughed awkwardly. 

"For how dear to me he was, I actually don't know," he admitted. "I only knew him as A-Sang. For some reason, I didn't even learn his last name either. As you can imagine, it has made it nearly impossible to look for him. Perhaps it's for the best anyway." Lan Xichen sighed. "What would I even say to him anyway? After so long, 'sorry' is a pitiful word, and anyway I am married to another now, someone who was fated for me. Still, I wish we could have had a proper goodbye." 

Lan Xichen sighed again, in spite of himself. He knew it was selfish to still miss this person, and surely Jin Guangyao would have been hurt to know his husband couldn't fully get over that old flame, even after centuries. It was why Lan Xichen had never told him, nor Nie Mingjue who would have been upset on his brother's behalf. But maybe he should have said something, because sharing this secret made him feel a little lighter. 

Still, this was a very grim topic to discuss with newlyweds, so Lan Xichen forced himself to smile more warmly and quickly changed the subject. Although the others were clearly curious, they understood this was painful for him and dropped the matter. 

Aside from that brief incident, the rest of the day was pleasant enough. Wei Wuxian was an eccentric character, and maybe a little self centered, but ultimately Lan Xichen figured this new ghost king should cause as many problems as the first one. Wei Wuxian seemed more interested in experimenting with his new power than in causing chaos, and apparently his goal with those powers was mostly to see if the notoriously nefarious Burial Mounds could be purified. That, and shamelessly flirting with Lan Wangji, seemed to be Wei Wuxian's only preoccupation. 

Still, a Devastation remained a Devastation. Although Wei Wuxian was friendly, it would be best to keep an eye on him. 

As night started falling, Lan Xichen took his leave. He promised to come visit again, and at Wei Wuxian's insistence he swore he would try to bring his husband, though it would be an arduous task. Jin Guangyao wasn't found of leaving his work behind, and had little taste for ghosts. 

All in all, Lan Xichen was in an excellent mood when he walked away from the Burial Mounds. But as soon as he was out of that place's area of influence, a panicked voice into his mind as Jin Guangyao shouted into their private communication array. 

"I'm here," Lan Xichen said, surprised that his husband had lost his calm so thoroughly. "Were you worried because you couldn't get in touch?" 

"Indeed I was," Jin Guangyao replied, already calming down now that he'd gotten an answer. "Xichen, you must return at once, the situation is urgent. More of da-ge's temple have been attacked, in his own territory, and this time the culprit signed his crime so da-ge went to confront him!" 

That didn't sound like something to panic over, Lan Xichen thought at first. Out of all the martial gods in the Heavenly Court, Nie Mingjue was the most powerful by far. Ghosts, demons, mortals, or other gods, there was nobody he couldn't defeat. 

Not unless the battle wasn't just a physical one. 

"A-Yao, the person who attacked his temples, could it be…" 

Jin Guangyao let out a deep sigh. 

"Yes, Xichen, it is. Da-ge went off to fight the Magpie King."

[fuckit-hero-of-trains]

Sit by the fire until... Ch 1

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25870150/chapters/62859553

Summary:

They inherited a lot of things from Sky.

From him, they inherited a sword, honed in flames painted with holy might and sharpened to a deadly, resplendent point. From him, they inherited a forest green tunic with such a storied and epic past that few would believe that it had started out as nothing more than happenstance; a school uniform of all things.

From him, the inherited a destiny and an eternal enemy to go right along with it.

They knew that. Understood that. Didn't blame him for it.

Funny, then, that they didn't connect the dots.

Because there was one more trait they all seemingly inherited from Sky, whether they realized it or not.

(or: 8 times a hero fell asleep somewhere weird +1 time a hero fell asleep exactly where he was supposed to)

Legend has seen a lot of dangerous things in his lifetime. He’s been on five adventures for Hylia’s sake. There are not a lot of things that can phase him anymore.

Another dank dungeon in need of exploration? Easy. Another monster whose weak point is inexplicably a giant eye that glows? Piece of cake. A realm of unfathomable darkness? Been there, done that, didn't even get any cool items from it.

But this… now this scares him.

“Nose goes,” Legend says flatly, flashing a finger up to touch the tip of his nose despite the fact that he is one of only two people standing in front of said insurmountable task.

“I’m not going in there,” Warriors hisses, not even trying to honor Legend’s ‘Nose Goes,’ his hands resting firmly on his hips, face incredulous as he stares down their target. “What do I look like? An idiot?”

“Oh, you don’t just look like one,” Legend assures him dryly, brows raised, smile bright and full and smarmy.

Warriors shoves him.

“If you think it’s so easy, why don't you just go in then?” the Captain spits.

But before Legend can get out another snarky response, the sound of movement , of creaking wood, sends both heroes stumbling away from the structure they had been standing next to, their hands flying up to shield their faces from harm as they wince away from what will no doubt be their end.

A beat passes between them, neither moving in fear of incurring a terrible wrath…

...

But after a second with no horrifying retribution, the two breathe a sigh of relief, eyeing up their foe.

The cucco coop.

They both shudder.

“Are you sure he’s in there?” Warriors whispers after another cautious moment of silence. “We could check the barn again.”

And as much as it would make Legend’s day to just check the barn again, he shakes his head.

“This is the only place we haven’t looked,” he reminds the scarf wearing hero with a scowl, “Besides, for some goddess forsaken reason, he happens to like these little menaces. If there was anywhere on this farm Sky would be, it's here.”

Warrior’s face screws up.

“Ugh, why can’t we just have dinner without him?”

“Because Time’s a stubborn old bastard with a parental streak the size of the moon,” Legend bites out. And then, with a bit less bitterness. “And because Malon wants to have family dinner or whatever.”

“She made cornbread,” Warriors laments with a small shake of his head, “I at least wanted to try a little before I kicked it.”

Legend smacks him on the arm.

“Don’t be so dramatic.”

“I’m not being dramatic and you know it!” Warriors replies, voice jumping an octave. “Those things are vicious killers! Goddess only knows what we would have done in my era without Linkle taming them. Feathery bastards can change the tide of war in an instant!”

Legend rolls his eyes.  

“Okay, yeah,” the Veteran admits, “those things could pick a moblin clean faster than you could blink, but I’m not saying we have to fight them to the death. We just have to take a peek in the coop and see if Sky’s in there. If he is, great, we tell him dinner’s ready and get the hell out of dodge. If he isn’t, sweet, we get the hell out of dodge even faster and tell Time we couldn't find him.”

“Oh, well then, if it's so simple” Warriors replies, bowing deeply and gesturing to the coop with a flourishing arm, “After you.”

“No, no, no. You lost ‘Nose Goes’,” Legend reminds. “You have to do it.”

“You can’t call ‘Nose Goes’ with just two people!”

“I think you’ll find that I did. And you lost.”  Legend grins and mirrors Warrior’s bow and flourish. “So, after you.”

The Captain narrows his eyes.

“How about this?" the Pretty Boy bargains. "I open the door, and for fifty rupees, you look inside?”

Legend purses his lips, eyes flicking from Warriors to the coop. On the one hand, War did lose Nose Goes. There really should be no bargaining going on here. Legend has the moral high ground in this particular situation. Not to mention that it would absolutely make his day to see the pompous  captain get knocked down several pegs by a couple of birds.

And Legend really isn't looking to get his eyes pecked out today.

But on the other hand, depriving the Captain of even more of his hard earned cash is a pretty good incentive. Plus, he’ll need to squirrel some more rupees away back home if this whole ‘Ravio staying with him’ thing is gonna be a bit more permanent.

He’s got no idea how in the name of the Wind Fish Ravio even made it to his Hyrule let alone if the idiot can even get himself back to Lorule.

And Legend can’t have that rabbit hooded bastard selling his equipment just to put food on the table for however long he’s staying.

“Seventy-five and it's a deal,” Legend replies, holding a hand out for the Captain to shake on it.

A roll of eyes from Warriors but he takes Legend’s hand all the same, giving it a firm shake.

Sucker.

Legend only said he would look inside. Not get Sky if he saw him in there.

They take up their positions in front of the coop; War’s hand on the door handle, ready to pull it open while Legend situates himself around the corner, primed to take a quick peek inside and then retreat just as quickly.

“On three,” Warriors breathes.

“One.”

Warrior’s grip on the doorknob tightens, the leather of his gloves creaking slightly with the force of his grasp.

“Two.”

Legend feels his muscle tense, the cords of his neck straining as he readies himself for his dive, his newest in a line of near death experiences.

A breath in.

A breath out.

“Three!”

With a flick of the wrist and jolt of the arm, Warriors whips the door to the cucco coop wide open. In the same instant, Legend darts his top half around the corner of the coop, peeking into the dim depths of the pen and–!

And…

Huh.

Legend is not met with a flurry of feathers spelling his demise. Isn’t met with the death rattle of squakes nor clawed with an inch of his life in seconds nor immediately assaulted with an avalanche of pecks that could drill straight to the bone.

No.

Legend is met with none of the things he expects and is instead faced with one of the most miraculous sights he has ever beheld.

Because inside the coop, in the dim warmth of their little home, all of the hens sit politely on their nests, heads perked and turned toward the intruding light, but otherwise, unbothered by the hero standing in their doorway. Not a ruffled feather in sight nor any eyes gleaming with deadly, avian hatred.

Nope.

They are perfectly relaxed. Perfectly within their element and domain, not a care in the world. In fact, after a moment of staring at Legend with what the Veteran could only describe as royal indifference, the cuccos settle back down, heads tucking into downy white feathers or disappearing under wings.

“Well?” Warriors whispers from behind the door where he is taking shelter, “Is he in there?”

“Not sure,” Legend replies.

He takes a tentative step forward, eyes locked on the birds as he carefully places one boot within the threshold of the coop. No reaction. He leans weight onto that foot, flinching as the wood groans beneath his mass.

…

Still no reaction.

Welp, Legend thinks with no small amount of dryness. No excuse not to make sure Sky isn't in here.

“Give me a sec,” he breathes back to War, taking another, more confident step into the coop. “I'm going to check.”

“No, wait, Legend, they’re lulling you into a false sense of security! You can’t just–!”

The Veteran ignores Warrior’s hissed warnings, confidently going from the frying pan and into the fire.

Or from the barnyard to the cucco coop. Whatever.

Besides the sight of the oddly tame cuccos, Legend is immediately hit with a slight wave of heat as he enters the coop proper, the temperature inside that of a warm blanket against his face and body. He is also hit with the smell of hay, grassy and dry and warm.

A quick scan of the coop gives Legend no leads on Sky. No light green tunic, no dirty blond hair, no Master Sword, no white sailcloth. It does, however, tell him that Time may be missing a few hens, as four nests seem to be vacant.

He takes another quick sweep and is just about to label Sky a lost cause when something in the corner of the coop shifts and makes a soft huff, sending Legend’s heart into his throat and his arms up around his face, fearing that this, this will be the end of him. Five adventures down, Ganon killed three times by his hands, multiple kingdoms and  deities  saved due to his actions, and he's going to die to some fucking poultry.

But after a beat, a moment, a full minute of not moving and with Legend not being absolutely smote where he stands, the pink haired hero slowly but surely peaks out from behind his arms to see the cuccos still just sitting in their nests, now gazing at him with what he thinks is exasperation.

Which really shouldn't be possible, because, you know, they’re fucking birds. Their eyes really shouldn't be that expressive. And yet, as Legend uncurls from his wince completely, as his heart rate calms from the stutter step it had been running through, he can’t help feel the condescension in their beady little golden eyes.

Little pricks, he thinks a little viciously as he subtly flips one of them the bird– ironic, he knows– turning to investigate the noise that had nearly given him a heart attack a few seconds earlier. I hope Malon cooked one of you for dinner.

Sure that he's not about to be absolutely eviscerated, Legend follows the noise, a soft, rhythmic huffing, to one of the hay filled corners of the coop that had been obscured by the line of nests and...

And, really, he should have known.

Trust Hylia’s Chosen Hero to fall asleep in literally the most dangerous place known to Hylians.

Because there, in a soft pile of hay in the corner of Time’s cucco coop, is Sky, eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar as he takes in breaths, slow and deep and even and warm. His sailcloth is layed out beneath him, no doubt protecting him from the prickly hay as he naps peacefully, none the wiser that four cuccos have found him a suitable enough pseudo nest to be napping right along with him: one tucked under each arm, another resting on his slowly rising and falling chest, and the last finding a home in his soft, dirty blond hair.

Legend takes it all in. Takes in the way the birds churr in time with Sky’s soft snores, the way bits of hay have found their way into the Skyloftian's hair, the way the small sliver of light entering the coop from the open doorway illuminates the floating dust particles in shades of sunset gold, the way they swirl in little eddies with each of the Chosen Hero’s breaths.

It truly is a tableau of peace.

Too bad it’s dinner time.

“Alright, Lover Boy,” Legend huffs, reaching out to shake the Chosen Hero awake. “Up and at ‘em. Malon made dinner and–”

Before Legend’s hand can even make contact with Sky’s shoulder, a rising grumble shatters the relative peace of the coop.

All around him, the heads of all the cuccos snap up in tandem, pinning Legend in place with at least 20 pairs of molten gold eyes as the grumble– which he now realizes is the sound of the four hens sitting with Sky hissing at him– rises in volume and anger.

With slow and controlled movements, Legend pulls his hand back from where it had been moving toward the somehow still sleeping Sky and raises both palms up in surrender.

The eyes follow the motions of his hands with deadly precision but the cuccos make no move to strike.

So Legend does the most logical thing anyone would do in his situation:

He gives up without a fight, keeping his hands raised where the birds can see them while slowly backpedaling out of the coop.

Then, when he finally crosses the threshold back out of the coop, Legend takes the edge of the door into both his hands, and carefully, gently, closes the coop back up.

“So?” Warriors asks, hands on hips, staring at Legend's odd display “Was he in there?”

“Yep,” Legend replies flatly, popping the ‘p’ as tension bleeds out of his muscles.

A brief pause.

“And?” Warriors intones expectantly.

Legend turns to the other hero, clasps a firm hand on the Captain’s shoulder, and smiles.

“And good luck getting him out of there. You’re sure as hell gonna need it.”

And with that, the Veteran turns and strides back toward the farm house, ignoring the indignant sputterings of the scarf wearing hero all the way there.

Wind Fish, he hopes Time has something stronger than Lon Lon Milk.

‘Cuz after the number those demon birds just did on him? He's gonna need it.

And based on the screaming coming from behind him, he assumes Warriors is gonna need it too.

[jeonggukingdom]

across a lifetime (m)

❖ Pairing:  Taehyung x Reader x Jeongguk

❖ Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Sci-Fi - criminal!AU, time-travel!AU

❖ Summary: In your world only a few rules exist: don’t reveal your true identity to anyone, kill or be killed and, most importantly, do not get caught. It only takes a few moments for the scale to be tipped to the wrong side, for the fine equilibrium to be easily ruptured by an inexplicable turn of events and for you to lose the only person that ever mattered to you. With the love of your life lost in the distant past, you are left with only one option: get caught. ❖ Word Count: 29.101 words

❖ WARNINGS: lots of violence, murder/death, mention of wounds and blood, gore, graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, oral (receiving), fingering, hickeys, dirty talk, cussing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex— the sex scene is not very kinky but it is very passionate ;)

❖ Author’s Notes: This story is part of the “Under Fire” collab hosted by the @btssmutclub ! ♥ Make sure to check the rest of the stories because they are all bomb **  ||  The main plot of this story was based on this prompt: here. I tried to research a lot to write the scenes set in the past but if there are some errors, please do not mind them too much, I really tried! ♥ ❖ PS: I know some of you struggle to read long fics on Tumblr so here’s the AO3 link to read it more comfortably: here!

❖ 6th May 2018, h 23:58 || Seoul, South Korea

 In your world only a few rules exist: don’t reveal your true identity to anyone, kill or be killed and, most importantly, do not get caught.

Taehyung’s scream behind your back comes in the form of your name, the urgency in his tone goading your legs to move even faster, begging you to keep going and not to stop, not to even look back. But you do look back, because that is the only way you think the dread in your heart will be quenched but, instead, you are met with the most terrifying sight you could have possibly envisioned.

The bright yellow uniforms of law enforcements shine like a beacon in the night, looking quite menacing in the night with their proximity.

You can hear their voices shouting your way, you can see their guns aimed at you both as you try to flee the scene and save your asses but it is clear, despite how hard you try to deny it to yourself, that this time, there is no chance of escaping and for the first time in forever, you are utterly terrified.

► two hours before

“Understood.”

Taehyung clicks his phone shut, his lips drawn in a tight line as he stares at the closed gate before you. The house it is supposed to protect is concealed by darkness, the silence all around it making it appear abandoned or, at the very least, currently vacant but you both know it is not the case. You can’t see them but you know there must be at least thirty guards surrounding the building and every way of access to it.

Most importantly, you know perfectly well who is secluded there, protected by his men as he comfortably sleeps in his master bedroom with a light conscience and a heavy wallet.

Your gaze drops on the file in your hands, your eyes scanning the pages one last time before you need to leave the car and complete your mission.

“Was it Hoseok?” You ask absentmindedly as you turn the page over to stare at the face of the man you are about to kill.

You have spent countless of days studying your target, his life and lifestyle, his habits and all the little things that can help you both finishing off the mission as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Taehyung hums as he rolls his eyes, the displeasure clear in his demeanour as he refuses to address what the nature of the call was.

“He means well,” you say, deciding to fill the silence with a peace offering hoping it will set his mood straight again so that he stays focused the entire time you are on the field.

You know Taehyung like the palm of your hand and you like to think he knows you just as much, to the point where sometimes words aren’t necessary to express what one of you two is thinking or going through. Sometimes, though, Taehyung makes it really hard for you to understand him and tonight it seems like it’s going to be one of those kinds of situations.

He has clearly decided to shield himself inside what you like to call his ‘silence-ball’, that inaccessible place in his mind he likes to seek comfort in when he is upset, angry or quite possibly both and not very willing to talk about it.

“I know, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He replies after a few seconds that almost feel like minutes. The tension in the car gets thicker with every breath you take and it makes you squirm in your seat.

If there is something you do not like is working with your partner when he is in a dark mood. It makes you anxious, restless even and those feelings bring your eyes back to the file in your hands.

Target Name: Myung Ki Kwon, male Age: 37 Marital Status: married, 2 kids (currently out of the State)

You know the file by heart by now but still, you keep checking every single detail, careful not to overlook even a tiny fraction of it because, in your line of work, even a single hair can make the biggest difference.

You sigh out loud as you force yourself to close the file and stop over-thinking every single detail of this mission. It’s not like it is your first one nor the hardest one you ever got and, even though he is in a rough mood at the moment, you know you can always count on Taehyung. You have been partners for six years, four of which you have been spending as an actual couple and there is no doubt you can do your job to perfection.

Assigning you to this case was not a coincidence and even though the enmity between Hoseok and Taehyung is fairly mutual, your boss is still smart enough to recognise a good agent and trust them with the most dangerous and delicate cases.

Your target tonight is the head of the local mob, he ascended to power in the span of a few months after ruthlessly murdering his predecessor—someone who, at that time, was supposed to be your target.

In those few months at the head of a clan, though, Myung Ki Kwon has managed to conquer what the ones before him never could. Just like oil expanding in the sea at a quick rate, so did his power and, in a few weeks, half of Seoul has been turned into his domain.

"So what did Hoseok say?" You ask to both fill the silence in your car and possibly soothe Taehyung's nervousness and your own in the process.

Taehyung pursues his lips, his eyes turning cold as he fixes them on the road almost as if he's imagining your boss there, defenceless and ready to be shred to pieces.

"Apparently there will be no extraction team for us."

Taehyung's words are pronounced slowly, quite surely reluctantly because he knows perfectly well what they will do to you.

"What?!" It is something akin to a shriek what comes out of your mouth and he winces a little at the sound because he hates this just as much as you do, if not more.

Extraction teams are the most important things in your line of work. They are what makes it possible for you to survive and to not get caught and not having one can easily mean absolute doom.

Taehyung sighs and fixes his gaze on you, his eyes turning gentle as he takes in your distraught expression and the way your body has stiffened against the leather seat.

"There was a problem with the other mission and they had to send another extraction team there to help. They'll try to get here in time but we are most likely on our own."

Why not recall the mission? You wonder for a second but you know why perfectly well. This is your chance and to waste it would be too much of a risk. Your target must be eliminated, the sooner the better.

"It's ok, we're good enough on our own." Taehyung takes your hand in his and gives it a gentle squeeze that makes you smile in return.

You know you are good, you know that most of the times your extraction team has been helpful only to make a quick escape but still, the doubt settles itself in the back of your mind and even though you try to ignore it, you know it'll remain there for the rest of the evening, like a woodworm.

"I know, you're right, I'm just being silly."

He gives you a little smile in return and then turns his focus on the iron gate again, peering in the darkness to check even the smallest of movements in its midst.

You have studied how the security system works, how often they take rounds and at what times so it is only a matter of waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

That moment is in about ten minutes, according to the watch at your wrist.

You take a deep breath in and close your eyes to relax both your body and mind.

You have been doing this for years and you know how important it is to calm yourself, steady the beating of your heart and clear your mind from all thoughts that aren't related to the operation.

You push out of your mind the doubts, the news about your extraction team not being there, you even push as far away as possible Hoseok's orders that morning. You know your job, you know how to kill and disappear like you never been there in the first place.

Being an assassin for a rogue agency—even if it is aimed to target high-profile criminals that menace to disrupt the equilibrium of the entire society—means you are public enemy number one for the Government and the law enforcement. To the rest of the world, you do not exist, you are absolutely invisible and that is how it shall remain.

"You ready?" Taehyung's voice peels you off from your meditative state and you open your eyes again.  Yes, you know you are.

You hum in response and follow him outside the car while clicking the timer on your wristwatch. Time, as always, is the essence.

You steal a glance at your companion and he silently nods in your direction whilst reaching for the gun behind his back.

You mirror his movements and follow him up to the gate, your eyes fixed on the dark field ahead to scan any possible change in the usual routine.

Just as expected, the passage is clear and it should remain so for the next couple of minutes—just enough for you two to climb the gate and seek coverage in the darkness before you are spotted and shot on the spot.

It was a surprise to discover that against all odds, the gate is not secured by anything aside from the guards. No electricity, no sensors for movements from the outside, no nothing.

For someone like Myung Ki Kwon to overlook something so important feels very out of place and that is why all of your senses are alert, ready to catch even the smallest of signs that things are bound to be harder then they look.

Behind this gate, the unknown awaits you. Aside from the number of guards placed on the outside perimeter and how they change position every two hours, you have no idea what is waiting for you behind those closed doors.

As your feet touch the ground on the opposite side of the fence and you wait for Taehyung to join you, you scan your surrounding with your infra-red glasses, seeking every trap that could be hidden in the darkness.

Your partner lands safely beside you and you exchange a knowing look because, from this point forward, you're on your own.

You nod towards him and hold his gaze for a couple of seconds, the usual silent prayers and recommendations hidden in it. Be safe, be careful, do not get caught, come back to me.

You turn your back towards your partner and silently run in the opposite direction, quickly finding refuge behind a big old tree. Just as you stop behind the bark and crouch on the ground, you spot the first guard.

He is an easy target for you when you are lurking in the dark and he has no suspicion of your existence.

He goes down quickly and silently as you ambush him from behind, your hands strong around his neck until you hear it crack to the point of no return.

You drag his corpse to your hiding spot and strip him off of his weapons, safely hiding a few inside your boots, your hostler and the small of your back. Extra ammunition is always helpful in those types of missions, especially when there is only two of you and plenty of them.

Your steps are silent as you come out of your hiding spot again. Your eyes scan your surroundings anew, your heart beating steadily in your chest as you crunch on your knees and look up towards the high windows where you know guards are situated.

Every step is careful and calculated because the presence of traps under the ground comes more and more plausible the longer it takes for you to spot another guard. It feels too easy and when an assassination mission appears to be simple it's because it is not and you are getting lurked inside a trap with not a single way out.

You glance at your watch and notice that ten minutes have already passed. It has been too long without a guard and you are now certain, the danger awaits you behind the corner.

You decide to ditch the perfect silence of your steps on the ground in favour of speed. After all, time is the only luxury you do not have at the moment.

Your run on the lawn seemingly goes unnoticed in the night and it helps you reach the opposite right external wall of the building.

Finally, you spot some guards there, their figures bulky and dark and menacing as they stand like statues in front of the balconies. In a one on one fight, you'd probably lose against any of them but you have an advantage right now: you are beneath them and they cannot see you just yet.

You take this opportunity to silence your weapon and shoot the closest one from your position.

Just as expected, the bullet perforates his neck—the only truly exposed spot in his armour—bringing him to the ground within seconds.

You quietly watch the two guards gaze in his direction before rushing towards him, just like you planned.

They go down just as easily, albeit the last one mustering a tentative shot towards your general direction.

The bullet doesn't even come near you but it is not good news either. A gun going off in the night is enough for everyone else in the house to be alerted by it and you know, there is no chance in hell you’ll be able to bring the other guards down as easily as these ones. You lost the element of surprise, after all.

Just as you expected, the lights flicker on inside of the building, shining like beacons in the night.

The initial advantage you and Taehyung had is shrunk to a minimum in an instant. Hiding in the dark won’t be as easy when there is light shining all around and eyes eager to catch even a single glimpse of movement on the outside.

