#truth is more complicated than lies au | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

marsplastic13 · 5 months ago

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'Complicated' (Part 2) - Kaz Brekker x reader

Idea - Kaz Brekker hires a prostitute to overcome his touch aversion, and be a better man for Inej, but things take an unxepected turn.

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Prostitute!Reader, (had to use y/n because I'm bad at names)

Genre: modern AU, slow burn

word count: 5.5k

notes: please let me know what you think <3

Finally, a couple of days later, Inej arrived in Ketterdam. Kaz waited for her at the harbor, hoping she would throw herself into his arms and that he could finally hug her tightly. Instead, their greetings were far more reserved, though her wide smile still managed to warm him up in seconds.

She had many people to see, so they didn’t have the chance to be alone until late at night. When they finally had a moment together, they settled on his couch to watch a movie. Kaz desperately wanted to show her the progress he had made, but he felt a familiar sense of hesitation.

After battling with himself, he finally removed his gloves, meeting her surprised gaze as he slowly reached for her hand. Inej's eyes lit up, and Kaz couldn't suppress a small, satisfied smile.

During those days, they managed to stay closer than they had ever been before. Inej divided her time between her place and his, and their evenings together became a cherished routine.

One night, they watched the Masterchef finale on his bed. Inej lay with her head in his lap, and Kaz gently caressed her hair. y/n had been right— Inej was loving it. Kaz didn’t think much about y/n, except occasionally when he caught her Instagram stories. He had considered writing to her to comment on the winner of the cooking competition, as they had both been rooting for the same contestant. Kaz had his phone in his hand, while the other was scratching Inej’s head. She made a satisfied hum, closing her eyes, distracting Kaz from his thoughts about y/n. He tossed the phone away, focusing entirely on Inej.

A few days later, Kaz received a notification of a picture from y/n. It was a photo of different shades of nail polishes. He chuckled, circled the one he liked, and sent the picture back. “What’s that smile?” Inej asked, surprised, from the other side of the table where they were having lunch.

“Jesper sent a stupid thing,” Kaz lied effortlessly, though not without a pang of guilt. He felt a momentary sense of relief that Inej hadn't probed further, but the guilt lingered, gnawing at the edges of his contentment.

Kaz couldn't escape the irony of his situation. Here he was, trying to overcome his touch aversion with a prostitute, someone paid to be physically close to him, while desperately wanting to be intimate with Inej, who was going around the world saving girls from being sold as prostitutes. The contradiction gnawed at him, twisting his gut every time he thought about it. How could he reconcile these two opposing realities?

Inej had dedicated her life to freeing those trapped in the same circumstances that had led Kaz to y/n. She was a beacon of hope, a relentless force for good, while Kaz's actions seemed to undercut everything she stood for. The more he pondered this, the deeper his guilt grew. It wasn't just about the physical interactions with y/n; it was about what those interactions represented. He was using someone else to cope with his trauma, someone who might have been in a position similar to the girls Inej fought so hard to save.

Kaz found himself replaying his conversations with y/n. She had been understanding, patient, even kind. They had laughed together, and she had helped him in ways he hadn't thought possible. Yet every time he saw Inej's face, radiant with purpose and conviction, he felt like a fraud. How could he face her, knowing the truth?

***

Inej found out about the chocolate and wine tasting thing and thought it would be hilarious to go to make fun of the people there. They were enjoying the experience, their laughter a shared secret, when he spotted y/n entering the restaurant, her arm wrapped around a guy. It was the same guy from the club—the one she had said she stopped seeing because they weren't compatible.

As she scanned the room, y/n's eyes locked with Kaz's. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping she wouldn’t approach. But she did, her face a mix of shock and recognition. She made her way to their table, her expression quickly morphing into an enthusiastic smile.

"I'm so sorry to bother you, I'm such a fan! I watch all of your TikToks," she said to Inej, her voice bright and sincere.

Inej stood up, her smile as warm as ever. "Thank you! It's always nice to meet a fan," she replied, extending her hand.

They chatted for a bit, with y/n telling Inej how her videos had inspired her to take up pilates, which was only half-true. y/n had actually taken up the sport because, as she had once humorously told Kaz, a client had requested an intricate position, that she accurately acted out for him, that resulted in her pulling a few muscles, forcing her to stay in bed for days.

"Can you take a picture of us?" y/n asked, handing her phone to Kaz. His heart pounded as he took the phone, trying to maintain a neutral expression. As he snapped the photo, his eyes fell on y/n’s hand resting on Inej’s shoulder, her nails painted the color he had chosen. It took all his self-control not to react.

"There you are, always running around with this one," said the guy, approaching them and wrapping his arm around y/n’s waist. "Baby, that's Inej Ghafa!"

"Oh right, the girl you yap about all day?" he laughed, pulling her close.

"I don't yap," she pouted playfully.

"Sure you don't," he said, kissing her pout.

Kaz couldn’t figure out what he was feeling. He wondered how much time they were spending together and didn't like how carelessly the guy was able to kiss her. He wondered if she still tasted like cherries.

"I'm sorry for the interruption," y/n said, pulling away from the kiss. "It was really nice to meet you, Inej."

They walked back to their table, the guy's hand slipping from her waist to rest on her ass, guiding her to her seat. Kaz's jaw tightened, and he forced himself to look away. The rest of the evening was uneventful, and fortunately, y/n and her companion were out of his sight.

As Kaz and Inej returned to their conversation, his thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. The guilt gnawed at him, and he couldn't help but wonder how Inej would react if she knew the truth. Would she understand his reasons, or would she see it as a betrayal? The irony of his situation was inescapable—trying to overcome his touch aversion with a prostitute, while being with someone who fought against the very thing he was exploiting.

***

A few days later, Inej had to leave again, promising to return in a few months. Kaz stood at the harbor, watching her ship prepare to depart. He managed to brush his lips against hers for the briefest moment, and she smiled widely at him, her eyes full of warmth and promise. That smile stayed with him, a bittersweet memory as he watched the ship sail away.

Each time Inej left, Kaz felt an embarrassingly deep sense of loss, a hollowness that settled in his chest. Jesper, ever the loyal friend, had to break into his house just to convince him to show up at work. It had become a routine, a cycle of anticipation, brief happiness, and then the inevitable slump into solitude.

During the weeks Inej had been with him, Kaz had experienced a closeness he hadn't thought possible. They had shared quiet moments on his couch, watched movies, and even engaged in playful banter about the contestants on Masterchef. It was during those moments, when he held her hand without gloves or caressed her hair as she rested her head in his lap, that he realized just how far he had come. But it also made him think about all the things he still wanted to try, the progress he wanted to make.

The weeks with Inej had stirred something in him, a desire to push further, to explore more. He wanted to test the boundaries of his progress, to see if he could translate the tentative intimacy he had shared with Inej into something more confident. So, he decided to book y/n for the first free time she had.

***

“Hello, lovebird,” she smirked as she opened the door, making him enter her room. “How was girlfriend-time?”

Kaz rolled his eyes at the nickname but couldn't help the small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine.”

“Anything interesting to tell?” she asked, sitting on the bed and patting the space next to her. Kaz hesitated for a moment before joining her.

“Well, uh, I held her hand, scratched her head like you suggested, thanks for that. And we kissed.” He felt a bit guilty discussing these intimate moments so casually, as if they were just part of his homework.

Her eyes sparkled with intrigue. “Let's talk about this kiss,” she said, leaning in closer. Out of habit, she climbed onto his lap, her arms bare and exposed. Kaz hesitated, unsure of where to place his hands, before slowly resting them on her covered thighs.

“Well, it was fast and light,” he admitted, feeling the familiar awkwardness settle in.

“Don't minimize it, Kaz! It's wonderful! Bet you got all sorts of ideas,” she grinned, nudging his nose with hers playfully.

“Kind of,” he laughed nervously, the warmth of her proximity making him slightly more at ease.

“So? What do you want to do next?” she asked, her voice softening as she sensed his unease.

“I was thinking of sticking with making kisses bearable, and then, since summer is coming, it’s time for more skin exposure.” It still felt strange to talk about these things as if they were just mechanical actions, devoid of the emotional weight they carried.

“Rock my world, Brekker,” y/n murmured as she rested her head on his bicep. The position was perfect for a kiss, her head angled just right. Kaz leaned in, brushing their lips together. He repeated the motion several times, leaning in, pulling back, lingering a second longer each time.

"You're cute when you're focused," she commented, making him shake his head and laugh nervously. Kaz could feel her breath on his mouth, and it felt oddly normal. He wanted to deepen the kiss but felt embarrassed, so he moved to her cheek instead.

“Can you… can you kiss… me?” he stammered, feeling the prolonged contact start to make him dizzy. They swapped positions, and Kaz found himself resting his head on her lap. “Stop me whenever you want,” she said before kissing his forehead.

Kaz released a shaky breath, nothing ever feeling better than that small kiss. y/n continued, leaving a trail of tender kisses around his face. “This is so sweet I could cry,” she whispered at a certain point.

“Please don’t,” he laughed, blushing.

He felt particularly good, encouraged by everything he had managed to do with Inej and ready to push his boundaries further. y/n passed her hand through his neatly combed hair, raising his head to kiss the corner of his lips. Kaz felt the familiar anxiety rise, but his starved body craved more, so he didn’t move. He stood still as she kissed his full lips, but he stopped her hand before she could cup his face.

Kaz held her hand to his chest as if it were as his life depended on it while she urged him to deepen the kiss. He forced himself to let her in, feeling her tongue searching for his. His body tensed, but she murmured against his lips, “Breathe, Kaz.”

He took her advice, trying to steady himself. When their tongues touched, he felt a wave of nausea, but she was quick, distracting him with her hand still in his hair. y/n kept teasing him, never fully kissing him. His body was torn between fear and newfound desire. At some point, he couldn't take it anymore. Kaz tangled his hands into her hair and pulled her in for a deep kiss. He let himself feel their tongues sliding against each other. In that moment, the entire building could go up in flames and he would have preferred staying there, burning alive, instead of leaving her mouth. Her cherry lip balm was intoxicating.

He felt her hands on his chest and cursed himself for not being able to telepathically tell her to let her hands slip to his neck and pull him closer. The kiss went on, and he was unable to let go, feeling as though he could drown but nothing bad would happen as long as her lips were on his. A small moan escaped her mouth, and Kaz was pulled back into reality so violently that he had to get up.

He grounded himself by pacing around, releasing heavy breaths. “That… was a great kiss,” she commented, nodding. Kaz was unsure if she was talking to him or to herself.

Kaz stopped pacing and leaned against the wall, trying to regain his composure. The intensity of the kiss had left him shaken but also strangely satisfied. He looked at y/n, who was still sitting on the bed, her lips slightly swollen from their kiss. He couldn’t help but wonder what Inej would think of all this, but he pushed the thought aside, focusing on the progress he had made.

Only in that moment did Kaz realize how his body had reacted to the kiss, feeling his face change shade with embarrassment. “Well, must've been good even for you,” y/n remarked, letting her eyes linger on him. “Come on, there's no need to be ashamed. It's natural,” she shrugged, offering a reassuring smile.

“I'm not... uhm, used to this,” Kaz admitted, sitting in a chair far from her and avoiding her gaze.

“I am, so don't worry, lov— Kaz,” she corrected herself, sensing his discomfort.

He continued to blush, silently praying for his body to calm down. “We have some more time, can we just... talk?” he asked, trying to shift the focus away from the lingering awkwardness.

The girl nodded, seeming relaxed as she settled back into the chair. “So, you're back with that guy?” Kaz asked casually, hoping to steer the conversation into more neutral territory.

She wrinkled her nose. “I just wanted to eat chocolate, drink wine, and have sex,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, he couldn't make me come even if his life depended on it, but his—”

Kaz interrupted her quickly, feeling uncomfortable with where the conversation was heading. “y/n, oversharing,” he remarked with a hint of exasperation.

“Sorry, sorry,” she snorted, realizing her misstep.

“Why do you keep going out with him?”

“Not everyone finds the love of their life on the first try, Kaz,” she replied with a shrug. “Some of us have to go on bad dates and have bad sex.”

Kaz never explicitly thought of Inej as the love of his life, but he had never entertained thoughts about anyone else either. The idea of her potentially leaving him someday made his stomach sink, a feeling he wasn't accustomed to.

“See you Wednesday?” he asked, trying to sound nonchalant despite the knot in his stomach.

“I haven't told you? A client is taking me away for a week,” she replied, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. “He has, like, a lawyer conference or something. Can't fucking wait. Five-star hotel and all. He's promised me spa treatments, fancy dinners, and shopping. It's going to be awesome.”

Kaz studied her smile, suddenly realizing that she probably had some form of relationship not just with him, but with other clients as well. The thought unsettled him deeply, stirring a mix of jealousy and discomfort he hadn't anticipated. He couldn't shake the image of her with other men, indulging in luxurious trips and intimate moments, all while maintaining a professional demeanor.

Deciding it was time to go, he stood up abruptly. His mind was racing with conflicted thoughts—feelings of possessiveness he hadn't known he harbored, mixed with a stark reminder that their interactions were transactional at their core. As he made his way to the door, he struggled to maintain his composure, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than intended.

***

Kaz kept watching her Instagram stories, each post depicting scenes of luxury and leisure—tanning by a pool, sipping cocktails at parties, early morning runs at sunrise, and romantic beach strolls at sunset. It baffled him why he felt such a surge of anger. They didn't know each other well; she never shared personal details. Yet, there he was, on a lonely Sunday night, a bottle of alcohol his only companion, staring at another picture of her in a stunning dress against a breathtaking backdrop.

The alcohol only fueled his frustration. How could she just leave, especially when he felt they were making progress? In a moment of impulse, he opened his banking app and took a screenshot of a money transfer ready to be confirmed—3000 kruge. 'Come back?' he typed beneath the screenshot, hesitating momentarily before hitting send.

The next morning, the hangover hit him hard, along with the realization of what he had done. Regret flooded in as he replayed the scene in his mind. Sending money felt like a desperate move, one that exposed his vulnerability more than he was comfortable admitting.

Throughout the day, he constantly checked his phone, hoping for a response that didn't come. He cursed himself for acting on impulse, for letting his emotions drive him to such a reckless gesture. Deep down, he knew it wasn't about the money—it was about wanting her presence, her company, even if it was just for a fleeting moment.

As the day wore on, he wrestled with conflicting emotions—anger at himself for being so impulsive, frustration at her for leaving without a word, and a gnawing sense of loneliness that seemed to deepen with each passing hour.

***

Kaz sat in his car beneath her apartment building, grappling with embarrassment over his drunken text. He stared at the glowing screen of his phone, contemplating whether to turn the car around and head home. He knew he should, but something pushed him to go upstairs despite the awkwardness he felt. His injured leg throbbed uncomfortably with each step, almost as if it, too, protested the decision.

Entering her apartment, Kaz settled onto the familiar couch, listening to the sounds emanating from y/n's room until it was his turn. As they settled on her bed, y/n kept her arms crossed, her expression expectant, while Kaz avoided meeting her gaze.

"Kaz, what was that?" she finally asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and concern.

"y/n, I don't know. I was drunk and..." He trailed off, unsure how to justify his actions when even he didn't fully understand them.

"Kaz, if you're catching feelings for me..." she started, but he cut her off firmly.

"I'm not," he asserted, though his words rang hollow in his own ears.

Her gaze softened, and she reached out, her hand finding his. "If that's the case, you shouldn't be embarrassed. What we're doing is... intimate and sweet. It would be normal to mistake it for something more."

"I'm not doing anything, just a drunk text," Kaz repeated, the words feeling inadequate even as he said them.

"If you ever do, you have to let me know," she said softly, her thumb brushing against his hand. "You gave me your first proper kiss, Kaz. It's normal to be confused."

"I'm doing this for my girlfriend, who I love very much," he replied hastily, trying to sound more confident than he felt.

"I know, but if it makes you uncomfortable, we shouldn't see each other anymore," she replied, her voice tinged with understanding.

They spent the next hour making out, Kaz finding it difficult to let go of y/n's hair. He wanted to explore more, but it all felt too overwhelming. y/n tried to touch his arms and chest, but he had to stop her before it became too much. He managed to leave a few chaste kisses on her neck, but when she tried to reciprocate, he almost lost control, so they focused on their lips and faces.

y/n shamelessly moaned into his mouth, and even Kaz couldn't help but let a few sounds escape his lips. Just as the intensity between them peaked, a hard knock on the door made them spring apart, the first time they had done so in many minutes.

"y/n, you're late!" one of her roommates protested from outside, breaking the charged atmosphere.

They looked at each other with wide eyes, suddenly aware of the time. Kaz checked his phone and realized he was supposed to have left thirty minutes ago. A nervous laugh escaped them both, neither daring to meet the other's gaze.

"I should go," Kaz finally said, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding eye contact. "I think I need a minute," he added, his face flushing with embarrassment while y/n smirked, a hint of satisfaction in her expression.

Kaz insisted on leaving extra money for the additional time they had spent together. "There's no need to, we got carried away," y/n protested, but Kaz was resolute.

"Does this happen often?" he asked curiously, a cocky smile playing on his lips.

"No," she admitted quietly.

"Then take these," Kaz said firmly, leaving the money on her desk before swiftly exiting the apartment, the weight of their encounter heavy on his mind as he made his way back to his car.

Kaz entered the Crow Club, his mind heavy with the events of the previous hour. "You are so late, Brekker," Jesper commented, raising an eyebrow. "I had to say you had the flu."

Kaz shrugged, collapsing into the chair next to him. "Where were you?" Jesper pressed, a suspicious edge to his voice.

"I had stuff to do," Kaz replied casually, pulling out his phone to reply to the messages from Inej that had accumulated throughout the day.

Jesper leaned in, sniffing the air. "Why do you smell of cherries?" he asked, his nose crinkling as he leaned closer.

Kaz shoved him away, hoping to sound convincing. "I don’t smell of cherries. What the fuck?"

Jesper narrowed his eyes, not easily fooled. "Are you cheating on Inej?" he asked abruptly, his tone sharper than usual.

Kaz's heart skipped a beat. "What? Jesper, come on. I can’t even touch people," he said, avoiding Jesper's gaze.

Jesper hummed, skepticism clear in his expression. "You’re weird, man. I’m telling you. And you've been acting stranger than usual lately," he added, his eyes searching Kaz's face for any signs of deceit. "Your clothes, they don't look like you've been working. More like you've been... elsewhere."

Kaz shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I had things to take care of. It's not what you think."

Jesper's eyes narrowed further. "And what am I supposed to think, Kaz? You're disappearing for hours, coming back smelling like cherries, and acting all shifty. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were up to something."

Kaz's mind raced, trying to find a plausible explanation that would satisfy Jesper's growing suspicion. "It's complicated, Jesper. Just trust me."

Jesper crossed his arms, not letting it go. "Complicated how? You're not giving me much to trust here. You owe me more than just 'stuff to do.'"

Kaz clenched his jaw, feeling the pressure of Jesper's scrutiny. "I'm handling things, okay? Personal things. It's nothing you need to worry about."

Jesper's eyes stayed locked on Kaz, clearly not convinced. "Personal things, huh? Well, I hope for your sake, and Inej's, that whatever you're doing is worth all this secrecy. Because if it blows up in your face, don't say I didn't warn you."

Kaz sighed, the weight of Jesper's suspicions adding to his already heavy burden. "Noted, Jesper. Noted."

Jesper watched him for a moment longer before shaking his head and walking away, leaving Kaz to his thoughts. The encounter left Kaz feeling even more unsettled, the realization that he was not only lying to himself but also to his closest friends gnawing at him. He needed to get a grip on his emotions and focus, before everything he was working for crumbled around him.

***

He didn't see her at the Crow Club on Friday night, and it made him restless. He had seen from her Instagram stories that she was heading out. Did he hope she would show up at his club? Maybe. Was he glaring at the entrance, waiting for her? Absolutely.

As he changed spots, he saw that she posted another story. It took all his strength to wait a few minutes before looking at it. She was tagging the Emerald Palace. The only things preventing Kaz from throwing his phone against the wall were the facts that he was in public and that his phone was already hanging on for dear life.

He decided to turn his phone off for the night, and probably for the next 24 hours. If anything in her stories suggested that Pekka Rollins was her client, he knew he would lose it completely. A drunk text begging her to come back would be nothing compared to what he might do.

As Kaz tried to focus on his work, his thoughts kept drifting back to y/n. He wondered if she thought about him at all during her time with other clients. He hated how possessive he felt, knowing that he was just one of many in her life. He couldn't stand the idea of her being with Pekka Rollins. The thought of her in his arms made his blood boil.

Kaz replayed their conversations in his mind, trying to understand his feelings. He knew he was doing this for Inej, to be able to touch her and be with her without fear. But every time he thought about y/n, it felt more complicated. He didn't want to admit it, but there was a part of him that enjoyed their time together, that looked forward to it. The intimacy they shared, even if it was paid for, was something he had never experienced before.

The next night, Kaz found himself distracted at the Crow Club again. He couldn't help but check his phone, even though he had promised himself he wouldn't. When he saw no new notifications from y/n, he felt a mix of relief and disappointment. He knew he shouldn't care so much, but he did. He needed to keep his emotions in check, for Inej's sake and for his own sanity.

He took a deep breath and tried to focus on the tasks at hand. There were deals to be made, plans to be executed. But even as he immersed himself in work, a part of him remained tethered to the thought of y/n, wondering what she was doing and if she thought about him at all.

***

Kaz and y/n were on her bed, as usual. She was wearing only a bra and panties, and he was trying to let his bare hands wander around her body. He managed to touch her arms comfortably enough, but any other place still made him flinch. They were talking about the latest episode of a show he had made her watch. Well, he had annoyed her so much that she finally gave in and started it. He had tried the same with Inej, but his girlfriend had dropped it after the pilot.

“Kaz, you’re tickling me,” she laughed, trying to squirm away.

“Oh, am I?” he teased, pushing his boundaries only for the sake of making her contort and laugh.

“Please, Kaz, I can’t breathe,” she kept trying to escape him, but apparently, his demons could stay at bay if it meant annoying her. Kaz kept tickling everywhere he could reach, pulling her back against him when she managed to get too far away.

“Safe word, safe word,” she screamed playfully, and he finally stopped. They were both shifting like fools, with Kaz almost pinning her in a corner between the wall and the bed. He was on his knees, his bad leg screaming at him, while she was on her back, half-seated, half-lying down. One of his hands was still on her hip. He squeezed it softly, as if trying to test his boundaries even more.

They were both catching their breaths, and Kaz did everything he could to keep his eyes on hers, without letting them wander over her exposed body.

“You can look if you want,” she said, as if reading his thoughts, batting her lashes and shifting position to lie down better.

“I don’t want to—”

“To what? Make me uncomfortable? I’m a whore, Kaz.”

He didn’t want to do it, but in the end, he was just a man. Kaz let his gaze study her curves, which until that day he had tried so desperately to ignore. He felt a strange mix of guilt and curiosity. His eyes traced the lines of her body, lingering on the soft rise and fall of her chest, the gentle curve of her waist. He couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull he felt towards her, and it unnerved him.

His thoughts raced. What was he doing here? Was this really just about getting comfortable with physical contact for Inej’s sake, or was there something more? He had always prided himself on his control, his ability to stay detached and focused. But here, with y/n, he felt that control slipping away. Was it the intimacy they shared, or was it simply the fact that she saw him, really saw him, in a way that no one else did?

As he continued to study her, he felt a pang of guilt. Inej was the one he loved, the one he was doing all of this for. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was betraying her somehow, even though there was nothing truly romantic between him and y/n. It was confusing, and Kaz hated feeling confused. He was used to having a plan, a clear path, and this situation was anything but clear.

Her allusive smile drew him back to the present. She seemed to sense his internal struggle, and instead of pushing him, she just lay there, allowing him to take his time. He appreciated that about her, the way she seemed to understand without needing an explanation.

His hand was still firmly on her waist, and y/n raised a foot, getting it close to his face. He chuckled, trying to grip her ankle, but she kept pulling away. After a few tries, his leg decided to give up, and a sharp pain made him hiss and lose his balance, falling on her.

Kaz could feel her breasts pressed against his chest. He became painfully aware of how much skin was touching him, and he silently thanked Ghezen that he was still clothed. y/n saw him pale. “Kaz, it’s okay. It’s just us.”

The word “us” made him feel worse than her skin. For a second, his gaze fell on her lips. What did “us” even mean in this context? They weren’t a couple, and yet there was an undeniable bond between them. Did that make him unfaithful? Or was this just part of the process, a necessary step on his journey to being with Inej in the way he wanted?

“Great kiss moment,” she assured him, uncertain if he was about to throw up or skip that step and die directly on her.