You curse under your breath and check your watch again. Eighteen minutes.

You decide to go for it and rely on both your partner on the other side of the house and your own skills. There is simply no point of keeping yourself hidden like this the entire time. Now more than ever, your time is shrinking and the longer it'll take for you to enter the building and find your victim, the fewer chances you'll have to actually get to him.

You run as quickly as you can, your legs moving even faster as you realise someone has spotted you the instant you came out of your hiding spot. You do not dare a single glance their way or towards any of the windows and just keep pushing forward.

You can hear the bullets going off behind you, you can feel some of them graze your skin and the hissing sounds they make when they pass near your ears but still, none of them catches you and you know it is not just because you have skills, oh no, it is also luck.

When you finally reach the safe spot that represents the far end of the complex you are almost out of breath and you can make out the edges of a shadow lurking there, dressed all in black as to camouflage with the darkness itself, pointing a gun right at you.

For a second, you fear the worst. In fact, for a second you even consider lifting your own weapon and shoot them right between their eyes but then you recognize his stance and the way he holds his gun and you realize it is your lover you are looking at.

You quickly lift your arms as to surrender to him and you hear him hiss under his breath as he recognizes you as well.

"Shit, I almost shoot you." He whispers as he runs in your direction, cutting your distance short so you are standing side by side.

"What the fuck happened?"

"There were three guards and one of them shoot me before I could take him down."

You whisper as you keep scanning your surroundings, looking for more guards to take down. It is, again, oddly eerie and calm when you’d expect for all the guards to be running down the lawn by now, looking for you.

Taehyung hands grasp your shoulders roughly, forcing you to turn around and face him.

You can’t clearly see his face in the darkness, even when you are standing so close to each other but you can still sense the way his eyes are scanning your body, probably looking for possible injuries, alerted by your poor choice in wording.

"I'm not hurt, the bullet didn't even come close to me.”

You hear the sigh of relief he emits before letting you go, his muscles relaxing before your eyes as he steps a little to the side to look up at the window above your heads.

"Is your side clear?" You ask, moving alongside him so that your shoulders are always brushing against each other.

Your plan has been screwed over at this point and what you have to do is adapt and, judging by the numbers reflected on your watch, you have no more time to spare. You need to enter the house and find him, doesn’t matter if you’ll have to break hell loose in order to do it.

“Yes.”

His reply is short and barely above a whisper as he glances upwards, gesturing up to the windows with his hand as well. You follow his pointed finger and find a guard there, his eyes evidently fixed somewhere in the distance, probably trying to catch sight of you.

You nod your head yes as he looks at you, years of practice making it possible for you two to understand each other without the need to speak.

He secures his gun behind his back and puts his hands together to form a step for you to climb on so that he can propel you forward.

You have done this plenty of times before and just as always, Taehyung is able to push you upwards enough for you to grab onto the window and surprise the guard there with your sudden appearance.

"Oh, hello, there." You say before punching him hard in the face.

The guard steps back a little and you take the chance to jump onto the floor, aim your gun at him and finishing him off before he can even think about aiming his rifle at you.

You turn around with a little smile on your lips while reaching for the electric wire secured on your belt.

Your agency has evolved a lot in the past few years when it comes down to weaponry and useful utensils and the extensible wire is one of those. Absolutely weightless yet strong enough to resist to the weight of the heaviest soldiers, it proved to be quite resourceful in more than an occasion and as Taehyung grips the other end of it to climb up the wall, you are proven yet again that the right tools in the right hands can make the biggest difference.

Usually, you do not get cocky on the job, you do not get too relaxed and you never let your guard down but, somehow, tonight you do all of the above for just a little second and you have to pay the consequences of that carefulness with a bullet planted in your left shoulder.

Your cry of pain fills the dead silence of the house and it represents yet another mistake that you shouldn’t have made.

When the sound of a bullet resonates in an otherwise silent environment and it is followed by a shout of pain, there is no chance in hell all the inhabitants won’t know your exact position and where to run to in order to finish you off.

Taehyung climbs the remaining inches of the wall with bolting speed and practically launches himself inside the building, aiming his gun to the guard before they have a chance to finish you off.

The shot is neat, precise between his eyes, but the fire in his eyes doesn't die down as he looks down at you and notices the pain twisting your features.

"I'm sorry, I was distracted," you say with gritted teeth. The bruise on your ego seems to be hurting far more than the bullet lodged within your skin but, either way, you are not allowed to stop now.

You run with him through the long corridor, one of his hands around your elbow in a strong vice that almost feels bruising on the skin, anger and concern evidently seething inside of him as he looks for a place for you to hide, even for a few seconds.

He absolutely hates when you get hurt. Despite years of training, he still loses his focus when you are injured, no matter how slightly. It makes him do things he shouldn’t and it makes him care about things that shouldn’t even be on his mind during work and, really, this is not the right mission for you to be going through all of this, especially considering no extraction team will be there for you at the end of it but, things have happened and, once again, you need to adjust.

Taehyung’s eyes scan your surrounding as if he were looking at the rough blueprint of the house you got in your file and, disregarding completely the fact that any noise will give your position away again, he opens one of the doors along the corridor with a strong kick, breaking it off of its hinges.

The room appears to be one of those on the north aisle of the house with no windows and only one way of getting either in or out of it. This one is held in complete darkness for the moment and, for the few seconds you are spared before guards show up there, it represents a safe refuge for you to attend your wound at the best of your abilities.

Taehyung guides you inside the room and forces you to sit down so that he can take a proper look at your wound with the torch in his hand—his gun safely placed next to his knee, ready to be picked up and fired the moment someone shows up by the doorstep.

"The wound is not that deep, it's a good sign." He says, his voice thick and tense and not matching his words very well which puts you on edge because you know, your lucidity as a team has been cut in half now.

You have been on so many missions before, you have killed so many targets, even harder than this one and you made such a rookie mistake tonight compromising not only your own health but also the success of the mission itself and that is something your partner will need to deal with alongside you.

Guilt perforates your heart like stalactites and you gulp down heavily, opening your mouth to pronounce your shaky apology when Taehyung rips off a limb of his own shirt, offering it to you like a bandage for the time being. You do need to stop the bleeding if you want to survive the night and still be somewhat useful to him.

"Can you move your arm?" He asks before you have a chance of repent for your mistakes and you find yourself nodding your head yes a few times, unable to utter a single word.

This is a half-lie because yes, you can move your arm but no, you can’t move your shoulder without it hurting like a motherfucker—something you quickly decide Taehyung doesn’t need to know.

"Good." His voice sounds rough and thick and you look up at him with dread, noticing how his lips are still in a tight line as he takes the gun back in his right hand and gets up on his feet.

"We need to move."

You check your wrist and your insides constrict at the numbers shining on it. Thirty-six minutes.

Ideally, the mission should last for 60 minutes sharp, the time including getting in and out of the building. Clearly, you are late on track and Taehyung knows just as much and you can see it in the tense line of his shoulders as he moves to the door and peers outside.

The sound of bullets going off comes next and it forces Taehyung to pull his head inside the room again in order to avoid them.

He takes a sharp breath and then bravely jumps out of the room, firing his gun like a mad man. You get up on your feet as well, wincing at the pain in your shoulder, and grip your own gun in your right hand, ready to put it to good use to help him.

Your partner is fast and he is sharp and precise and it really isn't a surprise that he clears the hallway so easily without you need to lift a single finger. This is why Hoseok still relies on him, after all.

You step into the hallway as Taehyung turns his head towards you, tilting his head to the side to prompt you forward and follow him.

Moving through the building is not an easy task now that your cover has been completely blown and you have to keep fighting your way through the corridors while losing hope of ever finding your target.

Fear of him fleeting in the ruckus fills your mind and makes your insides feel incredibly heavy but, still, you do not dare voice the doubts out. Right now is not the moment to have second thoughts, to show concern or to give up your objective.

The building turns out to be something akin to a maze for those that do not inhabit it and, despite your eager study of the blueprint it becomes a very arduous quest to not get lost within it.

What you start losing, though, is the count of guards you have to kill in order to keep moving forward and, yes, there are far more than the thirty expected ones on the external perimeter.

The long and intricate corridors and the guards that keep coming your way only slow you down more to the point nervousness starts seeping in and out of you. We should just blow this bloody shit up, you think as you turn yet another corner in the hopes of finding a new course to keep on moving to the heart of the building.

Taehyung suddenly stops in his tracks and, consequently, so do you while scanning your surroundings to find what gathered his attention.

There it is.

It’s a tiny shift in light and texture on the far end of this corridor, right in front of the wall you are facing right now.

Taehyung steals a glance your way and you nod in acknowledgement while slowly taking a few careful steps forward.

If you hadn’t been trained for years and if you hadn’t had all those missions behind your back to count as experience, you would have never caught the little detail.

A secret passage is hidden at the end of this corridor and you keep moving towards it, hope rekindling in your heart with every step forward you take.

Now, how to open that secret passage is a whole other story.

Both of you look for ways to open it up whether through some sort of password, keys, handles, anything.

You knock on the wall a few times, trying to feel if there are some empty spots on the wall but your search is not fruitful and the clock keeps ticking around your wrist.

Actual minutes tick by before you as you try to find your way in, even by force if necessary.

If your target hasn’t fled the scene yet, there is no doubt he is hiding behind this door, perfectly protected and concealed in the real heart of the building.

Sixty minutes.

Your eyes pick up on the number blinking on your clock, the digits turning a deep shade of orange to signal you your operation should be pretty much over by now and yet here you are, still trying to even reach your Myung Ki Kwon.

Taehyung grunts in frustration and kicks the wall hard as if trying to bring it down by sheer force.

For a moment you hold your breath, almost hopeful that kick alone could bring the whole wall down but, of course, it is not that simple but as he kicks it another time, in that split of a second, you catch it. The shift.

"Do it again," you say, your eyes focusing on the left corner of the room, right next to the window.

Taehyung kicks the wall again under your instructions and you focus your whole attention to that portion of the room until you can clearly see it: the way in.

A few inches away from the window lies a wooden black table and right on top of it is placed a completely lit chandelier made of little tendrils of crystals.

You cross the room with quick steps and jump on the table with a swift movement, eager to check if your hunch is correct or not.

You lift your good arm up and tug at one of the little tendrils hanging down from the ceiling, the one at the very centre of the old-looking ornamentation.

As you pull the crystals down towards you, you hear the clicking sound of a mechanism going off and, sure enough, a few seconds after the wall you had been staring at for at least ten minutes flies open.

"How-?" Taehyung's question is swept away by gunfire aimed your way.

Five guards in all jet black armour come out of the secret hallway with loaded machine guns focused directly on the both of you.

Your steps are quicker than your mind, bringing you down the table and under it as Taehyung slides towards you and forces the table to a vertical position in order to protect the both of you from the explosion of bullets.

Your companion grunts in pain beside you, signalling you he has been caught by at least one of the bullets fired your way.

The table is standard wood and it does not suffice as a cover under the rapid-fire. In a few seconds, it’ll be totally useless as a protection and unless you can think of a solution fast, you have no chance of escaping this madness and your pending deaths.

Bullets graze your skin again, too awfully close as they break the wood in front of you. Shards of the split open wood plant themselves in your skin and you really start doubting you'll make it out alive.

"Hold onto me," Taehyung says, forcing you within his arms as he reaches for his belt, "We'll have to use the grenade now."

You look up to him and nod your head. The grenade was supposed to be your last resort because you know, once it goes off there is no way the Police won't be alerted by it and that means even a shorter amount of time left for you to kill your target and escape.

Still, with no other option available, Taehyung launches it behind your backs while hugging you tight to his chest in order to protect you from the blast.

It takes only a few seconds for the grenade to hit the ground and explode beneath your feet, sending you both flying forward.

Your ears start to ring, covering any other sound but you know you can’t stop now. This is your chance.

Taehyung has his hands around your shoulders as you both get up on your feet and turn around to marvel at the destruction you created.

There is a deep hole right at the centre of the room, the wooden floor has caved in and turned a burnt black colour and, from the creaking all around you, there is no doubt the part of the building where you are standing will collapse soon.

There is only one option available: jump.

You take a few steps back and then start running with all your might to launch yourself into the void, hoping your strength will be enough for you to reach the other side.

Your fingers grab onto the sinking wood of the floor with all the strength you possess, your shoulder burning like hell as you try to lift yourself up and save yourself from certain and very painful death.

The shards of wood cut and nip your skin and the slight pain makes you groan out loud as you give it your all to push yourself up to safety.

Once you are standing on your feet again you turn around to look at your boyfriend, still standing on the other side of the room.

“Don’t stop, I’ll be right behind you!”

You give him a curt nod of understanding and even though your heart hurts a little, you turn your back on him and start running again.

The corridor is long and seemingly bottomless as you race through it, your steps echoing on the walls, surely giving your arrival away.

In the short amount of time it takes for you to cross the long corridor, a thousand different scenarios play in your head.

As an experienced assassin, you exploit those few minutes to prepare yourself for nearly anything possibly awaiting you at the bottom of this passage.

With your gun firmly grasped in your hand, your heart beating steadily in your chest and your mind clear of anything that is not your target and his death, you finally step inside the room secretly lodged within the heart of the building.

You expected many things to be there to welcome you, including absolute emptiness but, to be honest, Myung Ki Kwon sitting calmly at the centre of the room with a cigar in his mouth and a smirk painted on his features wasn’t one of them.

Your target appears to be completely alone, dressed as if he were about to go out and attend a gala event or a wedding and he sports the most unbothered and calm expression you have ever seen.

"Looks like you found your way in," he says before inhaling deeply the tobacco of his expensive cigar. He puffs it all out a few seconds later in your direction, a taunting expression painted all over his features.

You take a step towards him, your gun precisely lined to the perfect spot between his eyebrows. After the hell he has made you and Taehyung go through, you are more than ready to take him down and get it over with.

"Ah, ah, ah," he shakes his head a little while rising his other hand for you to see what he is holding, "I'm afraid your life is connected to mine, dear. Kill me and this bomb will blow the entire building away."

He puffs his chest a little and opens up his vest to reveal a tiny bomb bound around his upper torso, ready to go off in approximately fifteen minutes unless deactivated.

His smile twists into something perverse, evil, and it gathers goosebumps on your skin because you could have never imagined him being ready to take his own life just to spite you and take you down with him.

What does he have in mind? You ask yourself. There is no chance in hell this isn’t part of a bigger plan because, simply, there is no way someone as smart as Ki Kwon wouldn’t think of a way for him to survive while taking down his enemies in the process.

You are a trained soldier. You were taught to value your life and protect it for as long as possible in order to accomplish your goals. But, you were also taught to make sacrifices for the sake of your mission and if you were alone, tonight, what you would be doing right now is shooting the target and kiss your life goodbye knowing you helped in making the world a better place, even if a tiny bit.

Sure, you are scared of dying, hell, you are scared of even getting caught and plenty of other things but you would still do it, for the greater good.

But tonight, you are not alone and it doesn’t matter how much you want to kill your target, it doesn’t matter who he is and what he has done and will keep on doing to innocent people unless you stop him now because Taehyung means more.

You cannot and you will not sacrifice the life of the man you love only to cut down one of the heads of the hydra.

For every Myung Ki Kwon you kill, another will rise and you all know it, even though you keep fighting in the hope that one day another head won't grow back but, is it really worth it to kill this one man at the expanse of your lover?

You decide that no, it is not worth it and in that tiny fraction of a second you hesitate, in that instant when you start to drop your weapon, something hard hits the back of your head.

You stumble forward, your vision turning into black and white dots as you try to turn around and look at your assailant.

A punch is delivered straight to your face next and then your weapon is falling from your hands and down on the floor, out of reach.

You can barely catch up your breath before a kick is sent up to your stomach, so strong it makes you cough out blood.

Myung Ki Kwon has saved the best for last, it would seem.

You had studied the file to the point you could recite every dot and comma in there and yet, in the heat of the moment, you forgot the most important detail: Myung Ki Kwon has a special bodyguard that follows him everywhere.

Another rookie mistake.

You are on the ground, blood flowing out of your mouth in big droplets, ears ringing and head spinning as you try to push yourself up and fight back the mountain before you.

His bodyguard is one of the tallest men you have ever seen, quite easily double your size in everything and he has clearly the upper hand in this fight when you have been deprived of your weapon.

“Seems like you’re all on your own, little girl,” he says, voice low and rough as he takes a step forward, ready to break your body further.

You steal a glance behind his back, your heart heavy with concern as you start to wonder where on earth your boyfriend went. He should have been here by now and the fact that he is not fills you with dread.

You take in a sharp breath and re-focus your attention on your opponent. He is big, sure, but that also means he is heavy and if you have an advantage in every one-on-one combat situations is that you are fast.

You charge forward with your bare hands trying to reach his face and as he intercepts your attack, you let your body slide down on the floor so that you can pass between his long legs.

As he spins around to catch you, you land a high kick on his chin, sending him a few inches away as he grabs onto his bone with a wince.

“You fucking bitch,” he says under his breath as he jumps forward to catch you.

Again, you are faster than him and manage to crouch down before he can grab your neck and pin you down until you cannot breathe.

You push yourself upwards and land a punch on his right cheek, splitting the skin open.

The mountain takes a step back and you take advantage of his little confusion to land a powerful kick to his abdomen.

The man coughs hard but grabs your ankle with his rough hands and with a strong pull of his arms, you are sent flying on the ground again.

You hit your head on the concrete floor and groan at the utter pain that invades your skull with the free fall.

Myung Ki Kwon’s bodyguard is on top of you in an instant, his hands tight around your neck in a bruising vice that leaves no way out for you to fight back.

"Get your hands off of her, you motherfucker," Taehyung’s voice comes from behind your back and you glance in his direction, relief spreading through your body as he appears before you looking like a guardian angel.

The first bullet out of his gun catches your opponent on the right shoulder, the second one the soft spot between his neck and clavicles and as he takes a staggering step backwards in pain, Taehyung completely empties the rounds of his gun on his upper body.

The enormous body of Myung Ki Kwon’s personal guard falls forward and lands right at your feet, the little choking sounds he emits as he suffocates on his own blood absolutely revolting. You are sure, though, that the nausea filling your stomach is not due to his gruesome death but, rather, a concussion.

Still, you push yourself on your feet again, helped by the strong and steady hands of your boyfriend.

Taehyung is staring straight at your target, his eyes not even blinking as he assesses the situation at hand.

"Careful, dear, or you'll still end up killing your lover," Ki Kwon says, his eyes teasing as he keeps glancing between the two of you and the way you appear to be a little too close for you to be just partners in crime.

Myung Ki Kwon is a brilliant man, he is extraordinary at reading people and situations and it is precisely because of these gifts that he has been able to ascend to power so quickly, so efficiently.

Such a wasted talent. He could have been so much more, something bigger and just and profitable for the society but, instead, he chose the easy way; he chose power and money and let his soul rot like everything else he touches.

And that’s why Taehyung, unlike you, doesn't hesitate for a single moment.

He lifts up his spare gun tugged behind his back, he aims at your target and then, he shoots.

Your eyes close, your body tensing as if readying itself for the inevitable blast that is out to sweep it away but then, the explosion never comes. What does come is the sound of Taehyung's voice screaming your name, urging you to run.

"We have exactly one minute and thirty seconds to get out of here."

His words have barely the time to register in your mind before he is urging you forward, grasping your hand to pull you towards him and force you to run.

Your feet are almost flying on the floor as you race against time to save your life. Everything in your body hurts and begs you to stop, lie down and just rest but you are not allowed to.

You keep moving forward, Taehyung right behind you albeit stumbling a little with wounds you have no idea how appeared on his body in the first place.

There is no time to stop and check on him, there is no time to wonder or even care. As long as you are still alive, you need to keep pushing forward.

The bomb goes off behind your backs just as you, somehow, reach the exit door of the house and for a moment it feels like you are flying up in the sky.

The force of the explosion lifts you from the ground and throws you right back on it a few seconds after. Your fall is bad and uncontrolled and you are sure you've just broken a bone or two and the desire of just giving up and surrender becomes even more potent as pain washes over your entire being.

There are tears in your eyes and blood all over your face and even inside your nose and, if it weren't for your lover right beside you, you would probably give up, lie there and just wait for the end to come your way.

But Taehyung's groan awakens you from this state and you are forced back on your feet by his strong hold.

Your bodies are battered, broken even, but you are both still alive and staring into each other’s eyes. We’ve made it through.

The thought has barely the chance to form inside your head before you hear it in the remote distance: the sound of Police cars heading your way.

"Fuck," you glance at your watch, it reads eighty-five minutes in bold, angry red digits that signal your absolute doom. Taehyung must see the panic in your eyes because he shakes his head no and takes your hand in his and forces you to start running all over again.

As your feet stomp against the loan you realize that there won’t be any extraction team waiting for you outside this hell hole and, without the concrete chance of you reaching the car you came in, there is barely any hope for the two of you to survive this night.

Taehyung must know this as well but he keeps urging you forward, he keeps pushing you over your own limit and what your poor body can sustain.

You climb back up the gate as fast as you can while keeping your eyes on the end of the road whilst the red and blue lights start to become visible in the night.

Taehyung lands a little rough on his left ankle and groans in pain but doesn’t stop for a single second. He grasps your hand and pulls you alongside him in a desperate run that feels hopeless and pointless.

Your boyfriend stops for a second and pushes you forward, forcing you to run ahead of him as he looks behind your backs.

You keep running because that is what he wants you to do and you try to ignore his heavy pants or the shouting noises behind your backs as the Policemen leave their cars behind in favour of a running chase.

Taehyung’s scream behind your back comes in the form of your name, the urgency in his tone goading your legs to move even faster, begging you to keep going and not to stop, not to even look back. But you do look back, because that is the only way you think the dread in your heart will be quenched but, instead, you are met with the most terrifying sight you could have possibly envisioned.

The bright yellow uniforms of law enforcements shine like a beacon in the night, looking quite menacing in the night with their proximity.

You can hear their voices shouting your way, you can see their guns aimed at you both as you try to flee the scene and save your asses but it is clear, despite how hard you try to deny it to yourself, that this time, there is no chance of escaping and for the first time in forever, you are utterly terrified.

One of the officers chasing you aims at your lover’s leg and without fail blows his right calf off, forcing him to stop and fall on the ground in pain.

"No!" You whip your head around and ignore the way it starts to spin immediately, too eager to reach your lover and save him—by any means necessary—to care about your own well-being.

"What are you doing?! Don’t stop, RUN!"

Taehyung yells at you, tries to push himself upwards and force you to keep on moving but you can't. He is doomed and that means you are too because there is no chance in hell you are leaving him behind.

"I'm not leaving you!"

Your hands reach for his face as the Police starts catching up with the both of you, cutting the distance too short for you to be able to save yourselves.

"What are you doing?" He asks again, tears and snot smearing all over his face as he tries to push you away, "You have to run."

"I can't," you whimper out, tears streaming down your face as well as you look into his eyes for what feels like the last time.

"Yes, you can, _______, look at me. You have to run and save yourself."

His eyes of onyx turn serious, almost cold as they stare right inside your own.

He doesn’t speak the words but you can still hear them loud and clear inside your head: if you stay now, if you don’t save yourself, I will never forgive you.

"I'll save you, baby, I swear I'll find a way to save you."

You sob and kiss his lips and rip your heart to shreds in the process as you force yourself to peel off of him and resume your desperate run to salvation.

You look back one last time as guns are aimed at your running figure while Taehyung gets handcuffed and roughly taken away.

You close your eyes and force yourself to keep running, for him.

Your breath is heavy, your legs are tired and on the verge of collapsing and you can see no hope ahead of you until you hear the gunfire all around you.

The grunts in the distance, the sound of men falling to the ground and the great numbers of bullets moving past you in all directions are the things that force your eyes to open again and re-focus on the dark street.

The sight before you seems impossible: an extraction team awaits you a few meters away, their guns taking down officers left and right.

In an instant, relief spreads through your heart and mind: you are safe.

Hoseok steps out of the vehicle, his eyes dark as they fix on you and the evident absence of your companion.

"They have Taehyung!" You cry out as you run towards him, your arms outstretched to reach him and the promise of salvation that lies between his arms.

Your step-brother runs towards you to envelop you in a tight hug that makes you cry out in pain. It has been years since you last hugged each other and it feels a little like a homecoming but you do not have the time nor the luxury to rejoice in the feeling. You have to save your lover.

"Please save him, please." Your voice quivers as you look up at him expectantly but what you find depicted on his face breaks your heart all over again.

"It's too late now, we need to get you to safety."

“What do you mean it’s too late? He’s right there, we can save him!”

Hoseok’s arms turn rough around you, pinning you down to stop you from running all the way back to your lover and get him back to base.

You scream and struggle to get out of his embrace, you kick and bite the hands of your saviours because they refuse to run and try to save Taehyung.

How can they leave him behind? No, how can he? How could you?!

Despair swallows you whole and soon after so does darkness as the sedative injected in your neck works its way inside your veins, turning you lax between Hoseok’s arms.

You try to fight the liquid sleep with all your might at first but, as it starts to anaesthetize both the pain in your body, your mind and your aching heart, you find yourself gladly embracing the peace it promises to bring.

❖ 10th May 2018, h 10:00 || Seoul, South Korea

Your eyes slowly flutter open and focus on the now-familiar white ceiling of the hospital wing of the Agency.