Surprising both of them, he leaned in, leaving a small kiss on her lips before raising himself up from her body. He sat back, his breathing uneven, and rubbed his aching leg absentmindedly.

She watched him carefully, her expression a mix of concern and curiosity. “Kaz, you’re making a lot of progress. You should be proud of yourself.”

He nodded, but the turmoil inside him was far from settled. The lines between his goals, his feelings for Inej, and his unexpected attachment to y/n were blurring, and he didn’t know how to navigate them. “Thanks,” he muttered, looking away.

Kaz hesitated for a moment, gathering his thoughts before speaking. "I wanted to ask you to try something, but I get it if you say no, it’s weird," he began.

"Tell me," she shrugged curiously, her gaze fixed on him.

Kaz exhaled deeply, bracing himself for the impending embarrassment. "With Inej, we never share a bed. I usually sleep on the couch when she’s at my place, and I wanted to—"

"Sleep with me?" she cut him off, her eyebrows raising slightly.

He nodded silently, watching her reaction closely.

y/n considered it for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "It’s a bit weird," she agreed after a pause, "but I’ve done weirder shit for sure."

"Are you sure you’d be okay with it?" Kaz asked cautiously.

"Yeah, say when," she replied casually, with a hint of a smile.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker fanfic #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker fluff #kaz brekker imagine

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 11 months ago

Text

Carpe Noctem 29

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, gaslighting, manipulation, violence, blood, other dark elements. Proceed with caution. (short!reader)

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

“I should go,” you get up as Cole comes back in the back office, “I’m so sorry about today–”

“Go? Where?” He asks as he stands in the door. “Back to that maniac?”

“Well, I…” you swallow and let out an exasperated sigh, “yeah, I have to–”

“You don’t have to,” he insists, “you shouldn’t. Someone that angry can be pretty dangerous.”

“I know, it’s just–” you have no argument, no excuse, just the truth, “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

“You don’t?” He wonders.

You shake your head and grab your jacket from the rack, “I’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s calmed down. I shouldn’t have lied–”

“But you did. For a reason. If that’s how he reacts… you never mentioned a boyfriend,” Cole shifts on his soles.

“Boyfriend?” You almost laugh, “no, not exactly.”

“It’s complicated, got it,” he nods, “well, you were wrong, you know?”

“About what?” You take your pure of a lower hook on the rack.

“That you don’t have anywhere to go. I’m just putting it out there,” he raises a hand to rub the stubble along his jaw, “if you need somewhere to stay, er, my parents’ could spare a guest room.”

“Oh, Cole, no, I couldn’t. That’s too much. I’d hate to impose on your family like that.”

“Uh, you definitely wouldn’t be. My mom would love to meet you,” he lets himself smile, “I brought home some of the extra treats and she loved them. She’s a baker too.”

“That’s— that’s sweet,” you shrug and look away, “I just don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

“I wouldn’t suggest it if it wasn’t,” he insists, “but I really don’t feel great about you going back to a man like that. I’m big enough to defend myself, but you…”

You know he’s right. This isn’t the first time you’ve seen Lloyd get violent and just like with Johnny, it’s only inevitable that it turns on you. You’re not exactly excited to go back to that house.

“All my stuff…” you begin, arguing with yourself as much as him.

“My ma has some stuff she can lend you for the night,” he offers, “as long as you don’t mind flannel. And I’m sure you could use a nice warm meal.”

“Cole,” you rub along your jaw evasively as you look away, “I just… I feel so bad about putting you out. Your parents too.”

“You’re not. You know, I think you surround yourself with the wrong people. The sort that make kindness seem like a debt to be paid back. You don’t owe me anything. I’m just being decent, like anyone should,” He turns his hands out. “But if you say no, I’m not letting you walk out of her without my phone number. And you have to promise to call me if anything goes bad.”

You frown and look at your feet. Lloyd could use the night to cool off just as much as you. You cross your arms then force them straight. He’s entirely right. You’re letting all those others people who bargain courtesy like currency colour your doubts. Why should you begrudge him the action of others when he’s only ever been nice?

“Did you ask your parents? I don’t want to be a surprise,” you chew your lip.

He smiles, “I texted ma but I’ll give a call before we go. Trust me, you’re more than welcome.”

☕

The drive is longer than you expect, but not. You should’ve figured that the farm would be out in the country. At the same time, you never factored in the time it must take Cole to commute each day. It whittles another ounce of appreciation out of you. He seems too kind for his own good.

That generosity sees you in his passenger seat. You left your car behind at the cafe to save you gas and the trouble of driving. You didn’t fight too hard. You want to be in one place and still.

He steers down a long dirt road and as the moon disappears behind a thicket of trees, the land turns desolate. Your chest sinks just a little but as the silver light breaks free again, you let out a breath of relief. Ahead you see the yellow windows of the farmhouse and dark colossus of the barn not far behind it.

Cole pulls up behind a big red truck and shifts into park. The motor cranks slightly before he turns it off. You can’t help but wonder how someone like him came to own a cafe in the city. Maybe after so long in the rural desert, the urban sprawl must be alluring chaotic.

He gets out first before you muster your strength. He comes around, startling you as he opens the door for you. You thank him, the gentlemanly gesture almost jarring. You’re so unused to kindness, it unsettles you. That should tell you something. It’s a ringing cry for change.

“Are you sure…” you begin the same question you’ve asked every five minutes for the last hour.

“Sure,” he interjects firmly, “really, ma always cooks too much and my sister’s off finding herself. Again. She’ll be happy to have you around.”

You nod and climb up the wide porch steps beside him. He pulls back the screen door and waves you in ahead of him. A fragrant aroma draws you in; roast beef and roasted veggies. The homey glow embraces you, welcoming you without a word.

“Here,” he tugs on the back of your jacket, “I’ll get this.”

He hangs his own coat as you undo yours and hand it over. He puts it over his own then beckons you on. Hesitantly, you follow his direction, walking down a walnut trimmed hallway to a dining room decorated in faded florals and pine.

“Ethan,” a woman calls through before she appears in the doorway across from you, a large dimpled glass dish in her hands, “oh! I thought you were your father– eee! This must be her.”

She rushes to the table and sets the steaming dish on a potholder. She still has her oven gloves as she sweeps around the room, “Beverly,” she introduces herself, pulling you into a hug, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Uh,” you gulp as she squeezes you, only releasing you as Cole clears his throat. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”

“Really?” She nearly squeals, keeping you at arm’s length, “he didn’t say you were so pretty.”

Your eyes round and you let out a nervous giggle. Cole groans under his breath and brushes his hand over his sandy hair. It’s kind of cute when your own parents were never so excited to see you.

“Thanks, that’s too sweet,” you smile, “erm, thanks for having me.”

“Oh, of course, of course,” she titters as she lets you go, “Cole always had a soft spot for those in need.” She turns to him and touches where his cheekbone is still red from his scuffle with Lloyd, “and look at him, my knight in shining armor. How many times do I have to tell you not to fight? You never were very good at it.”

“Ma,” he urges her away from him, “I’m fine.”

A ding chimes from the kitchen and she springs back, “oh, that’s the dumplings.”

She spins and hurries off, leaving you off balance. You slowly face Cole and put your hands on your hips, “so how much did you tell her?”

“As much as I know,” he rubs his neck sheepishly, “I’m sorry. I didn’t want her to freak out when she saw my face and– it wasn’t anything that makes you look bad.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about. I don’t want to be a charity case,” you cross your arms.

“Trust me, you’re far from it,” he assures you, “really. I want you here.”

You don’t know what to say. You don’t trust your own judgment. Whether he means it or not, it hardly matters. You’re just grateful to have a night away from it all. Some time might be just what Lloyd needs to grow some common sense.

#lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #cole turn #drabble #series #au #ghosted #the gray man #carpe noctem #the club

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frostironfudge · 6 months ago

Text

Labyrinth - Bucky Barnes - Epilogue

Summary: labyrinth (noun), a complicated set of paths and passages, through which it is difficult to find your way. Bucky and You would do anything for Steve and Wanda, your respective best friends. In an attempt to avoid a tradition Steve and Wanda come up with a lie involving their best friends. A lie, that involves building a labyrinth. Bucky and You begin to build but will you two find your way out or be caught in it?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader, (Modern AU)

Word Count: 7.3 k || Dividers: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: chapter contains 18+ moments, minors DNI, fluff, sm/ut, dir/ty talk, p in v, hot bucky, swearing, soft bucky, protective bucky, feels, family drama, bucky is a whole green forest, bucky is the cutest, animal adoption, feels, family issues, tox/ic family dynamics.

Main Masterlist || AO3 || Fic Masterlist ||

“Allow me to understand this,” The tone carries disappointment and anger in differing proportions.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek, for once his composure is not maintained. The nerves that wrap around him as if a python is going for the slow kill. He nods.

“You lied to all of us.” Yusuf Khan stares at his stellar employee. An employee he began to view as family after the night they all interacted.

Bucky wants to give a reason, explain it all but he chooses to say the one worded truth, “Yes.”

Yusuf contemplates, tapping on his desk, “And your fiancé?”

“She’s my girlfriend now.” He responds, eyes moving between the tapping digits of his boss and his own feet.

“Is it because you wanted to get in my good books?” Yusuf is on the brink of disappointment.

“No, it is a long story actually… Steve Rogers, my best friend–,”

“Steve Rogers the acquisition lawyer?”

“Yes, well about several months ago he proposed to his long time girlfriend and well, it um, it sounds really stupid to my own ears…” Bucky runs a hand over his jaw, moving up to tuck his stray strands of hair back into place.

“I’ve got time, sit.” Yusuf gestures to the chair.

Bucky takes a seat and begins to recount the events that began in the diner all those months ago.

“So it was an elaborate plan to get the two of you buttheads–,”

“Kamala.” Muneeba chastises her daughter.

“It wasn’t even a bad word!” The youngest Khan complained only to sigh at her mother’s stern expression.

“Yes, it was their elaborate plan to make us,”

‘Buttheads’ Kamala mouths and you nod, she grins.

“To make us realise and act upon our buried feelings over the unresolved miscommunication.” You explain, Bucky returns with your plate filled with appetisers.

“They played us.” He shakes his head, still not understanding how he did not catch onto the lies. You pat his knee to keep him from getting grumpy about it.

Though it was adorable when he started getting a little pout on his lips. You kept that little information to yourself.

“Thank you for allowing us back into your home.” Bucky adds, even though the remainder of the staff wasn’t there that night. Yusuf had requested Bucky and you to join the Khans for dinner.

Once they all heard what exactly was the history the two of you shared, the lie or as Muneeba put it, ‘The two of you got your chance to fall in love again.’

You liked that point of view.

Sharing a glance with Bucky observing as his shoulders did not have the slight droop which indicated his distress over telling the full truth. It made you happy he wasn’t dismissed or treated coldly as one of his co-worker had experienced.

The dinner passed by in a blur of laughter and happy memories. A part of you glad you had the experience and opportunity to interact with a family as warm as the Khans. Tayesha and you had taken an immediate liking to each other, talking much more in depth than the opportunity previously provided.

Dessert was fast approaching you had brought over cookies, the dinner invite came at the very last minute amongst the other orders you were fulfilling. Muneeba suggested making tea but Yusuf sweetly kissed the back of her palm, called her Jaan (life) and told her the men would do it.

Drawing a very reluctant Aamir away from a game of Monopoly Deal he was winning against his sister, much to her delight. Yusuf nodded towards Bucky to follow them into the kitchen.

“You know, the reason you are welcome back here is because of your honesty.” Yusuf explained as he brought out the containers of ingredients. Bucky watched as Aamir drew measurements based on feeling; a contrast to the meticulous way he had observed you measure.

“I didn’t want to keep it from you, it's just that day in front of everyone I got cornered and well…”

Yusuf nods, “You couldn’t damage control as much as you preferred and I put you in a tight spot.”

“Sort of and I didn’t want to disappoint you. It would be true had Sunshine and I—I mean had Y/N and I gotten together earlier.”

“Always refer to them by their nicknames; they love it.” Yusuf advises with a smile.

“And they love you more for it.” Aamir brings out the tea cups.

Bucky grins then, “I’ve always thought of her as Sunshine.”

“It shows how she brightens your life my dear boy.” Yusuf then says a word in Arabic, “We say it when we do not want the evil eye to befall on anything.”

“I see.” Bucky smiles, “Thank you, I didn’t think I’d find more people to consider family.”

Aamir grins at him, “The first time dad mentioned you, I knew you’d become his little protégé.”

Yusuf chuckles, “Well, you know I have a healthy gut.”

Aamir groans, “Not that joke again.” Exasperatedly running his palms down his face.

Bucky laughs, “Your gut is healthy so your feelings are all right?”

“Precisely.” Yusuf winks at him.

The tea is strained into the cups, Bucky holds the biscuit box and the cookie box as they re-enter. There are photo albums opened across the coffee table.

You’re sitting cross legged on the floor with Kamala as she shows you the Khan family through history. Bucky observes as you delicately trace your fingers over the photographs. When you look up at him, your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

He frowns, Muneeba distracts the two of you by asking about future plans.

It has been two weeks and you find yourself opening the chat with Bucky scrolling to the shared media page and staring at the picture with the Khans. All seven of you squished onto the couch. The camera set on a tripod, you leaning against Bucky because the two of you were balancing on the armrest.

The same as Tayesha and Aamir on the other side. You trace the picture yet again and shut the message thread. Your heart cautions you yet again from saving the picture, the permanence of family was not a privilege awarded to you.

Alpine brushes herself across your ankles. You pick her up and pepper her cute squish-able face with kisses. She chirps in happy approval till she has had her fill and then leaps out of your arms. Bucky emerges from his post workout shower, finding you in the kitchen absentmindedly stirring the saucepan.

“Are you going to tell me?” He broached the subject the very night of the dinner as the two of you drove back home.

You declined him then, put on a front that he saw right through but didn’t mention. He let you stew in your mind because you weren’t willing to see the hand he extended towards you. Into the void that was labelled ‘crappy family’ but you weren’t willing to be brought out.

Bucky has had enough of you drowning yourself in sadness. He can taste it on your lips. He can feel the cracks on you deepen when he holds you close. He’s had enough of you letting this eat at yourself.

“Soare, I’ve let you take your time with this but you’re falling into a deep pit and I do not know if I will be able to pull you out. So I’m willing to go down with you, so I can help you climb back out.” Bucky steps closer, shutting off the stove and turning you to face him, palm cupping your cheek. “Let me in, please.”

You meet the beautiful eyes that anchor you.

Concern and worry brimming in them as he looks into your eyes, knowing there is a sadness looming. Knowing he wants to protect you. You grab at his arms, blinking but the tears form. Your mind, body, heart and soul know he is your safe space.

He is your everything.

The one you can be authentically yourself and he will love you.

He still held onto you when he thought the worst of you.

You still held onto him when you thought the worst of him.

Bucky feels the same way about you, the love you share is unconditional. Allowing each other to grow individually and together.

“Sunshine, you gotta talk to me sweet girl,” He gnaws at his bottom lip watching you.

Your hands rest on his chest and the damned dam breaks. Your hands move around his neck pressing yourself to him and you begin to cry.

Bucky’s warmth surrounds you and he pulls you closer. Arm around your waist and the other holding your head, keeping you pressed to the crook of his neck.

Sobs wrack your body, he doesn’t hush you, the soft movements only encourage you and allow you to know that he is here. He is here for you and you should let it all out.

“My strong Sunshine, let it all out okay? We can fall apart in front of each other okay? Such a strong girl, my sweet Sunshine.” He whispers through your breakdown.

When your sobs turn to sniffles and he presses the cool water bottle into your palms, helps you drink it. Bucky wipes away the tear stains, kissing your entire face.

“You okay Sunshine? You wanna head to bed?” He questions and you shake your head with a sniffle.

“Take your time baby.” He encourages, rubbing his warm and loving palm along your back.

“It's just, I miss my family? Being around the Khans that night? Kamala showed me the pictures. I didn’t think I’d be sad for this long, I’m so sorry, I know you’re trying to help. I just thought I could handle this alone. That I’d get over it. I always have but, I, they accepted you back and me after we made mistakes and hurt them and, and Bucky that is what family does…. Why couldn’t mine do the same? Was I that bad? Am I that irredeemable?” You blurt out, gingerly taking more sips as he brings the bottle to your lips again.

“Sunshine, you haven’t committed any mistakes ever that are non forgive-able. Your family has treated you like crap. Basing your worth—making you think and believe that your worth is tied to a fucking douchebag? Just for their gain and access to the guy’s bank account by extension? God, I want to punch your brother so bad.” His hands brush away your tears,

“Look, baby, you can handle things alone, sometimes which is most of the time but you should not have to, I learned this pretty fucking late too. You have a support system in place. Wanda, Steve, their parents, Becca, my parents, and me. You can lean on us whenever you want, okay? We’ll catch you.” He nudges your jaw with his nose. It makes you smile.

Bucky’s heart eases as he watches your eyes light up after days of dark clouds.

“Pietro too…” You giggle at his responding growl.

“Look, it isn’t wrong to want your family on that list, okay? If you want to mend your relationship with them I’ll drive you over myself and stay with you. You want privacy? I’ll wear noise cancelling headphones and sit in the kitchen. You want Wanda there? Steve? Becca? Even fucking Pietro will turn up for you in support okay?” He makes you look up at him, “You say the word, my love, Soare mi, I’ll make whatever you want happen. If it is in my capacity of bringing to fruition, I’ll fucking bring down the sun to worship at your feet, Sunshine.” He promises.

You cup his cheeks, thumbs grazing over his stubble, “I love you so much. You all in my life, you’re enough okay?” Guilt eats at you for wanting more than what you have for being greedy.

“I know we are but there’s nothing wrong with wanting more.” Bucky says, reading your mind almost, “You think about it, but don’t let it make you turtle all the way down. I need my girl to shine.”

Your eyes mist again, kissing him before being tucked against the crook of his neck again.

A few more days later Bucky drives you across the city towards the neighbourhood where your family lived. The hand rest under your intertwined palms is warm in the sun belting down overhead. It’s an unseasonably hot day. Good enough to blame the sweat pooling at the nape of your neck upon it.

Ever so often Bucky raises your hand and kisses the back of it. You needed this, you wanted it and you were prepared in case things go south to leave them be in the past they wanted to remain in. Bucky was in correspondence with Steve and Wanda on a separate chat. The three ready to take over for you in case you needed to just be though they were rooting for a happier outcome. For your sake only.

Walking up the pathway of the house is bittersweet and nostalgic. The house is in good enough condition. Lawn mowed and kept in compliance with the HOA.

Your grip on Bucky’s arm tightens, “You’re the second man they will be meeting.” You try to lighten the conversation.

“Well they’ll know you got it right this time.” He chuckles, heart twisting as you laugh but the nerves begin to claw at you.

He wonders if he could shield you from this the way he shielded you from the cold. He wraps an arm around you. You’re tucked right against him. Your head rests right at the spot of his tattoo dedicated to you.

The doorbell rings.

There is shuffling and a bit of yelling. A common occurrence.

Your brother opens the door, his eyes move to Bucky and then to the arm at your hip. Then at you, “This your trade in for the rich fucker? This is—,”

“He is an upgrade from the cheater.” You cut him off, “Are mom and dad home? I wanted to talk as well as introduce James.” You look up at your man, Bucky squeezes your side in encouragement.

Your brother scowls and then pads inside, from the doorway you see him gesture to come into the hall. Your mom and dad sit on the couch. He takes the chair that leaves the smaller loveseat open for the two of you.

The five of you sit in silence for a few minutes, Bucky observing them and they observe Bucky. He watches as they take in the kind of clothes he wears, the brand of his watch already caught their eyes. He wonders if this is why you were worried that they would judge him.

Your eyes however are all over the old home you had. The wall with your heights marked. The smear of nail paint they could never get out from one of the walls. The ceiling that was the floor of your room.

“So,” Your dad begins, “This is?” He vaguely gestures towards Bucky.

“Wait a minute. You, you’re fucking married!” Your brother points to the wedding bands.

“Are you serious? Y/N, fuck I had hope you’d marry the rich dude. God, do you never think about the benefit of this family?”

“Do you ever let her speak or do you all always walk all over her?” Bucky seethes at the three of them.

“Who the hell are you? To talk to us in this manner.”

“James Barnes—,”

“That scholarship idiot who she was pining behind? So pathetic. Mom, remember I told you about finding her one day crying over him that weekend she came back?” Your brother says looking at your mom who looks at you with disappointment.

“Sweetie, don’t you think about us? Our needs?” Her tone may be soft but her words are fully inducing a guilt trip you do not deserve.

“Are you fucking—,” Bucky shuts up when you squeeze his thigh.

“I’m running my baking business now—,”

“There goes the money, do only I have to do the work around here?” Your brother groans.

“It’s doing well enough, I thought we could mend things after the horrible way I was treated.”

“You?” Your dad scoffs.

Your mom snorts, “If anything you got us into this mess and now you want to sell Betty Crocker with your name on it.”

Bucky can’t take this anymore, half a mind to chew them out, your squeezing hand keeps him quiet. He stays quiet for you. Anger ebbing into a simmer.

He knows where your brother worked. The boss is an old friend of Bucky’s dad.

Small world.

One little word and this man would be put on the midnight shift.

“As I was saying, I came here to mend things. Clearly you have no place in my present or future. Also you do not get to disrespect the man I love. So what if he had scholarships? That means he had more brain cells than you three combined to get a degree.” You stand.

Bucky stands with you, “I’m proud of him. I stand by him and he stands by me. He told me he would be there for me today so I wouldn’t have to endure the horrible crap you all say alone.”

“Boo hoo you weren’t abused.” Your mom waves off looking at you without an ounce of guilt.

“Abuse isn’t always physical. Neglect isn’t always physical. You all made me emotionally broken.“ You bite your cheek, you can’t cry.

You won’t cry.

“Finances aren’t ever the responsibility of a child. I went through it myself. It isn’t for us to grow the fuck up earlier than required because you as parents, failed miserably.” Bucky adds, squeezing your hand, “She did her best given she had to be an adult before she was required to be. When you,” he points to your mom and brother, “Were supposed to be adults. Not her all alone.”

“Exactly, you made me grow up and then treated me as if I was a tantrum throwing child. When you all were the childish ones.” You point at all of them, “I did my best. With what I had, I did my best.”

They all stare at you, baffled at you calling them out. They clearly weren’t ready to admit their faults. Nor were they prepared for civilised conversation. Your brother stares into his phone and then widens his eyes, “You drove Beck into a loss?” He asks Bucky.

Bucky rolls his eyes, “Is that all you people care—,”

“That means he got more than that cheater.” Your dad adds cutting him off.

You scoff, “Fucking rich.” You grab Bucky’s hand leading him towards the door.

He follows while glaring at all of them as they watch on and then sputter into action.

“He has an expensive car too,” Your brother groans,

“You couldn’t be respectful?” Your mom swats the back of his head.

Bucky shuts your door, before rounding the car to the driver’s side. He keeps the door ajar so you can catch the conversation, “Do not expect to get anything from her. I’m going to make sure you cannot touch a penny she has to her name.”

“We’ll claim as family once she’s married, she has nothing to her name but a failing business.” Your dad informs him walking with his walker to the driveway.

Bucky settles into the car, he gives you a once over. You watch a calm demeanour take over him and his next words are in a voice you recognise he uses at work, “You seem to be curious people. I’ll tell you what, come after her. No seriously come after her and see where you end up. This cute three bedroom is spacious right?”

The three of them nod, still thinking they have a shot at something better.

“Try and do anything remotely stress-inducing to my girl, even if it's a damn Christmas card. I’ll shove you three into a matchbox.” He rolls up the window and pulls out of the driveway. Exhaling loudly when the house is out of view.

You reach over, holding onto his hand, “Thank you.”

“You need not thank me, Sunshine.” He kisses your hand.

You’re too lost in your thoughts, the car stops and you blink. Bucky opens your door just as the door to Wanda and Steve’s home opens as well. The two stand at the door.

“Thought you’d need your family tonight.” He smiles as you look at him.

“We’ve got wine, take out, I’ve printed pictures of your brother to be a dart board.” Wanda pulls you into a hug, “Steve has the best thing though.”

“I’ve checked the law, multiple times. They really can’t come after you. You’re above eighteen. In the event you do want to protect future and current assets we can put them into a trust.” Steve says, “But we can discuss this later on in depth for now, how about a hug and I ordered your favourite take out. Also, Wanda’s lined up your comfort show.”

You look at all three of them, heart bursting at the seams for all the love they have to offer you. You open your arms, all three, engulf you in a group hug. Bucky and Steve laugh when Wanda grumbles about them being giants.