The splitting headache comes right after, making you grimace as it slowly arises from the back of your skull up to your forehead.

The concussion has given you barely any reprieve from the moment you had run out of Myung Ki Kwon’s house and found yourself safely tucked in aseptic white sheets.

“Hey,” a voice coming from the door catches your attention, forcing you to adjust your focus a little to the left.

Hoseok is standing there, dressed in his all-black attire as if he is about to go on a mission and you would catch on to more details in his appearance if you were to let your gaze wander on him a little bit longer. But you don’t because the sight of him repulses you, now.

Your eyes pointedly fix back on the ceiling before you, not a single word escaping your lips as he steps closer to your bed and sits on the chair right next to you. He has been visiting you every day for the past three days, even multiple times in the same day but he has always received the same treatment from your part: cold, distant.

His presence there makes Taehyung’s absence even more obvious and it makes the guilt within your heart expand every day a little more to the point you fear that is what you’ll only be able to feel in a few days. Guilt and regret.

Your body has been stuck on this bed for the last seventy-two hours and there is no way of knowing how much longer you will have to spend here, confined in this room.

A concussion, a perforated shoulder, a few broken ribs, some internal bleeding and a great number of burns and cuts all over your body are the injuries you brought back as a prize from your mission and, according to them all, you have been lucky.

Lucky sounds like a fun word when your entire world has been swept away and taken from you. Sure, you are alive but, do you have any desire of being so when he is not there?

The immobility that has been forced on you is slowly driving you insane. Your hands twitch all the time, eager to do something, anything.

Taehyung isn’t lost yet, there is still some hope and it is that hope that has made you beg for release a thousand times. Hell, you even tried to escape the bloody agency but you couldn’t make it. Not with your body like this, not with thousands of them and only one of you and especially not when it is your step-brother giving the orders around here.

Hoseok sighs next to you and brushes his fingers along yours.

You do not move, you do not even breathe to acknowledge his presence there but he can surely make out the goosebumps gathering on your skin as you force yourself not to flinch away. Even that would be giving him too much.

He doesn’t deserve your eyes on him, he doesn’t deserve your words nor your time because he is the reason why Taehyung has been caught.

He didn’t postpone the mission, he didn’t send an extraction team, he didn’t arrive on time, he didn’t save him.

Your heart grows heavy, your eyes filling with tears as his presence becomes too much for you to bear.

You used to love Hoseok with all your heart. You weren’t brothers by blood, you hadn’t been born by the same father nor the same womb and yet, you had found each other in time while living under the same roof.

For years, Hoseok had been your true companion, your best friend, the brother you had never had but always wished for.

And now, you can’t even look at him for more than a second.

In a way, Myung Ki Kwon has won. He has died but he has taken away everything from you: your family, your lover, your purpose in life.

Hoseok sighs next to you whilst retracting his hand so that he is nowhere near touching you.

Relief spreads through your body like a wave and you hate that it does but, at the same time, there is nothing you can do to change what resides in your heart.

“I’m off for a mission,” he decides to say after a while. His voice is soft, his words are careful and slightly elusive and they make your heart-rate pick up in hope because maybe, just maybe, he is going to try and save him, at last.

You slightly tilt your head to the side but still keep your eyes focused on anywhere but him.

You can feel his gaze fixed on your face and it takes all of your strength not to turn around and stare back at him.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to get him back to you, I promise.”

Your heart stirs in your chest, hope spreading through your limbs like a warm wave.

Hoseok’s promises are like diamonds: rare and precious. You know he wouldn’t dare to make an empty promise to you, especially not about Taehyung and his well-being.

You hear the sound of his clothes as he gets up, you catch onto the sigh that leaves his mouth and then you plant your eyes on his retreating figure—slumped shoulders, tense neck, nervous steps.

You lift your left-hand to your lips—the one he had brushed his fingers on—and nervously start to nip at your already-chipped nails.

You wish you could join them, you wish you could fight with claws and teeth to get your lover back but you can’t and rationally you do know it is for the best—not much you can do in the state your body was reduced to, after all—but at the same time it wrecks your heart to not be able to be there for him like he has always been there for you.

Still, you hope and confide on the efficiency of your step-brother and the team he is going to bring alongside him.

► twelve hours later

 Night has fallen and moonlight filters through the open windows at the other end of the wall.

You have been staring at them for the whole day, watching the time go by and the light shift and change until it was completely gone and replaced by a silvery hue.

Your heart has turned uneasy many hours ago, your stomach feels upset and queasy and the nervousness within your body has turned your limbs restless in the confinement of your bed.

It has been so long since Hoseok has left you this morning, so many hours and minutes have ticked by while you are stuck here, waiting.

The more it takes for him to return, the less you believe he will come back successful and that is a thought you'd rather not linger on too much because it would mean Taehyung is lost forever.

The taste of blood suddenly fills your mouth and you grimace at the sensation and the slight pain of your bottom lip splitting up, again.

You have developed this habit of biting down your lips and nails in the past few days as a form of stress-relieving when you are not allowed to do pretty much anything else.

You curse under your breath and reach for a tissue on your nightstand to stop the slight bleeding and get rid of the bitter taste in your mouth.

As you lift your gaze up again, though, your eyes meet the slumped figure of your step-brother.

His black hair has gotten longer over the past few months and now, as he hangs his head low, a few strands cover his eyes, concealing the feelings reflected in them from you.

You can see the tense line of his shoulders, you can see the way he literally drags himself in the room and in your heart, you already know.

But you rebuff the thought, you refuse to acknowledge anything until he has said something because that is how you save yourself from falling to pieces.

You decide to ignore his split lip or the dark purple halo around his left cheek, you decide to ignore the way he favours his right side as he walks into the room and you also decide to ignore how he flinches every now and then when his weight shifts to the left.

You decide to ignore all of this because if Hoseok got so hurt during a mission it can only mean it went wrong. There is no one in the agency more lethal than Jung Hoseok and there is also no one in it able to beat him or even scratch him.

Your step-brother sits in front of you as you stare at him, too scared to utter a single word or to even breathe, at this point.

He looks up at you for barely a second before shifting his gaze on the ground, unable to look at you. In twelve hours, the parts seem to have turned.

You couldn’t stomach the sight of him this morning and now, as you eagerly try to pry into his eyes, he is the one unable to face you, albeit for very different reasons.

The seconds seem to stretch into hours and the more you look at him, so defeated in his seat, the more the thought you had been trying to ignore all this time becomes prominent, impossible to push down and lock away.

“Say something,” you whisper, your voice sounding as broken as your body and heart feel.

He flinches at the sound of your voice but lifts his head up anyway and as his eyes fix on you, you know. There is no way for you to deny it any more, there is no way you can pretend not to know.

Hoseok’s eyes are filled with unshed tears and as you stare down into his irises, yours does as well.

“I’m sorry, buttercup.”

The little nickname Hoseok had given you plenty of years ago splits your heart into two uneven halves. You can’t even remember the last time he called you that, let alone inside the agency where anyone could hear it and the fact that he decided to use it now, of all times, speaks volumes of how wrong things have gone today.

“Wh-what happened?” Your voice trembles, your throat constricting with the effort to keep yourself in one piece in front of him and not just burst into tears. Not yet, you tell yourself.

“We tried... we really did, ______, but there is a reason why nobody has ever made it out...” Hoseok’s voice sounds tired, defeated and you hate it but most importantly you hate what he is going to say soon, “We couldn’t... I’m sorry.”

His eyes beg you to understand and to forgive him and truth be told, you have no idea whether you’ll ever be able of doing so. A part of you wants to because without Taehyung, Hoseok is the only person you have left but the other part of you doesn’t think it will ever be possible because he is part of the reason why you don’t have anyone else besides you any more.

“Taehyung is gone.”

The finality of his words shatters you and even though you didn’t want to cry in front of him, you do.

The tears feel hot on your face as they freely fall on your cheeks, your lips quivering as you stop yourself from screaming at him. He’d deserve it but at the same time, he doesn’t, not when he is looking so desperate himself.

“How... how much?”

You feel like you might choke on your own words but they move past your mouth and he shivers at them, closing his eyes to gulp down heavily as if saying the number out loud would cost him a limb or a vital organ.

In this world, the law doesn’t believe in long-term prison sentences nor the execution of criminals. In this world, your world, criminals are punished with time-travel. They are given a second chance in life away from everyone they ever held dear and if they fail again, they’ll meet their destiny in a different time where laws are regulated differently and no one can save them.

“Sixty-nine years.”

The scream that erupts from your mouth scratches your throat and wrenches your heart from within.

Your hands grasp Hoseok’s shirt and they push and pull his upper torso until his head is lulling back and forth and he is sobbing alongside you.

The tears you had been holding ever since this morning all come rushing down, falling to your cheeks, on your nose and down your chin.

He is gone, gone, gone. Sixty-nine years means Kim Taehuyng is probably dead by now or too old to even remember who you are. He is lost, forever and, with no hope of ever touching his face or hearing his voice you are left stranded on this earth, alone and heartbroken.

“You promised me! You promised me you’ll get him back!”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Hoseok’s voice is broken, barely above a whisper and you know you are wrecking him even more with your words and your actions but you don’t care because you are hurt and you want to hurt everybody else in return.

“It’s all your fault!” You scream in his face, unable to control your despair and anger.

You know those feelings are misplaced on him, they should be turned towards yourself because you messed up that night, not just Hoseok. You are the one that left him behind, you are the one that promised him you’ll get him back and didn’t. You, you, you.

Still, you focus them all on him because it’s easier to blame someone else that isn’t yourself.

“I begged you to save him and you didn’t listen to me! He was RIGHT THERE, HOSEOK, WHY? WHY DID YOU LEAVE HIM BEHIND?”

The scream makes your voice hoarse and it makes you cough as it feels like ripping your throat out from the inside.

Your chest is heaving, your breath ragged as you scratch your step-brother’s face with your nails, as you punch him in the chest and push him away from you inch after inch.

He lets you do this to him, he lets you hate him and push all of your rage out until there’s nothing left. He lets you because he feels like you are right, he feels like it is all of his fault and it is not true but, in the end, we all believe what we want to and Hoseok would rather you’d blame him for everything rather than yourself.

So he takes it all, silently, and when you can’t go any longer, when your body gets too tired and you turn slump between his arms, he hugs you tight to his chest and lies down on the hospital bed with you.

He is there when the doctors come and sedate you to calm the wheezing breaths and the erratic beating of your heart, he is there whilst liquid sleep takes you again and he is there when you finally drift off to a far better place where Kim Taehyung is still alive and well and holding you tight in his embrace.

❖ 21th June 2019, h 22:14 || Seoul, South Korea

The reflection in the mirror is both familiar and foreign to you as you peer into your own eyes, as you study the tight line of your lips and the sharp curve of your jawline.

Your hair is loose in small waves that fall right above your shoulders—far shorter than it used to be—and it frames the face of a girl that feels like you but, at the same time, that doesn’t.

Your attire is one you have worn many times before: black pants, black t-shirt, black boots and black gloves.

Today is your first day back on the field and your heart is already beating fast in your chest at the prospect of being out there once more, even though you plan it to be the conclusion of your career as an assassin and not a new beginning.

You can’t help but let your mind go back to the last time you prepared yourself before a mission. You looked at this very mirror one year ago as well, you studied your appearance to make sure everything was perfectly in place and, when your boyfriend entered the room, you smile at him before grabbing your jacket to leave.

This time, a quick little knock on your door is what awakes you from your daze and as you turn around whilst the door opens shortly after, you are not met with the kind gaze of Taehyung but by the lean figure of your new partner.

Jeon Jeongguk—former Marine and highly experienced in this field despite his young age, has been with you for the past six months.

He was scouted by the Agency when you were still stuck in a bed in the hospital wing and you got to know him only a few months after his arrival, albeit his fame preceded him.

When you were still recovering and in desperate need of a new partner, he was the one that volunteered to be assigned to you even though it wasn’t going to be really beneficial for him. In fact, within the Agency, there were only a few people that were willing to work with you and, truthfully, you couldn’t blame those that wouldn’t.

Jeon Jeongguk easily became your anchor in the past few months. He was kind and patient and he helped you get back on your own two feet in more ways than one.

He is also the one that has trained you rigorously for the past six months in order to help you to become better, stronger.

His doe-like eyes fix on you and you fore a smile to spread on your lips as you fully turn towards him. You offer him a little nod as an answer to the silent question shining in his eyes.

“I’m ready.” Your voice doesn’t betray a single hint of hesitation nor fear and surely not nervousness but you do feel all of those, within your heart. In the past six months, you have also become a master at concealing your true feelings, your most intimate thoughts and you also learned how to embellish them under false pretences and pretty lies.

Your heart has been roughly mended a great number of times at this point but, there is no point in hiding to your own self that you are not the same person you use to be and that you probably will never be, at least not until you have him by your side again.

Jeongguk smiles down at you showing the tip of his teeth whilst he tilts his head a little to the side, encouraging you to walk to the door and leave the safety of your room.

You follow him with eager steps that could be quite easily be mistaken for giddiness over your return on the field but that are, in fact, prompted by the fact that you were finally given an opportunity to change everything. Tonight, it’s your first and only opportunity to get back to your lover and you sure as hell won’t let it slide between your fingers.

You know Hoseok has been rather hesitant about sending you back on the field once again but,  you have played your part well and every psychologist in the agency has assured him that you are ready. And you are, but not for what they all think you are.

You can sense his onyx gaze following you as you climb up the stairs that lead to the outside world and for a second, you almost turn around to greet him but, in the end, you decide not to.

There is this fear in your heart that one look at you will show him all the little lies hidden inside your eyes. You’re scared he’ll be able to catch the hint of deception hiding in there, your true intentions for tonight’s mission and it’s a chance you cannot take, not tonight.

With deep regret over the missed opportunity to talk to your step-brother for the last time, you follow your partner to your ride for the night and silently climb inside the vehicle, your insides twitching with the deep sense of deja-vu that overcomes you as that fateful night comes to your mind once more.

Jeongguk steals a glance your way after you depart from the Agency and you scoff at his over-protective gaze and evident concern.

The sound that leaves your mouth makes a smile appear on his own and you feel your heart warming up at the sight.

Jeon Jeongguk is not only your trainer or partner on the field, no, in the past few months he has easily turned into your confidant, your best friend and he has made it possible for your heart to feel something other than despair when you thought it wasn’t possible.

You care about Jeongguk, hell, you love him just like you love Hoseok and the thought of betraying them both tonight makes your smile falter a little.

The drive to your destination is pretty silent but it is not that awkward silence you always wish to fill with something, it’s rather a comfortable one and it helps to steady the rampant beating of your heart as you run through the details of your plan once more.

Tonight’s mission is pretty easy and you have no doubt in your mind you’ll be able to finish your last job effortlessly, especially with Jeongguk on your side.

You have studied the file to perfection even though it was evidently the easiest mission Hoseok could find for you. Still, you applied yourself for all of them, but especially for Jeongguk’s sake.

You are going to betray all of them, sure, but you’ll still make sure they all remain safe despite your own choices.

The target you are going to terminate tonight is someone you could have taken down on your own even a few years back when you were just starting in the field but, tonight you have a partner next to you and an extraction team set up there for you two when it’s over.

It is an inconvenience to have this many people around tonight of all nights but, truthfully, you cannot blame your step-brother in the slightest. He has almost lost you in more ways than one and, evidently, he is not going to take any more chances when it comes down to your safety.

The car comes to a halt in front of an anonymous complex building and your insides churn uncomfortably as you are so quickly faced with the execution of your plan.

Whether you’ll pull it off or not, everything changes tonight.

You drop your gaze to the watch at your wrist, the flashing white digits telling you it’s currently fourteen minutes past ten and, in about six minutes, your mission will begin.

You sigh out loud without meaning to and the sound draws Jeongguk’s attentive eyes back on you.

“Nervous?” He inquires, tilting his head a little to the side before flashing you with one of his cute smiles.

Despite everything, you will miss Jeon Jeongguk and his adorable antics.

The thought makes you squirm a little in your seat and you are forced to look away from him before you give away too much of what you are thinking. After all, Jeongguk is just as much of an assassin as you are and reading people is something he had to master to become as good as he is now.

“A little, yeah,” you decide to reply, your answer not being that far off the mark, albeit it being for a very different reason than the one he is thinking about.

Jeongguk hums a little, his eyes drifting off to the end of the street as he gets lost in his own thoughts.

“I mean, I don’t blame you,” he says after a while, shifting his gaze back on you as you lift your own to meet his doe-like eyes, “But you got me, remember?” He gives you one of those cheesy smiles that makes your eyes roll up to the ceiling and a smile spread on your lips.

“Guess I do, don’t I?”

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean?” He asks whilst lightly nudging you with his shoulder.

Jeon Jeongguk, the only man on Earth able to make you laugh after everything you have been through. The giggles erupt from your mouth with you having absolutely no control over them and his eyes light up in response, shining with something you can only describe as adoration. This is something you have only recently picked up on: the way Jeongguk looks at you and what it could potentially mean.

The sight, then, no matter how endearing, fills your stomach with guilt. You will have to betray this boy tonight. Of all people, you will have to hurt the one that helped you building yourself up in the past few months and if you could do it any other way, you would. But you have no choice.

So, in order to protect yourself, your own heart and your choices, you force yourself to slip into your new character, to let the mask fall on your face and play the part to perfection.

When the clock strikes twenty minutes after ten, you step out of the car with Jeongguk standing right next to you.

Your eyes do not betray any hint of doubt or fear—albeit you feeling both of them within your heart—and as he steps forward to lead you to the vacant-looking apartment complex, you commit your betrayal.

Your finger hovers in doubt for only a mere second over the left button on your wristwatch but, before you can actually talk yourself out of it, you press it down and send the alert to the law enforcement, heart beating rampant in your chest.

The once white digits on your watch turn an angry red but this time, they are not a scary sight, this time they signal hope for a different future—or past, you suppose.

Ten minutes, that’s how long you have to eliminate the target and help Jeongguk escape without you. As for you, you will wait for the Police with your arms spread wide.

In a world where criminals are sent in the past and you were forced to part ways with your lover there is only one option left: get caught.

► ten minutes later

 Jeongguk’s legs are moving fast in front of you, his quick steps leading the way out of the building and into the seemingly empty street.

As expected, your mission was carried out with outstanding ease—your target was silently terminated and nobody within the complex area has noticed anything.

On any other night, you would consider this mission to have been extremely successful.

Jeongguk’s steps are light against the pavement and as you follow suit, your heart starts feeling heavier knowing any second now, they will show up.

Just like that night more than a year ago, what alerts you is the sound of the sirens approaching your general position and the shifting in light in the night as the Police cars tint the surrounding buildings in red and blue hues.

Jeongguk turns towards you, his eyes big as saucers and filled with a panic that you thought you’ll never see reflected in them.

“Shit,” he mutters under his breath before taking your hand to pull you forward and force you to run even faster.

He probably can’t believe what is happening tonight, not after everything ran so smoothly and especially not now, of all times, when you are finally back on the field.

Of course, he has no idea you are the cause of all of this and, really, how could he?

You follow him without uttering a single word until you are right in the middle of the street, aiming for the little turn on the left at the end of it where you know your extraction team is waiting for you.

As you pass a lamplight and you are sure you’re perfectly visible in the night, you stop.

There are a few things you’ll never forget and one of those is the panicked and questioning look on Jeongguk’s face as he turns towards you.

“What are you doing?” He asks, his voice a little higher than usual as he tugs on your hand to encourage you to move forward and keep running to safety with him.

You plant your two feet on the ground and shake your head ‘no’ a little.

You can see the confusion in his eyes and the apprehension swimming in those black irises as he turns his whole body towards you.

“Hey, it’s ok, we still have time to escape. But we’ve got to go, now.”

You force your hand out of his grasp and shake your head again, unable to push out the words you rehearsed in your mind a thousand times.

You watch his eyebrows knot together in bewilderment, you notice the way he nervously licks his lips as he grabs your shoulders with his hands, giving you a little shake as if to wake you from a daze.

Of course, he can’t even fathom the grandness of your betrayal right now and how could he, when you showed him not a single hint about you being capable of doing this to him?

“Talk to me, ________, what is going on in your head right now?”

Maybe he thinks you are re-living that fateful night and are now too scared to keep on going, afraid that story will repeat itself. Or maybe he just thinks you have gone mad and finally reached the point of no return. Still, he tries to understand, he tries to help you and you wish he would just leave you there and not be so nice for once, just this one time.

And maybe you are crazy, maybe there is no turning back at this point but in your heart you know, this was your only option all along.

“I’m not coming.” You finally say as the volume of the sirens turns louder in your ears, signalling the Police’s imminent arrival.

“What do you mean you’re not coming?!”

He lightly shakes you again, dread twisting his features as he tries to pull you towards him and finally get you to start running before it’s too late.

“Go, Jeongguk.”

You watch realization spark up on his features, his eyebrows shooting upwards and his mouth falling agape as all the pieces of the puzzle finally connect inside his mind.

“You called them,” he whispers, his voice so small it does nothing to conceal his shock nor how hard it is for him to actually believe you would do this. His eyes look at you as if they are seeing you for the very first time and maybe they are, after all, what you have been showing to him all of this time was someone you are not, not any more at least.

“I’m sorry... I had to.” Your voice is weak, your excuse pathetic but you still offer it to him like an olive branch hoping it will be enough to soothe his heart and help him move forward.

“Are you fucking crazy? What do you think will happen even if you get caught?! ”

Fear propels him forward and turns him rough as he grabs your wrist and yanks you forward, forcing you to take a few steps towards the end of the street just as the Police cars turn around the corner, facing your backs in the distance.

“Please, Jeongguk, leave.”

You try to force his hand to release your arm but it only turns his grasp rougher on your already bruising skin.

“I’m not leaving you!”

The heart you had tried so hard to mend in those few months together with him absolutely shatters at his words. The sense of deja-vu leaves you breathless, it gathers goosebumps on your skin and makes your head spin whilst absolute guilt spreads within you like a wave.

“I can’t keep living like this, Jeongguk, please.”

Your eyes swell up with tears, your bottom lip starts trembling and you gaze into his eyes with a pleading look that makes him shake his head and turns his eyes glossy with tears.

“What about me, then? What am I supposed to do?”

Jeongguk’s bottom lip trembles just like your own and it is then that you realize you may have underestimated the depth of his feelings for you.

Yes, you had an inkling he rather fancied you and maybe you had encouraged him by never addressing it but at the same time, the doubt of him feeling something stronger than that had never crossed your mind before now.

The desperate gaze that he fixes on you, the way his body tenses at the prospect of leaving you and the way he is crying right now as he struggles to decide what to do with both you and himself are all very familiar. Because you have felt the exact same way, a little over a year ago.

It is clear as day now that Jeongguk, somewhere down the line, has fallen in love with you.

Maybe if you and Jeongguk had met in another life, or maybe if you had known him before Taehyung then, maybe you’ll be able to feel the same about him.

But destiny has made you meet Taehyung years before him and you have fallen hopelessly in love with him and it doesn’t matter how much you may try to overcome it or to deny it, you know in your heart there will never be a place for someone else. Not now, not even in a hundred years.

“You are supposed to move on and find someone better.”

Jeongguk shakes his head vigorously, a sob erupting from his trembling mouth as both of his hands grab your face, his eyes turning pleading as they gaze into yours.

“I don’t want someone better, I want you.”

You close your eyes as you exhale loudly to try and steady yourself. This hurts so much and you’ll never overcome the hatred you feel for yourself for doing this to someone so precious and kind like Jeongguk.

He deserved better from the very beginning but you have been selfish enough to use him all this time, even without realising it.

You lift the hand that was holding your gun all of this time and with a sinking heart, you lift it to his head.

“Don’t make me do it, please.”

He shakes his head a little in bewilderment, his eyes big and terrified by the person they are staring at right now because to him, this is not you at all.

“I’m sorry, Jeongguk,” your voice trembles as you sniffle loudly, “I really am sorry but I love him,” you shake your head a little because you truly are hopeless at this point and you have no will to try and repress your own feelings any longer, “ I will always love him.”

Jeongguk stops breathing for a few seconds, his eyes closing as he takes it all in: his confession, the rejection, your weapon aimed at him and your decision to try and go back in time to find Taehyung.

A shaky breath comes out of his parted mouth as he forces himself to let go of you and take a few steps back.

Tears are falling in big droplets on both of your cheeks as he slowly steps backwards, defeat painted all over his features.

“I hope you’ll find him and you’ll live a happy life together.”

His voice is strained but you know he truly means it because that is who Jeongguk is. Someone so kind and gentle it’s a wonder he’s actually considered a deadly weapon within the Agency.

You force yourself to smile for him one last time and nod your head yes a few times.

“Leave happily, too, Jeongguk and thank you for everything.”

Jeongguk offers you a small nod before diverting his gaze towards the Police-men running out of their cars with their weapons out, ready to shoot you down at any given opportunity.

“Tell Hoseok that I’m sorry and that I love him.”

Jeongguk nods his head again and then he closes his eyes and turns around, forcing himself again to let go of you and think about his safety now.

You watch him go with tears smearing all over your face and neck and when he is almost out of sight, you drop your weapon on the ground and lift your hands up in surrender.

Your heart feels like a hummingbird inside your ribcage as the Police-men finally approach you, guns aimed at you from all angles whilst one of them roughly handcuffs your hands behind your back.

❖ 25th June 2019, h 15:00 || Seoul, South Korea

 Time has always played a big part in your life. In fact, for most of your adulthood, time has been essential.

Now, held in a cold and bare prison cell for the first time in what feels like forever, you’re starting to lose all knowledge of time and how it flows and ticks by to the point in your mind, it’s all turning into a big blur of now and then.

Meals are brought to you in a seemingly precise pattern that allows you to guess what part of the day it is and a semblance of night time is also given by the lights turning off at a very specific hour—whichever that might be.

You often find yourself glancing down at your wrist where your watch used to be out of pure habit. A sigh escapes your mouth each time you are met with the sight of your own skin and not the comforting digits you were seeking.

The silence and loneliness of your confinement prove to be truly unnerving and slowly driving you absolutely insane.

With nobody to talk to and nothing to do, you can’t stop your mind from drifting off and imagine Taehyung in this very situation. You can almost see him before you in the ugly orange outfit, lying on the bed with his eyes fixed on the ceiling as he struggles to recover from his injuries and the thought of leaving you behind.

You also think about Jeongguk a lot. You apparently like the most to indulge in the sorrowful memory of his pained look as he forced himself to turn his back on you and run to safety.

One thing you try not to think about too much, though, is Hoseok and how he may be trying to cope with your absence.

There are a great number of scenarios possible you’d rather not indulge in, the most prominent one being him trying to break you out of prison, like he tried to do with Taehyung, even though he knows it’s basically impossible.

There is a tiny part of you that fears he’ll not only try but also succeed in his endeavour. Of course, the biggest part of you is more preoccupied with him getting himself hurt to the point of no return in the attempt to save you from the path you chose for yourself.

All these thoughts have nowhere to go except run around your head, mixing together, overlapping each other to the point you sometimes have a hard time distinguishing what is real and what is only a fragment of your own imaginations.

After all, this is what you are made to do in a place like this: think, think, think.

Nights—or their rendition of them, at least—do not pass by easily as well because more than often, sleep escapes you.

When you close your eyes you can’t help but picture Taehyung’s face or Jeongguk’s and, honestly, you have a hard time deciding which one is worse. What you know, though, is that your heart breaks a little more every single time and that is why for the past few days—assuming it has been multiple, that is—you have given up on sleep altogether in favour of a silent wait for your eleventh hour.

You can’t always hide your nervousness well; your body jerks every now and then, your legs relentlessly move up and down to alleviate some of the stress you feel clutching your insides, your lips often nip at the tender skin around your nails.

When the door opens again for the third time today, you almost jump from your seat and rush to the guard to ask him the millions of questions swirling in your mind.

You do nothing of the sort, though, as your gaze fixes on his stern one and the tight line of his lips.

You do try to pry into his eyes and catch a hint of something in them, literally anything that could give away a little something but you are met with the same old cold stare.

It feels like a little bit too early for it to be dinner already but then again, time has been slipping through your fingers more and more with each passing hour so who knows, maybe you have already lost the ability to discern it through the tight schedule of the prison.

“Get up,” the gruff tone of the guard’s voice almost makes you flinch, forcefully peeling you off from your own thoughts.

His stance is more intimidating than usual today, his features twisted in a little smirk that dare you to even slightly question his authority so he can have a little fun with you.

The thing is, you are not being held against your will right now, hell, you surrendered yourself to them and that means you have no reason to talk back or disobey their orders.

You get up on your own two feet and let him handcuff your hands behind your back without uttering a single word.

He pulls you out of the prison cell and you follow him diligently as he quickly crosses hall after hall of this seemingly infinite maze of white walls.

There isn’t much to see, really, but you still scan your surroundings eagerly, almost excited for the change of scenarios.

Your eyes actually lit up as for the first time in days—how many could have passed? A couple, a whole week? No idea—you see a clock hanging on a wall.

The ticking hands of the clock inform you it is three sharp, whether that is AM or PM you have absolutely no chance of knowing just yet but you would guess for it to be in the afternoon, just out of logic and intuition.

The walk to your destination—wherever that may be—is pretty silent and it doesn’t help your mind from slowing down on the reeling thoughts at all.

All the things you’d want to ask and inquire about get stuck on the tip of your tongue but, every time you lift your gaze to the huge back of your guard you are reminded that questions are not well perceived here.

At the end of yet another long corridor, you spot a couple of guards waiting for the two of you, each one of them at one side of the big door you came through for the very first time a great number of hours ago—at least sensation wise.

Your heart absolutely leaps in your chest as a new sudden thought creeps up in your mind. This is it, this is the day.

The three guards tower over you, covering every corner of your body except for your back as you are escorted to the trial room.

You have never seen one of those rooms before, except for photos on-line that did not make it any justice.

The white polished room is round and bigger than you anticipated, the ceiling is tall and spherical with a glass at the very top to let the light flood in and illuminate the whole ambient.

If this weren’t an “execution” chamber, you would actually deem it as lovely and warm-looking.

As you move past the door you feel the eyes of the judges and the few civilians present there close in on you, studying you as you slowly walk to the centre of the room.

The first guard that came to fetch you forces you on the elevated seat positioned there, right under the glass you saw while coming in.

In this position, you are now able to look everyone present here today right in the eyes.

As you stare at them you notice some of them squirm in their seats as if uncomfortable under your scrutiny, you also see some of them looking at you with hatred in their gazes as if you were the lowest scum of the Earth, the worst criminal they could think of.

It is laughable when you think about it.

Sure, you are not an innocent soul, far from it actually since you have killed so many men and women in your life but those lives you took, they were taken for a purpose and yes, the means to an end do not always make it right but in your world, you either seek justice for yourself and try to help the whole world by damning your soul or you let the criminals have their way with thousands of innocent lives.

So, even though the many eyes looking at you now as if you are as bad as any other serial killer or the criminals you have killed puts a bitter taste in your mouth, you’d still chose this path for yourself. Yes, even though that would mean losing Taehyung all over again and get yourself caught just to try and find him in the distant past.

Your resolve wavers a little though when you see them. A chocolate and a onyx gaze are fixed on you, a mixture of emotions swirling inside those familiars irises filled with unshed tears.

You didn’t notice them at first but now that you have, you simply cannot look away, hell, you even find blinking a hard task when you all know these right here are the last minutes you’ll spend together, forever.

Hoseok and Jeongguk are standing right at the very end of the room on each side of the exit door as if ready to bolt out at any given moment. And maybe, that’s precisely the case.

Your heart flutters in your chest with a great number of different emotions: sadness, fear, guilt, regret—all of them rise and rise and menace to choke you with their power.

Your eyes swell with tears and you find yourself shaking your head a little, a pleading look plastered all over your face because what if, what if they are here to save you and not to say goodbye? You can’t go back, you won’t.

Please don’t try to break me out, please. You repeat these words in your head like a mantra as if they were even able to hear them.

Jeongguk’s eyes are the ones that leave your face first, his bottom lip trapped under his teeth as he struggles not to break down right in the middle of the room.

You let out a strangled sob and divert your gaze from your brother to the judge in front of you, eager for the trial to begin and put an end to all of your miseries—or at least a part of them.

Your ears try to catch onto any abnormal sound that could come from within the room or even right outside of it as chaos ensues but nothing of the sort happens for a very long while.

You barely hear the judges talk and list all the crimes you are being accused of, you barely register the little coughs and snorts from the civilians watching this live because all of your attention is focused on the two dear people you are going to leave behind soon.

Their shoulders are slumped, their lips trembling a little and their cheeks are wet from all the tears they couldn’t choke down any longer.

You know at this moment that they have accepted it, that they are here to see you one last time before you go and that they won’t fight for you but rather root for you.

You mouth the words ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you’ and you force a smile to grace your lips for them, to give them both a somewhat happy last memory of you.

A cold metal basket is suddenly placed on the top of your head, the contact making you shiver and move your gaze towards the guard right next to you.

You realise now you have no idea how these things actually work and despite yourself, your heart spikes up in your chest with the fear of the unknown.

A few straps are fastened around your torso and your legs are pinned to the chair with handcuffs similar to the ones binding your hands.

You are told to open your mouth and you do so, confusion making your eyebrows knit together as you silently ask for an explanation. Of course, you aren’t given a verbal response yet again but a mouthguard is placed between your parted lips and you instinctively bite it down with your teeth, assuming it is to protect yourself from biting down your tongue.

If you didn’t know any better, you would actually think you’re about to be electrocuted in front of everyone present.

“Jung ________,” the judge says, making your gaze shift up to him so you can meet his cold stare, “You are hereby sentenced to go 69 years in the past.”

You exhale loudly, your heart beating like a hummingbird between your ribs as you realize you’ll be sent back an entire year after Taehyung’s arrival.

Fear and doubt clutch your soul as you start to realize this journey will probably be harder than you first envisioned.

There is no place for doubts though, especially not now that the “executioner” has started the machine that will teleport you back into the past.

You feel a surge of energy coursing through your body and you shiver at the weird sensation. Your heart feels like a heavy stone in your throat and you feel your breath getting shorter and you can’t tell whether that is panic shooting through you or the effect of what is being done to you.

You hear a strangled call of your name and you are forced to fix your gaze on Hoseok and Jeongguk again knowing it is indeed your very last time seeing both of their faces.

Your brother has a firm grip around the chest of your best friend, pulling him towards him and the exit door to stop him from making a mistake he’ll pay with his life.

Jeongguk is crying and reaching his hand out for you, his entire face twisted into one of pain and dread over your depart.

You would reach for him too if you could, you would caress his cheek and tell him that everything is going to be okay, that he will overcome all of this but you can’t.

Even your words get stuck in your throat as a bolt suddenly blinds you and twists your body in all directions, almost eliciting a painful scream out of you.

You didn’t think time travel would hurt this much but it does. It feels like every little cell you are made of is being blown and then recreated with a different form and function. It feels like being ripped apart and built again, but all in the wrong order.

You hear a muffled scream and realise it is your own, blocked by the mouthguard still safely tucked in your mouth.

You catch a glimpse of Hoseok’s face as he cries his heart out and of Jeongguk’s desperate eyes as he falls on his knees realising it is too late to do anything now.

With that last image imprinted in your brain, you close your eyes on the present day.

❖ 25th June 1950 || Seoul, South Korea

The pain stops altogether, disappearing as quickly as it came and all at once. For a second, you keep your eyes close to catch your breath, feeling almost as if you imagined all of this happening and once you dare to look at your surroundings again you'll find yourself still stuck in a prison cell.

Can pain so vivid be imagined, you ask yourself.

The distinct sound of a horn is what prompts you to finally open your eyes and take in what is all around you.

The street before you is busy with cars you would deem ancient in the present time but that shine like new gorgeous pieces here, in what you assume to be the past.

You jump back as the man behind the wheel yells at you to get the hell out of his way and you bow in apology as he stares at you.

Well, he isn't the only person staring at you right about now and you quickly realise that with your neon orange prison uniform you must be shining like a beacon in the night.

The desire to blend in and disappear between this mass of people is what forces you to move and start walking, in which direction well, that is up to luck, apparently.

You know you must still be in Seoul but there aren't any clues around to confirm your theory nor somebody you could ask it to. At least not with you looking like this.

What you want to do now is make sure nobody looks at you for too long and, most importantly, that nobody decides to report you for whatever reason and send you straight into a Police station once more.

As you walk through the unfamiliar streets—your teeth torturing the poor skin around your nails out of habit and nervousness—you scan your surroundings in search of hints that could tell you where, or rather when, exactly are you.

The year is 1950 and if math didn't help you in guessing it, surely the women walking beside you would have.

Some still sport the classic Hanbok look while others look more up to par with the occidental fashion, albeit them being in the smallest percentage, at least around this area.

History has never been your forte so it is not a big surprise that you cannot remember a single event from this year that may help you in finding out the date and also give you a tiny lead towards Taehyung's whereabouts.

As more and more time passes though, you realise that looking for someone in an age where smartphones and internet do not exist equals to searching for a needle in a haystack.

When you formed your plan in your head you hadn't really thought about the after and as you keep walking around having no idea where to go or what to do, you realise that finding him—if even possible—amongst twenty-something million people will be way harder than you initially envisioned.

You stop on your tracks and force yourself to breathe in and not panic already.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath to steady both your heart and mind, applying what you have been taught at the Agency even in this switch of scenario.

When you feel like you have significantly calmed down you decide to put on pause the thought of Taehyung and how to find him because realistically speaking, there are a few things more vital than that right now.

First: blend in with the people around you.

You scan your surroundings in search of a clothing shop and find one right across the street and even though the thought of crossing it scares you—because let's face it, there is nowhere to hide or conceal yourself out there—you still force yourself to face the dread and get it over with.

The shop appears to be closed and you wonder why when it's still broad daylight outside but, in this case, it works in your absolute favour.

You look around the building in search of a back door or even a back window you can force open to help yourself in and, after a few minutes of attentive search, you find something that will work perfectly fine.

There is a tiny window on the wall that faces the side road and you assume it to be either the bathroom's one or the dressing room's one—not that it would make that much of a difference.

You look around a couple of times to make sure nobody is watching and when you are absolutely sure no prying eyes are fixed on you, you break the tiny window with a single hit and climb up the wall to force yourself in.

In your life, you have done many despicable things in order to take down your targets and you try to brush off the sense of guilt over trespassing and stealing from some innocent man by thinking of this as another one of your missions.

It doesn't help as much as you'd want it to but, without a single Won in your pockets, this is your only option.

You look around the shop and take in the great number of dresses and their different styles at your disposal.

Though you would love to put on one of the more modern dresses simply because it would feel a little bit more familiar, you quickly decide that a more traditional attire would surely draw less attention on when out in the open.

With a sigh you reach out for the first Hanbok you can find and quickly slip out of your prison clothes with a sigh of relief.

The fabric of the Hanbok feels soft between your fingers and it makes you realize you have no idea when was the last time you even wore one of these. Probably when you were still a kid and both of your parents were still alive.

The thought of them brings back memories of Hoseok and your first years together and those reruns draw a shaky breath out of your mouth.

You shake your head ‘no’ a couple of times to push them all out of your head and keep moving forward. You do not have the luxury of dwelling in distant memories you cannot reach nor change.

Without any more hesitations, you fasten the burgundy Chima at your waist, tightening at the best of your abilities while standing in front of the mirror.

The Jegori paired with it is of a beautiful anthracite grey, the collar lightly decorated with strings of burgundy to match the skirt whilst the sleeves are adorned with rose’s design of a darker and almost black colour. The design is simple but very elegant, giving it a refined touch that makes you feel like a princess after staying in those prison clothes for so long.

The image reflected in the mirror is almost of someone you do not recognise. You feel like a new person and you even look like one with no make-up on your face, your hair cut shorter than they used to and not a single sign of the fierceness that once used to inhabit in your eyes.

You sigh out loud and force yourself to stop looking at your own reflection in favour of your new task: find a pair of shoes that is actually comfortable to walk around in.

You are used to the comfort of running shoes or sneakers and there is no chance in hell you’ll find something as soft and comfortable as those here but, in the end you opt for a traditional looking pair of shoes that have no heel and seem at least fit for a little run, if necessary.

The next problem you need to face is your hair. When you cut it a few months ago you did it because you needed a change, you needed to look different since you felt so not like yourself on the inside. Surely, you hadn’t thought of needing them now to blend in with the rest of the civilians.

You do your best to tie them up in a semblance of a bun and decide that this will have to do even though it is not perfect. It’s not like you have that much of a choice anyway.

You stop to ponder a little whether it would be possible for you to climb back up the wall and exit through the window you came in through while dressed like this and you decide that no, that doesn’t seem plausible in the slightest.

With no other option available, you walk to the door to study the lock and figure out how to force it open.

The thing about doors is that they improved over the years and locks have become harder and harder to pry open. In this case, though, time appears to be your friend because cracking the door open proves to be far easier than it was to climb inside in the first place.

You try to look as casual as you possibly can while you exit the shop and you exhale loudly when you realise no one is actually looking at you, not anymore at least.

You resume your walk through the streets with your next goal in mind: find out what day is it today.

Your eyes look around eagerly, studying your surroundings with new-found curiosity and as you move past a couple of shops and restaurant you start noticing a somewhat disheartening detail. Everything appears to be closed.

You wonder why all of the public places would be locked down in the middle of the day—if the sun up in the sky is anything to go by.

You stop on your tracks and look around with a pout, finally noticing how the streets are getting quieter and quieter the more time passes.

With your eyebrows knotted together, you decide to approach a woman hastily walking in your general direction and looking as if about to break into an actual run.

"Uhm, excuse me?"

The woman looks at you with a cold stare that makes you retreat the hand you had moved forward to make her notice you.

"I was wondering if you know why everything is closed around here," your voice is small and your skin hot to the touch as you pose your question. You have never truly been the extreme shy type but there is something about the way this woman looks you up and down that makes you doubt everything about yourself.

"Are you daft?" She exclaims, her eyebrows rising as if she can't believe the ridiculousness of your question, "Who would want to go around on a day like this?"

You tilt your head to the side a little, confusion written all over your features as you try to remember any important event happening during this year.

"Haven't you heard the news, child?!" The woman before you clutches her heart and looks at you as if you were an actual kid and she couldn't believe she had to be the one delivering bad news to an innocent soul.

"I'm afraid not," you reply in uncertainty, your voice barely above a whisper.

"The War has started, baby girl."

The words feel like heavy stones on your shoulders as she deadpans the news to you. Of fucking course, how could you even forget something so important?

Today is June 25th and it is the start of the conflict between North Korea and South Korea and you are right in the middle of it.

You feel panic surging through your body as you start to realize what this means for you. Finding Taehyung was already difficult but finding him in a country that is about to go to war? Suddenly, it feels hopeless and impossible.

Your despair and doubt must be written all over your face because the elderly woman shoots you an apologetic smile before excusing herself and rush along like everybody else around you.

You don't realise you have started walking until you find yourself in the middle of a park, having no idea how you got there in the first place.

It is dusk already and you still haven't figured out how you will spend the night in this foreign place without a single Won to offer in return for hospitality.

When night falls and it seems impossible to keep moving around with not a single clue of where you are supposed to go, you find yourself looking for a shelter for the nighttime.

You are about to lose all hope and simply crawl in a ball at the side of the street when you stumble upon an evidently abandoned building.

You look up at the broken glasses of the windows, the decadence of the walls and the ajar doors on the side road.

With reluctance, you enter the building and choose an empty room for yourself, favouring the proximity of the window over the door.

In this position, you can benefit from both the fresh air of the night and a vantage point in case any visitors decide to show up during the night.

You hug your legs to your chest and stare at the empty corridor ahead, your heart beating fast in your chest as your body starts to relax and the adrenaline dies down leaving only fear and despair behind.

You wish you had thought more about what you were going to find in the past, you wish you had made a better plan to find Taehyung than simply be sent here and deal with the rest once you were stuck in the past.

A part of you wishes you could take back everything but you know, you would have never been able to move on with your if life you didn't do this for both yourself and Taehyung.

You had promised him to not leave him behind, you had promised to get him back and you failed at both of them so it only seemed logical you had to sacrifice yourself in order to be with him.

Now that you are here, though, the thought of never finding him is stuck in your brain and makes you squirm on the floor in anguish.

Tonight, resting in an empty room in a foreign city with not a single soul to turn to, you cry yourself to sleep feeling like you may have made the biggest mistake of your entire life.

❖ 12th September 1950 || Busan, South Korea

  The sound of waves hitting the shores and the smell of salt filling the air make you relax as you stare at the expanse of the sea.

You breathe in as much air as you possibly can and exhale loudly with your eyes firmly closed.

Your body is tired after a long day at work but your mind is even more distraught and your surroundings have nothing to do with it.

A little less than three months have passed since your arrival here in the past and you are as close to finding Taehyung as you were on that very first day.

The thought nullifies the calming benefits of the sea altogether and you find yourself struggling to keep the tears at bay. It feels like that is what you have been doing all this time when you are alone and you have nothing better to do than to think and indulge in your own misery.

You turn your back on the sea with a sigh, dragging your limbs to the busy street so that you can return to your accommodation.

You have been in Busan for a couple of weeks now, following the troops here to keep helping with the wounded. You haven't studied medicine in the future nor here in the past but you are quite accustomed to wounds and how to treat them on the spot and, honestly speaking, voluntary work is what is keeping the army going in this dire times.

The North Korean army has conquered Seoul a few days after you arrived here in the past and slowly but steadily, you have been pushed here in Busan alongside with the army as they kept losing territory inch by inch.

Of course, you already know how the War will end but there is still no way of telling whether you'll make it out alive or not by the time the US military comes at your rescue in the south. You are crossing the street with your eyes fixed on the ground and a nail between your teeth as you nibble on it when you hear it. A voice as deep as the ocean, a little chuckle that, in a way, resembles the one of a kid.

Your heart skips a beat as you lift your gaze, hope filling your whole body to the point it feels like it may burst before you even get the chance to make sure it is actually him.

A few meters away from you stands a tall young man. He is dressed as a soldier: a light green uniform, a hat atop his head and black boots at his feet.

His jawline is sharp and manly and you can barely see the tip of his round nose but everything inside you tells you it's him, it has to be.

He starts to walk towards the camp after greeting the young woman he was talking to when you first heard his voice and you follow suit, your steps fast against the bitumen.

Your heart is heavy with doubt—what if it's not him or what if it is him but he has moved on? What if he has forgotten all about you in this year you spent apart? What if he has a new partner now and he is no longer in love with you?

All those questions do not stop your hasty steps at all because even if all of them are true, you just need to see him, to look into his eyes and hear his voice again.

He turns a little to the left and as he does, he exposes his entire profile to you and that's when you know, without a doubt, it is him. Finally, after all this time, Taehyung is standing before you in actual flesh and bones.

He looks relaxed, happy even, and most importantly in perfect health and you would start crying right in the middle of the street with the depth of your relief if the urgency of touching him wasn't this strong, forcing you to keep chasing him.

As he starts walking faster and you struggle to keep up with him in your stupid uncomfortable shoes, you find yourself screaming his name out loud.

"Kim Taehyung!"

You watch him freeze on the spot and slowly turn around towards you, his eyebrows knitted together as if he can't believe someone has just yelled his name in the middle of the street.

Or maybe, he can't believe his own ears and the way that voice resembled yours so much because he knows, without a doubt, that it is not possible for you to be here, right now.

But as his eyes stop on you standing in the middle of the street with your breath ragged and your eyes filled with tears, he truly has a hard time believing all of this isn't real.

You see the hesitation in his irises, his legs quivering a little as he struggles to decide whether he should walk to you or not.

A sob escapes your lips because you can't believe you are staring at his handsome face again.

He looks exactly like you remembered him to be: tall and lean, muscular but not excessively so, black hair a little longer on the back of his head and eyes always shining as if stars were trapped in there when he was born. Kim Taehyung has always been drop-dead gorgeous and, damn, you have missed him so much.

With not a single hint of hesitation, you run to him and throw your arms around his neck to hold him tight to your chest and keep him there for as long as you can.

"__________?" His voice trembles with a mixture of emotions you can only describe as incredulity, relief, happiness and confusion all mixed together and in response, you hold him even tighter.

"Is it really you?" You can hear the tears in his voice as it grows thick with them whilst his arms move to rest behind your back and return your embrace.

"It's me, baby, it's me."

You let go of him that tiny bit that allows you to look into his eyes and as you do, you both fall completely apart and start crying your hearts out in the middle of the street, not caring one bit of all the people surrounding you.

"Ho-how?" He asks, his bottom lip quivering as he brushes his wet nose against yours, "Are you real? Please tell me this isn't another dream."

You shake your head 'no' a couple of times and move your hands to caress his red and wet cheeks, eager to feel more of his skin under your digits just to make sure yourself this isn't one of your own dreams.

"I'm here, I came back for you just like I promised."

"How? What happened?"

He rests his forehead on yours and exhales loudly whilst holding you even tighter with his firm hands, almost as if scared that you'll disappear between his fingertips.

"I... I made sure the Police would catch me as soon as I was cleared to go out on the field again." You confess, your eyes shifting from his intense gaze to the tight line of his lips.

"You willingly did this to yourself?" You can sense the incredulity in his words and, honestly, you think you've taken a crazy leap of faith as well but, as you stand here with him in your arms it is very hard to feel regret over your decision.

"I couldn't live without you."

The confession makes your throat burn with the tears you are so forcibly trying to gulp down, it makes your heart feel incredibly small in the expanse of your chest and you do not have the courage to lift your gaze up all on your own.

It is one of Taehyung's fingers under your chin that pulls your focus back on his eyes.

He is looking at you as if you are the most precious gem he has ever seen and that look of love and adoration, that familiar gaze you were so used to seeing before, erases all doubts about him forgetting all about you and starting a new life for himself.

Kim Taehyung is clearly enamoured with you as much as he used to be and the realisation fills your heart with utter happiness.

All the hardships you had to face, all of the sleepless nights and the tears and desperate moments they were all worth it.

Taehyung lets go of your body and grasps your hand in his own, smiling at the way your fingers automatically entwine just like they used to, fitting together as if they were moulded to always be united like this.

"Come with me," he says and you eagerly follow his quick steps as he guides you through the Camp and a more secluded place.