Months further pass.

A blur of date nights, date days.

A haze of falling even more in love with James Barnes.

The pink rivulet runs along his jaw, you lick your lips as his thumb prevents the further fall of the strawberry juice.

“You’re right, I should not eat these laying down.” Bucky chuckles, the sound of him sucking his thumb has your ears echoing your heartbeat. This man should be aware of what he does to you. You hope he does.

Reverting your gaze back to the book at hand, you try not to let your thoughts get side tracked. Bucky had planned this picnic date, his only request was your strawberry tarts and chocolate covered strawberries. Hence the devil incarnate side-tracking juice.

He sits up bemused looking down at you, you still remain laying, book open but the words are a blur.

“Hi, Sunshine.” Bucky greets, leaning over, lips brushing against your own.

“Hi Puffin.” You kiss him, he smiles against your lips, hand gently grasping the book from your hands. He pulls away slightly, finding the bookmark and placing it before shutting the book and returning to your lips.

The taste of chocolate and strawberry explodes upon your tongue. You cup his cheek, your left hand moves to his hair, undoing his bun is one of your favourite moments. A small laugh escapes between the two of you as his strands tickle your cheek.

Somewhere his phone alarm rings and you huff, he kisses your cheek, making you sit up, across his lap.

“Sunset’s about to start, and I brought you here for that.” He explains yet again.

“Well you knew you would get horny hence the cockblock alarm.” Nipping at his jaw, you laugh as his hands tickle at your sides.

“Pay attention to the view, Sunshine.” He chastises with a grin of his own.

“I am, Mr. Barnes. You are a delectable view.” You coo as he blushes at your words and rolls his eyes.

Shaking his head, he grabs your jaw to make you face the view. The colours begin to change, dusk creeping into daylight. Bucky had found this view after driving around for the better part of his shitty day years ago.

He stayed there, only heading down the hill to pick up food from a burger place nearby, returning to watch the sunset. At first it was a shitty day relieving place, slowly it turned into a weekly thing. Now, he’d brought you here.

“It’s beautiful.” The colours change to pink and orange, you’re tucked right against him. Bucky drapes his jacket over you. Chin resting on your head after placing a soft peck.

The two of you watch the sunset, his arms tighten around you. Your hands rest above his, “How did you come across this place? Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“You know, how Dr. Cho said we need to tell each other about how we processed ‘the event’?” He keeps his gaze on the darkening sky.

You swallow, nodding allowing him the space to speak.

“I found this place in the aftermath, at first it was mostly to escape crappy days. I was here often when the two of us interacted. You know, sort of snide comments, glares, and disdain.” He sighs, shoulders slumping, “Then I came here on a night I did something that made me question things. Ultimately I realised the thing I did was a happy one.”

The silence engulfs the two of you, the sounds of people packing their own picnics begins as night completely takes over. Solar lamps flicker on as pathway guides.

“What was it that you did?” You ask, playing with the ring on his finger.

Bucky says nothing, only smiles but you can’t see it.

The proof of what he did is framed in your home in the name of Jamesetta Barnette. He would tell you eventually. The perfect moment was already handpicked.

“Bucky?” You look up, he brushes his knuckles over your cheek.

“I’ll tell you soon enough.” He promises, resting his forehead against yours.

“It made you happy, that’s enough for me to be happy about as well.” Your eyes close, “I love you.”

“I love you, my Sunshine.”

The very bookstore café that Bucky and you frequent now houses your baked mini cakes and other dessert items. Your little logo plaque rests proudly above the display. A full six months went into this, you began pitching ideas to bookstore-café combinations a week after Steve and Wanda’s wedding.

Bucky made sure to help you with the numbers aspect of your presentation, making it simplified. Staying up late surrounded by leftover food hearing you pitch to him over and over. Not once did he belittle you for asking questions, not once did he make you feel inferior for not understanding the integral aspect of finances. You knew enough to get by and file your yearly taxes but not this meticulously, while keeping your business in a growth mindset.

Now seeing the signed contracts with a few cafés and especially the one where one of your risqué fantasies had come true really was the icing on the cake.

Bucky deems a celebration is in order and the book buying journey turns into you both finding yourselves in the secluded section yet again.

Only this time you’re the one tasting the dulce de leche off of his skin. The way he loses himself is sending you on a powertrip. His little whimpers and gasps, the groans that leave him.

You’re straddling him, his head thrown back just at the teasing of your lips. Shirt unbuttoned and showing his beautiful skin. Surrounded by books and the promise of him recreating one of the scenes that had you go very quiet and calm as you read it. You smile as the blush that dusts his cheeks as he had read the scene is the same way right now.

His pretty pink lips parted, large hands on your hips guiding you over his bulge. Sending shivers of pleasure thrumming through you in between your torture upon him.

“Sunshine,” His voice was hoarse, but you weren’t done. You smear another bit of the sweetness on his lips. Leaning down, the kiss is salvation and sin, heaven and hell.

“Fuck, baby,” He groans.

Bucky’s left hand moves, gripping the back of your head, his knees bent and you hold onto him as he shifts the two of you with ease on the carpeted floor.

You’re beneath him now. He grinds against you, swallowing your moan of his name. Your nails clawing at his back, pulling him closer.

“You know anyone could find us this way.” He teases, “You, fuck–, being a good girl for me, my pussy taking what she wants from me.”

You moan at his words, your satin shirt unbuttoned. Bra unhooked, discarded somewhere. Fingers carding through Bucky’s hair as his lips latch onto your nipple, sucking hard.

Your clit pulses demanding attention, he grinds down at the very moment sensing your need.

“Fuck, Bucky, God—,” Your fingers tug on his hair, he moans against your hardened peak. Your hips move against him, demanding more.

Bucky pulls away, his body covering yours, shielding you from prying eyes, he’s asked management to close off the section. He’d tell you afterwards he holds a stake in this store as an investment but not in the decision making. For now though you look so pretty and he can feel your arousal soaking the material of his pants and if he does not get even a little taste he thinks he might just die.

Dipping his head to capture your sweet lips, he pauses brushing them, your nails—leaving a delicious burn in their greed. He loves it, loves all the marks you leave upon him.

“Oh, oh fuck—what? Bucky? Y/N?! Holy shit!”

Bucky stares down at you confused, you feel your body heat up and then tense. Then ice coats your veins.

“Someone—,” You can’t complete your thought, Bucky’s hands are working at record speed, you now wear his henley. Your legs no longer wrapped around his waist but together and he pushes you behind him.

You peek up from Bucky’s shoulder at the intruder and find a red faced Steve Rogers standing at the end of the aisle while staring down at his shoes.

“Steve, what the fuck?” Bucky breaks the silence.

“I um, I came for the books and uh, I’m going to go now…” He scratches the back of his neck.

“What book?” Bucky looks at the aisle you both are, it begins at maternity books and ends on culinary books. Where the two of you are currently.

“Are those pregnancy books?” You narrow your eyes at the books in his hand.

“Uhm, yes the pregnant lady downstairs wanted another set of copies so I volunteered.” He explains with a cough.

“How far along was she?” Bucky tilts his head at his best friend.

“Um? I don’t know… Also I didn’t realise this was the way to get pregnant with a live demo aisle.”

“Wait a minute,” You look at the books again, then Steve and then recall the way Wanda had been the past two weeks.

You lunge your phone while Bucky struggles to keep you covered. Steve just turns his back towards you both but remains standing in the aisle.

Wanda: 911 call me asap

“Bucky!” You squeal, your man turns to you with eyes wide and confused.

“What?” He holds onto his hoodie, you narrow your eyes at him.

“You had your hoodie but gave me your henley?” You huff, typing back a response to Wanda.

“Is that… relevant to whatever is going on with Steve and I suppose Wanda?” He hands you your jeans, you let the topic slide away for another day.

“Can you both please get dressed?” Steve offers advice and plea.

“Now you know what the two of us have to deal with when Wan and you are at it.” Bucky rolls his eyes.

“Jerk.”

“Idiot.”

“Punk.”

“Stupid.”

“That's the only series of words you both say.” You comment.

“That's because your Bucky has all the stupid with him.”

Bucky snorts as he hands you your socks. Waiting for you to finish before he takes his clothes sans hoodie which you have conveniently stolen during his argument with his best friend.

Right from under his nose.

His heart somersaults nonetheless seeing his clothing on you. His dick however sends a very risqué image of you just in his unbuttoned shirt on top of him to his brain.

You raise a brow at him, he only licks his bottom lip. Blue eyes sparkling with an intent you know all too well.

He leans in, “Sunshine, I love fucking you and I fucking love you.” A sweet, innocent kiss is placed on your warm cheek before he puts on his shirt.

“Finally.” Steve sighs with relief when Bucky taps his shoulder.

“So?” Bucky claps Steve’s shoulder as you head to your respective cars.

“So?” Steve repeats.

“Man, if you don’t tell me.” Bucky glares at him.

“Okay fine you remember her dream?” Steve grins.

Wanda’s call comes through, you move away from the two giggling boys.

“Wan?” You hear silence on the other end. Then a sniffle, “Oh Wan, what is it?”

“I don’t think I can do this?” She manages to breathe out just as there is clattering.

“You’ve been preparing for this, so what if it seems daunting?” You offer, concern washing over you, “I’ll be over in a few we can talk then okay?”

Bucky lets you drive, following behind Steve.

Wanda is sprawled on the floor, instructions to make the crate covering her face.

“The adoption did go through, we’re picking him up tomorrow.” Steve informs.

“First of five?” Bucky grabs the misaligned crate parts.

“First of five.” Steve confirms.

You lay down near your best friend, the instruction sheet big enough that you too join in under it.

“Hi.” You whisper.

“Hi.” Wanda whispers back.

“We’re in the kitchen okay, babygirl?” Steve calls out.

“Let me know if you both need anything, Soare mi.” Bucky pats your knee as they head to the kitchen.

“I will, Draega mea.”

“Look at the blush.” Steve teases Bucky.

Wanda and you hear a swatting sound, it makes her chuckle finally. She looks over at you.

“I can do this right?”

“I have no doubt you’re going to be a great dog mom.” You smile at her, “Plus you bought that expensive baby stroller so of course my god-puppy is going to be spoiled rotten.”

Wanda laughs, she lets out a breath. Tears spring to her eyes, “I’m nervous.”

Your hand reaching for hers, hiding under the blanket or your textbooks was a common theme.

“What have I told you, I believe about nervousness?” You remind her.

“It means I care.” She answers, breathing out, the instruction sheet flutters.

“Exactly, and your puppy is going to love you, along with the other random animals you will end up making Steve adopt.” You chuckle.

“I saw a rat in the basement, he was so tiny.” She gushes and gestures with her free hand the size of the rat.

“What did you name it?” At this point you know she potentially adopted it already. Setting up non-hazardous traps for it.

“Rara or Bugsy.”

“Hey, Bugsy is reserved for the hamster you adopt.” You need to set your foot down on the matter.

“You’re right, probably Remy. Yeah that makes sense.”

You shake your head but decide to sit up, immediately your best friend hugs you.

Steve approaches the entryway, a smile on his face. Mouthing a thank you to you.

“Oh by the way Wan, I caught them fucking at the bookstore.” He says with a shit eating grin.

You glare at him, Wanda screeches.

“Tell. Me. Everything.” She grabs your shoulders, “Also, Stevie you owe me money. I told you one time we’d catch them there.”

“How about I turn the cash into a cute purse?” Her husband offers to a very willing Wanda.

“Ya’ll bet on us?” Bucky feigns betrayal.

“Oh please, as if you both didn't place some bets on us.” Wanda points her finger at him.

“You told them?” You ask Bucky.

“Steve wondered where I got the cash for buying rounds at the bar.” Bucky defends, a sweet smile taking over his features, the crinkles by his eyes showing. Your heart beats harder, reminding you of your feelings.

“Smitten kitten.” Wanda whispers as she had years ago.

You still swat her arm the same way.

“Bucky—,” Your quip is broken into a giggle. Strong arms encircle you. Bucky grabs onto the railing entrapping you against him.

He brings his face close to yours, blue eyes bright and a smile on his face.

“Sunshine.” He says happily, nose brushing against your own once, twice, several more times. You blush, heart roaring at the happiness you feel in this moment.

A clamour of ‘oohs’ distract the two of you. Then the silence envelopes the small crowd gathered.

Bucky gazes to the side, shifting slightly so you can see the view better.

The snow capped mountains of Switzerland being embraced by the sunrise. Slowly taking over, your head rests upon his chest. His cheek upon your head as you both watch the dawn of a new day.

“Beautiful.” You murmur, arms wrapping around him.

“Not as beautiful as you, Sunshine.” Bucky chuckles, “I know I’ve told you this at every sunrise we’ve seen but it's true.”

“All across Europe you’ve favoured me over the view.” You pull back to look up at him only to find him looking at you already, “That and the eskimo kisses.”

Bucky laughs, “Oh remind me to tell you about that when we get home, tomorrow.” He cups your cheek, pulling you in for a kiss. You melt against him, the past three weeks were one of the best.

After a year and a half of working hard to make the baking business take off. Bucky asked if you’d be willing to take a vacation. The business was better, you’d rented out a sort of studio space. Which could be versatile in its purpose on those weeks that you didn’t have many orders. Those days it was given to people looking for hosting their own classes or group sessions.

Bucky had done the math, your next goal was owning a space as this, doing the same thing but you’d own it. He projected an achievable timeline.

Progressing at his firm under the tutelage of Yusuf. Bucky himself was thriving in front of you. On some days you couldn’t believe you both were out of the labyrinth holding hands.

Alas, the trip had come to an end. The memories would live on. Carried in the little photo album of polaroids. Negatives of films ready to be developed and the digital photos tucked away in memory cards and back up ones.

Sleepily walking into the apartment, you were hoping to crash on the couch itself. The small clock read close to five a.m.

“Take a shower, you will feel better.” Bucky kisses your forehead.

You whine in response, “Sleepy.”

“Sunshine.” He uses the kind of stern tone you can’t fight against.

“Puffin.”

“Cmon, you knew I’d help beat jet lag.” Bucky leads you to his and now your shared room.

“Only because you have a fancy shower.” You grumble, allowing him to help you out of your coat.

He only laughs, placing a sweet kiss to your jaw.

“Join me?” You offer the most innocent expression on your face.

“Tempt me all you want Sunshine, I am not going to shower with you again, you’re my angel but your water temperature can rival hell.” Bucky kisses your nose, squeezing your ass just as you pull away.

Swatting his arm you head into the bathroom, “Don’t tell me later, ‘Can’t dick down Sunshine in the bathroom.’”

Bucky sputters the water he began drinking, “That was one time and Steve fed me weed brownies!”

“I had those too! I didn’t say Bucky is a wimp during warm showers!” You call out over the sound of the lovely said warm water.

“More like scalding.” He peeks into the bathroom, getting a good view of you.

“Did you not want to unpack the chocolates we bought?” You remind him, he smiles nodding and heading out.

After your shower you find your favourite hoodie from Bucky’s collection on the bed. You could cry because it was warm.

“Hey Sunshine, are you out yet?” Bucky calls out.

“Yeah, just a second.”

“I wanted to know is the hot chocolate supposed to go in the fridge?”

“You remember what happened to the Cocoa Powder of February don’t you?” You pause your stride to the kitchen.

Several paper hearts line the floor to the little balcony. A balloon floats tied to the handrail. You pad over, Bucky not in sight.

“Bucky?” You call out, pulling the balloon down, there isn’t anything written on it.

Warm arms encircle you, just as they did at every observation deck, during every sunrise. As if he planned it down to the minute, the sky breaks into colours of dawn, you turn to face him.

“Puffin?” You stare up at him.

Bucky leans in, eskimo kissing you. You smile as you always did when he showed his affection this way.

“One sunrise at home. More than a year ago, at sunset I proposed to you albeit it was a staged one. This one isn’t staged. I put something on our vision board. Maybe you hadn’t seen it.” His hands move to grasp yours, “Do you know puffins mate for life? They sort of peck their beaks to know their love.”

“Is that why you’ve been eskimo kissing me?” You wanted to cry.

He wipes your cheek with the back of his, your hands still intertwined.

“I haven’t even started the proposal yet.” He chuckles, but his own eyes are misty. Tears gathering. His cheeks turned pink.

“I got the chance to fall in love with you again. Maybe that is a blessing. To watch you grow and see you in different lights. Sunshine, I’ve seen you eclipsed, I’ve felt your warmth on cold mornings. I’ve dreamed of you when you aren’t near. I’ve dreamed of you when I have you in my arms. I’ve lost you. I’ve found you.” He pauses, taking a deep inhale.

“I’ve been the worst foe to you. I’ve had the honour to be your friend. I’ve had the honour to have your trust. You say I’m your home Sunshine but I’ve found my peace with you. I want you for the rest of my life. I’ve seen what an engagement to you is like, I want to know what marriage is with you.” He slowly gets down on one knee.

Tears flowing out of his beautiful blue eyes.

“Oh Bucky,” You blink the tears free.

“I know, I’m not perfect,” He begins, “I’m not either,” You remind him.

“But we, we fit right.” He smiles when you wipe the tears from his eyes.

“We do.” You agree.

“Sunshine, will you be mine, to have, to hold, to love, cherish, in sickness, in health, in life. Whatever may come our way, will you allow me to be your husband? Will you be my wife? I also promise to say ‘Where is my wife?’ just like those book boys of yours.” He chuckles.

“You’re way above them, I love you so much. I didn’t think I’d get to know what it is to be yours, once I had a taste. I didn’t think I could go back.” You kneel as well.

“Puffin, I’ve seen you grow and I want to grow with you, two trees in the same forest. Roots expanting, branches fanning out. Puffins mating for life. I didn’t think I could find happiness. Let alone find the happiness that I thought was lost between us. So yes, I will be yours, husband. To love, to cherish, in sickness, in health, in life. I love you more than my book boyfriends.”

“More than that one bodyguard book dude?” Bucky’s teasing you know it, you laugh and nod.

“Yes, even more than him.” Your forehead rests against his, Bucky slips something onto your finger.

“We had wedding bands but never an engagement ring, I knew you wouldn’t want those replaced. I had the ring designed to match the original band. So you could wear both.” He explains the beautiful piece of jewellery.

“I love you, husband.” You grin as Bucky blushes, a shyness he only showed in front of you takes over him.

“I love you, wife.” Bucky cups your cheek, drawing closer.

His lips meeting yours, the morning light shining bright around the two of you.

A.N: thank you for waiting, loving and reading this story, i find it very difficult to part with the worlds i create and labyrinth is so close to my heart so very close to my heart i will miss this fic so much im crying brb

tagging: @slutforsexyseabass @elle14-blog1 @sxnshinebxcky @sebsgirl71479 @pandaxnienke @stevesmewmew @tfandtws @povlvr @tanyaspartak@maggiejackson3@brodymarx @ladylee76 @buckyinluv @buckymcbuckbarnes @almostcontentcreator @alltoounwellread @unaxv @stickyjudgeturtleghost(strikedthrough if unable to be tagged)

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grapejuicebluesrry · 6 months ago

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28th may fic rec!

here are some fics i really enjoyed this month in no particular order!

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) (51K) by yrsacd

a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

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Help me (298K) by louxhazxx

Harry is innocent. Louis is not. Louis is a dom and a part of the BDSM community. Harry is not.

When Harry meets Louis and finds out about his lifestyle he wants him to teach him everything. Louis is hesitant at first, but what happens when he eventually agrees and they start a special kind of BDSM relationship without a contract? Will everything go well, or will there be complications?

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a crown of heartache (70K) by WordsInBloom28

The Royal Tail: an alpha den, a strip club, a place where secrets are concealed and consent is medicated. It’s also the place Harry has been trapped for the last three years.

Through luck or fate, Harry finds his way to Louis, a kind alpha who offers safety and comfort. After being freed from the confines of the den, Harry struggles to shake the darkness from his past.

He has a choice to make. Live in a mental prison of his own making or find the strength within himself to face his demons head on with Louis at his side.

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Could Be A Catastrophe (29K) by hazzahtomlinson | @itsnotreal

Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

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giving you all you want and more (giving you every piece of me) (2.5K) by lousdelicatepointofview (starryhaze) | @starryhaze28

“Wanna feel pretty.” Harry whispers, looking up at the ceiling. His face is painted in a soft yellow hue that’s coming from the fairy lights Louis has hung all over his loft. His features look soft, cherubic even.

He’s so young, so young and broken and Louis always patches him up but never fixes him.

“You are my love.” Louis replies his finger tracing over the right laurel tattoo. And Louis knows by the way Harry grimaces that he doesn’t believe him.

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Together unfold (71K) by marcythesassykitten | @marcythesassykitten

the one where Louis is determined to be insecure and stubbornly lonely forever, until Harry comes along to mess up that particular plan.

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Written In The Stars? (50K) by unscattered_horizons

Niall is a writer. Well, technically he's a bar tender who's working towards the day when he pays the bills with his poetry. But for now, he works late and writes in the afternoon before his shifts, and shares a flat with his friend, Shawn. They were strangers before they lived together, but now they're inseparable.

His other friends from uni don't live far, and Louis and H have a kid now. Niall's in no rush to follow in their footsteps. He's happy with his life.

But he has a side job writing horoscopes for an online magazine, because London is expensive and he needs the cash. Niall may not realise it, but some of the horoscopes reveal more about his heart than he's ready to acknowledge. Niall's side gig might prove to be a catalyst for an entirely new life, one he didn't even know he wanted until it was staring right back at him, waiting for him to take a chance and trust his instincts.

What I've been calling the horoscope fic. Inspired by a Tumblr post

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Maybe It's Heaven (81K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation

When Harry Styles finds himself forced to go home for Christmas, the last thing he expects is to fall in love.

But then he meets Louis Tomlinson … again.

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May You Enjoy Your New Life (264K) by aimmyarrowshigh

It begins for them all at the bungalow –

'Alright, time to lay out the cards. We’re in this together and hopefully, for the long haul, yeah? So I think – you know, we should just be honest. It’s deal-breakers time. That thing that like, if we’re gonna hate you or something, just tell us all now.'

When One Direction begins, Harry Styles is a sixteen-year-old boy foundering under the pressure of impending fatherhood. His ability to balance the sobering responsibility of caring for his tiny daughter, Millie, and the exhilaration of seeing his own dreams coming to fruition affects not only his future, but those of Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Louis, who never expected fealty to be the key to their success. But Liam is the first to show him how to grow up without growing old, and Zayn is the first to defend from the public what is private and precious. Louis -- Louis is the first for a lot of things; for most of the moments of Millie's life and for the moments of Harry's that matter. And Niall is the first to toast when Millie is born: Go maire sibh bhur saol nua -- 'may you enjoy your new life.'

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Allegiance to your burning heart (82K) by driveinbingo | @joekavaliers

“Have you written any more new songs?”

“I have, yeah. Lately they’re just…coming out of me.”

“Are there any more about me?”

He places a hand on the back of Louis’s neck, carding his fingers through the hair there. It’s getting long again, almost the length it was when Harry left. “They’re all about you.”

In the ten years since he last saw his ex-boyfriend, Harry has become very rich and very famous and everything's just great, thank you very much. He definitely doesn't even think about Louis anymore. And he's certainly not going to let a ghost from his past haunt him as he embarks on the biggest tour of his career.

Except Louis always did find a way to crawl underneath his skin, didn't he?

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Secrets in Winter (82K)by softfonds | @softfonds

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

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the very last drops of an ink pen (47K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

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Give Me Truths (110K) by iwillpaintasongforlou (The Rainbow Cookie series) | @canonlarry

the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

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I Like to Watch (9K) by larry_hiatus | @larry-hiatus

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

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If you made it this far, here are some stats and a cupcake!

I read 37 fics and a total of 1,657,404 words (yes thats a lot but i love reading and also a fast reader)

×͜× 🧁🌼

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry

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the7thcrow · 1 year ago

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Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 10

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

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Ten: a relic from the past, confession, and dark magic.

series rating: 16+

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

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

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

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 15.3k

extra chapter warnings: panic attack, a non-consensual kiss, non-consensual drug use (but magical? idk?).

chapter summary:

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

a/n: guess who’s back :3 sorry this took me a million years to write, hopefully i can be a bit more consistent in the next coming months. hope you enjoy, and don’t be shy to let me know what you think! love y’all, thanks to everyone who has not abandoned this story after this massive hiatus LMAO <3

Seonghwa has never believed anger to suit him.

While Woo wears his anger like a loaded cannon, and San - like most other things - buries it until it inevitably rises to the surface, Seonghwa has tried to avoid fury when he can.

After all, anger is often the replacement of a different emotion. It comes easier than understanding, quicker than resolution. It’s the nasty, winding short-cut off the high road, and Seonghwa has learned that the high road is almost always the safer path in the long term.