"So you're a soldier now?" You ask as you briskly walk side to side to reach the privacy of his room.

"Ah, yes, well..." He trails off and steals a glance at your face as his cheeks empurple with a hint of embarrassment, "Killing people is all I ever learned to do so... I just thought I should make the best of what I've been taught in the future."

You smile at the way he tilts his head to the side a little in uncertainty, suddenly escaping your gaze as if you'd ever judge him for his choices.

Being a soldier definitely sounds better than being an assassin when spoken out loud in a casual conversation and in the end, it all seems to be tied to one similar reason: defending the world you love so much from the people that menace to endanger it.

If this were a time where being a female allowed you to join the forces, you would have probably chosen the same path for yourself.

You tug a little on his hand and he finally turns his face towards you, a sheepish smile gracing his lips as you nod your head in understanding and give him the biggest and happiest smile to ever grace your face.

"You are a nurse, then?" He asks after a few seconds, glancing at your simple black dress and classic black shoes that seem to be the go-to-attire for medical personnel outside duty.

"Ah," you glance at yourself and shrug a little before lifting your gaze towards him, "Well, I couldn't join the military but I am quite accustomed to wounds and how to treat them on the spot so I figured I could make myself useful here."

"Look at us, making the best of what we experienced on the field here in the past."

Taehyung is literally beaming at you and you smile back while tightening your grip on his hand. A part of you is still struggling to believe this is real, that you made it and are now finally together again.

Taehyung's steps come to a halt and you stop next to him, looking up at the door that stands before you.

You laugh as you watch him struggle to find the keys in his pockets while absolutely refusing to let go of your hand, almost as if afraid the moment he'll let go you'll turn into dust.

When he finally finds the keys and helps you inside his room, you exhale loudly in relief at the prospect of finally being alone again, away from prying eyes.

Taehyung must be feeling exactly the same way because the moment the door closes behind your backs he pushes you against the wooden surface and steals a kiss from you.

The contact is sudden but not any less sweet. You find yourself sighing on his mouth at the sensation of his soft lips moving atop your own, stealing your breath away.

Touching him again, feeling him like this for the first time in over a year feels like absolute bliss.

Your body seems to melt under his touch just like butter under the scorching sun and the more his hands roam all over your curves, the more eager you get to feel more of him against your skin.

"God, I've missed you so fucking much," Taehyung says as he parts from your lips to breathe in and calm down the quick heaving of his chest.

His nose keeps caressing the tip of your own as he stares right inside your eyes, almost as if he could look at your soul through them.

"I've missed you too," you whisper and your voice breaks a little as you choke those words out because you have never spoken words truer than these ones.

You have missed Taehyung like one misses air and all this time, you felt like a part of you had been ripped from you and scattered across the whole world.

Now that you have him here before you, though, you feel whole again and it is with that sentiment that you grasp a few locks of his hair and pull him forward so your lips can meet again.

His hat falls unceremoniously on the ground with a loud thud but you are both deaf to anything else that isn't the rampant beating of your hearts and your breaths, slowly mingling together.

Taehyung’s lips find the curve of your neck next, right below the ear, and they conquer the sensitive skin anew with his warm kisses, eliciting soft sighs out of you.

He presses his body to yours as if to make sure you won’t be going anywhere and you find yourself pulling on him with just as much passion and eagerness.

“I can’t believe you’re really here,” he whispers atop the curve of your jawline as he covers it with sweet and feather-like kisses.

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” you reply as you seek his eyes to let yourself drown into those black pools.

He smiles at you, shaking his head a little as if he cannot believe you are apologising for something you couldn’t control but he knows, he must know that your apologies go deeper than that. You are sorry for leaving him in the first place, you are sorry for not being there when he was sent back nor when they tried to save him but most of all, you are sorry for the many mistakes you’ve made that night.

“It doesn’t matter anymore, we are both here and we are well.”

He says and you can’t help but claim his mouth again as he does so because his words move your heart in ways you didn’t think possible. You thought you had known happiness and love before by his side but as you keep pulling him into you, as you keep savouring him, it feels like this right here goes way beyond what you felt for him before.

Taehyung is truly your soul mate, your everything and there is no way of hiding that when your fingers are so restless, your mouth so greedy and hungry for the taste of him.

His hands move on your hips and slowly inch backwards until he is palming your bottom cheeks and squeezing them tight, turning your kiss into a heated one.

You sigh and whimper in unison at the sensation of being this close after so long and you can feel the excitement building between his legs with each passing second.

You do not want to rush anything today, though. What you want is to savour him for as long as you possibly can, make him yours all over again.

After such a long time, it feels like your bodies need to get acquainted again, they need to discover every niche and ridge they were made of until you know every single inch of each other just like you used to.

“I want you so much,” he whispers in a shaky breath as he leaves your mouth to attack the expanse of your neck.

Your back arches a little as his lips close on the sensitive skin and bloom purple roses there to mark his passage.

Your eyes flutter shut whilst your fingers grab his locks harder, forcing him closer so that he won’t stop kissing you like this, claiming you inch after inch.

“You can have me, baby,” you reply in a soft whisper, “You can have all of me.”

Taehyung groans against your skin and you shiver as he roughly pulls your dress upwards to reveal your naked legs and aching core.

You are mildly aware of the arousal between your legs and how it must have painted a dark spot in the centre of your underwear and the way his eyes immediately zero on it makes your sex tingle with excitement.

Taehyung’s hands travel upwards again and chose your breasts as their next victim.

His fingers are passionate, a little bit too rough as they encompass the supple flesh and pull it out of your flimsy little dress.

He appears to be extremely pleased with the absence of a bra and he eagerly licks his lips as if about to taste his favourite dessert.

The sensation of his hot mouth against your sensitive buds is intoxicating. A shiver runs up your spine, covering your flesh in goosebumps as you deliciously sigh for him and arch against the simple touch.

His tongue rolls out of his mouth and encompasses the already hardened nipple and you whimper for him, encouraging him to keep up with his little tantalizing touches.

He kisses the thin skin between your breasts and moves to the other to give it the same exact treatment and grow the arousal pooling in your core.

He seems to be satisfied only when you are heaving for him, the expanse of your chest covered in saliva and decorated with tiny, purple love marks.

His fingers hook the edges of your dress around the shoulders and guide it downwards, slowly revealing your body to him.

His eyes drink up the sight of you half-naked before him as he is trying to impress it firmly in his memory, almost as if he has forgotten how you look like and feel like against him and wants to make sure he won’t forget ever again,

You shiver a little under his scrutiny albeit the room being almost too hot for comfort and he smiles at you while biting his bottom lip, the look on his features absolutely mesmerising.

“You’re as beautiful as I remembered,” he says under his breath but he can’t hide the way his eyes linger a little too long over the scars of the wounds you’ve got as a token on your last night together.

“It’s ok, Tae, I’m all healed up,” you whisper, your tone purposefully tender whilst your hands caress his head and cheeks to soothe him further.

He softly hums in response and leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a few seconds just to bask into the sensation.

When his gaze fixes back on you he gives you a little smile and then presses his lips on every little scar that has been freshly added to your body. There are many that constellate your body and they are all small reminders of the enemies you’ve faced, of the hardships you have conquered and raised up from just like a phoenix.

You know Taehyung has many of his own and some may even be new to you but all those blemishes, they have shaped you into what you are today and they don’t make neither of you less beautiful on the outside nor the inside.

You shiver at the sensation of his tongue lapping your flesh as if he were trying to mend your skin and you find yourself sighing for him, calling his name with desperate eagerness to feel more.

His delicate hands respond to your call with ardour, pulling your dress all the way down until you are left in nothing but your flimsy underwear.

As you stand before him like this, exposed and ready to be loved to the utmost, you reach for his uniform and start unbuttoning his jacket as quickly as you possibly can.

The fabric almost seems like a trap with its line of stubborn buttons and Taehyung has to help you undo some of them to free himself.

You almost groan at the sight of a white shirt beneath his jacket blocking your view of his naked torso—albeit it being almost pointless with the way it is soaked in sweat and almost completely see-through and stuck on his golden skin.

You have no idea how he can stand the uncomfortable fit of this garment when you can barely bear the feeling of a cap atop your head while working at Camp.

You strip him off of the shirt and bash in the way he immediately shivers as your breath hits his wet and hot skin.

You attach your mouth on his chest and he sighs instantly at the sensation, relaxing under the feeling of your lips tasting him like this.

As you claim every inch of his upper torso and discover a few new scars there, your hands work fast on his pants to let them fall on his feet and free him of his tight confinement.

Taehyung steps out of his pants and shoes as you keep kissing him, licking and biting the supple flesh to leave there marks that will soon mirror the ones he left on your chest.

With greedy hands you clutch his bottom cheeks and pull him towards you, forcing his hips to rock forward and slightly meet your own. The sensation of his erection against your clothed sex makes the both of you whimper with desire and there is no denying you won’t hold much longer with this dragged out wait for your carnal reunion.

Your fingers hook the hem of his boxers and you slide them down his legs to free him from the sticky garment and as he hisses at the freeing sensation, you attach your lips to his neck and suck on the tender flesh until he groans in both pain and pleasure, perfectly mingled together.

You palm his erection with one of your hands, basking in the way his body trembles at the mere touch and his mouth opens with a silent moan.

Taehyung remains so pliable when it comes down to the pleasure you can ignite in him with the simplest of actions and your heart rate spikes up in your chest. You have him right at the centre of your palm even after all this time, just like he has you.

“I need to feel you, baby,” he whimpers out and you shift your gaze from your hand around his cock to his pleading eyes.

“Then take me,” you reply, your voice sounding almost daring as if you doubt he would when in reality, you are quite acquainted with the way Taehyung loves to claim and ruin your body.

It doesn’t come as that much of a surprise then that he instantly lifts you up, forcing you to hook your legs around his hips for support whilst he steals your breath away with his ravenous tongue, seeking your own.

The kiss is sloppy, lewd with the sounds of your ragged breaths and tongues toying with each other whilst saliva starts to gather on both of your chins.

You moan as his grip around your bottom cheeks turns a little rougher whilst he spins you around to drag you to the bed at the end of the room.

His steps are unsteady as he manoeuvres you through the tiny apartment, his everything focused more on you and how you taste like to care enough about what is surrounding you and where your bodies are going to bruise come morning due to the few bumps along your way.

You are both breathless by the time you reach the comfort of his bed and you sigh as the soft mattress welcomes your back, hugging your body as if it were made of clouds. Or maybe it just feels like it because you are absolutely flying right now, your heart so content it feels like it could burst any moment now.

Taehyung’s eyes are fixed on your lean figure and you tilt your head to the side a little, offering him a sweet smile while opening up your legs for him.

The silent invitation seems to be enough for him to join you on the bed and finally claim what has been his all along.

The mattress dips as his knee presses against the soft surface so that he can climb right between your legs.

You welcome him in your arms as he pushes his body forward to feel your heated skin pressed against his own whilst he steals your mouth anew with the same amount of vigour and passion shown before.

You feel like a feral animal that has been starving for days and is now faced with a feast. You want to taste all of him all at once whilst still savouring every instant and make it last for as long as you possibly can.

Despite the passion burning in your hearts, Taehyung takes his time as well as he explores your body anew, planting small kisses on his way southwards, where he knows your arousal resides.

You sigh every time his lips touch something new and as he grasps your breasts you softly call out his name, biting your bottom lip as his teeth graze the already battered flesh of your hard nipples so he can gently tug on it, drag it forward and enclose his lips around it to give it a firm suck.

Your fingers find purchase into his messy locks again and he groans as you tug on them a little too fiercely in response to his incitement.

“Baby, please,” you whine, arching your back so that your hips can slightly brush against his own and get a taste of what it will feel like to have him lodged deep inside of you again, battering your core until you are screaming his name for everyone to hear.

Taehyung smirks on your skin but is forced to comply to your wishes quite quickly once you hook your feet behind his back and you start rocking your hips forward to meet his turgid cock through your underwear.

He hisses under his breath and forces your hips to still with his strong hands, pinning you down on the bed with a daring look in his eyes.

You release his back from the vice of your legs and watch him resume his travel southward with lust shining in your eyes.

He slides a little off the bed to remove the shoes you hadn’t realized were still planted on your feet and then he kisses his way up from your ankles up to your inner thighs.

You inhale loudly and immediately close your eyes as you feel his hot breath hitting the wetness of your clothed core.

He nuzzles his nose into your panties and you whimper as he shakes his head a little between your legs, the tip of his nose brushing perfectly against your clitoris.

His long fingers hook on the hem of your underwear and you lift your ass up from the bed to help him slide them down your legs and finally reveal the depth of your arousal to him.

He hums in contentment at the sight of you so hopelessly devoted to him to the point even a few kisses can turn you soaking wet.

His hands firmly press your hips down as he blows hot hair on your exposed sex right before his mouth plants a sweet and seemingly-innocent kiss atop your thirsty lips.

Your lashes tremble as you struggle to keep yourself still when he is so close you can almost feel him filling you up and yet, not quite close enough for you to feel actual pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open as you pathetically sigh for him before he has even started touching you, savouring you.

Fuelled by your evident desires, Taehyung’s mouth opens and his tongue darts out to lie flat on your soaked core and lap at the sweet juices dripping out of you.

A long and shaky breath escapes your mouth at the sensation of his languid muscle pressed against your feverish skin.

A string of whispered pleas and calls of his name fills the silence of the room as he laps at your core fervently, his head moving up and down as he covers the expanse of your folds with the tip of his tongue.

Taehyung hums contently against your mound, the vibrations he produces making you shiver whilst forcing your eyes to pry open so that you can bask in the sight of him, residing so prettily between your legs.

“I missed the sweet taste of your cunt so bloody much,” he says as soon as he catches your eyes fixed on his and you whine at the lewd words he speaks with such ease.

“Yeah? Have you thought about it often?” You force yourself to say through the little whimpers that leave your mouth, eager to drink up more of his lasciviousness.

“All the damn time,” he confesses, voice husky with desire as he tilts his head a little to the side to flick the tight bundle of nerves atop your aching core.

His mouth encompasses the trigger to your pleasure in earnest desire of having you surrender to him completely and that, you gladly do as he starts sucking on the little bundle of flesh like his life depends on it.

Whimpers escape your parted lips whilst your hands fly to find purchase on the covers, tugging on them with tight fists that menace to rip them off if you tag on the thin fabric a little longer.

The way your body so hungrily responds to every single one of his touches turns him fervent, eager to give you the pleasure you so evidently need and the truth is that you haven’t been touched like this in over a year, you have denied yourself pleasure all this time, believing you didn’t deserve any bliss after what you did to him.

Your body is literally starving, hungry for any form of attention it can get and that is why you are so pliant under his touch.

“Did you think about my cock filling your tight little pussy?” He asks as he slightly lifts his face up, away from your aching core whilst his fingers slowly slide down from your hips down to your wet folds.

His digits are careful, slow against your overflowing sex but they make you sigh nonetheless because you have missed this, all of this, for way too long.

“Y-yes,” you pathetically whimper back because it’s the truth and there is no point in hiding it. You have dreamed of him like this countless of times and that is why you open up your eyes and fix them back on him. This is not a dream and you do not want to miss him looking like this, so entranced with the depth of your arousal and the power he still holds over it.

“Have you touched yourself thinking about me pounding into you just like I used to?” His voice is all rough around the edges, deep and guttural as he stares right into your eyes, seeking an answer in your gaze.

Your expression falters as you struggle between wanting to please him and keep the teasing game going, or tell him the honest truth.

Your resolution on lying is very short-lived though as you catch the shift in his own eyes while he keeps looking at you. For a moment, you forgot how acquainted he is with your habits and little mannerism. For a whole second, you thought you could fool the man you love but you were wrong and that much is clear in the way his brows furrow while he tilts his head to the side, studying you.

His generous fingers leave your core all at once and you almost whine at the sudden loss.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He inquires, encouraging you to speak up whatever is passing through your mind right now.

Your heart hurts a little as you stare at him, looking so serious and concerned and you find out you can’t actually hold that gaze when you are about to confess your very last secret to him, undress your soul completely for him.

“I... I couldn’t. I didn’t think I...” your voice is small as your eyes move to fix on the white wall behind his back, purposefully avoiding his deep and attentive eyes. Your face turns uncomfortably hot as you muster the courage to utter the embarrassing words out loud, “I didn’t think I deserved it.”

The mattress beneath you dips with his weight as he climbs back up on top of you to rest between your legs. Despite yourself, you find your eyes trained in his as he guides your chin upwards, making it impossible for you to look away as he steals a kiss from your mouth.

“Why?” He asks, his voice soft because he probably already knows the answer to this very question but still needs to ask.

“Because I left you,” your voice breaks and his eyes seem to fill with shining stars as he lets out a strangled breath before claiming your lips anew with a gentle touch.

“When was the last time you’ve had an orgasm?” Roses bloom on your cheeks as those words leave his mouth before he places a soft kiss against your temple, the gesture so tender you fear you may burst into actual tears and break down before him at the way he keeps looking at you, touching you and kissing you like you are the most precious treasure on the whole planet.

“I don’t know,” you blurt out in honest truth, your voice still so small it is barely above a whisper.

Taehyung sighs and closes his eyes for a few seconds and when he opens them back up, his long lashes framing his intense gaze, you are rendered absolutely speechless by the fire burning in them.

“This ends tonight,” he says, his voice almost harsh to your ears whilst your heart skips a beat between your lungs with the fear of him referring to your relationship. There is so much sorrow and love gracing his features though you find it hard to even breathe normally, “You won’t feel guilty about leaving me behind ever again.”

The tip of his nose strokes your own, encouraging you to nod in response and acknowledge his desire.

“Ok.”

“Promise me,” he kisses your temple again and you lean into the sweet touch, a little smile gracing your lips as you finally catch onto what his words meant all along.

“I promise.” You say and, this time, you mean it.

“Good,” he kisses your neck next and bites the tender skin until he elicits a moan out of you, swiftly throwing you back into an aroused daze.

“Now,” he says, licking his lips as he glides down your body to return to his initial position right between your thighs, “Time to get what you deserve.”

His words are titillating but also remarkably sweet with what they entail—you have been too hard on yourself, you have punished yourself way too hard for sins you didn’t even commit to his eyes. All this time you deserved everything, you deserved happiness and you still deserved him. So now, he is bent on giving you all of the above, for the rest of your lives together.

His mouth drops on your mound and he grunts as soon as your taste fills his senses again, sending delicious vibrations to ripple through your sex just like ocean waves.

His lips enclose your clit anew so that he can suck on the little mound with all his might whilst teasing your folds with his long and slender fingers.

Your eyes shut and your mouth opens to allow soft sighs of ecstasy out of your parted lips, your body slack against the mattress as you completely give in to the pleasure firmly building within your stomach.

His digits part your dripping folds and you stir in anticipation for the feeling of his warm tongue inside of you, finally claiming what has been his for a very long time.

You bite on your bottom lip as the tip of his enticing tongue moves past your folds to gather all your juices and gulp them down.

The sound of appreciation that moves past his mouth gathers goosebumps on your skin and summons your hands on his brown locks to keep him perfectly still between your thighs.

You can feel Taehyung’s lips twisting into a smirk as you slightly roll your hips forward to meet the dragged out ministrations of his tongue, too eager to feed the raging fire inside of you to care any longer about savouring the moment. You have waited long enough.

“You taste so sweet,” he grunts as he nuzzles your clitoris with his nose, drawing a sigh out of you whilst his fingers start ghosting around your sex anew.

He looks up at you with the most tantalizing smile you have ever seen and as you get swept away by the intense look in his onyx eyes, one of his digits moves right past your external labia and intrudes your sex.

Your body tenses at the sudden sensation of being filled after such a long time and you exhale loudly as he plunges it all the way down and brushes against your pleasure spot with mind-blowing precision.

“T-there,” you whimper out, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed as you relish into the way your walls start to stretch around him, at the way your juices overflow your core and taint his hand and the white covers beneath your ass.

Taehyung slides his finger almost completely out of you and then slams it right back in as if it were his cock aiming for your cervix. The sensation is blissful and it is evident in the way you start panting for him, rocking your hips to meet the slow pace set between your folds but it is not enough.

“I want-I want to feel you,” you whimper out and Taehyung slips another finger inside your pussy in response, adding to the pressure within you to stretch you even further and prepare you for the glorious feeling of his cock rocking in and out of you.

The thought alone makes you moan out loud and lick your lips as they turn sandpaper dry in mere anticipation.

His swollen lips find the enlarged bundle of flesh hidden above your folds and they suck on it hard until you are yelping in both pleasure and pain. The sounds do not make him relent in the slightest, in fact, the scissoring inside you turns bruising whilst his tongue ravishes you whole and you are quickly turned into a whimpering, begging mess.

Your chest heaves up and down as delectation starts to coil within your stomach, turning everything scorching hot just like liquid fire coiling from your throat down to your core.

Your mind turns fuzzy as your eyes roll back at the sensation of the tip of his digits battering your core with relentless precision and as he slides a third finger in, you come undone under his touch.

“Yes, just like that baby, come for me,” he whispers, voice husky with arousal over the way your body writhes around his palm as the wave of pleasure washes over you from the tip of your head down to your curling toes.

Taehyung’s fingers slip out of you coated in your humours, shining under the orange sunlight coming through the window behind your backs.

The light filling the room caresses Taehyung’s face in a way that makes him look almost angelic with his tousled hair and shining mouth but what he has been doing between your legs is the furthest thing from it.

The smile painted across his lips though helps in creating the little illusion.

That is until he inches forward and decides to collect every last drop of your orgasm from your aching core.

You flinch at the sensation of his tongue fervently licking your sensitive skin and you whine while pulling on his hair, the over-stimulation making you dizzy.

“I can’t get enough of you,” he interjects between two deep and slow licks that gather goosebumps over your heated skin.

“Tae,” you mewl as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him with pleading eyes.

“Yes, baby?”

“Fuck me, please.”

He smirks and you know he had been waiting for you to beg him this shamelessly all along but as his eyes start to twinkle and he palms himself before you, you can’t find it in yourself to actually be mad at him.

His member looks painfully hard, the tip all red and hungry and sticky with pre-cum as he gives himself a few pumps whilst staring at your dripping wet core, waiting for him.

His cock twitches slightly as you roll your hips for him, taunting him just enough to make him groan out loud.

His free hand comes to rest on your hip as he aligns himself with your vulva, the underside of his cock grazing your skin to gather up all of your juices and make his sink inside of you easier, slicker.

You whimper as the tip of his cock teases your swollen clit and he sighs in response, licking his lips a few times as he tries to steady himself.

With a trembling breath, he grips the base of his cock and with a slow drag, he pushes the head of his cock past your folds and inside your womanhood.

Taehyung moans at the sensation of your walls squeezing him so tightly and you follow suit, overwhelmed with the thrill of having him inside of you again after everything you have been through.

He drags his cock inside of you slowly, inch after inch and every time he goes a little deeper, he sighs at the way you madly contract around him and whimper out his name with nothing but bliss laced within your voice.

He gulps down heavily as he pushes the remaining inches of his girth inside of you, his breath trembling as the base of his cock hits your ass and he finds himself finally deeply sheathed inside of you.

The mattress dips with his full weight as he pushes his body forward and rests his hands on each side of your head, cradling your face with loving fingers as he stares right inside your eyes.

His hips rise a little and then slowly push back in, allowing you to savour the deep drug of his length within you.

His mouth is on top of yours the moment you let out a pleading call of his name and just like that, he starts to slowly rock into you.

Your hands find purchase on his muscular back, your nails dragging along the tense skin until you find the curve of his tight ass to squeeze and press against.

The muscles of his bottom cheeks are hard and tense as he smacks in and out of you, the sound of his balls hitting your ass and your ragged breaths filling the room quite quickly along with the scorching heat of those summer-like September days.

Your fingers crawl around the soft skin of his bottom cheeks, the press of your digits on his flesh making him hiss in both pleasure and pain.

Your lips attach on his neck and suck hard on the flesh, making his hips stutter as his mouth opens into a deep moan of ecstasy.

The sound makes your walls squeeze hard against his turgid cock and he is forced to close his eyes and let his head sink in the soft curve of your neck to keep thrusting forward, picking up his pace inside you.

“You feel so good, baby,” he whines as you roll your hips against his, meeting him halfway to chase your own release for the second time tonight.

“Y-yeah? Is fucking me as good as you remembered?” Your voice trembles with the strain of forming a coherent phrase and speak it out loud between the needy whimpers that still escape your parted lips, no matter how hard you try to keep it quiet.

“No,” he thrusts deeper into you and you yelp at the sensation of his twitching head striking your pleasure spot with utter precision, “It’s even better.”

You whine at his words and feel your walls contracting against him to the point it makes him hiss and curse under his breath because ‘you are so fucking tight’ and there is no chance he’ll last much longer like this.

“Come here baby,” he says, grimacing a little as his cock leaves the warmth and comfort of your delicious pussy to lie right behind you so that you have to turn your head a little to gaze into his face.

His dark brown locks are damp and slightly sticking to his forehead, sweat is slowly dripping over his face and down his alluring neck and you push yourself a little forward to catch a droplet with your mouth and savour the saltiness dripping all over his body.

Taehyung exhales loudly, his eyes fluttering shut as his cock slides right back into you with very little effort.