Anger is ugly. It’s nonsensical and he doesn’t like how it looks on him. It’s why he prefers the cold shoulder to blind rage, sorting out his feelings on his own rather than lashing out on others. It’s the kind thing to do. The empathetic thing to do.

It’s never been overly difficult for him to settle this rage until now.

It festers in his mind every morning, as well as in the night before he falls asleep. Everytime he accidentally catches your eye over breakfast, letting his gaze drift away in hopes that you will think that his eyes were trailing by rather than staring.

He is so unbelievably angry with you, and he hates it.

From the moment the truth was revealed in the forest, it’s as if someone wrapped a hand around his lungs and began to squeeze, then never let go. A hot, burning fire in his chest that’s smoke rises up his throat, choking him with rage. It stings his eyes, fogs his senses. It feels unbeatable, indestructible. Blinding.

He knows that anger is just an emotion. A bad one, one that he’s had to expel from others countless times before. From San, after The Desert Lotus. It’s just another entity, another plague on the body. Settle down, feel it, think better of it, then let it be gone.

And yet now that feels an impossible task. Seonghwa doesn’t know the last time he was so angry. Perhaps it was the night in the kitchen with his mother, learning of the heights of human greed, the one he relives every time he uses his gift to expel the anger from someone else.

He supposes this memory may replace that one.

When he found out the truth about you it was like the last few weeks came crashing down around him. The closeness, the trust and understanding, the mutual respect and admiration.

All lies. All of it. And he feels like such a fucking idiot.

There was no trust, and by the gods, there was certainly no respect. He was a mere pawn in your game, a part of the plan, and all he can do is beat himself up about being too naive to not see it earlier. Woo has always harped on him for being too nice to people, or as the elemental would put it, “not behaving like an actual person, but more like a rock on a walkway that people like to kick around”. Seonghwa thought that Woo was just being grouchy, the pessimist he always is. But hell, maybe he was right.

After all, Seonghwa should have seen it coming. There was so much he could have done. If he had questioned why a beautiful stranger would have so much immediate interest in him in the first place, or why you constantly asked him questions while dismissing any deeper ones about yourself. If he wasn’t so passive about the parasitic emotions practically radiating off of you. If he looked past the ideal he so desperately wanted and dared to dig up the reality of what was underneath.

He’s not an idiot. The reality is that for you, it was never about him. It was about getting to Kuroku. For him it was about the journey, but for you it was always in the name of the destination.

And well, he certainly did his part in getting you there. He shared his gift with you as a token of trust, he took your pain away and made it his own, he vouched for you against Woo’s constant doubt.

All for a girl who’s name he didn’t even know.

The thought makes more anger - ugly, volatile, and oh-so-unflattering - surge within his chest, and he throws a rock into the lake before him. It doesn’t skip as he intended, and instead sinks with a loud plunk.

Seonghwa frowns. He grabs another rock to throw.

After being met with an even louder plunk, he groans, before creeping further up onto the shoreline to grab a flatter rock. His toes dip in the water, which feels colder than yesterday now that he’s no longer fueled by sheer terror and adrenaline.

The coolness brings him back to Maralya, when he and Yunho would sit on the fishing dock. Feet in the water, even though Seonghwa was older, Yunho was the one who had taught him to skip rocks. His half-brother always had a knack for things like that, or well, for everything it seemed. From medical skills, to scaling buildings, to setting a fishing line; Yunho could master whatever he picked up. He must have inherited it from his father, a man Seonghwa doesn’t really remember, as he died when they were young.

Seonghwa doesn’t remember his own father either, as he disappeared on an escapade to The Mainland directly after he was born. His mother told him that his ship was lost at sea, but Seonghwa is pretty sure he just left and never came back.

It doesn’t really matter, he’s never had much of a desire to know the man. After all, the only thing Seonghwa inherited from him was his foolishness. And maybe his nose.

Seonghwa sighs. Picking up another rock, this one flat and polished, he recalls the steps in his mind. Yunho's voice runs through his head as he goes through the form, before bringing his hand back and letting it fly.

Plunk.

He stares at the ripples surrounding the sinking stone for a moment, before sitting down. He must have forgotten a step. It was a long time ago.

He lays back so that his head presses into the sand, the little grains cold and damp against his scalp. It’s familiar. It’s a little like the shore at home, although the sand isn’t as white, and the water’s colder, nor as blue. There’s no sound of hustle and bustle from back in the village, or his mother yelling at him to take a dip in the ocean before coming back inside because he’s covered in sand and he can’t track that into the house.

So maybe it’s not so similar, but he will pretend.

Seonghwa sighs, grabbing a handful of sand, letting it fall between his fingers. It’s times like these, ones where he’s dejected, broken-down, and lonely, that he wants nothing more than to go home. Only then does he remember that there’s no home for him to return to.

He sighs, his anger drifting to sadness, and yet he doesn’t mind. He believes that at the very least, it suits him better.

Footsteps approach from far off behind him, and he knows that it’s you. Woo walks faster, heavier footed, and he likely wouldn’t have heard San until he was closer. Besides, you’ve been walking with a slight limp since the fall, and he can hear it in the thump of every second step.

A part of him wants to ask what happened, what hurts. If you’re okay.

The angry part of him won’t let the other speak.

He hears your steps stutter, coming to a sudden halt from what he assumes is about a dozen feet off. Silence follows, and he wonders what you’re thinking. If you’re nervous to approach him, taking the time to contemplate your words before you say them.

Eventually, you do come closer. “San and Woo want to head towards Bebbanburg,” you call out from behind him. “I said that I’d come get you.”

“Thanks,” Seonghwa says flatly, making no motion to move. He will, of course, but not until you head back to camp. He’d like to avoid the awkwardness of walking in a strained silence, pretending not to notice as you try to meet his eye.

Although when he doesn’t hear you leave, it seems as if he doesn’t have much of a choice.

Sighing, he pushes himself up into a seated position. Glancing back at you, he has to place a hand over his forehead to block out the rising sun blinding his vision.

You stand with your arms wrapped around yourself, watching him with a dampened expression. Your tunic billows in the wind, torn around the waist and covered in dirt and dust. Chewing on your bottom lip as your fingers tap along your arm, you appear on edge. As if you wish to say something.

Seonghwa hates the way he wishes to know what it is. He hates how he wants to smooth your hair that is violently blown by the wind and wipe away the smudge of mud that has hardened against your cheek.

He hates how even now, after everything, he yearns for you.

Perhaps this is how it always would have ended, anyway. Having grown more attached then he ever should, not ready to lose what he knew was never his.

“Seonghwa,” you say finally, although it’s a little strained. Rigid. “About yesterday, by the fire.”

Ah yes, that. You and San hadn’t noticed him at the time, but when neither he or Woo came back to the fire, the two of you went out looking for them. It only took a moment, finding them sitting against the caves outer wall. Quiet and avoidant. Woo had fallen asleep, but Seonghwa had met your gaze. He held it for only a moment, watching your own eyes widen as you realized he’d seen the whole thing. He looked away when your lips parted to speak.

“With San. I hadn’t expected it to happen,” you say, calling loudly over the wind, and yet somehow your voice still seems quiet. Trapped and tight. “I… I don’t regret it. But after everything, it feels unfair to you-”

“I don’t care about you and San,” Seonghwa butts in. Not aggressively, or overly angry, merely factual. After all, that’s not what he’s angry about. He doesn’t care about you and San. That’s your business.

He wants San to be happy. Whatever it takes, the swordsman deserves a bit of peace.

Besides, now that he will not, perhaps San will wipe the mud from your cheek.

“Oh,” you say, followed by a pause. “You just seem upset.”

“I’m not angry about that,” Seonghwa replies, lips pursing together. He swallows hard. “Just about everything you did before it.”

Your expression falls. Mouth dropping open into a small part, your eyes fill with a sudden sense of shame and hurt. Your hands grip your elbows, hugging yourself tighter, even if only slightly.

Your expression settles like stone in his gut, and he knows that what he said has made you hurt. He has made you feel that same pain that tightens in his chest and floods up his throat.

Seonghwa wishes he hadn’t said that.

No matter his anger, no matter the pain, Seonghwa has never wished to pass an entity on to another.

“I’ll meet you back at the cave in a moment,” he says, because he doesn’t want to say anything else that he’ll regret. He doesn’t want to force his gaze from yours while at the same time feeling a pull towards you like a beacon, begging him to take it away. Take it all away. All the horrible entities that radiate from you like a plague, a blackened sickness.

Turning back towards the lake, he waits. When he hears the sound of your footsteps - fading away, not growing louder - he lets out a sigh of relief.

He doesn’t like what this has made him into. The anger that has filled him, strangles him, stops him from drifting towards you like a moth to a flame. Sure to be burned, but the glow will be glorious.

No, anger doesn’t suit him. And yet he wears it, draping over him, akin to a stranger’s jacket.

If there is any luck to be found following your fall from the cliff, it’s in that at least you’ve found yourselves closer to Bebbanburg.

The journey to the small kingdom only took a few hours, the fact that you had nothing to carry but the clothes on your back having sped up the trek. It was spent in silence.

You know there’s certain to be some of the black-clad men poking around in such a populous city, so upon reaching the kingdom, the first order of business was to purchase you a cloak, as Mingi’s own had remained within a satchel on the horse’s back.

It weighs down on your shoulders, knowing that it’s gone, the final piece of him you had left. You’ve tried to view it as for the better, as the cloak of a Libaiyan Royal Guard could have attracted the attention of the wrong pair of eyes.

Even so, it hurts.

The cloak you wear now isn’t nearly as nice, a tattered brown fabric that’s itchy in the spots where it touches your bare skin, but it only cost a few bronze pieces. Considering that all the group of you have to your name is the pouch of coins attached to San’s waste, you have to know where to ration your spendings.

This is only on the necessities. San is trying to locate a cheap blacksmith to fashion him a new sword. Meanwhile, Woo and Seonghwa are searching if there’s anywhere for your group to stay that doesn’t cost an arm and a leg. Bebbanburg is an expensive kingdom, and so long as you find a place with a roof and walls that doesn’t blow through all of your savings, you’ll consider yourselves lucky.

With all the men on their own errands and a new cloak purchased, you’ve had about an hour to kill before now, as you currently make your way to meet them back at the city center. You’ve spent it wandering, peering into shop windows but never making your way inside. You don’t have the money to spend, nor do you want the undivided attention of a shop-keeper when you’re trying to lay low.

You’ve passed a few of your wanted posters strown up about the town, plastered to bulletin boards, poles, and shop windows alike. On top of being newly adorned with a far more accurate portrait of yourself, they’ve also added the detail of your recent scars. Printed along the bottom is the following: “Last spotted travelling with three young men. Potentially dangerous. Approach with caution.”

As an incentive due to what you assume is the elevated danger risk, they’ve increased the reward for your capture or demise to 300,000 gold pieces.

Apparently, someone at the tavern ratted the group of you out. Likely Yeosang and his band of not-so-merry men, or perhaps the poor shop-keeper desperate for a bribe.

Either way, someone is on your tail. Considering the new addition to the posters, that someone is in this city.

You haven’t seen them yet, but you know that it’s the black-clad men. They have to be lurking around here somewhere, they’re just being quiet about it.

You swallow hard, pulling the hood of your cloak further down.

Fortunately, the street’s are bustling with people. Bebbanburg, while not quite as big as the four major kingdoms, is still a hub for tourism. With money to spend, the streets are clean, the buildings well-kept. Despite being a narrow path in the merchant’s district in town, the air smells fresh.

It doesn’t feel quite right, in your opinion. Between the few towns you’ve visited these past few weeks, there was a certain scent to the air that felt more…natural. A strange concoction of smells as different taverns and homes didn’t agree on a pre-set menu for the night, dirt and pebbles aligning the trails as hunters dragged home their latest catch, or the muddy hoof-prints left by horses that stick to the bottoms of your shoes.

Bebbanburg feels too polished. The sort of polished that takes an effort, that works extra hard to rid itself of anything it deems unclean.

Trying not to obsess too much over the fact, you do your best to retrace your steps in order to return to the city center, taking a turn down another street. A slight limp to your step, ankle still not having fully recovered from your fall off the cliff, you count the shop doors that you pass along the alley’s stone wall. You kept count on your way here in order to know which alley to take back.

Counting down the doors, you pass by a butcher’s shop, cafe, and Zarian boutique for rare gems, all of which you’d passed along the way here. Gaze fluttering passively over the alley next to the boutique, you nearly miss the pair of eyes that lock on your own. Cat-like gaze fixated on yours, the bottom half of the figure's face is covered by a black cloth, their head shrouded in a dark cloak.

You pause. Hesitant, you retrace your last few steps, peering back down the alley.

The figure’s cloak follows behind them as they disappear behind a winding turn.

Swallowing down the bile that arises in your throat as an unsettled chill creeps down your spine, you keep moving along your original route. It was just a stranger. You’re paranoid, on edge, searching to find shadows and enemies in places in which they are not there.

Nevermind how something about the stranger's gaze felt oddly…familiar. Although you cannot place from where.

You continue along your original path, turning down the alley that will take you back to the city center. Glancing over your shoulder, you see nobody behind you, just the bustle of people continuing their way down the mainstreet. You mentally scold yourself. You’re being ridiculous, and casting lingering glances as you loiter in one place for too long is only going to attract attention.

When you turn forward, you catch a glimpse of movement, as something disappears behind a wall up ahead of you. “Shit,” you think to yourself, rushing forward as you place your back against the stone wall, peeking an eye out to see if you can spot them.

All you can manage is the tail end of the dark cloak disappearing down another alleyway. You wait a moment, as if contemplating how daring - or foolish - you’re willing to be, before heading after them.

“This is a bad idea,” you whisper to yourself, hand drifting to the hilt of the sword at your waist as you follow after the mysterious figure. However, even if unwise, you’d rather know your enemy and have them right in front of you compared to being stalked like prey. You’ll get slain in a fair fight any day before getting your throat slit from behind.

It’s a morbid thought, something San would likely say during combat practice, and you wonder if you’ve been spending too much time with these men.

Following the stranger, you keep quiet on your feet. Pulling the sword out from its sheath, you tread carefully, slowing your pace as you near the corner that the cloak had disappeared behind. Holding the sword firm in your grasp, you take a deep and shaky breath, before jumping to face your attacker.

Only to find there is nobody there, just another barren alleyway. Another alleyway that leads to nothing but a dead end, a stone wall looming tall before you.

You frown, confused at how this is possible. Your gaze darts around the narrow alleyway, searching for a cloaked figure, but it remains entirely empty.

Letting out a troubled sigh, you resheath your sword and turn back around.

Only to be met face first with the masked stranger.

Your breath dies in your throat, and you instinctively pull an arm back, aiming to strike them. However, as you swing forward, they narrowly dodge your strike, managing to grab your wrist instead. They twist it, not so hard as to dislodge anything, but enough that it disarms you. Then, using their free hand to push you backwards, they press you up against the stone wall. Elbow against your chest and hand gripping your upper arm, their spare hand grips tightly around your other wrist, rending you immobile.

Your chest heaves, not from tiredness but scheer panic. They’ve got you. Your gaze flickers up, to scan the face of your assailant. The person that will turn you in to the black-clad men, or is perhaps one themself.

The strangers' dark eyes meet yours from beneath their thick cloak, black orbs dancing as they move to scan over your face. Cat-like in their shape, with thick eye-lashes and brows.

Then the stranger laughs.

It’s not a menacing laugh, nor one you would expect from someone who is about to kill you. Instead it’s joyous, almost disbelieving.

“It is you!” The stranger exclaims, their voice light and feminine.

Feminine and familiar. You narrow your eyes.

“Do I…” You start, swallowing down the bile that has arisen in your throat, as well as the tremble of fear in your voice. “Do I know you?”

The stranger’s eyebrows furrow together into a look of confusion, before lighting up in realization. “Oh!” They say, before doing the last thing you would have ever expected of removing their hands from you entirely. “Of course!”

The stranger pulls off the hood of their cloak, revealing a head of long, thick red hair. They follow the removal of their hood by doing the same with their mask, and with it, you are hit with a wave of not only relief, but scheer and unadulterated joy.

“Yeji!” You nearly shout, pulling your back from the wall and wrapping your arms around your old laundress.

She chuckles, and then you are both laughing. In happiness, in relief, in sheer and utter disbelief. You pull away, placing both of your hands along her jaw to cup her face. You scan every detail, to ensure that she is real and actually standing before you, not some sort of trick or illusion.

But is her, just as you had seen her last at the castle. Maybe not exactly the same, wearing far different clothes than the modest beige dress she had adorned as your laundress, hair worn loosely, and eyes holding more of an edge than they ever had before.

Still, it is Yeji.

Yeji with the shimmering grin and freckle on her nose. Yeji who you know, and knows you in return. Yeji from your castle. Your home.

Yeji, a relic from the past that has not been destroyed.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack, following me around like that,” you laugh, taking one of your hands and giving her a slap on the shoulder, playful and not hard enough to actually hurt.

“Sorry,” she grins. “I didn’t want to attract any attention on the street. Figured it would be safer to lure you somewhere quiet, and you know, I also wanted to make sure it was actually you first.”

She then scoffs, returning the slap onto your own shoulder. “I didn’t expect you to pull out a sword on me! Where did you even get one of those?”

You consider answering, but a heavy cloud of unanswered questions hangs over the two of you, its presence loud and rattling like thunder. The jovial nature to your reunion cannot last long, not when there’s so much at stake, not when your world has crumbled to ash since you last spoke.

“What are you doing in Bebbanburg?” You ask, before realizing there’s a far more pressing question at hand. “How did you get out of the castle?”

Yeji smiles, placing her hand over one of your own along her cheek. “After what happened with the king in the ball-room, it was chaos,” she explains. “The Dark Army were rounding up and capturing all those who worked in the castle and may have been close to you.”

Your heart seizes at the statement, and your voice is quiet as you speak again. “Did they hurt them?”

“I don’t know,” Yeji replies, tone equally as somber. “A group of us laundresses escaped together using the underground tunnel system. I didn’t see what happened to those they had rounded up, but…”

She swallows hard, eyes pitiful as they meet your own. “But with how The Dark Army were talking, and the screams that followed behind us…I don’t think it would have ended well for them, Princess.”

Your throat swells at her admission, and it becomes more difficult to breathe as your eyes fill with the remnants of tears. Your mind is flooded with the unwelcome image of all of your old servants - your friends, as they had far surpassed their job description - tortured to try and probe them for information regarding you.

You wipe at your eyes with your hands, stuffing down the rising guilt and pain, placing a lid on these horrible thoughts. You will mourn later, when you have the time to properly grieve and honour all that they have lost because of you. For now, you must keep moving, deal with what is right in front of you.

“You keep calling them The Dark Army,” you begin, changing the subject. “Is that a made up title, or something they’ve defined themselves as? Do we know who they are?”

Yeji shakes her head. “Nobody knows who they are, it’s just what we’ve been calling them because of their armour. Not to mention the fact that they are about the sourest men I’ve ever met.”

“You’ve spoken to them?” You ask, scolding yourself for the fear that seizes in your chest at the thought of it. Of them being anywhere near her, or anyone you care about, for that matter.

She nods. “They’re poking around the city. Trying to keep a low profile, because Bebbanburg doesn’t like any semblance of war or conflict contaminating their streets, but they’re here. We try to keep to ourselves by not causing any trouble or disturbances and they mostly leave us alone.”

Your head buzzes at the confirmation that they are here, within the walls and perhaps a mere alley-way over, which is far, far too close.

“You keep saying we,” you note. “There’s more of you?”

Yeji nods, a soft smile grazing her lips. “Lot’s of us. We’ve set up a refugee camp on the outskirts of the city. Bebbanburg doesn’t want us here, because of course they don’t, but at least it’s safe. Not much crime or Anti-Libaiyan extremists in the city, so even if it’s not much, it’s all that we can really ask for.”

If she had told you this a couple weeks ago, you’d have been startled to know that there were Anti-Libaiyan extremists at all. However, having been given insight into the monstrosities your father was capable of, this no longer comes as a surprise, but rather expected.

“Can you take me to them?” You ask, and Yeji nods.

“Of course,” she says, grabbing your hand as she begins to walk back up the alley-way. “Although, I’d recommend keeping a low-profile, seeing that you're alive might cause a little too much excitement. Draw attention.”

You nod in agreement, following behind her through the winding alley-ways. It’s not until you’re almost back on the main city street that you remember why exactly you were trekking through the alleyways in the first place.

“Wait,” you say, stopping. Yeji turns to face you, raising a quizzical eyebrow. “There’s some people I need you to meet first.”

“Where have you been?” Woo asks as you approach. The three men have gathered around the fountain within the center of the city square, water spouting from the tall and golden statue into a small pond embedded with various coloured jewels along its rim. The falling water casts a veil of mist around them, as well as the various other groups gathered beside it. Many of them are tourists from different kingdoms, which you can recognize by the various types of clothing they wear, such as the vibrant coloured patchwork of the group next to you that is distinctly Zarian. It seems a prime spot to talk, the definition of hiding in plain sight.

“You were supposed to meet us here a half-hour ago,” Woo says with a scowl, before he notices Yeji beside you. His gaze flickers up and down, as if assessing her potential danger. “Who is this?”

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself, before motioning to her. “You guys, this is Yeji.”

She gives them a smile to which none of the men return, and for a moment you stand in silence.

“We’ve heard that one before,” Woo says.

Your face warms with embarrassment, and you clear your throat before beginning to explain. “This is the real Yeji, the girl whose name I used. She was one of my laundresses back at the castle, as well as a close friend.”

Another moment of silence follows, as none of the men appear to know what to say, or how to approach the appearance of a stranger.

Eventually, Seonghwa speaks, tone polite. “It’s nice to meet you,” he says, to which Yeji returns the sentiment. Although he isn’t looking at you to see it, you cast Seonghwa a grateful smile all the same.

“This is Seonghwa, San, and Woo,” you say, pointing to each of them in turn. “They have been helping me get to Kuroku.”

“Thank you for aiding Her Highness,” Yeji says, placing a hand on her chest while delivering a curtsy. A sign of respect. Although…exceedingly formal respect.

San’s lips pull together into a stifled smile, and Woo raises an eyebrow.

“You, um, don’t have to do that,” you say, placing a hand on Yeji’s shoulder and gently tugging her upwards. “It’s not really like that.”

“Oh,” she says, straightening herself as her eyebrows raise in surprise. There’s a silence that follows, as well as a sense of discomfort that hangs in the air, as Yeji chews nervously on her lower lip.

And for all the love that you have for her, you know exactly what she’s thinking, as it’s been drilled into her since the moment she began to work at the castle: The demands of Libaiyan proprietary.

She ponders that if the relationship with this group of men escorting you is not formal, then what is it, and how far have you stretched the rules of etiquette that bind you?

You wouldn’t even know how to answer that question even if she asked.

Instead of dwelling on the subject and the lingering discomfort, you turn to Woo and Seonghwa. “Did the two of you find a place for us to stay the night?”

Woo scoffs in annoyance while Seonghwa shakes his head, defeated.

“Not anywhere reasonable,” Seonghwa says. “There’s a few places we can go if nightfall comes, but we honestly might be better off sleeping in the woods. It should be a clear night, and at least it won’t cost us an arm and a leg.”

You frown, not fond of the idea of spending yet another night on the ground, especially without a tarp or blanket to shield you from the elements.

Fortunately, Yeji pipes up from beside you. “If you’re looking for a place to stay, we’ve formed a refuge on the outskirts of the city. I believe we have an extra tent to spare.”

Now this finally causes the men’s expression to shift, the discomfort and wariness on each of their faces replaced with a glimpse of relief.

“Alright,” San says, gaze shifting over to you even as he speaks to Yeji, and his expression is difficult to read. He appears almost bemused. “Lead the way.”

The refuge, while about as bleak as you expected it to be, fills you with an undeniable sense of glee. Mostly due to how big it is, meaning that even if the mass size of the refuge indicates that there have been hundreds driven from the Libaiyan kingdom, there are also far more people who survived and escaped the castle than you’d originally thought.

Gathered just outside of Bebbanburg’s walls, dozens of the beige and tattered fabric tents are clumped together, creating a sort of maze as people make their way between the narrow passages. Head shrouded beneath your hood, the five of you pass through the different camps, ducking beneath laundry lines hanging between tent poles and maneuvering through the small groups gathered around make-shift fire pits as they roast small rodents and birds for dinner.

You watch their faces, searching amidst them for anger, for loss and resentment. While some are quiet, dark circles of tiredness hanging beneath their eyes, others are not so beaten down. There is the sound of laughter in the air, and a group of children nearly bump into you as they recklessly chase each other through the labyrinth of tents.

You smile. All is not lost.

You’d been so focused on your own survival, of getting to Kuroku alive and fighting to give your kingdom a chance, that you hadn’t realized the fear you had of there being no kingdom to fight for. Of not only the castle being besieged, but the entire kingdom being left in ashes.

Yet, even if this is so, there are still Libaiyans left. There is still a nation, full of life, that will not let themselves be stripped of their pride so easily.

“This way,” Yeji says softly, trying not to draw too much attention to your party. A group of girls wave to her as you pass by, and you recognize some of them as your kitchen maids, although you were never close enough to have learned their names.

The women are seated around a small fire. With the setting sun, they gather closed together, a blanket stretched over them. Or, upon closer look, a Libaiyan flag, its golden sun bright against its stark white background.

There is a man playing the lute sitting beside them. He has light eyes and a soft voice, fingers dancing as he strums the small wooden instrument in tune with his voice.

The man sings a Libaiyan folk song, one about a man arriving home to a small Libaiyan village after fighting many long years at war. The song doesn’t make clear which war exactly, centuries old and deriving from a time of high conflict, but it doesn’t really matter.

After all, the song is less about the war, and more about coming home. The ghosts of his fallen comrades following him, cane in hand to support his leg that will never heal, and his love having left the village to marry another man from the kingdom city.

The song is normally sung in a minor chord. It’s sad and melancholic, painting a tale of loss and grief.

However, the man currently singing has changed its tune to a major chord.

A message of triumph. Of defiance. Of the man’s survival, even after all else is lost and destroyed.

A song of hope.

You want to join them. To listen to this man sing your nation's song, to let his tune of triumph fill not only the air, but your entire body. Your heart, even your soul. Reignite the reason you started this journey, why you couldn’t give up.

These people need you. Your people need you.

Yeji wraps her arm around your wrist, giving you a gentle tug forward as you linger near the fire for a little too long.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers. “You’ll be able to hear his voice late into the night, even from your tent.”

You aren’t sure how to respond, how to depict your gratitude for all of this. For her taking you in and letting you hear these songs that you weren’t so sure you’d ever hear again, for being alive and granting you hope.

All you can do is reach to give her hand a soft squeeze, and hope she understands.

Yeji stops before a small tent, one that doesn’t seem big enough for two men, let alone three. “I know it isn’t much, but I hope it will do.”

“It’ll do,” Seonghwa answers with a smile.

“Especially considering we have no luggage,” Woo grumbles.

If Yeji hears the dissatisfaction in his voice, she doesn’t show it. “My own tent is just over there,” she says, pointing to what is only a few tents over. It’s a bit larger than the one before you, although not by much. She turns to you. “You can stay with me.”

You’re grateful for the sentiment, considering none of the men - except maybe San - would enjoy being forced to share such close quarters with you.

“There’s a table inside, if you’d all like to sit and regroup. I can catch you up on all that has happened since the siege,” Yeji says.

Her gaze flickers over to the three men, and it is hesitant. Curious, as it returns to you. “And you can do the same.”

“Scorpion beasts, a mimic, and a dragon-basilisk hybrid all in just a few weeks?” Yeji gapes, hands clutching tight around her mug of hot tea, as if she needs something to hold onto. “And you’re alive?”

“I take it your journey here wasn’t so exciting?” San asks, sipping his own mug. He seems in good spirits today, as he willingly engages in conversation with Yeji. Especially compared to Seonghwa - who is more hesitant, likely less willing to jump the gun on trusting a new stranger - and Woo, who sits with his eyes bearing down into the table, not touching his mug even as the tea inside grows cold.

“No, we took the main path down the Arila River, so far less rural,” Yeji explains. “Although it was a good thing you didn’t do the same. There were Dark Army ports all along its bank. We were stopped and searched at every one of them.”

If there’s one thing you’ve learnt from Yeji’s recollection of the besiegement and the time that followed, it’s that the black-clad men are relentless in their pursuit. They want you, at any cost. You only wish you knew who they were, so at least then you’d know why.

“I really am glad you’re alive, Princess,” Yeji says suddenly, hand drifting to rest on your own atop the table. “Libaiya has a chance to be strong again, so long as your blood sits on the throne. You’ll make the perfect Queen.”

You open your mouth to thank her, albeit bashfully, but are cut off as Woo pushes himself from the table. It rattles in protest, although the elemental does not seem to care, as he stomps towards the tent-flap. He does not meet any of your eyes as he disappears beneath it.

“I’m sorry,” Yeji says, tone worried. “Did I say something to-”

“It’s not you,” San reassures her. “He’s just been dealing with a lot lately.”

“I’ll go talk to him,” you say, because you have a feeling about what may be bothering him. Your blood, as Yeji had said. Although to him, it’s more like poison.

“No,” Seonghwa cuts you off, already rising to his feet. “You shouldn’t, I don’t think he’d take it well. I’ll go.”

You want to protest, as Seonghwa does not know about Woo’s past, about the orphanage. The Libaiyan orphanage, and all the horrors that happened there. But the empath is already heading towards the tent flap, and the words die on your lips.

Even so, maybe he is right. Woo is upset, upset about you and your nation, perhaps you are not the one who should attempt to console him. Besides, Seonghwa has always been far better at that.

Yet, as you watch Seonghwa disappear after Woo, you have the sinking feeling it may not go as the empath plans.

Wooyoung cannot breathe.

Making his way blindly through the darkness of the refuge, the sun having set over the horizon, he pushes past Libaiyan’s as he heads for the exit. They turn and look at him as he shoves past, and he wonders if they know. If they can smell it on him.

“You were his,” they whisper as he walks by, or is that just in his head? “One of his dogs. Our dogs. A machine for use. Worthless.”

The last word is in Warden’s voice, and Wooyoung places a hand over his ears to try and tune it out. The other clutching his chest.

He can’t breathe. By the god’s, he really can’t breathe.

Each short pant is as unsatisfying as the next. He feels dizzy, wanting to summon a ball of flame to guide him, but he can’t seem to move his hands in front of him. He pushes forward, searching for an exit through the mazes of tents.

Then he’s covered in something. It’s thin, engulfing him, and panic rises hot in his chest. They’ve gotten him. Again. It’s happening again. He opens his mouth to scream, but no sound comes out.

It’s only after nobody attempts to drag him away and he gets a whiff of soap that he realizes that what covers him is not a bag, but someone's laundry. With shaky hands, he untangles himself from the fabric, before glancing down at his captor.

It’s a Libaiyan flag.

The bright, golden, and horrible sun stares back at him. The same one hung in the cafeteria, the one he pledged allegiance to three times a day. The one plastered atop the ceiling of his bedroom, watching him every night. The one deckled on Warden’s shoulder, as he tortured them relentlessly, as he murdered Yeonjun.

Wooyoung throws it to the ground, hands still shaking as he walks over it, the dirt on the bottom of his shoe stark against the flag’s white background.

“Woo!” A voice calls from behind him, but it sounds far away. Maybe it’s also just in his head. He keeps walking.

He can hear the sound of the same man singing as when you’d all entered the camp. He has a nice voice as he sings Libaiyan songs. Songs he’s never heard. Songs that were reserved for Libaiyan citizens, not slaves.

Wooyoung’s throat burns with the taste of Libaiyan tea. Only one sip, and it will not leave his tongue.

It tasted like the infirmary tent after Assessment Day in the orphanage. Before Warden got there, but not before Wooyoung got beaten within the sparring ring. They’d given him the tea to calm him down, try and make him forget the burns lacing up and down his arms.

With the taste on his tongue it’s as if he can feel them again, the searing pain starting in his mind and seeping into his skin.

“Woo, hold on!” The voice calls again, closer than the last. This time Wooyoung knows it’s not in his head, as he recognizes it to be Seonghwa. The sound of foot-steps follows behind him, as the empath chases after him.

He does not turn around. He needs to get out of this place.

Wooyoung begins to run.

Tearing through the refuge, he sees Bebbenburg’s outer walls appear ahead of him, the light emitted from the lanterns hung on the outside fortress drawing him in like a beacon.

When he reaches the wall, he makes sure to take a few steps inside and past the gates, to ensure that he is no longer within Libaiyan territory. Here, he is within the Kuroken realm. Safe.

He pauses to catch his breath, less from the running and more from the panic that has seized him. Hands placed on his knees, Wooyoung lets the foggy haze fade from his mind, although it does not relinquish control so easily. His heart continues to race, ears ringing with a constant buzz.

Wooyoung doesn’t know why this is affecting him so horribly. He’s been to the Libaiyan castle since entering the orphanage, having stolen plenty of Libaiyan treasures and heirlooms on their heists within the castle.

Then again, that was in the dark of the night, when there were no songs to be sung or tea to be drunk. When the flags were shrouded in pure shadow, not wrapped around him like bonds of rope.

That was when he was in control. That was when he was taking from them. That was revenge.

That was before he entangled himself with their princess.

“Woo, what the hell?” Seonghwa asks as he approaches, slightly out of breath from chasing down the elemental. “Where are you going?”

“Away,” Wooyoung says, because it is all he can manage. He doesn’t look up at Seonghwa, instead staring at the cobblestone beneath his shoes, blinking blearily as he tries to direct his focus to its stone patch-work.

“Why did you just storm out of there?” Seonghwa asks. He’s not mad. Not yet. He genuinely wishes to know.

“Because of what that woman said,'' Wooyoung answers in his mind. “Because it’s true, she is the Libaiyan throne. Because it is her blood that’s done all of this. That did this to me.”

Wooyoung, of course, does not actually say any of this out loud. Seonghwa won’t understand. He doesn’t know, not only about Wooyoung’s past, but the orphanages in general. He’s from a small town within Zaria’s realm, far away from any news about Libaiyan political treachery.

He won’t get it, and Wooyoung isn’t going to even bother to try and explain it to him, especially when his tongue feels three sizes too large and his heart beats at a million times per minute.

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” he mutters, turning away from Seonghwa and heading deeper into Bebbanburg, hoping the empath will take the hint and piss off.

But he doesn’t, because after all, it’s Seonghwa. The blonde follows after him. “Where are you going to go, Woo? You saw the poster, it’s better to stay together, keep a low profile.”

“Leave me alone, Hwa,” Wooyoung repeats, beginning to walk faster, tone a little more pointed.

“Is this about her?” Seonghwa asks, and now his own tone is rising, annoyed as has to jog to catch up to the elemental. “Look I know you’re mad, I am too. But can’t you just push that aside? We’re almost to Kuroku, then we’ll be past it. We can move on.”

“Right. We’ll get to Kuroku. She’ll leave. San will leave. And then inevitably, you will too.”

After being met with silence, Seonghwa lets out a groan of annoyance, continuing to chase after him.

“Woo, stop!” He calls, reaching out to grab Wooyoung’s arm. Wooyoung slaps his hand away, perhaps a little harder than he should have. “Can’t we just talk about this? Can’t we have an actual conversation for once instead of you shoving me away?”

Wooyoung keeps moving, because no, they can’t. Not right now. Not like this. Not when he can’t think straight.

“I don’t get what you have to be so mad about anyway!”

Wooyoung stops at this, finally turning around to face Seonghwa. “What?”

Seonghwa stares at him for a moment, eyes wide and mouth parted with surprise that Wooyoung actually stopped. Then he frowns, eyebrows furrowing together, as if remembering his annoyance.

“Yes, she lied to you,” Seonghwa starts. “And I know it sucks. But it’s San’s money on the line, and clearly he’s been able to forgive her.”

Seonghwa swallows hard. “And even if I haven’t been able to do the same, even after all she’s done to me I’m willing to swallow my own feelings to get this journey done. For them.”

Them. By that Seonghwa means San and you. You, after all that you have done - to Seonghwa, to San, to Wooyoung himself - he’s still choosing you.

“Well maybe you shouldn’t, Hwa!” Wooyoung says, and now he’s shouting. It’s good. The anger provides him comfort, something familiar to latch onto. “She used you! She used all of us! I know you have this deep-seeded issue of thinking everyone and everything has good in them, but open your eyes! Not all that glitters is fucking gold! A pair of pretty eyes doesn’t repair what she’s done, it doesn’t mean that she isn’t rotten inside!”

“Just as you are too,” a voice reminds him within his mind, but he ignores it.

Seonghwa opens his mouth to cut back, but Wooyoung is not finished. “She lied through her teeth, and you’re really just going to let it slide? Keep quiet because it’ll make things easier for her? For the sake of the gods, grow a spine!”

“Why do you care so much about what I do?” Seonghwa yells back, taking a step towards Wooyoung. Seonghwa’s fist is clenched at his side, and for a moment Wooyoung thinks that Seonghwa might actually hit him. He almost wishes he would.

“Why do you care if I forgive her? Why do you care so much about whether I let people walk all over me? Why do you care?”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he does it.

Maybe it’s the way his mind still buzzes from moments prior, hazy and foggy and unable to think of anything beyond his anger. Anything beyond the way his heart pounds rapidly and vision blurs with an anxious haze.

Maybe it’s the way Seonghwa’s words sting, more than Wooyoung wants to admit, and he wishes to prove the man wrong. Show him that it’s not so simple. Win, in a strange and possibly fucked up way, but win nonetheless.

Or maybe, more than anything, it’s the way Seonghwa is looking at him. Big brown eyes scanning his face, full of anger, but also passion. Desperately searching for an answer, as if there will be a solution to the enigma that is Wooyoung hidden somewhere on the elemental’s face.

Wooyoung knows what the answer is that Seonghwa seeks.

It’s the part of himself that Wooyoung has never admitted exists. The part that he has shoved down, smothered, pretended wasn’t there. The part that flutters at the sound of Seonghwa whining at his teasing. The part that stalls when Seonghwa lets his hand fall onto Wooyoung’s shoulder, thinking nothing of it, simply trying to get the elemental's attention or leaning in to point out something in the distance.

The part that broke the first night you and Seonghwa spent together. Defeated, angry, and beaten down, crawling into his bed that night in a drunken stooper, aching at the thought of the elemental being intimate with someone. Well, someone else.

The part that he once again shoved away the next morning, and had every day before and has every day since.

It’s that part of himself that he’s dejected and ignored that now comes crawling to the surface, invited by Seonghwa’s searching eyes, that unleashes its presence in a way that will make itself known. That will ensure it will no longer be forgotten, that it cannot be ignored or subdued again.

That part of Wooyoung unleashes itself in the form of a kiss.

It’s a horrible one, teeth smashing into teeth as Wooyoung grabs onto the collar of Seonghwa’s tunic and roughly pulls the man into him. In fact, it’s less of a kiss compared to two faces smashing together, Seonghwa clearly not prepared for it, but the message is sent all the same.

Wooyoung holds him there for three seconds, which feel far more like an eternity as they pass by.

Then Wooyoung pushes Seonghwa off of him, letting go of the man’s collar as the blonde stumbles back.

For a moment they stand in silence, and it’s a deafening one. Seonghwa’s hand drifts up to his lips, grazing them, eyes wide as he stares at Wooyoung. He’s clearly in a state of shock, as he says nothing, just stares with his mouth parted open in disbelief.

“There,” Wooyoung breathes. “Do you get it?”

Seonghwa continues to stare at him. Then his eyebrows furrow together, and when he begins to speak, Seonghwa’s tone is incredulous. “Woo, what are you-”

“Forget it,” Wooyoung cuts him off, because he doesn’t want to know what Seonghwa is going to say. He doesn’t want to hear the empath call him crazy, ask him what the hell he’s thinking.

Because Wooyoung doesn’t know the answer to that either. The mind-numbing fog has returned to his head, his heart racing even faster than it had before.

He needs to get out of here.

“Just go back to the tent, Hwa,” Wooyoung says, and then his feet are set in motion. He heads deeper into Bebbanburg, away from the Libaiyan tent. Away from you and San. Away from what he’s done, the irreversible mistake he just made.

He runs away, and this time Seonghwa doesn’t follow him.

“What were you thinking, what were you thinking, what were you thinking?” Wooyoung repeats the question to himself over and over again in his head, trying to make sense of what he’s done.

The look of bewilderment on Seonghwa’s face, followed by incredulity. Shock, then disbelief. Almost angry, and why shouldn’t he be? How could Wooyoung do something like this? Something so blatantly stupid and thoughtless?

“What the fuck were you thinking?”

Wooyoung still cannot come up with an answer, because frankly, he wasn’t thinking. And he still can’t.

He turns down one of the many alley’s surrounding him, head buzzing, not a clue of where he’s going. All he knows is that it’s away, and for now, that is enough for him.

Wooyoung closes his eyes, hand trailing along the wall beside him as he runs. He feels silly, running with his eyes closed, but he cannot bring himself to keep them open. This way, the world around him fades. He can simply be moving, feel the air rush past him, and pretend that nothing happened.

There are no Libaiyan refugees a few alleyways over. He does not care for the Liabiyan princess, nor did he lose San a mere night ago. He did not reveal his feelings to a man he loves and ruin their entire friendship in one fell swoop.

He is merely running in the darkness, chest heaving for air, fingers scraping along the cobblestone wall.

Maybe, if he keeps running like this, he’ll actually have escaped it all.

Or maybe, running like this is not such an acceptable option, as it stops him from noticing the figure that has been following after him.

Wooyoung does not notice he is being followed until it is too late. Until he’s already been shoved sideways, face smacking into the stone wall beside him.

At the very least, the blows knock him from his stupor, and his eyes fly open as he stumbles. Whirling to face his attacker, fire ignites immediately within his hand, dancing in between his fingers.

However, the second he turns, he’s met with a swift punch to the jaw that catches him off guard. Mostly because it does not come from where he can feel the man beside him - who now pins Wooyoung’s wrist to the alley-wall - but from the other side.

It’s not one attacker, but many.

“Shit,” Wooyoung thinks to himself, spitting out the blood that fills his mouth, the metallic taste thick on his tongue and gritty between his teeth. Eyes searching the darkness around him, his attackers are nothing more than blurs within the night, and he gives the one in front of him a swift kick to the groin. The man lets out a long string of curses, and Wooyoung uses the opportunity to try and rush forward.

It’s of no use, as another man (or two, maybe even three?) pins his wrists to the wall.

It’s not the most efficient way to capture a person, as it leaves their legs functional to kick and mouth free to spit, bite, or scream for help.

Unless, of course, you’re capturing an elemental.

Wooyoung tries to summon fire into his hands, and while it manages to dance around his fingers, the inability to move his arms stops him from managing anything greater. He tries to summon the flame with only his mind, staring at his hand with sheer determination. He knows it’s possible, he’s done it before. Once. The night Yeonjun died.

Of course, he didn’t exactly mean to, and apparently it isn’t the sort of thing he can do by will, as his hands remain barren of flame.

Instead, he’s left helpless, pulling against the grips of the men that bind him. His eyes dart amongst the shadows that surround them, and he tally’s roughly ten of them, although he’s certain that there’s more as he hears shouts from down the alley-way.

One of the men’s hands digs into Wooyoung’s hair, pulling his head forward before slamming it back into the stone-wall. Hard.

Stars dance before Wooyoung, and a darkness creeps into the corners of his vision. He continues to kick out in front of him, although each swing is far weaker than the last, as the pain leaves him sluggish.

The man yanks on his hair again, before slamming his head back into the wall once more, and suddenly Wooyoung is on the ground.

He doesn’t remember crumpling, but the stone pathway is cold against his back, so he must have passed out for a moment. He opens his eyes, vision swaying as he tries to make out the men surrounding him.

He can vaguely spot the face of the man above him. Middle-aged, with a dark beard and intense eyes. He speaks to someone beside him, although Wooyoung’s mind is too muddled to make out the actual words.

Likely not thugs then, as they aren’t even bothering to hide their identities. Besides, there’s too many of them to be a regular mugging. Too conspicuous, so it must be targeted.

But if it’s targeted, then who are they?

“W-who?” He asks, because the full sentence is far too much effort. His words are slurred and he sounds drunk. Which to be fair is an awful lot like how he feels.

The man above him doesn’t answer, but instead places a hand on Wooyoung’s throat, silencing him. With his other two hands, the man pins Wooyoung’s wrists to the ground.

No, no, that doesn’t make any sense. He can't have three hands. Which means it must be somebody else pinning his wrists to the ground, as well as another that slips the cloth bag over his head. How many were there again?

By the god’s Wooyoung really can’t think right now.

“Knock him out,” one of the men speaks from above him. Now that Wooyoung can make out.

Then the world goes black.

“And he seriously didn’t tell you where he was going?” San asks, arms crossed as he leans against the training post outside of the men’s tent. It’s covered in grooves, clearly crafted by a sword, and one in the hands of someone not too pleased. A testament to San’s opinion on Woo not returning to the refuge last night.

“I already told you,” Seonghwa replies. His tone is also frustrated as he sits at an outside table, fingers tapping anxiously in rhythm with his jittering leg. “No. He didn’t.”

“He just took off?” San repeats, and you can understand why Seonghwa is becoming a bit annoyed. It’s also the third time you’ve heard San ask, although you have a feeling the swordsman isn’t actually expecting the answer to change. He simply wants to hear it again, to let him fuel the flame of his annoyance. “Without a word? Without a reason? Out into a city we’re currently being hunted in?”

Seonghwa’s eyes shift to the ground. “Yes.”

“And you let him?”

Seonghwa scowls at this. “What did you want me to do? You know Woo, he’s going to do what he wants no matter what anyone says or thinks.”

Seonghwa has been in a sour mood all morning, and something tells you there may be a little more to Woo leaving than he may be letting on. However, now is not the time to ponder what it might be, nor is it the time to start a fight. You simply need to find him.

“Let’s not start bickering with one another just because Woo’s not around to start it,” you say, attempting to remedy the argument before it can start. Fortunately, neither of the men are overly confrontational, at least not with each other.

“You’re right,” San sighs, turning to Seonghwa. “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed, I know it’s not your fault.”

Seonghwa gives San a sort of half-smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes before staring back down at his shoes. He appears to immediately lose himself in thought, knee bouncing anxiously.

Yeah, something definitely happened last night.

“This isn’t like him,” San says, pulling his sword out from his sheath and spinning it around in his hand. A nervous habit. “Staying out for the night, sure. But he’s always back by the next day. Always.”

With morning long past, the sun high in the sky with the arrival of late noon, San’s statement of “always” is replaced with “until today”, and a sense of uneasiness passes through you.

Something is wrong. You can feel it.

And with both San’s sword spinning in his hand and the sound of Seonghwa’s fingers tapping the table, you know that they can feel it too.

“I think we should go looking for him,” you say, expecting immediate approval. Instead both men look at you, and San shoots Seonghwa a side glance, to which the empath returns.

“What?” You ask, uncomfortable at the fact that it appears they’re both in on something you’re not.

San sighs. “You shouldn’t come.”

“What?” You say, this time with far more anger than confusion. “If Woo’s in danger then of course I’m going to come-”

“If Woo’s in danger then it’s likely because of the men who are looking for you,” San cuts you off, and while his tone is not accusatory, it is pointed.

You prepare a rebuttal, but it dies on your lips. San is right.

If the black-clad men have done something to Woo, then you going looking for him is likely exactly what they would want for you to do. While the stubborn part of you wants to go anyway, put Woo’s safety before your own. Be daring, bold, and perhaps a little stupid, just as Woo is in the face of danger, you know that this is not an option.

You need to get to Kuroku, and if you aren’t yet certain of the danger Woo may be in, you cannot afford to take such blatant risks.

“Alright,” you say, tone defeated as Seonghwa rises to his feet, San making his way towards the path leading outside of the refuge.

You don’t manage the next words until they’ve already left. Leaving you alone, face shrouded by your hood, suddenly aware of the wind’s chill nipping at your skin. The seasons are turning.

“Good luck.”

They are back sooner than you expected.

You sit at a table with Yeji, playing a game of Skirmish. A traditional Libaiyan game meant for children, due to the fact it has few rules and never really ends, so it can keep them occupied for hours. You didn’t particularly want to play, but Yeji said it might help to keep your mind distracted. You figured it was worth a shot.

It didn’t work.

However, it doesn’t matter, as when both San and Seonghwa approach from down the refuge’s path, the cards are forgotten. Tossing your deck to the side, you give San a look, one that asks: “Any luck?”. Although, you’re fairly certain of the answer, as there is no Woo in tow behind them.

San does not give you a look of his own. In fact, he does nothing. He simply stares back at you, a dead look to his eye.

It’s that look, the emptiness of it, that tells you something has gone wrong.

“What happened?” You ask as he approaches, although San does not reply. Instead he gives Seonghwa a fleeting glance, and the blonde meets it. His own expression is not as empty as San’s. In fact, it is the opposite. Brimming with emotion, Seonghwa’s eyes hold worry, mouth drawn tight, jaw clenched. A look of nothing less than pure fear.