One of his hands reaches behind your neck to grasp your fingers and intertwine them with his own whilst his arm supports your head upwards.

The gesture is accompanied by a sweet and rather chaste kiss that warms your heart and fills your eyes with shining joy.

The boxed grin on his features turns your body into a puddle and it tugs on your heartstrings to the point it almost hurts between your ribs. How much have you missed his trademark smile, God.

Your eyes water with happiness just as he resumes his pace inside of you, aiming for both of your releases in a desperate endeavour to get lost into the bliss together.

His mouth seeks your swollen lips and you gladly concede them to him, parting them to welcome his tongue past your teeth to tease your own.

The kiss is a little sloppy, it falls on your chin and on his nose as you rock against each other, but it is heavenly nonetheless and brings you both a little bit closer to the breaking point.

You feel his hips stutter and lose the pattern as you start rotating your own a little bit, eager to feel his cock twitch again against your tight walls. His moans turn deeper, more frequent and his eyes close shut as he gets lost into the sensation and that’s how you know, he is very close.

Taehyung licks his lips and guides his free hand on your stomach and then down your core, opening his eyes again to fix them on his target: your swollen little trigger.

His digits find it with utter ease and earnestly press against the enlarged bud, drawing figures eight on it with the same speed set between your legs.

Your head falls backwards, supported only by his strong arm and your mouth opens to let out a deep, guttural moan.

“Do you like that, baby?” He asks in a panting breath as he fixes his gaze back on your face and the way it morphs with pleasure with each one of his deep thrusts.

“So mm-much, y-yes! Don’t stop, please, baby.”

Taehyung groans and roughly claims your lips anew as he fastens the rhythm of his thrusts turning it into a rather bruising one destined to make the both of you unravel between each other’s arms.

“Fuck-ffuck, uh, _______,” his voice breaks with a deep moan that sounds a lot like your name and you feel his dick twitch inside of you, his under-cock artery pulsating against your walls as he creams your sex and fills you whole.

His hips slow down a bit as he milks his orgasm to the very last drop and the sensation of being held like this, pleasured by his hand and filled with his cock and his release makes the dyke of your own orgasm burst completely open.

Your juices spill over his pretty cock and coil between your legs, nicely mixing with the white droplets of cum that have pooled out from your battered pussy.

Your breath trembles as he slowly pulls out of you, his eyes fixed on your sex, mesmerised by the sight of all the juices still oozing out from it.

With your free hand you guide his chin upwards so that you can meet his gaze and when you do, you kiss him with all the love you are capable of showing him.

“I love you, Taehyung.”

He tugs on your entwined fingers whilst caressing your face with his free hand, drawing you closer so that he can firmly hug you against his chest, unwilling to ever let you go now that you are finally one, once more.

The minutes tick by slowly in the silence of the room but you, for once, do not mind a single bit. For the first time in forever, it feels like you have the whole eternity ahead of you.

It is you that breaks the silence, though, after a long while.

“Tae?”

“Mmm,” he tilts his head a little to the side so that he can look inside your eyes as you lift your head up and rest your chin above his toned chest.

“How will we survive here?” You ask, your heart feeling a little tight between your ribs as the anxiousness you’ve been feeling for the past few months starts creeping back up now that the daze of your orgasm has completely dissipated.

“As we always did... together.”

He shows you your favourite smile again and you melt into his embrace because you are instantly convinced. Everything is going to be fine.

Copyright © 2019 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved.

[headless-killjoys]

Day 5 - Dracs

Here we go! Another fic for @killjoynest‘s Zone Five Quarantine Fair, this time focused on the Venom Siblings! (party of my dullahan au)

As always, also on my ao3!

Party Poison and Kobra Kid are two dullahans of the Phoenix Witch. They reap the souls of those whose time has come. Dracs could be anyone, even captured killjoys - their souls are always the hardest to take.

---

Where the good guys die and the bad guys win. 

The masks take your soul. They drain you of all you are and leave you empty. A husk. A vessel. Draculoids are not who they used to be. But once a killjoy, always a killjoy. 

Out in the desert, Party Poison and Kobra Kid ride through the ruins and carry souls onward - they are extensions of the Phoenix Witch’s will. But they are still killjoys to the end. They have friends, occasional flings, allies, and enemies. Many recognise the bright red of Poison’s hair or Kobra’s jacket from a mile away, they’re an omen of death if accompanied by their motorcycles - matte black and completely silent. Their shadows twist and writhe, always larger than they should be. Dracs are no match against the twin dullahans, they fall to the ray gun shots before they’re even aware of the siblings’ presence. 

They travel alone, just the two of them, but they mingle often. Life, or unlife, in the zones is harsh, and killjoys must look out for each other. They help guide new escapees from the city towards the safest areas of the desert, where they can begin their new life and join the fight against BL/ind. Party Poison frequents the parties around the zones, letting the wild music get their heart pumping once more. The vivid blue of their jacket is greeted with excitement as often as despair. Kobra Kid makes himself known at the drag races, easily leaving the competition in the dust. They are heroes to many and friends to even more, rallying everyone together in the fight against BL/ind. 

Draculoids occupy an odd middle ground in the balance of life and death. The latter is the domain of the Phoenix Witch but only in the zones and for those who reside there. The Destroya is Life, and they are one of the only hopes for Battery City even though many do not believe in their existence. The dracs are created through a lesser form of necromancy, making them almost as undead as the dullahans, but they belong to neither domain. They could be anyone - Battery City civilian, neutral, killjoy. Anyone. 

Party Poison and Kobra Kid do their jobs with ease most of the time. They comfort those in death, giving them something to hold onto as they pass. They are terrifying in a fight; cold calculated shots and billowing the smoke of Death herself. But they cannot play favourites, they follow the Witch’s will, and there are consequences for those who cheat death. 

Some souls will never be easy to reap. 

They pull up to the BL/ind headquarters in silence, moving in sync as they stalk towards the doors. The building is dark but there’s a cobalt stain that seems to permeate throughout the area in a way that can’t be explained, in a way that can’t be seen by normal eyes. There’s a soul whose time has come. The lobby is devoid of life, but the glass windows are smashed in - evidence of a fight. Lying across the ground, back up against a wall, is a draculoid drenched in blood. Dread pools in Kobra’s stomach; if this is the soul they have come for, there is only one explanation. 

A killjoy will always try to die fighting - live free or dead, is the motto of many - and killjoys, as well as other zone dwellers, are the only ones whose souls are under the Phoenix Witch’s jurisdiction. The mask is just barely loose around the drac’s neck but fused to the flesh for the most part; it might have been removable if they still had their own will, but the pain would have been excruciating. Kobra Kid kneels down beside the drac, gloved fingers gently prying off the icy mask even as the drac makes guttural noises and tries to grip onto his wrists. There’s recognition in their pale eyes as they look up into the visor of Kobra’s helmet and their expression turns to pained shock as they see their own face in their reflection. 

The dread in Kobra’s stomach chills to an icy blue. He’s seen them in the zones before. Their name escapes him, as he’s sure it escapes them too. The masks take everything from you. But he knows them; he remembers the bright indigo their hair used to be, the paint that used to stain their fingers, the wild look in their eyes during a clap. 

Their eyes… The colour slowly returns to their eyes as Kobra helps them up a little further against the wall. He remembers what they used to look like; as blue as the sky at twilight, but now the blue has faded and they grip the front of Kobra’s jacket desperately. 

“They took her.” The killjoy manages to croak, eyes sunken and lips blue. “I had to try- try to, to save her.” 

Poison keeps their ray gun out, eyes scanning their surroundings, but there are no Scarecrows coming. 

“You can rest now.” Kobra hisses softly. 

“I can see… It’s so blue.” The killjoy whispers, gaze faraway and unfocused. “It’s so bright.” there’s a shaky gasp, “It’s beautiful.” 

They’re still struggling, still clinging to life for as long as they can, but they’re in pain. Party Poison drops to their knees beside their brother and places a hand atop the killjoy’s. Their red eyes turn black from beneath the scarlet hair that obscures them, like ink spreading across their scleras until it reaches their pupils. White smoke spills from their parted lips in thin columns like blood, and the scar around their neck darkens. In a voice that is not their own, Poison whispers a name. The killjoy stills, and passes on. 

The morning light shines against the broken glass. The sky is illuminated in bright streaks of blue and yellow. The two of them stand up in silence and return to the zones; they have a mask to deliver to a mailbox. 

That isn’t the end, of course. They make the loss known to those that matter, and they flock to the mailbox in grief. They mourn in a way that celebrates the life of the one they lost - they will live forever in the art that’s sprayed around the zones. 

It ain’t about all the friends you made but the graffiti they write on your grave.

[jadejedi]

Damen and the Cloak of Scarlet (A Captive Prince fanfic)

Hello! If you follow me for Star Wars, I promise I am still working on my WiPs, I am just doing my annual reread and got bit by a couple of ideas... 

here on ao3

This is retelling of Captive Prince as Joseph and the coat of many colors, from Genesis 37, 39, and 45. Thank god the Bible is public domain. 

This story is known as Damen and the Cloak of Scarlet. It was passed down, it is believed, from the last kings of Vere and Akelios to their son, who in turn passed it on to his children, one of whom recorded the version that is preserved even now, almost eight-hundred years later.  

In the Land of Akielos, there ruled a king named Theomedes, who had two sons. Damen, the younger of the two, was the heir of the realm, as he had been born to the Queen, unlike his older brother, who had been born to the King’s mistress. Although the king loved his older son on account of his mother, he afforded his heir all that was due to him, and in time gave him the lion pin and scarlet cloak that signified his station. 

When the older brother saw all that Damen had been given, he hated him. He tried to keep his hatred a secret, but some at court could see the jealousy that the brother carried with him.

Akielos went to war, and Damen led them to victory, by killing the heir of their enemy. This made his brother hate him more, for he was more accomplished with the sword and on the battlefield than he. 

Damen’s brother hated that Damen would rule over him one day. 

Although Damen had triumphed over his brother in all things, in war, in arms, and in diplomacy, there was still one thing for his brother to win at: love. For they both lusted over the same woman, beautiful and cunning as she was. 

Damen’s brother and the woman were united by their desire for power, and so it was that the woman was with child by the brother, but told no one else, so that she may still enter Damen’s bed.

One of Damen’s advisors said to him, “Do you not see how your brother lusts after your power and station? And how the woman you love loves your crown more than she does you?” But Damen was trusting, and over confident, and dismissed his advisor’s concerns.

It was at this time that the Regent of Vere, Akielos’ great enemy whom Damen had defeated, began to plant seeds of a greater plot in the brother’s mind. 

The brother said to the Regent’s ambassador, “Come now, let us kill the king and say that my brother, the Crown Prince, is the culprit, so that we may kill him too. Then we will see what becomes of his talents.”

But Regent told the brother, “Let’s not take his life. My nephew, the Crown Prince of Vere, hates your brother more than any other. Send him to me, where his suffering will last longer than simple death.” This idea pleased the brother, and so he agreed. 

When Damen’s brother and the woman had their plan in hand, they began to slowly poison the King, so that Theomedes withered away. Both sons took turns taking vigil by their father’s bedside, until finally Theomedes was dead.

So the brother’s soldiers came to Damen; they stripped him of his scarlet cloak and his lion pin, and they bound him in chains in the slave baths. 

And the Regent’s Ambassador agreed to take a slave as a gift from the new king to the Crown Prince of Vere. So, Damen was put on a ship bound for Vere, bound and chained as a slave.

But when the kyroi of Akielos heard of the death of Theomedes, they said, “Where is Damen, the Prince, so that he may be crowned King?” 

The brother, who had already rang the bells, proclaiming his own kingship replied, “My brother has murdered our father, the King, and so has been executed for treason.” And the brother provided evidence of the King’s poisoning, so they all had to accept his word as true. 

And the whole kingdom mourned openly for their king, but none could mourn the Crown Prince, who was thought to be a traitor, except by his closest advisor, who mourned in secret, and wept for him. 

Meanwhile, Damen was given to Laurent, the Crown Prince of Vere.

Laurent hated Damen, for he had killed his brother, whom he had loved dearly. He did not care to see what kind of man that Damen was, so he had him kept hidden away in separate quarters. Laurent sent Damen to fight for him in the ring, hoping he would fail, but he was strong, and won his victory, and would not debase himself in the ways of the Regent’s Court. Now, Laurent could not let himself see that Damen might be a good man, for the Regent’s court was filled with liars, and schemers, and people of all wicked tastes, and Laurent could not even trust the food he ate. 

Now Damen was well-built and handsome, and after a while, the Court took notice of him, and wondered if Laurent had taken him to bed, as the new King of Akielos and the Regent had intended. 

But he had not, and although Laurent was also strong and beautiful, Damen also hated his new master. Damen was wise, and tried not to earn the Prince’s ire, until one day, Laurent summoned him to the baths, and said, “Attend me.”

When Damen displeased Laurent, which he did in all things, for he could only hate his brother’s killer, Laurent ordered him tied to the post and whipped, almost within death. 

When the Regent asked why Laurent had so disrespected the Akielon king’s gift, he was brought before the whole Council. “Look,” he said to them, “this Akielon is a great brute, who has disrespected me in the baths! He tried to attack me, but my guards stopped him.”

Although this explanation satisfied the Council, it did not satisfy the Regent. When he saw how his nephew was trying to defy him, he burned with anger. He took away much of the Prince’s earnings and properties, and sent soldiers disguised as Akielons to kill the prince, hoping to spark a war, and to be rid of his nephew so that he might wear the crown for himself. 

But Damen saved Laurent’s life, for he disliked the cowardly act, and was honorable by nature. This act granted him small favor in the eyes of Laurent, so Laurent brought him with him to patrol the border as was his duty. 

And while Damen was on the road with Laurent, he earned favor in his eyes, by helping train his men, by offering council, and by saving his life multiple times. Laurent began to see that Damen was a man of honor, and when two captains failed him, put him in charge of all those men under him on the border, and he was made responsible for the fort that they had taken. Damen, too, could see that Laurent was a man of honor, and so success came to them in all they did, and indeed a bond was formed between them.

As their own plans mounted to take back their respective kingdoms, Laurent left for the fort of Fortaine, while Damen was left to meet reinforcements to take the fort of Charcy. Before he left, he freed Damen, for he respected Damen as a man, and had come to love him, having the golden collar struck from his neck, and the cuffs as well, but Damen did not take off one cuff, for he had come to love Laurent as well. 

When he saw that the reinforcements were his advisor’s men, he said to them, “I am Damianos,” for that was his royal name, “I am the King.” And so his advisor and all his men saw that it was true, and they fought for their true King, and for the Prince of Vere. 

After taking the center between the two kingdoms, Damen and Laurent were reunited, and Damen tried to reveal himself to Laurent. But Laurent told him that he already knew who he was, and took the second cuff to wear on his own wrist, to prove his commitment. 

And so they marched south to Ios, to confront Damen’s brother and Laurent’s uncle, where neither expected them to work together.

For the Regent had hoped that Damen would seduce Laurent and the revelation of his true identity would crush him. But he was foiled, for Damen was a man of honor, and Laurent had known from the beginning Damen’s true identity. 

And Damen’s brother had hoped that being a slave would break Damen’s spirit, and that Laurent would kill his brother for him, but he was foiled, for Damen was strong of heart, and Laurent too, was a man of honor and of wisdom, and saw that Damen’s skills with the sword and on the battlefield would be an asset to him. 

In the end, when they reached Ios, they defeated the Regent, and they defeated the brother, and they vowed to rule their kingdoms from the center, as one empire. That empire stands to this day, for what others meant for evil, worked together for good. The two kings’ likeness are enshrined in the Kingsmeet together, as Damianos, the Chain-Breaker, for he freed the slaves, and Laurent, the Uniter, for he brought together two kingdoms as one. 

 --

A/N: As this sacreligious? Possibly? Oops! What can I say, it fits! So, a couple of notes! 1) I imagine their ‘son’ mentioned at the introduction to be Damen son by one of the Vaskian women. Sorry Jokaste’s baby but, no. 2) If anyone wondered why I shortened it the way I did, it was because I was trying to think what kind of story they would tell their kids, and this is kinda what I imagined. Enough detail to get the point across, but not enough to make a child freak out. I’m sure there are more detailed historical accounts elsewhere, which is where the added detail comes from as their son and his children make their own small changes to it, like adding in the detail about their statues. 3) Please take this as the harmless parallel retelling thing that it is and not as any sort of disrespect of the bible. lol. 

[zenithlux]

Cadence  Update - CH 23

In which Roxy and Vergil finally figure something out.

Catch up with the story on AO3 here!

I just think of you and everything you do You’re my one, my from now on… My first love song.

My First Love Song - Luke Bryan

It took Vergil a mere two weeks to not only feel his tail, but learn to control it. By the end of the summer he had a suitable attack pattern down with perfect precision. He could pierce enemies at his feet with a single stab. Swipe enemies away for Roxy to shoot down. The only downside were the extra scales that manifested along his cheek and chin whenever he used it for too long, but Vergil saw that as a promising sign. With more practice, he was certain he could phase different pieces of his devil trigger without a full transformation. He’d be faster, more efficient, and more prepared even without Yamato by his side. 

Once again, Kuro was not impressed. 

“If Sparda had had a tail,” The dragon huffed. “He would have learned all that in a quarter of the time.”

“My father was a more impressive demon than you’ll ever be.”

“I don’t deny that.”

Vergil scowled. “Regardless,”

“You have managed to learn something at least,” Kuro said. “I‘ll give you credit for that.”

And that marked the first time Vergil had ever wanted to strangle a demon rather than tear it to pieces. 

“Alright, alright,” Roxy said as she tossed her bow into the sky. “Stop antagonizing each other.” Aki landed on her shoulder with a distinct chirp of agreement, and purred when she scratched behind his ears. “Let Mori know the demons here are taken care of.”

‘Mori’ was Roxy’s new name for Morrison who she’d met two weeks ago before Nico and Nero left for Fortuna. Since Dante could only take so many jobs (and Vergil had a feeling he was “donating” a few to the other devil hunters in the area), there was an influx of tasks around Roxy’s hometown. Unfortunately for Dante, who wasn’t about to trample on “Vergil’s domain” as he called it, the people in Fallen West Abbey paid significantly more, as there were less devil hunters. They were, therefore, valued much higher. 

It was a lucrative market if Vergil were honest. One he was happy to exploit as much as possible. 

“Is that enough for you?” Vergil said as he sent his tail away. Kuro retreated back into Roxy alongside Aki who gave a soft coo of good-bye. 

“Yep,” She said. “Feeling better than ever.”

“No stasis then.”

She shook her head. “Kuro says his magic is holding stronger than before, so I might get half a year out of it.” She grinned. “All thanks to you.” 

Vergil didn’t bother trying to hide the blush. It would have been futile anyway, one thing he’d come to accept since his promise. She’d teased him about it a single time, but he’d argued that he’d been redder because of the heat (false- his demon regulated his temperature perfectly) and not because he’d just held her for far too long after a sudden demon attack (he’d never admit that). “You’ve been taking better care of yourself.”

That time, it was her turn to blush. “It helps to have someone I want to impress around.”

Vergil blinked. “Impress?”

Her face brightened even more. “Isn’t it strange how many portals have been opening lately?”

Vergil scowled but didn’t press the issue. She was just stubborn enough that the conversation would never go back in that direction. “Considering the current location of Yamato, yes.”

“You don’t think Mundus is behind it… do you?”

“He would have crossed over already if he were.”

Her voice went quiet. “I’m surprised he hasn’t yet.”

As much as he wanted to, Vergil couldn’t disagree. Both Dante and Nero had reported increased portal sightings, but all of them had been small. Most closed after only a few demons crossed, and even fewer could support something as large as Mundus himself. The demon’s voice had, for the most part, quieted in Vergil’s mind. He’d had a few nightmares since the loss of Yamato, but they’d been less… real. Now, instead of being dragged under into an endless, almost inescapable pit, he was aware of them. Twice, he’d managed to pull himself out, though he didn’t miss the way Aki just so happened to slip back through the walls whenever he did so. 

He still didn’t know if Roxy was aware of his nightmares, or if the demons were hyper attuned to his demonic half’s plight. But she’d never brought it up, he’d never asked, and it had remained a mystery ever since. 

Just because you’re afraid of her…

Nero’s words weighed heavier on Vergil’s mind than he expected. Afraid. What could he possibly be afraid of? Physically she was no match for him (not that he cared about such a thing). She was intelligent, yes, but he’d argue he was at least on par with her despite his lack of general “street smarts” as Dante put it. She rarely said no to anything he asked, so he doubted she would reject him if he did “ask her out” (Nero’s not so subtle wording that he smacked Vergil with when Roxy wasn’t listening). 

But Vergil didn’t know if it was the right time for such a thing. How long did people need to know each other before one ‘asked the other out’? Why did that feel like such a childish idea? Would asking her change their relationship at all? They were already close friends. They already lived together, as Vergil had decided there was no use in wasting a second apartment when he didn’t have many personal belongings. It was almost the same arrangement; Vergil on the couch when he actually slept, and Roxy on the bed. Their schedule was the same. Their lives were the same. 

So… are we already in a relationship? 

“Vergil?”

He blinked once before his gaze fell to hers. She was absurdly close now, so much so that if he breathed just a bit deeper, their bodies would touch. He didn’t know why she did that, as it required her to tilt her head at a rough angle to actually look up at him. Maybe it was so she could keep her voice down. 

Maybe I should ask. 

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

She frowned. “You don’t seem fine.”

“Just a lot on my mind.”

“Like?”

His mouth went dry. “It’s not important.”

The look she gave him - the pain in her eyes - made his heart clench in his chest. She must have thought he didn’t trust her. That the discourse that was going on in his head was more important than her. Vergil wished he could tell her the truth. He wished he could tell her the million things whirling through his mind. But whenever he tried…

“It’s fine.” She said. “I get it.”

“Roxy.”

“Don’t worry,” She said with a sad smile. “I understand.”

“Are we a…?”

“How do you…?”

A phone call stopped them both. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, Roxy reached for her phone, grimaced, and hit the accept button. “What do you want?”

Vergil blinked. He’d never heard such hostility from her before. Who was she talking to? She didn’t have any debt collectors like Dante (and smooth talk worked better on them anyway). It couldn’t be her mother (and Vergil doubted Roxy would talk to her like that either). 

“Good to hear from you too,” a man’s voice echoed from the other end of the line. “Trust me, I wish I wasn’t making this phone call either. But your presence has been requested at this year’s Art Gala. And I am bound by contract to invite anyone who receives even half the number of recommendations you did.” He sighed. “It seems you’re making a name for yourself, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Again,” He snapped. “I wouldn’t be making this call if I had a choice. So are you coming or not?”

“No one ever responds over the phone,” She said, her voice a touch too smug. “Afraid you’re going to have to send the official invitation and I’ll get back to you.”

Vergil could practically hear the scowl. “I’ll be eagerly awaiting your response, Roxanna.”

She hung up on him, and Vergil knew from the look in her eyes alone exactly who that had been. Bryson. The infamous ex-boyfriend. Now it all made sense.

“He got your number.”

“Looks that way,” Roxy said. 

“Are you going to accept his… invitation?” Vergil asked slowly. He didn’t really know exactly what they were talking about. It sounded prestigious, but Vergil didn’t know anything about it. She’d never mentioned it before, and she clearly knew something. 

“I would rather not even see him again,” Roxy said. “He’s the whole reason I moved back here.” She crossed her arms, but Vergil didn’t miss the way they shook. He wasn’t, however, certain if it was rage, exhaustion, or if she was close to tears. Nothing else about her gave anything away. “But this stupid Gala...”

“It’s important to you.”

“Very,” She sighed. “It’s one of the biggest art shows on this side of the country. To have any art displayed, you need at least five hundred people to vouch for your work personally which is almost impossible. I gave up on the matter years ago, but it seems my clients are more aware of it than I thought.” She sighed again. “And if he’s telling the truth, I’ll get to display three pieces, which is astronomical. So much more exposure. More work. More money. You get the jist.” 

“You could have promoted yourself.”

“I’ve tried before,” She said. “I don’t really care about the money, Vergil. I just want people to enjoy my work. If that means sticking with a small group of clients, great. If it means I get to show my work to thousands of rich people, that’s great too.” She waved him off. “But that isn’t the point. Bryson is a museum director. That’s how we met. And this year, he’s one of the hosts. Which means if I accept this offer, then I will be showing my work under his watch. And knowing him, he’ll do nothing but complain about it for hours on end.” Her frown deepened. “It’s six months away and I can already feel him ruining everything.”

“Don’t let him.”

“He already has.”

“No,” Vergil said as he attempted to mimic her tone from earlier. It only half worked, but he saw the flicker of a smile on her face before she could hide it. “Because you aren’t going alone.”

“I mean…” She started “Going to the Gala with someone is like attending a wedding, you know?” Vergil’s head tilted ever so slightly, and she continued. “You don’t tend to invite people unless you’re like… a thing.”

A thing. Why was that the term people used for relationships? Vergil had just assumed it was Nero being… Nero. But throwing that aside, Vergil, in a rather bold display, said, “are we?”

She stared at him. “I… don’t know.”

He frowned. “How do you not…?”

“You’ve never asked.”

“... Am I supposed to?”