“Seonghwa?” You ask, your own worry settling deep in your chest. Something has gone wrong, but what, and how badly?

The blonde doesn’t answer you with words, instead he moves towards the table. You hadn’t noticed before, but he holds something in his hands. The paper is a light tan colour, the size also familiar, and you recognize it to be one of your wanted posters. Immediately you're confused, as why would Seonghwa show you one of these? You’ve already seen dozens of them plastered all over Bebbanburg.

However, as he lays it down onto the table, the answer is blatantly obvious.

The paper is smeared with blood. The red stark against its light colouring, it doesn’t coat the poster fully, but is rather smothered haphazardly, the semblance of fingerprints notable. It’s testament to a job done quickly, as whoever did this did so with one purpose: to get a message across.

The message is made even more clear by the thick, dark lock of hair tied to the corner of the page.

Woo’s.

Beneath the lock of hair is writing, scrawled in black ink.

The Concursos Mountain Pass.

Three Days.

Wooyoung awakens to the back of his head pounding in a violent, aching fashion. The world sways in front of him, and it takes him a moment to remember where he is exactly.

However, at the sight of tarps on all sides of him, the tent coated in darkness as only the light of the setting evening sun is able to get through, he remembers.

Right, the Libaiyan refuge.

Wooyoung groans, blinking as he tries to get his eyes to focus, his pounding head making his thoughts difficult to string together.

He moves his hand, attempting to wipe the sweat beading along his forehead, only to realize that he can’t.

His hands are tied.

Eyebrows furrowing together, he looks over his shoulder. The chains that tie his wrists to the chair that he sits in are thick and made of iron. If he tried to melt his bonds with the fire between his fingers, rather than catching fire like rope, they’d heat up and burn his wrists.

“What the…” He croaks out, throat raspy. Who would have tied him to a chair? Surely not Seonghwa or San. Not very likely you, as he couldn't see what good that would do you. Maybe your friend, the Libaiyan patriot? But why?

Wait.

Wooyoung’s brain pauses, mind doing a double-take as he stares at his bonds, noting bruising along his wrist. The massive purple marks are dark against his bronzed skin, and are almost line-shaped, as if someone had been holding him.

No, he’s not in the Libaiyan refuge, he’s somewhere else.

The memories of last night come rushing back to him. Running from the tent. The fight with Seonghwa. The subsequent kiss with Seonghwa.

His capture.

The shock of it is enough to cause Wooyoung to jolt awake, mind finally clearing even if the pain at the back of his head does not subside.

As if sensing Wooyoung’s realization, a man appears from under the tent-flap. He’s older, his face like a worn-glove, leathery and wrinkled in its places most used. His dark hair is cropped short, although his beard remains long, as well as scruffy.

Most notably, he’s dressed entirely in black armour. One of your predators.

“Ah, good. You’re awake,” the man says, and his voice is not as deep as Wooyoung expected.

“Who are you and-”

“Don’t speak. Not everyone has arrived yet,” the man cuts him off dismissively. “Besides, we’ll be the ones asking the questions.”

“Oh, my mistake, I thought-”

Wooyoung doesn’t know why he is surprised by the slap, but he is. Maybe because he hadn’t even had the chance to say the insult he was planning yet. Usually the hit would at least come afterwards.

These men, they aren’t playing around, that is clear.

His cheek stings, and he can imagine the bright red mark appearing along his skin as more men in dark armour appear from under the tent-flap. Wooyoung is surprised by the amount of them that manage to crowd into the space, almost a dozen.Then again, it is a big tent. Mostly empty, other than a small table in the corner, scattered with a variety of knick-knacks and spices that seem non-sensensical. Lunadore pollen, silver beads, Alagor Root, and a bunch of other rare ingredients the Wooyoung does not have time to make sense of, although set him on edge nonetheless.

If they plan to torture him, the table should be full of knives. Hammers. Maybe a few pliers to pull off his fingernails. Not plants.

The man who slapped him - their leader, it seems - clears his throat, and the group of men fall silent. Each of them turn to face Wooyoung, eyes glinting with something dark, something that says that they know more than he does.

Wooyoung makes sure to give each of them in turn a glare.

“I’m sure you know who we are by now,” the man says.

Wooyoung considers playing dumb, maybe earning himself a matching slap on the other cheek. However, he needs information, which means at least for now he must play along.

“You attacked the Libaiyan castle. Killed their king,” Wooyoung answers, meeting the man’s gaze. His eyes are sharp, intimidating, and Wooyoung makes sure not to look away. Not to show any fragility. Even if he has been made into the weakest in the room, he need not show it.

“People have been calling you The Dark Army,” Wooyoung says, and then because he can’t help himself, adds: “Cute name. Very scary. Did you come up with it yourselves?”

The man doesn’t answer his question, but instead smirks. “If you know who we are, I’m sure you also know what we’re looking for.”

You. That’s the answer the man wants. But Wooyoung won’t give that to him. “Power?” He ventures instead. “Glory? Access to the king’s many bejeweled robes?”

The man steps forward, grabbing Wooyoung's face in his hand. His fingers squeeze Wooyoung’s jaw, so much so that it not only hurts, but prevents him from speaking.

“Enough playing coy,” the man says. He still does not seem angry, face blank and tone almost bored as he grips Wooyoung’s face between his fingers. “Tell me where she is.”

He eases his grip just enough to let Wooyoung speak. “Where who is?”

The man’s grip tightens once again, fingernails digging into the elemental’s skin, and Wooyoung forces himself not to wince. “The girl you’ve been running all over Burovia with. The princess turned convict. Ring any bells?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Wooyoung manages. At this the man lets go of his jaw, but it’s only to deliver another slap that burns along his cheek. The man grips his jaw again, and Wooyoung struggles to focus on the man’s face, blinking away the stars that dance across his vision.

“Yes, you do,” the man says, and this time his tone is almost soft, gentle as he attempts to coax out an answer. Somehow it’s far more unsettling than the blankness. “Is she with the refugees? At one of the hostels, or even a tavern?”

“I told you, I don’t know,” Wooyoung says through gritted teeth. This time the man does not slap him, but instead grips his hair as he brings Wooyoung face down into his knee. Pain radiates from his nose through the rest of his face, and when the man lifts him back up, it takes Wooyoung a moment to register the man’s face before him through the blurriness.

It’s not until now that Wooyoung realizes the severity of the danger that he is in.

They want him to hand you over to them, and Wooyoung can’t do that.

But why can’t he do that? It would be the easiest thing to do. Nobody would blame him, after everything that you’ve done, especially if it came down to choosing between his own life or yours. San and Seonghwa would understand.

You are the Libaiyan Princess. Your family sent him to the orphanage. Turning you in would rid himself of the volatile confusion that has plagued him, it would fulfill the dream that his younger self wished for every night and morning. So why can’t he do it?

He knows the answer. How he feels towards you has grown beyond hatred. It’s grown beyond mere toleration for San and Seonghwa’s sake. It’s grown beyond the excuses he’s been telling himself for weeks.

He’s not going to hand you over to them to die, no matter what that may mean for himself. Unfortunately, what that may mean for himself is not looking good.

“You’re going to tell us,” the man states, not to persuade, but to simply state as fact. “It’s just a matter of how much you’re willing to put yourself through before you do.”

“Well I have nothing but time,” Wooyoung answers, grinning, and he knows his teeth are bloody. Can feel the grittiness on his teeth, or maybe that’s still from the night before.

The man smiles back. “You have three days.”

Wooyoung raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m just such lovely company?”

“Because that’s how long we’ve given her to come find you.”

Wooyoung pauses at this, and he knows he’s shown a glimpse of weakness. How did they get a message to you? Is he bluffing?

Would you really be stupid enough to come after him?

“Nobody will come,” Wooyoung says, and even he can hear the uncertainty in his voice. Surely you wouldn’t come after him. Not when you’re so close to Kuroku, to San’s freedom. You have to keep going, there’s no way you, San, and Seonghwa could take on a dozen armed and highly trained men, especially considering there’s more of them out there somewhere. It would be pointless, a suicide mission.

But Wooyoung also knows that none of you would leave him behind to die.

“That’s fine,” the man says with a shrug. “Either she comes to us, or we go to her with the information you’ll give us. It doesn’t matter.”

“You aren’t going to be able to torture anything out of me,” Wooyoung says with a scoff, tilting his chin up, defiant. “Pain? Yeah, I’ve been through my share.”

The corner of the man’s lip curves upward, eyes gleaming. “I know. That’s what they told me.”

Wooyoung frowns. They?

The man chuckles at Wooyoung’s weary expression, finally letting go of his hold on the elemental’s jaw. The group of soldiers step back, creating a pathway for him as the man heads over to the table covered with rare ingredients and spices.

The man begins to fiddle around with them, although what exactly he’s doing Wooyoung can’t make out, his vision obscured by the other men standing before him.

“Do you know what they say about those whose body cannot be broken?” The man calls over his shoulder, and Wooyoung catches a glimpse of what is in his hand: a small bowl and mallet, which he uses to grind down the Alagor Root.

“No,” Wooyoung answers, wary.

“Break their mind instead,” the man states, holding up a small vial of purple liquid that Wooyoung cannot identify, before pouring into the bowl. A strange, dark and odorous smoke wafts up from the concoction. It smells like something burning, although what exactly Wooyoung cannot place. That is, until he can. It’s burnt flesh. It reminds him of the infirmary tent, of his scorched arms.

An inkling of fear settles into Wooyoung’s chest as he becomes increasingly aware of the bonds on his wrist. He can’t move, run, fight back, or do anything, really.

For a man with so much power, he’s grown accustomed to never feeling powerless. For a moment, it’s like he’s thirteen again. At Warden’s disposal and no fire to call his own.

The man places the empty vile back down on the table, before grabbing something else Wooyoung cannot see, although he can hear the sizzling noise it makes as he adds it to the bowl.

Wooyoung cannot take the silence any longer, his curiosity - or better, fear - overtaking him. “What are you doing?” He asks.

Instead of answering him, the man begins to mutter something beneath his breath, making a strange circular motion with his hand above the bowl, which he has set back down on the table. Wooyoung cannot make out what he is saying, but the way the words leave his lips is almost rhythmic, like a priest delivering a chant.

Wooyoung scowls, opening his mouth to interrogate the other men around him as to what the hell is going on, but the words die on his tongue. He knows what the man is doing.

It’s part of the Old Faith. Old Magic.

Dark magic.

Wooyoung has never been a devoted servant to the gods. In fact, for all of his life he’s hated them. He hated them as a child for giving him a gift he could not use. He hated them as a teenager for cursing him with the power to destroy everything he held dear. He hates them as an adult for idly standing by as all of the horrible events of his childhood tumbled down one after the other.

However, even with his hatred towards the gods, he’s always considered worshiping them to be far more understandable than the Old Faith. More particularly, the Old Magic aspect.

It’s a breach of order. If the gods blessed the gifted with their powers, then Old Magic defies that. It’s taking from the earth what was not given to you. It’s blasphemous. Immoral and unnatural. At its very core wrong.

Wooyoung tugs at the chains around his wrists, which clatter in protest. Panic begins to rise in his chest, as one thought fills his head: “What the fuck are they going to do to me?”

The man finishes his chant, before digging into his pocket and pulling out a miniature knife. He uses it to create a small cut along the tip of his finger, holding it above the bowl as a drop of blood collects around the wound, before dropping into the potion.

Smiling to himself in satisfaction, the man takes the bowl with him as he heads back towards Wooyoung. Stopping before him, the man takes a moment to meet the elemental’s eyes, that glimmer of darkness potent within his gaze.

Wooyoung does not look away, but by the gods, he wants to.

“Well,” the man says. “Open up.”

Wooyoung keeps his mouth shut, lips pursing together. He can hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears, feeling its thump throughout his entire body. He can’t drink that. He isn’t sure what it will do, but he knows that its something horrible.

It will break his mind. That is what the man had said.

And while Wooyoung has always had confidence in his abilities, perhaps even relied on himself more than he should, for the first time that confidence falters.

“So this is what it takes for you to be quiet,” the man jests, earning a few chuckles from the others around him. “Good to know.”

When Wooyoung doesn’t reply, the man nods to a couple of the soldiers beside him. “Open his mouth.”

Four of the men approach him, and Wooyoung fights against the bonds of his chair, even if he knows it’ll be pointless. The chains against his wrists and ankles hold him still, and as two of the men grab his shoulders to stop the chair from rattling, he’s left with nothing but twisting his face away from the men who grab at him.

Hands blur across his vision as he feels one of the men press an arm to his throat. Another digs into his scalp, pulling his hair in order to bring his head back and face upwards. Fingers claw at the crevices of his face, digging beneath his cheekbones, into his ears, scratching along his lips.

It’s overwhelming, but Wooyoung stays focused, repeating over and over again in his mind, “Don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth, don’t open your mouth.”

It’s not until the elbow pressing into his throat has been there for a little too long that Wooyoung registers that he needs to breathe. Black lines creeping into the corners of his vision, head beginning to feel foggy, he does his best to ignore it.

Until he can’t any longer. Against his mind’s will, when the man removes his elbow from the elemental’s throat, Wooyoung gasps for air.

The men do not waste the opportunity.

Fingers dig themselves into his mouth, and while he attempts to bite down on them, their force is too strong as the many hands pull back his cheeks. Limbs bound, hair pinned, and face pulled back, he’s left helpless as the man with the bowl approaches him.

As the man lifts the bowl above the elemental’s face, a smile grazes over his lips, and Wooyoung knows that he is enjoying this.

The liquid burns as it pours down his throat, rubbing like sand-paper along his tongue. It tastes familiar. Like stale bread, but worse. Rotten with mold. Wooyoung gags but the man does not stop, not until the final drops fall from the bowl and into his open mouth.

The men do not release him until he swallows the concoction, and he feels it as it settles down into his gut, twisting and turning like cheap whiskey.

Wooyoung attempts to catch his breath, chest heaving and sweat beading along his forehead as he looks at the man before him. He continues to smile that awful, wretched grin, empty bowl in hand.

“See? Now that wasn’t so hard,” the man says, for no other reason but to rub salt in the wound.

Wooyoung spits on his shoes.

The man does nothing, merely takes a few steps back as he continues to watch Wooyoung with an analytical gaze, as if observing whatever the hell is supposed to happen. For a few moments, Wooyoung feels nothing but the tension that hangs in the room as all of the men stare at him. He feels like a monster in a cage, like one of those griffin’s from a traveling circus he saw passing through Gloria many years ago. Undeniably dangerous, but stripped down to a mere display for people to gawk at.

Then he notices it. It doesn’t start as much, more of a feeling in the back of his mind than anything else. An uncomfortable tingling sensation creeping through him, like an itch beneath his skin, little prickles of worry like ants tunneling through his veins.

He blinks, and his vision goes blurry.

The men in front of him transform into foggy statues and he blinks again, but instead of focusing it only gets worse. He swallows hard, only to find his throat has gone dry, the saliva refusing to go down.

Heat settles itself in his gut, rising into his chest as an aching sensation washes through him. Wooyoung lets out a low whine, one that under any other circumstances would humiliate him, but he can’t bring himself to worry about that right now. Not when his body feels as if it’s rejecting him.

“What did you do to me?” Wooyoung asks, and it comes out as a hoarse whisper. The man hums softly, reaching forward to hold Wooyoung’s chin. This time his grip is gentle, and Wooyoung wants to slap it away, but he doesn’t have the strength. In fact, if it weren’t for the man holding his head up, he’s certain his chin would have fallen down to his chest. Maybe it already had, Wooyoung doesn’t remember.

“This is the easy part, Jung Wooyoung,” the man says, and Wooyoung swears that that is the first time the man has said his name. Although the worry is replaced by agony as another ripple of pain rattles through him.

“Remember. You tell me what I want to know, I’ll make it stop,” the man says. “You’d be wise to accept that offer.”

Wooyoung blinks up at him, and he thinks thaf tears stain his eyes, although his vision is too foggy to notice a difference. “And if I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” the man says, giving a soft, condescending thumb-stroke along his cheek. “They always tend to comply.”

You cannot sleep.

The tent feels crammed, even though you’re well aware that there’s more than enough space. Yeji sleeps soundly, a few feet away and face turned from you as the peaceful sighs of deep slumber escape her lips. It is dark, only the faintest hint of moonlight seeping through the tent’s thin fabric, and yet it feels too bright.

You do not wish to sleep. There are things to be done. This is no time for rest.

They have Woo.

The men you’ve been fearing this entire journey. The ones that ambushed your father, that killed Mingi, that besieged your castle and robbed your life right out from under your feet. The men that have made you paranoid, always keeping one eye over your shoulder, creating wariness with each new city and step you have taken.

The men you have feared would kill you, they have taken him instead.

And somehow that is so much worse.

It’s not something you’d anticipated, always having assumed that if the black-clad men were to find you, you would be the one to face the consequences. The idea that travelling with the three men was putting them in the crossfire of the mysterious army hadn’t occurred to you. After all, it’s your wanted posters on every city street, not theirs.

How stupid you had been, and now Woo is gone. Captured by your family’s assassins, and only the god’s know what sort of danger he is in.

It’s your fault. It’s you they really want, he is just a pawn in their greater game. You’ve been outplayed, and Woo is the one forced to pay the price of your failure.

They could be torturing him for information. You know the sorts of things powerful men do to prisoners, having heard whispers about it in your halls, the dungeons located deep beneath the castle. Using a whip to lash the back until there's more blood left than flesh, spending hours drowning them within a bucket of water, pouring vials of liquid metal along the skin. Maybe one of them is a sadist, and Woo’s face is blistered and burnt beyond repair.

Maybe he’s already dead.

You roll over, eyes accustomed enough to the darkness that you can make out the ceiling of the tent above you. Although really, what you see is Woo, pleading for mercy as one of the black-clad men delivers the final blow. Woo goes silent, his eyes still open, and you know that it is over. He is gone.

Another person you care for, dead.

You cannot just sit here like this and let that happen. However, while you were prepared to head to the Concursos Mountain Pass the moment Seonghwa placed the message down in front of you, both he and San urged caution.

“This is clearly a trap,” San had said, wrapping a hand around your wrist to stop you from heading down the path towards the refuge’s exit. “They’re going to be prepared, which means we need to be. We need to come up with a plan before we do anything.”

“We have three days,” you snapped back, frustrated. “Yeji said the journey is at the very least a full day’s ride. We don’t have the time to sit here and twiddle our thumbs.”

“Then we have a day and a half to come up with something,” San replied, tone calm but also curt. He was not entertaining the possibility of going now, no matter how much anger you added to your glare. “Maybe we can form a group of some of the other refugees and leave together.”

“There’s only two horse’s between the entire refuge,” you cut back. “We cannot make it in time by foot. There’s no chance of us building our own army, if that’s what you're implying.”

“We’ll figure it out,” San said, still not budging. However, beneath his steady gaze, you could see the faintest hint of worry. Of doubt. Of knowing that there may have been no other option but to go alone, although he was not ready to admit it. Not ready to acknowledge the truth that weighed down on each of your shoulders.

The fact that it may come down to Woo’s life, or your own.

Thus, a second truth sat just as heavy. He would choose Woo. They both would.

It’s not until this moment, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, that you realize you would choose Woo too.

You will not have him die for you. You will not have the black-clad men take anything else from you. Not him. Not like this.

If they are to kill you, let it be your own doing. Not ambushed for the money they have placed on your head, or killed silently in an alley-way along the streets of Bebbanburg. You will not be your father, stabbed at his own celebration, unaware of what was coming. If you are to die, let you come to them with your sword in hand, fighting for a man who - even when you haven’t deserved it - fought for you.

Rising to your feet, you pull the blanket off of you, heading towards the tent flap. Stopping in place, you turn back, watching Yeji’s sleeping silhouette, chest rising and falling peacefully.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and it is not only to her, but to all of them. All of the Libaiyan’s uprooted from their homes, left to wander Burovia with no kingdom to call home. They had finally been reunited with their princess, only for you to leave them once more. It is selfish. It is what your father would consider an abandonment of responsibility.

Maybe you are abandoning your royal duty, or perhaps you are fulfilling your duty to another.

Either way, it must be done.

Slipping out from under the tent flap, you can hear San and Seonghwa talking within their own tent, though you cannot make out what they are saying. Good, they're busy. They will likely not notice you’re gone until morning.

Scanning the field, the man continues to sing by the fire, and it is the same song as before. Lute in hand, he serenades the men and women surrounding him, although the number has depleted under the blanket of the night.

As you approach the horse tied to a nearby tent-pole, you sing along quietly beneath your breath, to the words you have known your entire life.

“My love for whom I do come home,”

“I’ve been bathed in scars, both body and soul,”

“And while I’ve returned beneath darkened gloam,”

“Without you this place may never be whole.”

Although, while you may sing his words, unlike the man within the song you will not be so passive.

You will find Woo, and you will bring him home. Even if you do not come back with him.

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

next chapter.

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meetinginsamarra · 2 days ago

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Fanfics I Really Liked in September 2024

So. Since I keep a list of what I´ve read anyway (there´s always a list), I will rec all the fics I´ve wholly enjoyed on a monthly basis. Old and new, canon or AU, big or small authors, long or short but nearly always Johnlock (-ish).

Clean Start by standbygo @blogstandbygo

UniLock - John meets an odd man at the laundrette who deduces people from what's in the dryer.

Delightful different first meeting.

These Hours That Define Us by predictably_unpredictable

Sherlock has just been discharged from hospital, not knowing what to expect or what he'll be coming home to. He's convinced himself that he should never see John again for John's well being, believing himself to be a hindrance to him. But when John shows up unexpectedly to 221B in the middle of the day hoping for a place to stay, things take a different turn, forcing them both to confront their past and their future.

Awesome S3 fix-it!

The night visitor by Snoozydog

John Watson, former army surgeon, employed by the secretive and indefinable government official Mycroft Holmes, accidentally saves the life of his employer's younger brother and ends up being hired as his private physician. John is immediately fascinated by his new patient but not only is Sherlock engaged to be married to someone else, but he is also a man surrounded by many dark secrets. Under the looming threat of Mycroft’s watchful eyes, as well as Sherlock’s imminent wedding there is also something else that lurks in the shadows, something that threats the budding relationship that has started to develop between the doctor and his enigmatic patient.

^^ Says it all, go read!

The winding road of secrets and lies by Snoozydog

John Watson takes on a mission to infiltrate the household of Mycroft Holmes by order of his new employer, Sebastian Moran, to access information their boss is wishing to get his hands on. To be able to get to Mycroft John will have to befriend his younger brother Sherlock and try to establish a bond with him. But what starts out as a seemingly simple job proves to be much more complicated for John as the Holmes household harbours many dark and unexpected secrets, especially about the very complicated relationship between the two brothers. Under pressure from his boss to follow through with his assignment, Mycroft suspiciously watching his every move and, to complicate matters even more, John beginning to develop feelings for Sherlock, he is beginning to regret ever taking this job. Can he complete his initial plan to steal information from Mycroft and what will happen when Sherlock finds out the truth?

^^ Says it all, go read!

The Printer Is Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire)

John is a disgruntled customer who just wants his money back for a shoddy printer Harry ordered for him off of a catalogue. Sherlock is a bored customer service rep working the summer he has off from Oxford. They are both about to get more than they bargained for.

Fandom classic AU different first meeting. Grumpy John and snarky Sherlock and hilarious shenanigans aróund the printer. Lots of fun.

The Printer Is Still Jammed by startrekto221b (snowandfire)

Life after happily ever after still has its pitfalls. Glimpses into the lives of Sherlock and John after they said ‘I do’.

Part 2 of the printer fun.

#my fanfic recs #fic rec list #fanfics I really liked in September 2024 #sherlock

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yuujispinkhair · 9 months ago

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Separation Anxiety (Chapter 12)

Put your lips on my scars and teach me to love

When a ritual separates Sukuna from Yuuji, Sukuna is delighted to find that besides having his own body, there is also another gift handed to him: The brat has lost all his memories and is now the perfect little plaything to take home and manipulate. At least, that's the plan. But the King of Curses isn't prepared for the feelings that come along with being human again. And another complication is how cute the brat is when he has no idea who Sukuna is and, instead of hating him, treats him with genuine love and affection. So, without realizing it, Sukuna suddenly finds himself on a journey of learning how to be loved and how to love.