After a moment of silence, she broke into laughter. Again. At least he was good at getting that kind of reaction from her or they’d be in trouble. “Yes!” She said. “I mean… I could have I guess. But with everything going on… and what you’ve told me about your past and Mundus and…” Her shoulders sagged ever so slightly. “I just didn’t feel it was my place to ask you. Maybe I was… I don’t know... overthinking it.” She turned slightly away from him and glanced up at the sky. It was a cloudy day - maybe not the best weather for whatever this conversation was - and Vergil had felt at least a few droplets of rain in the last twenty minutes. “I care a lot about you,” She said as she met his gaze again. “But I wasn’t sure… if…”

“I wouldn’t take care of you if I didn’t,” Vergil said. “I never would have accepted.”

“Then you’ve been thinking about this awhile.”

“... Not consciously.”

She chuckled. “I get it.”

“Why me?”

It was Roxy’s turn to tilt her head. “What do you mean?”

“The day we met,” Vergil said. “And each time after that, I was nothing but cold to you. But you still talked with me. Made bookmarks for me. Left your number twice, even after I ignored you for weeks at a time,” He took a breath to slow his thoughts down. “Why?”

“Kuro asked me the same thing.”

“What?”

“When we first met,” She said. “Before he realized who you were, he called you pretentious and said I’d have better luck befriending a fish.”

“... A fish.”

“I know right?” She threw her hands up into the air. “How silly of a comparison is that? A damn fish!? Fish are boring. You’re…” She trailed off as her hands fell back to her sides. “You weren’t. And it just... I had this feeling. I wanted to get to know you, but something kept telling me to wait. Don’t push it. If he wants to, he’ll call you. Just wait. Yadda yadda.” She waved her hand in a vague gesture. “So… I did. And lo and behold…”

“Here I am.”

“Exactly.” She rubbed at her arm. “But I didn’t expect to… fall for you.”

Fall for you. Why did those three words knock the air from his lungs?

Maybe it was because she’d never admitted it before?

“But that voice kept telling me to wait. Because I’ve lost so many things in my life… I didn’t want to risk losing you too.”

Gently, Vergil ran his hand along her cheek. Her green eyes stared back; a torment of emotions he couldn’t quite pick apart. But he realized at that moment that he didn’t have to. Not when her own hand reached up to brush his cheek. Not when she stared into his eyes with more confidence than most of the people in his life. There was nothing to say between them that hadn’t already been said. Nothing to say that hadn’t already been shared in small, unspoken ways. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He said.

“I know.”

When he leaned forward… when his lips brushed hers for the second time that month… His phone rang. Dante’s ringtone. Probably urgent. 

Roxy groaned. “What kind of luck is…?”

Vergil kissed her. A soft, slow, sensual kiss that had him seeing stars and he was the one leading it. Her lips were so impossibly soft, and he could taste the strawberry lip gloss she’d only recently started wearing. He didn’t think about it too much (clever), preferring to pull her just a bit closer. It was a bit awkward, and he knew they’d have a lot better time when she wasn’t having to stand on the tips of her toes to kiss him back. But, despite the hazy weather, the impending rain, and the second round of Dante’s ringtone, the moment felt right. His heart thundered in his ears as it pounded against his chest. He could hear hers doing the same, especially when her fingers brushed along the nape of his neck. Vergil shivered - why did that of all things feel so good? - but didn’t pull away. Neither of them wanted to. 

But when the phone started ringing for the third time, Vergil inwardly sighed and the moment ended in a silent, mutual agreement. He wrapped his arms around her, letting her head fall against his chest as he reached for the phone. “What do you want?” 

“I’ve got some bad news and some worse news.” 

“What is it, Dante?”

“Yamato’s missing, Verge,” His brother said. “And I don’t have a clue who took it.” 

Ko-fi – Master List – AO3

[ffxivimagines]

dona nobis pacem | minific

Warnings for: character death, SHB spoilers, angst, references to unhealthy coping mechanisms, the result of a multi-century fixation ending in the worst way possible, character injury, blood, canon-typical violence, mild body horror

100% inspired by @surfacage ’s Bad End piece. Thank you for making me cry. (I hope this is to your taste ;;w;;) 

Ao3 Link

Here’s your cue to scroll past and avoid spoilers or otherwise triggering content! Beware!

They do not have a paper, nor a crier or any other newsfolk, but everyone still knows without a doubt:

The Crystal Exarch has gone mad.

They do not have a paper in the Crystarium, nor a crier or any other newsfolk with which to deliver assorted information to all. However, despite this and all other underdeveloped facets of the bastion city, everyone knows without a doubt:

The Crystal Exarch has gone mad.

They do not need headlines in sharp-smelling ink to believe it, having been haunted by fanciful offers of adventure the moment they rest their heads for nigh on a fortnight. There is a whisper of promise carried on the wind that they can taste. It is heady and familiar as if wrought from worn scripture. Whenever someone says they know it, recognize it, there is a note of terror to their confession.

The Warrior of Darkness has fallen. They who speak in tongues and borrow his voice are but a ghost built from desperation and aether. The Exarch knows it is madness to reside hand in hand with a facsimile of godhood, but he does it gladly, hood ever up and obscuring his face. They need not ask him why—not when they can see the edges of shimmering, blue tear tracks beginning to blend into the steadily spreading crystal of his curse—and seek to avoid doing so for fear of finding themselves face to face with a broken man.

There are no sightings outside the Tower, the Exarch and his little toy god happily locked up together in the recesses of Allagan royal suites, but the people know. They grieve for the man they knew and the love that killed him.

There is no adoration for their half-savior, not when his demise has brought their only hope for survival down to his knees in prayer. With every word that rings hollow in the air, their hatred grows.

“The Exarch is recuperating,” they have been told by the guard. “His strength was sorely tested.”

“By who,” they ask, “and how? What could prove so taxing to a man who leapt through time?”

And though there has been no spoken answer, they know. From the moment the Tower flickered, aether sputtering and flickering in protest to an invisible strain, they knew. The sky simply agreed with a blinding rush of neverending Light.

The day the Warrior of Darkness fell, so too did their Exarch’s heart shatter. His Tower, the symbol of his life and blessing of protection, had nearly faded from their sight. They felt the echoes of battle in the groaning and creaking, worried for his health when fissures rained flakes of crystallized aether down upon them, but he had returned. He was not hale, but they had assumed he was whole. What an oversight, that. 

They learned quickly that the Exarch is mad over love. What an end for such a visionary, to be tempered so (though, for some, they say it is not separate from his adoration. That devotion is one and the same). The creature he calls by name and laughs with is volatile in how it smiles and jokes back, an old friend come home, with far fewer scars and none of the trauma from the time after the Crystal Tower’s doors had shut back on the Source. He has built his own coffin and proceeded to tuck himself in as if comfortable living within a blue-gold bubble of fable and falsehood.

For those who have known him, it is nauseating. 

For those who knew the one he lost, it is infuriating. 

“Stop this,” Alisaie pleads, voice muffled through the doors of the Ocular. “You know better than most that this is not what he would want.”

She has been there every day for a month. Alphinaud has visited, but it is Alisaie’s persistence that has run her ragged where all others have stopped. Teleporting between the Inn’s aethertye and that of the Crystarium has eaten away at her Gil same as her energy, but still, she persists. Behind the locked doors, the fake that wears her friend’s face leans his head against the Exarch’s own with a dull thok. 

They do not answer.

(A little part of her is jealous that the Exarch can turn off his cares for the rest of the world so thoroughly as he does for the sake of his fabricated hero. What she would not give to be so singlemindedly greedy.)

The Scions wish to grieve. They have his body, the casket, knowledge of the badly penned will left in his inn room to the left of his aetheryte earring, but they lack the person they know the Warrior would most love to send him off. Alisaie is not the only one waiting. However, no matter what they ply the Exarch with, he does not allow them the concession of allowing their friend to rest, or releasing the (for all intents and purposes) Primal who has been made to wear his face. 

They were there when he fell and in the moments after. Ryne could not stop the Light, Alphinaud’s magic too feeble to seal the wounds torn into being across the Warrior’s body, and the Exarch... what could he do so far from the Tower? And so they had watched, helpless, as Emet-Selch brought his grand fury to bear against their faltering aegis. Watched him shatter and collapse to his knees time and time again until it becomes a mercy when he does not yet rise. 

But it is not his last stand. 

With axe in hand, he leverages to his feet once more. There are no defined steps, no head held high, no righteous fury. Where stories had said he was indomitable, terrifying, untouchable─this person is not him. This bleeding, dying warrior is mortal and just as flawed as all the rest and yet the world is stacked upon his shoulders as if his bones will not be ground to dust in the shadow of its magnitude. 

He takes one step and then another, feet slipping and scuffing along the ground, and then stops. He hefts the axe, palms sticky-slick with blood, but can do no more. 

Hades laughs at his struggle and the sound reverberates in the cage of his ribs. What bitter mockery it is to see his friend-turned-enemy struggling to stand. Hydaelyn’s Champion is nothing but a husk at his feet, soul sundered and aether long since spent. He reaches out and very carefully snuffs out the overflowing Light with a practiced hand. This will be his final victory against Her Champion. 

This is his final elegy for a friend. 

And then, in a show of pity, he allows the body to stay whole. He rescinds his darkness, the many, many masks and names and memories he carries, and steps down to pay his respects. The Exarch does not allow him that liberty, for the moment his feet all but brush the ground, the aether of his domain shivers. 

He had not designed the Allagans to have such comparable power to that of his creation, but (then again) he had not accounted for the mistakes of late royalty nearly turning his plans to cinders. The Crystal Exarch fumbles his way toward his fallen friend and pulls his body into his arms, hands trembling but face blank. He calls to him, desperate. His voice cracks. 

Emet-Selch smiles. At least, for once in all his ages and eons, something just as wretched as he is mourning their loss. He waits and he watches. Detached. 

(A part of him resents the hand that suffocated that Light, but that is the same part of him that has been around since Amaurot rose around his ears. He is not so willingly naive, anymore.)

The aether trembles and shakes in fits and starts and the crystal creeping its way up the Exarch’s cheek slides a little further outward. He holds the Warrior close to his heart, a hand resting on his head as if to protect. What could he do for a body that is devoid of life, truly? No matter how tightly he holds him, no matter the silent prayers he devotes tot he Twelve, it will all be for naught. 

Sitting there with the bloodied crest of the Warrior’s head tucked under his chin, the Crystal Exarch cries. The entire First follows suit. 

The crystal lances up and onto his yet untouched cheek and spiders outward like cracks on fine china. It does not consume him in full, but there is a dullness to his grief mirrored in the wide-eyed wildness of his disbelief. The Warrior cannot be dead. There is no way. 

But the body in his arms gives no sputtering breaths, no soft whispers of stubborn aether. It is empty. 

And every effort he has made turned to waste. 

There is no clear shift where his mourning turns to rage, but by Hydaelyn’s will it is felt. The quaking becomes pressure and a crushing embrace that screams in intrinsic tongues, “You will never have atoned enough for this sin.” 

When the might of the Crystal Tower is brought to bear, there are few who could oppose it. The cost is great, though, and there is a hardening of more than feet and back and hips, but even that of heart. 

If the Warrior of Darkness has died, so too has the man called G’raha Tia. 

And so, the Crystarium mourns. The Scions mourn. The false god ever lives. 

[eliniei]

Not As It Seems Part XI - Emet-Selch x WoL

Summary: When the WoL wakes up shouting a name after a nightmare, Emet-Selch tells her a story from another Shard.

Word Count: 1807

Masterlist: here Ao3: here

As always, if you have any requests you’d like to see show up in this series or any other Emet/WoL one-shot you’d like to see me write, please let me know!

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Wings and masks. Steel against crystal. Light against dark.

Feathers, feathers everywhere.

I watched across the platform as my opponent laid upon the stone, chest heaving, its life bleeding away.

I looked at my hands, red staining them to the elbows, dripping off my skin. Drip, drip, drip.

Horrified, I took a step back. Blood on my hands. Blood on my boots. Blood all over me.

“You...see…?” the dying creature across from me rasped.

The ground shook, threatening to pitch me over the edge. A wave of black hovered in front of me, rolling and foaming, ready to envelope me. I braced myself for the impact.

I was swept up in its currents, the liquid thick and hot. Try as I might to stop it, it forced its way up my nose, into my mouth, salty and metallic, drowning me.

I sunk, and sunk, and sunk. Down, down down.

I fought for a way to the surface- to breathe, to live… Did I deserve to live after the things I’ve done?

“You see, hero, you are no better than me.”

I paused and looked towards my enemy. He was no longer dying, the hole in his chest mended.

My enemy? Or was he my friend? I couldn’t…

I opened my mouth to call his name. His true name. The name I used to call him before the fall, before the break.

The word didn’t come. The word, on the very tip of my tongue… What was it again?

There was no hope for me. I inhaled, letting the darkness into my lungs.

He stood before me, now, my enemy and my friend, one of his many hands on my chin, looking down at me with a smile. Was it a smile?

“Say my name.”

“Hades!” I cried as I shot up in bed, heart pounding so hard in my chest I thought it’d burst. I gulped down air as if I was dying, chest rising and falling in quick succession. Twelve, that was-

I felt warm hands on my shoulders that I was not expecting and scrambled out of bed, summoning an orb of thunder to my hand.

Emet-Selch was sitting up, still under the covers, hands still raised, watching me carefully. I sighed and lowered my hands.

“I-I’m sorry.” I sighed and dropped down onto the edge of the mattress, rubbing my face with my hands. “I guess it was my turn to have a nightmare.”

“Would you like to tell me about it?” he asked, softly. I closed my eyes again, imagining the great and terrible monster I had battled. The wave of black blood threatening to drown me. My hands clenched into fists.

“I don’t...really remember it,” I lied. He was quiet for a few long seconds.

“You’re really a terrible liar.”

I leaned forward on my legs, looking down at the floor between my feet. “Fine, then. I don’t want to talk about it.” My words came out harsher than I’d meant.

The bed shifted behind me as he moved, and I felt his hands on my neck as he brushed my hair over one side. He lowered his lips to my shoulder for a moment, then rubbed his hands up and down my arms. He pressed his cheek to the back of my head so his mouth was right next to my ear.

“Come, hero. Let me tell you a story,” the Ascian whispered, tugging me back. I twisted my torso and watched as he placed himself against the headboard and held his hand out to me. With another sigh, I did as he bid. He placed me between his legs and I willingly leaned against his chest. He wrapped his arms loosely around me, resting his chin on the top of my head.

“What kind of story is it?”

“Hmm,” he hummed. I could feel the vibration of his voice against my back and I closed my eyes. “There are some who say it’s true and some who say it is a myth.”

“What do you believe?”

He paused for a moment, but breathed a laugh. “What I think doesn’t matter, dear hero.” He nodded and he exhaled a long breath before continuing. “Long ago-”

“You’re really going to start your story like that?”

“If you’d rather I not-”

“No. I’ll be quiet.”

He raised his hands, holding them out in front of the both of us, palms up. I relaxed into him as an illusion of a girl appeared in one hand, bright and golden.

“There was a young Goddess of Spring, as beautiful as the day was bright. And there was an old god.” In the other, foreboding figure materialized, covered in shadow. “God of the Underworld, lonely in his cold, dark palace.”

The girl moved, dancing around a field of wildflowers, occasionally bending to pick the prettiest. The other watched from afar.

“One day, as the god ascended from his home, he found the goddess gathering the flowers she’d created for the world and he was instantly in love.”

He sighed against me. “There are many versions of this story, the words and actions of the characters changed over time.”

“Which one are you going to tell me?”

“The original one.” I nodded and continued watching the magical play in his hands continue. The God of the Underworld walked across Emet-Selch’s palms and the two sat together in the field, smiling and laughing. The Goddess fashioned a flower crown in her hands and gently laid it on his head. “She was of the same mind. So, he went to his brother- a king among gods- to ask permission to marry her. He did not oppose.”

“But, there was one obstacle.” A woman appeared in his free hand, similar in looks to the young goddess. “Her mother would never agree to this union and forbade her to ever see him again.”

The third figure vanished and a chariot replaced her in his free hand, sleek and black. It went forth, sweeping them both up, leaving behind an array of flowers in the field.

“At her behest, he stole her back to his domain.”

The gods disappeared and a tall, dark castle materialized in both of his hands. I sat forward, taking a closer look at it. The spires were… The Ascian paused his story for a moment, sitting up as well, pressing a lingering kiss to my shoulder blade, then sat his chin in the crook of my neck.

“They lived happily in his home. But it did not last for long.”

Dark clouds and lightning appeared above the palace. “Her mother was furious. Her anger served as a blight upon the world- killing everything in its path. So harmful, in fact, the king among the gods bade his brother return the young goddess to her mother.”

I frowned. “This does have a happy ending, right?”

“Not to fret, dear hero.”

I sighed and sat back against his chest again. He closed his hands, the scene vanishing and wound his arms around my chest, pulling me closer, nuzzling my neck with his nose.

“They resisted the will of her mother, but the poor goddess saw what their defiance did to the world. She grew listless, depressed...and so, unable to watch her wither away, the God of the Underworld offered to her a solution.”

He held his hands out again, a red fruit I’d never seen before appearing in his hands. It looked so real, I reached out to touch it, but my hand passed right through.

“Eating the fruit of the Underworld is said to seal a marriage. If the goddess were to eat one seed for each month of the year, she would be bound to the Underworld forever, no matter the will of the gods. He bade her eat six of the twelve so that she would sate her mother’s rage by spending half the year above ground, but at the same time, her mother could not argue that she must spend the rest of her time with him.”

“I hope she agreed to it,” I pouted. He huffed a laugh.

“She did. For half the year, she filled the world with vibrant, blooming flowers. The other half, she descended to the Underworld and ruled by his side as a fierce and powerful queen.”

“Not happy, exactly.”

“And why not?”

“She only gets to spend half the year with him!”

“Half a year is better than no time at all, is it not?”

“Mm,” I hummed, looking at the fruit again, still sitting in his hand. “I suppose. What kind of fruit is this? It’s not something we have in Eorzea.”

“Ah,” he said, pulling it closer to my face. “This fruit is called a pomegranate. It’s quite popular on the Ninth.”

I tilted my head to the side. “And you eat its seeds?”

“Yes,” he answered, the illusion splitting open so that I could see under the peel.

“Why did you choose this story to tell me?”

He paused for a moment before answering.

“The name you shouted when you woke is the name of this God of the Underworld.”

I raised a hand to my lips, thinking back to my nightmare, but it was mostly gone. And the name...What had it been, again?

He closed his hands once again, forcing the image away. “What’s the matter?”

“I can’t remember…the name I called.”

He stretched his arms above his head and laid back on his pillow. “I’m sorry, hero,” he started, playfully. “That hardly seems like my problem. Could we, mayhap, go back to sleep now? I’m terribly exhausted.”

I flipped myself around so that I hovered over him, my lips tugging upwards. “You won’t tell me?”

“Only if you ask nicely.”

I shook my head, an incredulous huff escaping my lips, but I leaned down, kissing him slowly, deeply. He put both of his hands on my face, one thumb stroking my cheek, as he returned with fervor, exploring my mouth with his tongue.

When I pulled away, he tried to follow me, but I sat up fully, straddling his hips.

“Was that nice enough for you?” He smirked.

“Oh, I suppose. He has many names, but most just call him Hades.” The Ascian sat up, slightly, sliding his hand around the back of my neck. “I think I am spending entirely too much time with you, my dear hero.”

I mimicked his smile. “And why do you think that?”

He pulled me back down over him, pressing his third eye against my forehead. “I think I’m beginning to rub off on you.”

I started to laugh, but he caught my lips with his and pulled me down onto the mattress, next to him and proceeded to kiss me until my nightmares were forgotten and my mind was at ease.

[flyswhumpcenter]

Bad Things Happen Bingo! The event where you send me requests according to this marvelous card! (Red cross is the completed prompt, character headshots are prompts I’ve already filled. I don’t have any request left, so feel free to send in suggestions for this card!).

I need to write more Makaito smh

Y'all don't even know how surprised I got to see @mythgirlimagines had sent me a request. Most of all because I rarely get those, but man, that was a good surprise. I had to ask her for another duo (as I know nothing about UDG, not gonna lie), but I always love more Makaito in my life despite the appearances. I always get crazy about the worldbuilding in this AU, but in short: everyone has powers (yes, everyone, even your grandparents). They're called mages. There are three types of mages: weapon users, spell casters and healers. Sometimes there are hybrids between these models (of 2 kinds at the same time). Hybrids are chased by bounty hunters for plot reasons. Maki used to be one, but she's become a "hunter of hunters". I think that's all you need to know for this fic? Oh yeah, this fic contains some French because the main setting, the city of Hellesimbault, is heavily based on French culture. It just made more sense to keep some French in.

It should have been angstier than that, but I was in a fluffier mood today, so here you go. I really need to provide more for this ship.

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Flickering Lights

Summary: The night has never been safe for anyone in the darker streets of the city, yet a duo makes it way through the shadows with vigilent crimson eyes and purple thunder. Still, even the most attention doesn't always give away damage people can take, doesn't it?

Fandom: Danganronpa V3 (magical people AU) Ship: Makaito (Established)

Wordcount: 2.2K words

Event hosted by @badthingshappenbingo

AO3 version available here.

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Quartier de la Lune, Hellesimbault, January. The dire cold blew in harsh winds as the dust and garbage littered on the barely lit ground fly right against the ground, their mass never quite taking off. The artificial lights flicker in incoherent rhythms, drilling into the skulls of passers-by with their constant noise you can’t quite get used to, even after hearing it for a while (it just stops being your main nuisance). The rest of the streets leading to the old Moon Temple is sunk in the night’s darkness, with only a few flashes and bursts of clarity piercing through the sea of shadows.

Personally, Nerio was one of these shadows, and had always been. She had gone through everything possible: abandoned girl, orphan raised along the nice and the bad, forced through the grinder to become a bounty hunter, now on the opposite side of the underground war. Hidden under her hood, crimson eyes focusing on any light and ears open to all possible noise, she was used to the darkness.

In fact, she was in unison with the underground, hostile, familiar universe of Hellesimbault’s darkest streets and ruins long buried by modern civilisation.

 In the shadows, she felt safe as soon as she was wearing the mask of Nerio, named after a goddess of war, a bloodthirsty figure in need for a vengeance and taking it out onto bounty hunters with no hope of redemption. It felt good to shoot arrows at criminals like those who had forced her into the network as a preteen whom life hadn’t directly shown its atrocious parts to yet, and it was the one way she had ever felt alive: reclaiming her rotten childhood and early teenage years by showing them she’s now better than them.

She hadn’t quite killed her abductors, even when an untold furry had possessed her into doing so by hindering any semblance of reason she could have had, only because some guy who couldn’t get enough of her had put his hand on Enyo’s shoulder and whispered to her, in a disapproving but paradoxically soft voice:

“Maki, that’s enough.”

 That was the day where she had truly stopped only considering herself as Nerio, bloodstained shadow and reluctant, yet effective, bounty hunter turned hunter slayer, a figure of the shadows, and more like whom she had been during in the daylight all this time.

All thanks to an absolute idiot she had met in class because he wouldn’t stop not wanting to talk to her.

 Their tandem made no sense. She was a figure of the night, a girl shrouded in darkness, content being left alone. Her arms and legs were covered in scars, her hands calloused from handling her magical weapon, her feet permanently threaded with the liquified mana of her former adversaries. Her spirit was calculating, her character quiet, her face always covered with a mask. She never had had friends before high school had come around, before people flocked to her because she had apparently stopped being threatening to some. That was around this time that Nerio started to fade and Maki took her place, progressively, until Nerio was the persona and Maki the person.

If she was used to the horrors of Hybrid trafficking, he couldn’t have. He was a benevolent figure of the day, loud to the point of being obnoxious, rude but well-meaning, never second-guessing anything, acting before he thought. His arms and legs, displayed by much more revealing clothes than her elbow-long sleeves and opaque tights, were defined yet not showing a trace of damage like a recently sculpted statue, his hands were strong but their skin soft, his character remarkable, his face displaying a smile and never hiding anything from sight. He was popular, dizzyingly so, people constantly around him, but he had his inner circle. He had come to her, introduced himself, asked her who she was and, before she realized it, he had accepted her into this inner circle so few would have even dared dreaming about entering in the Cité Scolaire, and that was when her façade crumbled before his friends and him. Before she knew it, Kaito had found himself a night persona, Uranus, who barely was different from the person.

It pained her to have him as her partner for this very reason: he was too good for the shadows, too bright for the darkness, and he’d only be busted before she could save him. She wasn’t ready to lose him to the urban abyss, but he insisted, and his presence was too warm for her not to want it.

 Still, Uranus had impressive fighting skills. His dream to one day be the first mage to reach space and discover if there was a world aside from theirs had pushed him to maintain a perfect form, despite an unfortunate illness trying to limit his life. She’d have expected him to be a weapon user, like she was, but the equivalent to his crossbow life had given him was a cape whom had the powers to create the tiniest blackholes and power up his offensive magic. They were power units in vastly different domains, sure thing, but she was still impressed by how many enemies he could take at once and still win over.

The main issue of their duet was their range: it was too long for close combat. If an enemy was to sneak up on them and force her to switch her weapon for her fists and kicks, there was no doubt she’d have a harder time taking care of them. He was more or less the same: long-range spells, very poor to non-existent support magic, a blackhole strategy that’d be more of a double-edged sword and, of course, his fairly frail constitution outside of his training. Neither was a healer, so they couldn’t possibly count on that either.

 Under the full moon of the harsh January, lights flickering above them like candles on a tomb flowing with the wind, they were fighting against an ambush. A bunch of low-grade Hybrid bounty hunters, eyes staring at them with an indiscretion she was getting tired of, their hands on their weapons and only waiting for the duo to slip up. Nerio wouldn’t give them the pleasure to kill her and take her corpse away for them to get compensation for a murder, so she shot arrow after arrow, ignoring various attempted status ailments thrown at her and gusts of winds repeatedly trying to flip her skirt up. All she had to hide under the hem of her dress were tights and a holster with a material hatchet in case she was in a desperate situation; but using it in front of Uranus felt dirty. It’d be nothing but a cheap shot at life when she had proved to him countless times before she was more than competent.

Their number was dwindling more quickly than her mana, sure, but the fighting was tiring her out, most likely him too, and they had class to attend tomorrow (Kaito had managed to convince her, with the insistence of the overly cheerful Kaede). She’d better make it quick, so she charged her cheapest shots in and didn’t mind the drawbacks of wasting more of her power endurance to quickly put an end to the fight. Rapid-fire, crimson arrows it’d have to be, in the end: not quite her Final Gambit spell, which she was still trying to control, but still one powerful enough to clear through the ranks and through her mana reserves. Any child of the shadows would have learnt that exhausting their magic entirely was nothing more but signing their worse-than-death fate: being forgotten in the icy streets of the underground city.

 Their adversaries were most likely scummy opportunists, because they disappeared after a few arrows had been thrown at them. It didn’t prevent her from exhaling a sigh of relief, the danger of the streets weakening around them as the lights stopped flickering. Too much magic in the air to make the one used by the electric network function properly, she supposed: it didn’t matter this much, to be frank. All she wanted to do was go back home, now that she had exterminated the vermin for the night.

Maki turned her attention back to her partner who, like her, was still transformed into his battle attire. He looked just fine, smiling at her with his darkness-eating grin and a thumbs-up. Giving him a nod, they silently decided to go back to their base, where surely Kaede and Shuichi were waiting for them before going to sleep at last. Despite her earlier loneliness, she felt safe and welcome around their little group, her companions, her friends.

 Yet, despite the peace of hearing nothing but their footsteps and breathing, the mandatory silence of the underground nights pushing them not to speak to each other before they’d safely make it to their home, there was something bothering Maki. It wasn’t the sudden silence: she was used to activity dying down and coming back much, much later, when they wouldn’t be there anymore. Thinking silence was a trap in those uncharted territories was a beginner’s mistake: it was a sign towards the right direction. The narrow walls always made sounds resonate and echo to a hunter’s ears.

It was a smell in the air, the faint smell of iron. It was close to her, yet hindered by something, and she couldn’t quite put her hand on where she had smelt it before. Her confusion merely lasted a few moments, though, until she realized it couldn’t have been anything but blood tainting something, its scent retained by something else, but remaining detectable nonetheless. One source and one source only: the dark crimson puddle she was seeing on her partner’s attire.

 “Kaito,” she suddenly said, stopping in her tracks.

“Hm?” He turned his attention to her, hand mindlessly over the epicentre of the issue. “What’s wrong, Maki Roll?”

“You’re injured, you idiot. I thought you wanted us to tell each other everything.”

Her eyebrows frowned.

“I am? I promised I would tell you everything, Maki Roll, you must be imagining things!”

She knew when he lied, when his voice would sound fake, when his eyes looked too much to the left and when he wouldn’t stop laughing nervously. It disturbed her that none of these cues were there.

“Your hand,” she only said as an explanation. “Look at your hand, you fool.”

 Kaito, luckily, understood immediately what hand she was referring to. He took it off the wound, eyes glancing at his mostly untouched palms, then the growing stain. It surprised it at first, almost sending him in a panic, until he breathed out and ignored the nervous sweat beads pearling on his temples.

“Ah, fuck, you’re right Maki Roll! They must have gotten a hit on me… Let’s get home fast then!”

She felt a tiny smile make its way onto her face.

“I’m surprised you didn’t feel it,” she replied as they resumed their walk, gaze often glancing at the stain. “It doesn’t look too deep, at least, if you can walk this easily.”

“Yeah… Most likely a bad cut. Nothing my sidekick can’t heal!”

“…you’re going to ask Shuichi to heal that for you?”

He blinked.

“On second thought, bad idea. It’ll heal by itself soon enough.”

“That’s also a terrible option. At least put a bandage on that thing, you moron.”

“Got it!”

 His eyes grew wider as he stared at her. Now, that was a look she didn’t like in the slightest: he usually gave it to her when he had a shitty idea to propose.

“Hey, Maki Roll,” he pointed his finger at her arms, “you’re injured too!”

Surprised, she stared at her forearms right afterwards, only to notice he was referring to small bruises and scratches.

“Oh, come on, you know this has nothing in common with what you could have been bleeding from, Kaito. It’s merely a scratch.”

“You should be careful too, then, if you scold me for being careless.

“I know what I’m doing, unlike you, but thank you for the concern.”

“Hey, I know what I’m doing too!”

“Sure, sure.”

 He showed her a hand, palm turned to her.

“Don’t worry, that’s one not stained with blood”. His grin.

She found him ridiculous and beyond cheesy, but took his fingers in hers anyway, enlacing them together.

“As long as you don’t need me as a clutch, it’s fine.”

“Of course I don’t! I’m Uranus, Luminary of the Stars!”

Oh god. He was ridiculous, and such an idiot, but her life had only improved ever since he had arrived there. She could only partially attribute it to his idiotic side, in a way.

“Your predictability is utterly disappointing, sometimes, you know that?”

“I also know you secretly love it, Maki.”

“If you say so. There’s no discussing with you anyway.”

 Right in front of her, he brushed his other hand on his attire’s pants, barely giving her the time to frown in disgusted surprise, and swiped her hood in a swift movement with the back of his hand. All of this to put a kiss on her forehead, a childish peck, that nonetheless makes her cheeks slightly heat up.

“You’re an untameable idiot, Kaito.”

“I’m your idiot, though, Maki Roll.”

She looked away, chuckling despite her best attempts at controlling herself.

“…I know, I know.”

[pocketseizure]

The Legend of the Princess, Chapter 22

A Swiftly Encroaching Darkness

In which Zelda almost gets what she wants as her kingdom falls apart. NSFW

(Chapter 22 on AO3) (Story Tag on Tumblr) (Cover Illustration)

* * * * *

It’s amazing, really, how rapidly order can descend into chaos. One moment everything is fine, but the next moment nothing is. In retrospect we desperately wish we could have foreseen the catalyst that triggered the calamity, but at the time our eyes were turned elsewhere.

----------

“But I saw everything,” Zelda objected. “That monster, whatever it was, destroyed Hyrule. There was a city, and it burned. The entire land burned.”

“That ‘monster’ was a god, and it didn’t destroy Hyrule,” Ganondorf replied in voice that was so devoid of emotion that it disturbed Zelda more than his earlier anger. “Hylia did that.”

“But why would she – ”

“To keep it out of the hands of her enemies.”

Zelda opened her mouth, thought better of what she was about to say, and closed it. This was something to think about. She was still overwhelmed by what she had just witnessed, but a stray thought tugged at a corner of her mind.

“When the monster, or god, or whatever is was… When it cursed that girl, it didn’t curse her specifically, did it? It cursed her descendants. That’s what it said, right?”

Ganondorf narrowed his eyes. “What of it?”

“So listen, maybe all we have to do to break the curse is not have children.”

Zelda watched as the light of understanding filled Ganondorf’s eyes.

“That’s… That’s why I came here,” he said.

“That’s why you… What?”

“That’s why I came to Hyrule, to avoid having children.”

Zelda was struck by an icy stab of jealousy. Who would Ganondorf have children with? Now that she thought about it, it would make sense for him to be engaged already. Or, at the very least, being surrounded by women as he was…

“I thought you came to attend my coronation,” she said, unable to excise the bitterness from her voice.

“I had to fight Nabooru to get her to allow me to attend in her place.”

Something about this didn’t sit right with Zelda. “But aren’t you the king of the Gerudo?” she asked. “Why wouldn’t it be you who attended?”

“I’m the only highborn male in a city full of women. I have one job as king, and it’s not to rule the country.”

Zelda suddenly understood what he meant, and Ganondorf laughed as her eyes widened.

“I made it clear that I had no interest in that sort of thing, but Nabooru managed to convince the council of state that I might find inspiration if I spent time in Hyrule.”

“And did you?” Zelda asked. She smiled before she kissed him.

----------

There are many things about the current state of affairs in Hyrule that Zelda suspects but does not know. How could she?

How could she know why all the Darknuts have left the castle? How could she know why Barghest has remained? Zelda is attentive to detail, but she is bothered by these questions no more than a baker is bothered by the comings and goings of the assistants to the miller who grinds his flour. In an earlier era, perhaps a monarch would have been able to track the movements of every member of her staff, but Hyrule has thrived and flourished in the two hundred years since the last war, and the size of the bureaucracy that occupies the castle has grown along with the population, as has the number of people needed to keep the machine of state running efficiently. Zelda’s domain is the abstract realm of numbers and letters, not the care and feeding of the horses in the royal stables.

How could she know, then, that rebellion has fermented among the Darknuts, and that Barghest’s motives for remaining in the service of the Hylian king have little to do with loyalty?

Link knows, and he might even have told her if she’d thought to ask him, but she didn’t. Why would she? Zelda has always been aware that he hides things from her, but it’s only recently occurred to her that what he hasn’t said is far more important than what he has. As she sat on the floor of her father’s study surrounded by her late mother’s letters, Zelda considered finding Link to confront him, but it took her no longer than the space of a sigh to decide that their conversation could wait. After all, she has other fires to attend to at the moment.

----------

“This doesn’t have to be so complicated,” Zelda murmured into Ganondorf’s ear. “We can be civilized and have this conversation like civilized people.”

“Civilization didn’t make your ancestors any less evil,” he responded, turning his head to kiss her.

“‘Evil’ is a strong word,” she said, twisting her face away from him.

“So is ‘monster.’” He put a hand on the back of her neck and pulled her to him. She allowed his tongue to find hers. He took his time.

She eventually pushed him away, her hands on his chest. “I should go,” she said, intending to do no such thing.

He placed his hands over hers. “Don’t go,” he said, kissing the corner of her mouth. “We haven’t finished talking yet.”

“Can you convince me to stay?” she countered, allowing the upturn of her question to linger on the fullness of his bottom lip.

“Just try to get away,” he said. She felt every movement of his teeth on her skin.

“Is that a challenge?” She smiled and turned to leave. He caught her by the arms and reeled her in so that her back was pinned against the front of his body. He had her trapped, at least in play.

“Would you like to be challenged?” he asked, trailing the fingers of his hand down her throat and sliding his thumb under the strap of her gown.

----------

In less than two days Zelda will become a queen. This has real political significance concerning the balance of power in the kingdom, but the ceremonies themselves symbolize the stability of continuity and reflect the contentment of a people who have never been attacked, who have never readied themselves for war, who have never known true hardship for hundreds of years. Peace has resulted in wealth, and wealth demands comfort. Trade has flourished, as has culture. Hyrule is a prosperous kingdom, and its people have much to celebrate.

As dignitaries from across the land congregate, festivities continue within the great hall of the castle. Likewise, raucous merrymaking enlivens the city, until suddenly it doesn’t.

All it takes is a single spark to light a fire, but that spark will not catch if it doesn’t find kindling to burn.

The centuries since the last war have been good to the victors, but the prejudice against those who opposed the monarchy has been slow to fade. The Zora have enjoyed the favor of Hyrule, as have the Rito and the Gorons. The Darknuts, once proud knights who served both the Hylians and the Gerudo, have not been so lucky – the Sheikah saw to that. Entire generations were lost on both sides the last time Hyrule Castle came under siege, and neither the monarchy’s allies nor those who fought alongside the vanquished Gerudo were forgiven. Cubs were lifted from the cold hands of their parents and placed into the homes of Hylians, who took their language and names and shaped them into model subjects of the queen who had denied the same opportunity to their families. Children grew as decades passed, and perhaps injustices would have eventually been forgotten had not memory persisted in the shadowed hills and forests of Ordon, where the light of the divine queens could not reach.

The Darknuts had once despised the Moblins. They thought, as did most of Hyrule, that they were no more than savage beasts, barely capable of language and only good for the most menial of tasks. The Darknuts were strong, but they were architects while the Moblins hauled stone. The Darknuts were fierce, but they were strategists while the Moblins fell on the front lines. The Darknuts had a way with animals, but they bred prize horses while the Moblins shoveled shit. When the Gerudo turned their backs on Hyrule and the Darknuts had nowhere else to go, however, the Moblins gave them shelter in the ruins hidden in the forgotten corners of Hyrule. The Moblins defended their territory with the ferocity of a people who know what it means to be hunted, but the Darknuts quickly learned that they were by no means uncivilized.

The Gerudo keep a close watch over these ruins, and they maintain good relations with the communities that live there. Water springs from deep within the bedrock upon which crumbling towers and dusty underground palaces have been built, presenting opportunities for Gerudo engineers and Darknut masons alike. Trade flourishes, with the fruits of the sandy soil exchanged for cool water, and in recent years strange relics have begun to surface and circulate. Old grudges fade slowly, however, and the Gerudo know better than to interrupt the slumber of the ancient deities that may still dwell within the sites once sacred to the Hylians. Neither the Gerudo nor the Darknuts venture farther than their Moblin guides will lead them.

This balance was maintained until, almost two hundred years after the Darknuts were driven from Hyrule, a Gerudo prince once again ascended to the throne. The prince asked questions, and he demanded answers. Unlike those who came before him, he was not afraid of the power of the ancients, and he devoured the messages of the glyphs carved into the timeless walls with a ferocious hunger that could not be sated.

----------

Ganondorf slowly moved his hand until it was directly over the line of fabric dividing Zelda’s skin from her dress. She could feel the weight of his palm on her breast, whose peak stiffened into a hard point from the pleasant friction. Ganondorf must have noticed, for he shifted his palm to cup her breast and circled her sensitive nipple with his thumb. Zelda sighed softly, and he kissed her neck with an equal softness.

“Let me touch you,” he whispered into her ear, and Zelda nodded.

Ganondorf slipped his hand under the fabric, and then the heat of his palm was directly on her skin. He met the curve of her breast with the firmness of his fingers, trapping her nipple as he teased it with his thumb. He did not paw at her as other men had done, but neither was he gentle.

He kissed her at the base of her ear and then moved his arm around her as his hand glided down to the skirt of her gown. He touched her bare leg, murmuring in appreciation as he stroked the smooth skin of her thigh, and then he raised his hand so that the thin fabric of her dress cascaded like a waterfall from the ropy muscle of his forearm. The tips of his fingers burned against her stomach as he caressed her bare skin. Zelda knew exactly what he was doing, and she allowed it to happen. She whispered his name into his mouth and reached down to position his hand between her legs.

He exhaled as his fingers slid over the silk of her panties, and he cupped her sex delicately, as if it were a precious thing. When he began petting her, he did so gently, moving his fingers back and forth slowly across her. The strong pressure of his middle finger created a delicious tension, especially as it lingered at the top of her slit.

Ganondorf shifted his position, and touch of his hardness against her back made her feel as if she were melting. She wanted more, and so she turned to face him, pressing herself against him as she pinned his waist between her legs. His eyes were liquid gold as he gazed at her in wonder, and she kissed him.

She tasted sweetness, nothing but sweetness, a surfeit of the sweetest things – the taste of his lips and the touch of his hands and the fragrance of his hair. When Zelda had dallied with men before, there would always be a moment when her curiosity chilled and curdled into discomfort, but her desire for Ganondorf only grew warmer. There was only his cool breath, the spiciness of his tongue, and the pressure of his fingers on her neck, calloused and unyielding, forcing her to lift her face and open her mouth to his.

As they kissed Zelda remembered how he had led her in a dance through the air above the ruined castle in the Twilight Realm. She felt the same giddy rush of flying, but now she had complete control. She guided Ganondorf's hands where she needed them to be, flush against her skin. He grew even harder at her waist, the thickness of his length hot on the skin of her belly. When she moved to adjust her position he groaned low in his throat, and she rocked against him, taking her pleasure as she teased him. She knew what his hands were capable of, and she wanted to force him to use them. She wanted to force him to lose control.

----------

The Moblins waiting outside the city walls have been watching for a sign, and the smoke rising above the ramparts is as good a sign as any. It’s difficult to say who throws the first stone, who fires the first shot, who bellows the first war cry. Various people will later proudly claim or vehemently deny the charge, but in the end it doesn’t matter. Buildings burn, fighting fills the streets, and Darknuts lead battalions of Moblins as they pour through the city gates to join their brothers and sisters. The soldiers withdraw from the chaos, determined to defend the castle at all costs. Their commanders believe that Hyrule Castle is the primary target of the invaders, whose forces move through the city on their way to the center. This assumption proves to be correct.

Ganondorf was not being entirely honest when he suggested to Zelda that his primary purpose is to breed Gerudo children. He had been raised to be a king, and he occupies a political position equal to that of the council of elders who govern the Gerudo city in the desert. He has never seen himself as a leader, however; his interests are far more specific.

When his mother was poisoned by the Hylian queen he realized that he would not be able to serve his people through statecraft. He knew his martial prowess would never be equal to that of the women who spend their lives training to serve at the palace, so instead he developed his talent in magic. The pursuit of knowledge became its own reward; but, for every question he answered, dozens more sprang up in its place. Eventually he arrived at the mystery that lay at the core of these questions – Where did magic come from? All evidence pointed him in the direction of Hyrule, where, ironically, magic had all but disappeared. Why?

Ganondorf ventured deep into the abandoned temples and sprawling underground mazes where the Darknuts and Moblins made their home. Unlike the other Gerudo, he was eager to learn their language, and with only a minimum of instruction he had taught himself to read the spiraling mosaics that served as their writing. The Moblins had drawn this system from the patterns of glyphs covering the walls of the ruins they occupied, and with their help Ganondorf began to read these walls, lines running along narrow corridors and across vast chambers, which flared to life with magic as he chanted, one wording echoing like a refrain – Triforce. No matter how much he learned, he still kept asking questions. Why? Why? Why?

Ganondorf was courteous and generous to the people who watched his journeys and assisted in his excavations, but he felt no sense of obligation to them. Nevertheless, they were infected by the relentless flame of his curiosity. “Why” is a powerful question, and the answers it dredges up can be dangerous. At first Ganondorf was nothing more than a child, and then he was a strange and sullen teenager, and when he became a king he ceased to visit at all, bound as he was to his people. Nevertheless his legend spread among the Darknuts, who have never forgotten their history, and even the Moblins have started to whisper the name of a fallen god who may one day rise again – Ganon.

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The doors to Ganondorf’s chambers burst open, sending a pile of books flying. The vibrations upset a vase perched on one of the bookshelves set along the wall, and it shattered on the floor, spilling flowers and water in a fan across the tiles.

“Impa!” Zelda exclaimed, digging her nails into Ganondorf’s shoulders as his muscles tensed.

Impa stood in the doorway as a dozen Sheikah filed past her into the room. “Seize this man,” she ordered, fixing Ganondorf in an icy stare.

Zelda rose to her feet and adjusted her dress, blocking Ganondorf with her body. “What is the meaning of this?” she demanded. “I’ve got this situation under control.”

“I have no doubt you do,” Impa responded, “but the orders to arrest him came directly from the king.”

“Then we will talk to the king directly,” Zelda insisted. “The Gerudo ambassador has done nothing to deserve this treatment. And can’t this wait until morning? Surely my father knows better than to send Sheikah barging into the rooms of one of our guests in the middle of the night. I will not allow you to take this man anywhere without my permission.”

“If I may,” Ganondorf spoke up from behind her.

“What?” Zelda muttered, not allowing her eyes to leave Impa’s face.

Ganondorf laid a hand on her waist, and there was a metallic hiss as the Sheikah drew their weapons in unison.

“Stand down.” Zelda raised her voice in the cool assurance of command, and Impa shrugged in acquiescence. The assassins stepped back, but they did not sheath their blades.

Ganondorf gently positioned Zelda to the side as he stood. He stretched his arms and fastened the clasps at his collar. “I’ve been meaning to see the castle dungeon,” he said casually. “I knew this would happen sooner or later, and I’m honored to have been granted such a fine escort. By all means, take me away. I’m sure this will be resolved soon, one way or another.”

Zelda glared at him, but he didn’t meet her eyes. The silence was so thick that Zelda could hear her heart beating in her ears.

Impa weighed his words for a moment before arriving at a decision. “Blindfold him,” she said, snapping her fingers at the woman positioned at her right hand. “And make sure his wrists are bound in the back. Keep a knife at his neck, we don’t want to take any chances with this one.”

As her orders were carried out, she walked to Ganondorf, putting herself between him and Zelda. “I wouldn’t try anything funny if I were you,” she said. “I’m sure you know what will happen if one of those blades so much grazes your skin.”

“I’m familiar with your poisons,” Ganondorf sneered. “Intimately.”

Impa narrowed her eyes. “Gag him too.”

Ganondorf allowed himself to be bound and led out of the room tightly ringed by a phalanx of Sheikah. Impa remained behind with Zelda, who watched the proceedings with a blank stare.

“Well, that was fun,” she said after the doors whispered shut. “Do you want to explain what’s going on?”

Impa took Zelda’s hands before pulling her into a fierce hug. She released her but kept her fingers twined through Zelda’s. “Heart of my heart,” she said, “I understand what you were trying to do, but I can’t even begin to fathom how you could bring yourself to touch that man. I thought it would be better not to tell you, but he’s single-handedly bringing about the downfall of this kingdom. He cursed Jabun and the Deku Tree, which are dying as we speak. If they die, the Zora and the Kokiri will die with them, and he doesn’t care. He provoked the dragon on Death Mountain into attacking Darunia’s son, and the boy is as good as dead. Still he sits in this castle and smiles like a thief. But don’t let him fool you. If only you knew what he’s done…”

“Impa,” Zelda said softly as she squeezed her hand. “I knew.”

----------

Daphnes is a good man, kind and just. He is a good king as well, and he has tirelessly devoted himself to the welfare of his people. He knew about his wife’s affair, and he accepted it. He performed his duty to her as best he could, as he continues to do his duty to her daughter – their daughter. He loved the queen, but it was a distant admiration, and he gives all the affection he could not express to her to Zelda. He adores his daughter, and he has faith that she will become a capable ruler who brings glory to Hyrule, but darkness enfolds his heart like a shroud.

One night the queen, who had never so much as touched his face with her long and graceful fingers, came to him in the moonlight. She begged for a child, weeping all the while. After so many years of following along behind her like a dog he could not do as she asked; there was no spark of intimacy between them, and it was impossible.

And so she drugged him and took what she wanted.

He was unaware of this until her pregnancy was announced. He jumped to the natural conclusion a man might come to in this situation, but when Zelda was born he could not deny that she was his own. He hated his wife, yet he still loved her in his sad and patient way, even then. He grew attached to the child as he had never allowed himself to grow close to anyone else the castle, and so he was the first person to understand that the girl was different, and powerful.

He demanded an explanation, and the queen obliged, finally. If Ganon had returned to the world, she told him, then there must be a Zelda, and she must be a trueborn daughter of the royal line. She told him about the Triforce, and about the terrible enemies that would seek to claim it. Armies could be amassed, but they would all be consumed by flames; the only defense the kingdom had was the princess and her chosen knight. Hyrule had been cursed by a primordial demon, and only Hylia’s heir was its equal. If Zelda couldn’t seal this evil, then no one could.

Daphnes was the second son of a minor aristocrat who governed a small stretch of coastline in Faron province, and he loved nothing more than the sun on his face and the wind in his hair. He knew nothing about gods and demons and curses, but he would do anything to protect his daughter.

“Kill the Gerudo prince,” he told the queen, and instead of objecting she had grown thoughtful. Later she came to him in the night, and for the first time he embraced her as her husband. The next day she left for the desert, and a week later she was dead.

Daphnes was not a vain or a foolish man, but he knew the queen had selected him as her consort because of the cast of his face. He had the outward seeming of a king, and suddenly he was forced to become one. To his surprise, he was good at it, and he allowed the work to consume him and shape his character. If there were gods and monsters in Hyrule, he had no problem with them as long as they paid taxes and settled their disputes in court. Despite the tragedy lingering over the untimely death of the queen, it seemed as if his reign was blessed with peace and prosperity.

When his Sheikah advisors reported to him that the Darknuts had started meeting in secret under the cover of darkness, he thought nothing of it. Better to allow them to dream of rebellion than to imprison anyone without cause. When the urban gentry complained that Moblins had begun to congregate in growing settlements outside the city walls, he permitted it. Castle Town was growing, after all, and the Moblins were hard workers who didn’t demand high wages. In fairy tales it is said that Hylian ears are long so that they can catch the whispers of the gods, but Daphnes had no use for old legends or divine revelations.

All of that changed when Ganondorf came to Hyrule Castle.

Other people may wonder, in retrospect, what moment led to the calamity that resulted in the end of an era, but Daphnes knows, and he hates himself for knowing.

( Link to Chapter 23: A Daring Rescue )