++ Masterpost ++

Pairing: Sukuna x Yuuji Genre: Memory Loss AU, fluff, smut, light angst Word Count: 4.5k Playlist: Separation Anxiety Warnings: 18+, smut, mentions of violence, dub-con (Yuuji has lost his memories, and Sukuna lies to him about being boyfriends). All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Chapter 12

If I told you where I've been, would you still call me baby? (Dark Star by Jaymes Young)

Watching movies together has become a nightly habit for Sukuna and Yuuji, and at this point, Sukuna has stopped lying to himself and admits that he enjoys those evenings on the couch. Especially when it means Yuuji is leaning on him and resting his head on Sukuna's shoulder.

It feels like they are in their own world, where only they and Uraume exist, and nothing outside of it matters. It's the most at peace Sukuna has ever felt.

He tightens his hold on Yuuji, pulling him closer, smiling to himself when his brat sighs softly. Just like every night, Yuuji dozes off halfway through the second movie. And just like every night, Sukuna gently picks him up and carries him to their bedroom, where he places him carefully on the bed like his most precious treasure.

Yuuji smiles sleepily, hands reaching out to tug at Sukuna's shirt and pulling him on top of him, needy for cuddles.

"Mmmmh, come here, baby."

Sukuna laughs softly but gives him what he needs, joining him on the bed and wrapping Yuuji in his embrace. The boy has already drifted off to sleep again and is snoring softly against Sukuna's chest while Sukuna brings a large hand to Yuuji's hair, petting it tenderly. His long fingers run absentmindedly through the soft pink strands as he lies awake and stares at the bedroom ceiling, deep in thought.

Yuuji isn't aware of how much things have changed between them. He was fooled by Sukuna's cruel plan all this time. Blindly believing every word Sukuna had told him, every lie he had constructed so masterfully. No, Yuuji isn't aware. He doesn't know how much changed. He doesn't know how Sukuna stopped telling lies at some point and instead spoke the truth when he muttered words of love and devotion. He doesn't know that, initially, this was all just a game. A little cruel game that Sukuna wanted to play with his former vessel, whom he thought he loathed more than anything in this world.

Sukuna can't help but frown as he gazes at Yuuji's sleeping face. He regrets what he did. Not just since the separation ritual. He regrets his whole attitude towards Yuuji from the very first moment they met. He should have treated Yuuji differently, should have appreciated him, should have tried to forge a bond between them. Maybe then he wouldn't have to lose sleep now and worry about what will happen if Yuuji ever gets his memories back.

What would happen if you remember again, my love? Would you still want me to hold you? Would you still love me? Or would you hate me?

Sukuna lets his gaze travel appreciatively through the luxurious room. Uraume booked him and Yuuji a table at the most exclusive restaurant in Tokyo, and Sukuna has to agree that their menu is exquisite, and he is quite pleased with the luxurious interior that was designed to resemble a modern version of a Heian-era temple.

It's a beautiful place, a place most guests feast their eyes on, but Sukuna finds his gaze always wandering back to the beautiful boy sitting across from him.

Golden eyes look at him, and Sukuna smiles at Yuuji.

He reaches across the table to take Yuuji's hand and interlace their fingers. What used to be an act, something Sukuna had to consciously force himself to do in order to play his role, has now become something he does instinctively. Something he wants to do. Something he craves. He feels an urge to touch Yuuji, hold him, and be affectionate with him.

His lips twitch at the realization of how natural all of this feels. Who would have thought that someone like him would ever feel this way? That he would finally get to experience this profoundly human emotion after all this time.

He laughs good-naturedly when Yuuji feeds him dessert with a spoon, and Yuuji joins in with his loud, happy laughter that fills the room with its warmth. They must look like two lovesick fools, so smitten with each other, only having eyes for the other, hearts beating in the same rhythm, souls connected almost as if they are still sharing one body.

Sukuna sits back and takes a sip from the sake in front of him, letting his gaze once again wander through the room. A room that looks very similar to places he used to visit in his former life. A life that was so much different from the life he lives now.

A life that was very lonely.

He isn't lonely anymore. And he never thought he could have something like this. A relationship, a deep connection to someone, the feeling of being loved and to love. He never even thought he would want it. But now he cannot imagine not having this.

Suddenly, the world is a different place. It is no longer a place that Sukuna wants to rule and destroy and bend to his will. It is no longer a place that makes him angry and want to lash out because all it did to him was be cruel, too. Sukuna feels at peace with the world now. It is just a background scenery, nothing more. His real world is sitting across from him with a big smile on his face and a happy sparkle in his golden eyes.

Itadori Yuuji changed him, and he didn't use any force to do it, no violence, no open display of power. The one person who managed to make Sukuna surrender didn't achieve it with violence but with love.

And now Sukuna takes in the beauty of the fairy lights decorating the cherry trees on their way home. He looks at the woman in the ice cream parlor with benevolence, grateful that she makes such exquisite ice cream that Yuuji loves so much. He gazes upon the big advertising poster for a new movie with a warm smile because Yuuji tells him he is already so excited about it and that he really wants to go to the movie theatre with Sukuna to watch it.

The world is a different place. And Sukuna is a different man.

He isn't interested in ruling anymore. He just wants this: A happy and peaceful life with Yuuji by his side. Maybe this is the secret to finding true enlightenment. Maybe it was always about this.

If his life is just this, then Sukuna will be satisfied with it. He doesn't need more than this. He doesn't need to be a King. He doesn't need to be a God. He is happy being just a man in a sea of so many others if it means he can keep this happiness. If it means he can live a happy life with Yuuji by his side.

Megumi's POV:

Today's mission was an easy one. A cursed spirit in a school gym. Just a single one, and not a very powerful one at that. Megumi exorcised it in a few minutes. This leaves him enough time to stop at the small coffee shop on his way to where his driver is waiting for him. Some caffeine will be good for him.

Sleep still doesn't come easy to him, even after all those months after Itadori's sudden disappearance. Megumi is still in a state of constant sleep deprivation. A large cup of black coffee is exactly what he needs now.

The coffee shop is a lovely place. Modern but comfy with small booths with lots of cushions and little plants on the tables. There are movie posters on the pastel pink walls and a large shelf with manga to borrow and read in one of the comfy armchairs. Megumi catches himself thinking that Itadori would love a place like this. His heart clenches painfully at the thought. It still stings to think about his friend.

Megumi gulps against the lump in his throat and tries to focus on his surroundings. It's best to distract himself. The day was so good so far. He doesn't want to mess this up.

He's looking intently at a display of sweet treats. Various cupcakes, cookies, and donuts in pastel colors. Blue, green, yellow, and, of course, pink. It's everywhere. So much pink. This isn't helping.

Megumi is grateful when it's finally his turn, and he gets his black coffee in a to-go cup. He grabs the cup and puts the money on the counter. In the background, he faintly hears the jingle of the small bell at the door.

And then something else.

Cheerful, loud laughter. Megumi's eyes widen. It sounds so painfully familiar.

He turns around, his gaze instantly darting towards the entrance of the coffee shop. A flash of even more pink catches his eyes as his gaze settles on the source of the loud laughter, and Megumi feels hot and cold at the same time.

Pink hair, a bright smile that lights up the whole room, tan skin, muscular stature, hands that gesture wildly, and that loud, genuine laugh.

No! It can't be!

Megumi forgets to breathe. All the sounds of the coffee shop fade into the background, and all he hears is his own heartbeat and the laughter of the pink-haired boy standing in the doorway.

Itadori.

It's him. There's no doubt about it.

He says something to an elderly woman for whom he is currently holding the door open. His eyes sparkle with laughter as she nods at him and laughs, too. His whole being is exceeding warmth and kindness. Like the sun. That's how Megumi always saw him.

And then this sun suddenly set and never rose again, when all those months ago, Itadori disappeared from one day to the next.

They never found out what had happened. It was assumed that it had something to do with Sukuna. Remains of a ritual were discovered. Ancient writings, blood splattered everywhere, torn body parts strewn over the dirty floor, and traces of potent magic still in the air.

The most likely theory was that Sukuna had tried to break free from the cage that was Itadori's body. But to this day, no sign of Sukuna or Itadori had been found. The human remains found were those of a non-sorcerer.

But the higher-ups had celebrated, putting it down as the defeat of the King of Curses, assuming that Sukuna and Itadori must have died in a backfiring separation ritual. The official version was that their bodies must have dissolved completely, destroyed by Sukuna's own power.

Gojo, Kugisaki, and Megumi had never believed it. They had searched for Itadori for weeks. But he was gone without a single trace. The weeks passed, and they found nothing.

After a while, they stopped searching for him every night as exhaustion took over. So it became every other night, then once a week, and so on. Megumi still lies awake at night, though, asking himself over and over again what has happened.

Out of all the scenarios he had imagined, running into a very alive and very smiling and seemingly happy Itadori in a pastel-colored coffee shop hadn't been one of them.

For a split second, anger starts to lace through Megumi's surprise. Itadori is in perfect health, laughing and joking around with a random grandma he just ran into while getting coffee! All the while, his friends have been worried sick, have cried about him, and lost their sleep over him, and he is here living his best life!

But Megumi shakes his head as if physically chasing away those stupid thoughts.

No. That can't be right. That isn't the way Itadori is. He would never intentionally hurt us.

The rational part of Megumi's brain is still stronger than the short emotional outburst. He knows Itadori. Even when Itadori had one of those moments in the past where he wanted to isolate himself to protect them from Sukuna, he still made sure his friends knew he was still alive. He wouldn't do something as cruel as faking his own death.

There must be some other explanation!

Without realizing it, Megumi's feet have carried him over to the door. He stops in front of his friend, who still hasn't acknowledged his presence.

"Itadori."

The pink-haired boy's head whips around, and he stares at Megumi with big eyes.

Megumi is prepared for a squeal and a hug. Or maybe a panicked look and some stammered apology.

What he isn't prepared for is the absolute confusion on Itadori's face and the soft,

"Oh… do we know each other?"

Megumi draws in a sharp breath.

What the fuck?

Blood is rushing in his ears as he tries to process what's happening. His rising panic must show on his face because Itadori lifts a hand to scratch his back and smiles sheepishly at him. A gesture that is so painfully familiar that it makes Megumi's eyes fill with tears. Before he can say anything, Itadori quickly explains,

"Shit, I'm sorry! I guess if you know my name, we really know each other. But…well, you see, the problem is, I was in a car accident and lost my memories. I can't remember anyone. I'm really sorry!"

Car accident? Lost his memory?

Megumi's mind is reeling. Itadori definitely wasn't in a car accident. It must have been the ritual that caused this! Memory loss makes a lot of sense, actually. That's why Itadori didn't come back to them! He simply didn't remember. It's a perfectly logical explanation!

Megumi realizes something else, too, at that moment: The marks under Itadori's eyes are gone.

Where is Sukuna? Is he free? But no, that doesn't make sense. Surely, if the King of Curses had managed to break free, he would have already wreaked havoc on the city. He would have burned Tokyo down. Would have come to the Jujutsu Academy and slaughtered them all.

Does that mean that Sukuna is really dead?

Megumi relaxes. The tension leaves his body, and a hint of a smile lifts the corners of his lips. He still has a lot of questions, and Itadori clearly needs help, but things will be ok again now that Megumi found him! He can bring Itadori home. Maybe Shoko Ieiri can get Itadori's memory back. And even if not, Itadori will be safe again. He will be ok again! Everything will be ok!

The relief that washes over Megumi makes him almost sob.

"Don't be sorry, Itadori. That's hardly your fault. I'm sorry to hear you lost your memories. But yes, we are friends. I'm Fushiguro Megumi, and we used to attend college together."

Itadori's smile is back.

"Oh! So we were former classmates? That's so cool! I am so glad you ran into me, Megumi!"

Megumi's smile grows. He feels so light all of a sudden. All the worries of the last months begin to fade away. He just has to keep talking to Itadori and find out more about what he did all those previous months. He looks in good health and happy, so to Megumi's big relief, his friend seems to have fared well even without his memories.

"What have you been doing all those months? How did you get by?"

"Oh, I'm fine, don't worry! My boyfriend took care of me."

Megumi blinks.

Boyfriend?

The relief he felt a moment ago slips through his fingers. Something is very wrong here.

"Your boyfriend?"

"Yes, he helped me so much! I am so grateful for him. He is amazing! But you must know him too, right Megumi? I probably talked a lot about him back when we were in class together, right?"

Big honey-colored eyes look expectedly at Megumi, and Megumi's mouth opens and closes without a word coming out.

Itadori laughs and tries again,

"His name is Sukuna. Does that ring a bell?"

Megumi feels as if someone punched him in the guts. He stumbles back a step, eyes wide as he stares at Itadori. The coffee-to-go cup he had been holding drops to the floor, making a black pool of hot liquid spread over the floor between them, as if Megumi's shadows are trying to swallow them both.

Yes, the name certainly rings a bell.

Sukuna's POV:

Sukuna is sitting on the couch, immersed in a book, when the soft ping of the elevator drifts to his ears. A smile tugs at his lips as he closes the book and puts it aside. Yuuji went to their favorite coffee shop to get coffee and cupcakes. They always sell those particularly delicious cherry cupcakes on Tuesdays.

He gets up, already anticipating the joyful call of his name, and seeing Yuuji burst through the door with a broad smile on his face.

But something is different today.

The call of his name never comes. Instead, too-fast footsteps approach the living room, and then a distressed-looking Yuuji appears in the doorway, his eyes wide, face unusually pale. There are no coffee cups or cupcakes in his hands.

Sukuna feels cold seep into his veins.

"Yuuji, what's wrong?"

Wide golden eyes stare at him.

"There is this guy I met. Megumi. He told me all this crazy stuff about you and me and that things aren't the way I think they are. That you aren't who you said you are and that we…that we… He wanted me to come with him and said he would bring me to my friends and a doctor who would help me. I pushed him away and ran, but… Sukuna, what is going on?"

And just like that, Sukuna's whole world crumbles down around him.

They found him. They found Yuuji.

Sukuna can feel the presence of the Ten Shadows user. He must have followed Yuuji to their apartment complex. Yuuji's old life finally caught up with him. And Sukuna is drowning in dread.

It's over.

Their little parallel world where only Sukuna and Yuuji existed. Their little alternate universe where they weren't the King of Curses and his former vessel but just two lovers. It is all gone.

This happy, little world crumbled down like a dream that vanishes after waking up. And maybe it was just that all along. Just a dream. Too good to be true.

Too good for Sukuna to have.

He stares at Yuuji as the thoughts race through his mind.

Sukuna always lived by one principle: Do what he desires. Take what he wants.

He could do that now, too. He could kill Megumi and make sure no one ever finds out about Sukuna and Yuuji. He could spin another web of lies to feed to Yuuji. And if things got bad, he could even just lock Yuuji in here, keep him a prisoner, force him to be Sukuna's until his last breath.

But is that what he truly wants?

Sukuna feels his head spin.

Does he want to force Yuuji to "love" him? Would it even still be love? After everything Sukuna learned in the last months, he knows it doesn't work that way. Love is something that needs to be given freely. And what would it say about him if he decides to take Yuuji officially as a prisoner now when the boy knows that there is another life waiting for him outside this golden cage?

Just a few days ago, Sukuna thought that he wanted to care for Yuuji, that he wanted to protect him, love him, and cherish him. Isn't it such an irony? He wants to laugh at his own foolery. Because now that he is faced with Yuuji's past, with Yuuji's life that is still waiting for him, he cannot silence that little voice in his mind that whispers to him:

What are you trying to protect Yuuji from? Aren't you the one he needs protection from? Aren't you the monster in this story, Sukuna?

He huffs.

Yes, he is the monster. And on the other side of the door is Fushiguro Megumi, who always cared so much about Yuuji. The one who always protected him. The one who always took Yuuji's side no matter what. The one who, as far as Sukuna could tell, loved Yuuji genuinely.

And now, it is once again Fushiguro Megumi who comes to Yuuji's rescue.

Maybe things would be different if any other sorcerer was the one who ran into Yuuji. Maybe Sukuna would just follow his desire and get rid of them, and claim Yuuji back without any hesitation. But out of all the people who Yuuji could have run into, of course, it had to be Megumi!

And it forces Sukuna to stare at the cruel truth.

He is the monster in this story. He spent years tormenting Yuuji, hurting him, insulting him, and making his life hell. Even the reason why Yuuji is here in his apartment right now was born out of Sukuna's cruel desire to break the boy.

He claims to love Yuuji. And maybe a few months ago, Sukuna would have believed that love meant digging his fingers possessively into Yuuji's skin and making him stay no matter the cost. A few months ago, he wouldn't have hesitated to just take what he wanted.

But now he knows differently.

Love is about sacrifice. Love is selfless. Love is about wanting what's best for the one you love even if it hurts yourself. Sukuna learned from the best, after all, didn't he? The one who taught him love was Yuuji. Yuuji, who is so selfless in the way he loves. Yuuji, who gives instead of takes. Yuuji who loves and loves and loves.

Oh, how he corrupted Sukuna's way of thinking. It becomes so clear now.

Sukuna knows he cannot claim to love Yuuji if he forces him to stay. This wouldn't be love. It would just be his selfish desire again. It would just be him taking what he wants with no regard for anyone else's feelings or well-being.

He knows what he must do, and he knows it will destroy him. But maybe this is the most genuine act of love Sukuna will ever commit.

He laughs softly, a gruff sound, the typical mask of arrogance and cruelty slipping onto his face as he cocks his head and forces himself to smirk his most malicious smirk at the boy before him.

"Then you know how it is now, brat. Such a shame that my little playtime with you is over."

His chest feels too tight when he sees those beloved golden eyes widen in shock.

"B…but Kuna… that can't be. Please tell me it is a lie… Why… why are you acting like this?"

"Don't you see it, you stupid little boy? This is the real me. Everything else was just a lie. You should believe Fushiguro."

He wants to go on, wants to stab Yuuji's heart with his cruel words just so Yuuji will leave. But he sees the tears gathering in Yuuji's eyes, the shock and pain spreading over his pretty face, and Sukuna staggers.

Hysterical laughter threatens to bubble out of his mouth. He wants to say more, wants to be cruel, wants to lash out and hurt and break. But he cannot do it.

The irony makes Sukuna's head spin. He always found it easy to suppress his feelings. He oftentimes even convinced himself that he was feeling nothing at all. It should be easy to lash out at Yuuji, to hurt him, to break him with his words, to make him run from Sukuna. But now he finds himself gulping down the other cruel things he planned to say.

It's terrifying. Terrifying how Yuuji changed him. How Yuuji broke through his walls and turned Sukuna into such a… such a mess.

Sukuna presses his lips together, closing his eyes for a moment before he looks at Yuuji again. This time without his mask of cruelty. Just sadness in his eyes, raw emotions darting over his face as he adds in a much softer voice,

"Let's call Uraume to help you pack."

He cannot hurt Yuuji by pretending he doesn't care. But he can still make sure to send the boy away. He can still make sure Yuuji can find the life he deserves with the people who are good for him.

Yuuji takes a sharp breath, beautiful golden eyes wide open in shock.

"What?"

"Pack your things. You will leave with Megumi. Let him take you to your other friends."

The tears in Yuuji's eyes spill over as he stares wide-eyed at Sukuna, hands balled into fists, shaking helplessly.

"But… what do you mean? Kuna, what does this mean? Are you throwing me out?"

There's an ache in Sukuna's chest. It isn't the dull, empty feeling he experienced after their separation. It's hot and burning, throbbing painfully in his heart. He grinds his teeth.

Yes, that is exactly what I am doing, my love. For your own good.

Blue eyes fix Yuuji with a haunted expression. Sukuna's fingers claw into the doorframe, feeling the wood splinter under his brutal grip, the splinters digging sharply into his skin, piercing it, making him bleed.

"Everything Megumi said is true. I am a monster. I am the King of Curses, your enemy, your worst nightmare. You used to be my vessel. I was like a parasite, residing inside your body, inside your soul. I tormented you, taunted you, and took every joy from you. I hurt your friends. I hurt you. I made fun of you when you begged me to help you. I even killed you once. So, what are you still doing here? You should run!"

Yuuji's lips are trembling while the tears run down his cheeks slowly. His eyes glitter like liquid gold. He doesn't attack Sukuna, doesn't try to punch him, doesn't scream at him, or look at him with hate burning in his eyes. Instead, his voice sounds shaky and broken when he whispers,

"Please don't throw me out, Kuna."

Yuuji's refusal to leave twists like a knife in Sukuna's heart.

"You stupid brat. Didn't you listen to a single thing I told you?"

Yuuji's eyes are wild, burning into Sukuna's, so indignant, so fierce.

"I don't care! It sounds crazy! And I want to stay with you! I love you, and I am happy here! I don't remember my past, but it feels like you are the best thing that has happened to me. Please don't make me leave!"

A bitter laugh falls from Sukuna's lips, and he shakes his head.

"No. I am the worst thing that has ever happened to you."

"No, you aren't."

Yuuji crosses his arms in front of his chest, determined golden gaze boring into Sukuna's. Sweet, stubborn brat. Why is he like that? Why does he have to make this even harder than it already is?

"It's true, brat. I wanted to take everything away from you, everything you ever loved and cared about. I wanted to make you my little obedient slave. My pet. Like a little puppy. It was a cruel game to entertain myself."

"No, it wasn't. I know what we have isn't a lie, Kuna! I'm not that dumb! I know you love me, too. Please, whatever it is, we can solve it! This whole stuff you and Megumi are saying sounds absolutely insane! I don't believe it!"

He is trembling, eyes wide and terrified, but he doesn't budge. He stares at Sukuna with that oh-so-typical stubbornness.

My brat.

Sukuna sighs, gulping hard as he takes the first step towards Yuuji. If Yuuji refuses to leave willingly, Sukuna will make him go by force.

Every step feels heavy like the floor is mud that tries to drag him under. But Sukuna reaches Yuuji and cups his cheek tenderly, strokes his soft skin one last time, and breathes a tender kiss to his warm, tear-stained cheek.

"Just go, Yuuji.. please."

It is not like Sukuna to beg. He was always strong, always the one whom others begged. But here he is, begging Yuuji to leave. Begging him to find a better life.

"Go to Megumi. He is good for you. Let him tell you everything. Go, brat, and don't look back."

Before Yuuji can utter another reply, Sukuna shoves him into the waiting elevator. Using so much force that the unexpecting boy is caught off guard and stumbles backward, losing his balance and landing on the floor of the marble elevator, from where he stares at Sukuna with wide golden eyes full of tears.

Sukuna can't look away from those mesmerizing eyes even as the door slides closed. He looks deeply into them, committing them to his memory. He is still staring in the same direction, sapphire eyes looking unseeingly at the closed metal door when Uraume rushes to his side.

"Uraume, we need a new security code for the elevator. Please take care of that."

He brushes past his loyal servant, slowly making his way to the living room. He can still taste the salt of Yuuji's tears on his lips.

Finally, a new chapter! I am so sorry for the long wait!! I had to get into the right mindset to work on this chapter since I knew it would be a tragic one. Right when Sukuna finally learned how to love, it got snatched away from him. Even when he first began to love Yuuji, he was still selfish in the way he loved, but now he pushed Yuuji away in a selfless act of love and it made me cry so much aaahhh. I hope Sukuna's reactions made sense. I wanted to show how conflicted he was and how this usually so controlled character became a big emotional mess. I hope it made sense.

I know this chapter probably makes a lot of people sad or anxious, but please know that this story will have a HAPPY END!! There will be pain in the next chapters, of course, but in the end, Yuuji and Sukuna will be happy together, I promise.

Thank you so much for reading and sticking to this story, even though it took me so long to update it!! It means a lot to me!!

Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet.

#sukuita #sukuna x yuuji #sukuna #ryomen sukuna

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gunilslaugh · 6 months ago

Text

Not How It's Supposed To Be Pt.3

Goo Gunil Summary: You wanted to put everything behind you and move on with your life. Gunil had other plans. (non-idol au) WC:801 Warning:none

part 1 part 2 epilogue!

photo not mine credits to owner.

Gunil lets himself into your place, heading into your living room.

“Sure come in,” you mumbled under your breath. You closed your door then headed over to your living room.

“I said to get out, not disappear,” he says. You sigh and take a seat on your couch, half-hazardly motioning for Gunil to sit too.

“It was clear that you didn’t want me around and I wanted to be done with it too,” you spoke. Gunil sat down beside you.

“Did you mean it when you said that you cared about me?” he questioned. His demeanor seemed softer.

“Is that why you came here?” You avoided answering.

“Just answer me.” He almost sounded desperate.

“I did,” you told him. “Now why are you here?” you asked.

“I wanted to see you,” he tells you.

“Why? Aren’t I the kind of person you hate the most?” you returned.

“You should be. However even with being as mad at you as I was, I couldn’t seem to hate you. Our relationship was built on lies, so it came crashing down when you revealed the truth, yet for some reason seeing you walk out that door hurt more than finding out the truth.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” you apologized. Gunil laughed at your apology.

“Don’t apologize to me. I’ve never received a sincere one before it feels weird,” he says.

“Maybe if you received one you wouldn’t have turned out like this,” you stated. The atmosphere in the room begins to lighten up.

“Maybe if I had someone who cared about me I wouldn’t have turned out like this.” He turns to look at you.

“I was supposed to forget about you. I told the truth to the people I was working with. They got pissed at me. I mean I understand, but it still doesn’t feel great, but that was supposed to be the end of this mess. I was going to move on with my life and act like none of this ever happened.”

“You can’t forget about me,” he tells you.

“Why? You don’t want me too?” you played.

“No, you’re not allowed to,” he responds.

“Well nothing had gone how it was supposed to anyway,” you chuckled.

“Come back to work then,” he says.

“Gunil. I don’t think I can. I don’t want anything to do with it,” you tell him.

“Your job is a normal job y/n,” he points.

“But I know what’s going on under the table,” you argued.

“I miss seeing you at work. I miss having lunch in my office. I miss sitting closer to you than I should.” He scooted closer to you on the couch, making his leg rest against yours. “I still want to be close to you. I want you to keep caring about me…cause I care about you too,” he reveals.

“I don’t know if we work though. I feel so morally conflicted when it comes to you. My brain tells me I’m being the stupidest person ever, but my heart wants to be close to you too.”

“Listen to your heart then,” he tells.

“It’s not that simple,” you say.

“It is if you let it be. Stop over complicating things.” He knocked you with his elbow.

“But over complicating things has been my thing lately.”

“Exactly, so stop. You know that you like me, so let’s just like each other,” he states.

“Are you confessing?” You raised your brows.

“Yes, I’m stupidly in love with you,” he confessed. “So please be with me. You don’t have to come back to work if you really don’t want to, but let's see each other,” he said.

“But what if things go terribly wrong? You know people are still after you,” you brought up. Gunil lets out a sigh.

“I can handle it, don't worry. Gosh your pretty little head shouldn’t worry so much,” He places his hand on your head.

“But-” Gunil moves his hand on the top of your head to the back of your neck, pulling you close to him. His nose grazes against yours. His eyes move from your eyes to your lips.

“I said don’t worry.” He closes the distance between the two of you. His lips pressing against yours. You relax into him, hands coming to rest on his chest. His hand on the back of your neck gives a gentle squeeze and his other hand comes to rest on your waist. The two of you pull away from each other.

“So work starts at the same time as usual?” you asked with a flush face. Gunil chuckles happily. He leans in and presses another peck to your lips.

“Mhm, don’t be late,” he teased you.

Nothing turned out how it was supposed to be, but somehow you couldn’t be happier with the result.

part 1 part 2 epilogue!

A/N: villain Gunil is wrapped thank you everyone for reading!

Taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @ezlynkisses @chewednails @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143

#xdinary heroes #xdh #xdh imagines #xdh x reader #xdinary heroes imagines #xdinary heroes x reader #xh gunil #xdh gunil #gunil x reader #goo gunil x reader #koo gunil x reader #gunil #goo gunil #koo gunil

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thepatchycat · 11 months ago

Note

Hi! For the WIP List Game: Dragon Jedi AU?? I am intrigued

Hehe, that one is inspired by @bubblew0lf1's Dragon!Jedi AU! I adore all of their dragon designs, especially Obi-Wan's, and it got me thinking about a sort of fantasy AU where the Jedi are shape-shifting dragons. I'm not sure it's something that'll ever become a finished thing, but it's been fun to think about.

Rambling and a snippet below the cut :P

This AU's setting would condense most of the notable SW planets into continents/countries/cities on one planet; there wouldn't be any space travel, though technology would probably be better than in a medieval fantasy setting. Dragons are rare and I'm thinking the knowledge of their intelligence and that they can also be people is not well-known (either a closely guarded secret or actively suppressed)--and they're also being actively hunted by the Republic/Empire under the justification that dragons are extremely dangerous (this is Palpatine's fault, and he has far more nefarious reasons for hunting them down). I haven't worked out all the worldbuilding details, but I think the Jedi are a subset of dragons who serve as guardians where they can; recently, though, they've been forced to hide due to being hunted.

In this world, Cody and Rex are wardens (possibly heading up a small group of rangers) of a large woody/mountainous area bordering a very rural town far from the center of the Republic; the land was claimed and the town founded by the Mereel-Fett family after unrest in Mandalore forced Jaster Mereel (Jango Fett's adoptive father, Cody and Rex's grandfather) and his clan to leave. Mandalorians have a complicated history with dragons, but Jaster liked to tell stories about Tarre Vizla, a Mandalorian leader long ago who either was close friends with a dragon or was a dragon himself; details passed down through the centuries seem unclear. Jango's never been that interested in the tales, but Rex and especially Cody enjoyed them growing up.

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka moved to the town together pretty recently; I think Obi-Wan runs a bookshop (or maybe a small library? A fusion of the two?), while Anakin works as a mechanic who's teaching Ahsoka the trade as well. Cody likes to read and chats with Obi-Wan when he stops by for books, while Rex brings the rangers' equipment to Anakin and Ahsoka for professional servicing (Rex tinkers a bit himself, but Anakin's a wizard) and they become fast friends. Of course, the friendly neighborhood bookkeeper and mechanics don't tell anyone that they're also dragons, including the Fetts, but Cody and Rex find out the truth eventually.

The only thing I actually started writing for this beyond notes is a scene just after Obi-Wan (in dragon form) fights Grievous (also a dragon but not a Jedi) somewhere deep in the Fetts' protected area. Cody had been doing a sweep/patrol at the time and witnessed at least part of the fight, and he goes to investigate the aftermath.

Warning that it's more gruesome than I usually go, what with blood and a dead dragon. This is just also the most snippable portion of what little I have, I think.

There is a deafening thud, and then— Silence. Cody slowly approaches the edge of the ravine and looks down. A hulking white shape lies still at the base of the rocky slope, red pooling under its gash-ridden body. It’s hard to tell from a distance what precisely killed it, but the lack of motion and abundance of blood suggest that either it’s dead or will be soon. Partially obscured, a smaller brown shape lies behind the great white beast, closer to the river; it seems similarly bloodied and still. Cody feels a pang of sorrow—that one had saved his life, whether intentionally or not. …Better make sure they’re dead, lest any survivors roam too close to town. Cody picks his way carefully down the side of the ravine, shifting between stepping and climbing as needed. When he’s made it to the bottom, he draws his rifle and approaches the white dragon. There is no movement between its sharply defined ribs, and up close Cody can see where the base of its throat has been torn open by—well, horns or claws, most likely. He follows the long neck up to the head, where dull yellow eyes stare sightlessly out from behind a gaping maw. Cody prods its nose lightly with the tip of his rifle. No response. Tempting as it still is to put a bolt in its skull, he’s hunted enough himself to know what death looks like. There’s no need. He steps around the body of the beast toward the visible back of the brown one. One of its wings lies bent at an unnatural angle behind it, and— It’s breathing, quick and labored. Not moving otherwise, but still alive, at least for now.

(Once he works out he's not going to get mauled to death for trying to help, Cody puts his wilderness first-aid skills to use. He still doesn't learn that it's Obi-Wan for a while, though.)

#Patchy Babbles #Patchy Writes #Thanks for the ask! :P #All my fanfic is self-indulgent but this one especially so #I can make my blorbos watch over a pseudo-preserve and also have dragons and nobody can stop me #Tag Games #cw blood #cw death

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missathlete31 · 1 year ago

Text

While you were sleeping has been popping up everywhere in stories and on this website lately so obviously my mind decided to make it an AU possibility.

It’s a little out there but I think it has potential 🙈

Jake Seresin, a down on his luck MTA worker, looks forward to one thing every morning- when the dark haired older man in a bomber jacket greets him with a smile as he gets on the train. Every day Jake waits for that smile, spending the rest of his shifts dreaming up what his life would be like if he ever got the chance to date that gorgeous guy.

Then on Christmas, the man of Jake’s dream is pushed and falls on the tracks. Jake immediately jumps in to save him, going as far as to follow the man to the hospital. Thanked and congratulated for being a hero, Jake is sent on his way, when he can’t help mumbling wistfully (and jokingly) about being the man’s fiancé. A nurse overhears and thinks he’s telling the truth and suddenly Jake is whisked in to meet the man’s family.

Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell might not have a lot of blood relatives but he has friends who care for him, despite not being around much after changing professions a few years ago. They are all shocked to meet Jake, and to hear Pete is engaged. The Bradshaws in particular, Nick, (Mav’s best friend and former partner before he left their firm) and his wife Carole, are eager to hear all about how the two came to be. Jake spins a tale of love but his story sidetracks when the Bradshaws son Bradley appears flustered and running into the hospital room. With wayward curls, an 80s mustache, Hawaiian shirts and a snarky attitude, Bradley Bradshaw should be the last person to catch Jake’s eye but as the two start to spend more time together waiting for Pete to wake up, Jake can’t deny that his feelings are becoming more complicated than he thought. Add in the fact that any minute Pete can wake up and expose all his lies, it’s no wonder Jake is bordering on a nervous breakdown.

A budding romance, a web of lies, and a family ready to embrace him until they learn the truth, Jake has a lot to share with his fiancé about what happened ‘while he was sleeping.’

Thanks everyone for your support on these. I get so nervous posting them and then I think no one really likes them or cares. I know I’m not the writer type but maybe they will inspire others at least!! 💗

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albentelisa · 11 months ago

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Hi!

What do you think would change if the parents had found out about the Trolls early in the first season?

You can get creative as to how the parents find out.

I feel that it could create some complications for sure.

Barbara could find it because of Draal - he isn't the stealthiest guy around, and it may take a sudden return home for the secret to collapse.

Ophelia and Javier could find out because of NotEnrique not being careful enough.

Nana, on the other hand, is definitely the least likely to find out the truth (as she met Aaarrrgghh in the canon and bought Toby's lies), but she also could overhear something that would be impossible to explain.

In any case, I feel that no matter which one of the parents would find it first, they will inform others rather fast. As for when I'll say, it could happen between Bular's defeat and Strickler's return with Angor (so Claire is also involved).

And here are the complications. Firstly, the parents will be against their children risking their lives, and unlike the canon where Jim, Claire, and Toby managed to prove their competence, here they are less experienced and trained (and Claire and Toby still have no weapons), so the parents are justified in their worries. Obviously, Ophelia and Javier also want their son back, but they want someone better suited to play the hero's role.

Jim, Toby, and Claire try to convince the parents that the quest is less dangerous than they think - they will simply retrieve Triumbric stones, and travel to the Darklands to save Enrique (they omit the detail that the Darklands are full of bloodthirsty trolls and who-knows-what). It goes more or less normal until Angor Rot arrives and all the parents go full 'we won't allow risking your lives' mode. The teens are forced to sneak out at first, and it takes a major fight with Angor where the trio demonstrate that they can protect themselves so that the parents finally agree to be supportive of their adventures. Barbara takes over as a medic, Ophelia usually helps Vendel with organizing trolls, Javier tries to learn some fighting, and Nana tries to domesticate gnomes (and gnomes surprisingly take a liking to her).

Another major change is Stricklake's dynamic - after all, Barbara learns that Strickler is both a changeling and an enemy early on. She thinks he used her to get closer to Jim (and as their relationship is at an earlier stage, Strickler needs to put way more effort so that she forgives him). In this AU, Jim and his team initially have no idea that Angor serves Strickler as Strickler pretends he has changed sides. There is no binding spell here, but well, Strickler screws a lot even without it with his lies, so when Angor exposes him eventually, Barbara is furious. However, Strickler starts to waver even earlier, thinking that perhaps he could just drop his plan altogether (he secretly hopes that Jim's team will slay Angor, and with that, his dirty secret will be safe, and he will be able to just have a peaceful life with Barbara and Jim).

#tales of arcadia #toa #what if scenario #parents know early #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #toby domzalski #barbara lake #nana domzalski #ophelia & javier nunez #walter strickler #angor rot #text post #ask box #anon ask

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hadesknockedupintheunderworld · 3 months ago

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Imagine the Tails Polycule in the death of the sonic the hedgehog game.

Oooh interesting

So, I'm going to interpret as if they (prime!polycule I assume) were inserted into the game to join the main cast, and I'll start with placement first

(Game spoilers ahead)

Shadow, Knuckles, and Sonic all start out being the only person in their respective cars (not including the conductor in this). Since we have 3 foxes to place, I think it's best to just spread them out among these 3 cars (the Saloon, the lounge car, and the conductor's car)

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My decided placements are as follows:

Sails – the Saloon car with Knuckles

Nine - the lounge car with Shadow

Mangey - the conductor's car with Sonic and the Conductor

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And with that, the following are their roles and brief backstories (to fit with the theme of the murder mystery party):

Sails – Bartender

He's a bartender at the Saloon the town sheriff (Knuckles) frequents. He doesn't particularly have the passion for bartending, but it’s due to his (now passed) elderly boss's getting him this job that saved him from a worse life, so he can't complain too much. His real passion lies in his contraption making, which only his coworkers and the Sheriff knows about. While he tries to be decent at his job and maintan a friendly exterior for the customers, you can occasionally spot him leaning over the bar counter with a bored look on his face. He also enjoys a good riddle.

Nine – Programmer

The programer is married to his job (developing new robots that exist to help vulnerable people). After he happened to win an all expenses paid vacation in the lottery, his boss forced him out of the office to take the vacation in question, and he reluctantly complied. He has a hard time sitting still and relaxing, which results in him often working on something when not on the clock. Because of this, he took his Bits with him on vacation to tinker with. He doesn't like it when his work is interrupted and can be a bit prickly, but he can't suppress his excitement or interest in machines or programs he's never seen. Coincidentally, the only person on the train he recognizes is the locksmith (Shadow), who he shares a bit of a bitter (or bittersweet?) past with.

Mangey – Co-captain

He met the captain (Sonic) in college and the two have been attached at the hip since. While easily mistaken as Captain and assistant (since the co-captain often runs errands for or assists the captain), in truth the co-captain functions both as backup and a support partner. Should the captain have complications, it's up to the co-captain to step into his role, and if the captain needs to make a hard decision or needs assistance with something difficult, the co-captain is who he asks first. They are partners who rely on each other, and good friends.

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Now, for the game itself, each of the main characters had a set of movements, other people they talked to, and things they did, so these three would be no different.

At this point I actually started plotting out the movements of each of our 3 additional characters and how they shift the story and add to it. However, once I'd done enough work I'd realized I'd come out of this ask with a full blown au rather than just passing thoughts. As such, so as not to spoil a bunch of major moments in an au I may seriously end up writing for and showing off, I've decided instead to finish off this ask with some notes and tidbits about the au.

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Misc Notes:

Nine's Bits are based upon these little guys from Archie Sonic from Silver's future (post sgw):

I couldn't think up a better name and "the bits" is still classic to me, so I made up a random lore reason why they'd be called that in this au. Answer? Professor Von Schlemmer exists in Silver's future in this au, and either Silver accidentally brought some bits back with him once or ended up showing Tails or Nine some of his work. So Nine ended up taking the basic idea from the professor's bits to create his own. Since this is a bit more of a careful situation and Nine isn’t in the business of passing others' ideas off as his own, until he comes up with another name and makes them sufficiently different, his bits are a semi-secret not so secret personal project. Idk it's kind of like how in Prime he used the Chaos Council's power core schematics to create the shatterdrive, if that makes any sense. He claims the title of inventing shatterdrive technology, but he does not hide where he drew inspiration or based his designs from

Nine (and his programmer role) have two bits. One is modeled after Chaos Sonic, and the other is modeled after Alpha Grim Sonic.

The purpose of Nine's bits are essentially to act either as extensions of Chaos Sonic and Alpha Grim Sonic or to be additional bodies the robots can upload themselves into. The former is largely useful for stuff like recon, and the latter is used in the event Nine needs to make his robots more portable for some reason (for example, in this case, he wanted to keep his robots with him during Amy's party, but didn't want them taking up space on the train)

Unless one has the proper tools, only Nine is able to access the memory of his bits (in regards to actually scrolling through their memory logs AND in accessing footage they record). Tails did not bring tools necessary for this on the train with him (especially since he takes his role as detective very seriously). This is important in case, say, the Detective and Barry end up getting ahold of one of the Bits and they happen to maybe have crucial evidence.

Fun fact! The Poet does manage to "finish the job" about the same way as he does in the original game. He is lucky that The Programmer is not in the lounge car during his arrival before and escape after the attempted murder. However, this doesn't mean The Programmer left the room completely empty and unsupervised...

Another fun fact! Rather than getting an interrogation like The Sheriff does in the Saloon Car, the Bartender withholds a special clue he found (that could possibly lead to the murderer). Tails and Barry just have to complete a task for him that involves the Super Monkey Ball arcade machine

The same way Sonic and Mangey's character cards and Sails and Knuckles' specifiy that they have a type of relationship to each other, so, too, do Shadow and Nine's cards.

Excluding Barry, The Co-Captain is the only character to suspect foul play when the Captain is "murdered" during the game. However, this is largely due to the fact that (with how the character movements are structured) the Captain and the Conductor suddenly disappear, leaving the Conductor's car in disarray. It's also a while before the Co-Captain reaches anyone who is aware that Sonic's character was murdered.

Final tidbit...! There are kisses involved. Even if they're ooc for the roles they're playing, with the prime polycule involved I had to work em in! 😂

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And with that, I'd love to thank you for the ask, anon! Although it may not have been your intention, I bamboozled myself into getting majorly invested in this little prime polycule au 🥰

#sonic the hedgehog #the murder of sonic the hedgehog #tmosth #saitaininegy #tailscest #prime polycule #tails the fox #mangey the fox #nine the fox #sails the fox #nine sonic prime #mangey sonic prime #sails sonic prime #miles tails prower #miles sails prower #miles nine prower #miles mangey prower #sonic prime #for reference #prime polycule tmosth au #will have to come up with a better au name one day #but yeah thank you again anon!#If anyone has any other questions regarding the prime polycule (relationship wise or their individual characters)#have more questions such as this one‚ or anything else‚ please feel free to shoot me an ask!#And if you'd like to see more of this au‚ feel free to let me know as well!#anon interview #tmosth au #Also uh apologies for how long this took me to answer. It was gonna be pretty straightforward and then I got really invested and started au #plotting (in depth) inside my draft and then I ultimately ended up deciding to share tidbits and notes rather than spoiling everything #au musings

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balanceoflightanddark · 2 years ago

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I've read several Azulaang AUs where Aang gets Azula to open and master all of her chakras. Each with their own take on what's blocking them.

What do you think is blocking all of Azula's chakras? What's your take?

Well, I'm not a huge expert on chakras, but I can think of a few things that might be interfering with Azula's if you want to go that route. Course this is gonna take a little bit to go through each and every one of them, so get comfy.

Earth: This one should be fairly easy. This chakra deals with survival and is blocked by fear. Fear and Azula go together like bread and butter. Sure, many people think of Azula causing fear, but you also have to remember that Azula is terrified herself. Particularly of failure and the consequences of failure. Especially poignant since...well, the price of failure could possibly be maiming or even worse. A very real possibility with Ozai as your father. Hell, in the novelization of Sozin's Comet, we get this particular scene:

Overcoming and opening her Earth chakra means overcoming her fear of failure. Which would be difficult, but also a major step since that means overcoming Ozai's conditioning.

2. Water: Another fairly obvious one. This deals with pleasure and is blocked by guilt. People often accuse of Azula of having no guilt for a lot of things. Which in many ways isn't entirely inaccurate (I mean, you can't exactly feel guilty over something you do that for your entire life is told to be correct). However, we do get a good idea of what might be blocking this particular chakra in the mirror scene.

We see in this scene that Azula admits that she did treat Mai and Ty Lee poorly, but also said she didn't have any choice because...well, fear is the only reliable way in her mind. Hell, she wouldn't be reacting this way if she didn't have any guilt over the whole mess. Even though, again, when you grow up under Ozai's shadow, that screws up how you view the world. Coming to grips with how wrong her worldview is and forgiving herself for how bad things got with some of the only positive relationships in her life can help unblock this chakra.

3. Fire: Driven by willpower. Blocked by shame. Azula has a determination that puts a lot to others to shame. To be the best firebender, the perfect daughter, the embodiment of what the Fire Nation should be. And her success was driven by that will (and less luck as Zuko puts it), particularly with firebending and being able to bend blue fire.

Unfortunately, the shame of her humiliating defeat at Sozin's Comet probably shattered that willpower. And I could see it affecting her firebending if she's as shaken as she was in canon about what happened. Learning that her loss doesn't necessarily mean she's a failure and learning to fall in love with firebending outside of the context of combat and competitiveness to just firebending for firebending's sake, to appreciate the effort it takes to be so good can go a long way to unblock this chakra.

4. Air: Embodiment of love. Blocked by grief. Azula and love...yeesh. What a complicated history that one is. Azula is undeniably capable of love, and did have love for her family members. She wouldn't have hallucinated Ursa and been shaken by her rejection if that weren't the case. She did care about Zuko enough to bring him home with his honor intact while warning him about visiting Iroh. And her love for Ozai is undeniable.

And they all left in the end. Ursa neglected her. Zuko took everything from her (taking one of the few genuinely compassionate acts she did and throws it in her face). And Ozai abandoned her to the wolves. Not to mention her ruined relationship with Mai and Ty Lee, and she's more than wracked with grief. Again, she wouldn't have broken down if she didn't love them. That is the meaning of loss and grief.

5. Sound: Embodiment of truth. Blocked by lies.

...

youtube

Yeah that goes without saying that Azula is a knack liar. More importantly, even to herself. Azula's convinced herself that she's some irredeemable monster. That her only choice is to play with the cards given to her and embrace that notion of being a monster.

Thing is...she isn't. As proven before, she's NOT a monster. She is capable of showing compassion and love. Even if she's bad at showing it, she's not the callous, heartless demon she tries to present herself as. Unblocking this chakra means accepting that her lie is exactly that: a lie. And embracing the truth that she is indeed capable of so much more than what Ozai or herself have taught her to be.

6. Light: Embodies insight. Blocked by illusion. We've talked about lying before, but this particular one can also mean her regards to the Fire Nation in general. Azula, like so many others, was raised with the belief that the Fire Nation was the superior nation. That fire was the superior element, and that their way was justified.

But just like Azula's lie, the illusion is just an illusion. The Fire Nation isn't inherently better than the others, and their drive, their cause was built on the ego of the Fire Lords and a misguided attempt to bring about a world in their own image. If the previous chakras are about breaking down Azula's self image and her relationship to Ozai, then it sets the bedrock for unblocking this chakra and discovering just what the Fire Nation truly has done.

7. Thought: Embodies pure cosmic energy. Blocked by earthly ties. This one is...unique. The others are at least defined by something concrete. Pure cosmic energy is something that's a bit more abstract. Azula's earthly ties are easy. They're all the blockages that we've just mentioned and shaped her as a person. And we've just talked about how she can overcome them.

The final step would be to finally break ties from them. To accept that no, she's NOT defined by Ozai. She's NOT a monster. And she can be more than what Ozai or the previous Fire Lords had wanted her to be. This is the critical point. It's accepting that she can be good and do the right thing no matter where she came from. Thus, coming to terms with her past, and choosing to move on and forge a new future for herself. At least how I'd interpret this.

So...yeah. This is how I'd view Azula's chakras, what's blocking them, and what can be done to clear them. It'll take time, but I do believe she's capable of it. I mean, she has addressed some of the issues herself. Now it's a matter of capitalizing on what she's learned and putting them into practice.

Thanks for the ask, anon! This was actually a bit of fun. Maybe this can be a sort of roadmap for anyone interested in writing an Azula redemption fic or something.

#azula #princess azula #azula meta #atla #atla meta #atla chakras #chakras #i'm...not an expert #so forgive me if i'm wrong on something #anon answered #ask me anything #long post

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tamlinweek · 2 years ago

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Tamlin Creator Appreciation: Fanfiction Authors

Thank you all for your submissions for your favorite Tamlin creators! In the lead up to Tamlin Week (June 18 - 24, click here for prompts and rules!), we wanted to take a minute to highlight some of the amazing authors who have written Tamlin stories in the past. Here are some of the submissions we received, listed by ship, with some honorable mentions:

Tamlin/Briar:

a quiet, distant treasure (when you rise) by @yourethehero

Rating: Mature, Words: 12k (multichapter, ongoing)

Summary: The truth is - Tamlin knows he failed. He knows he could beg, and plead until the sun burned its last flame, and it would get him nowhere. There was only the future, the one he could build for his Court, and for this child.

“I love their fic! It's such a unique take on Tamlin's redemption arc and the interactions between Tamlin and his adoptive daughter are very heartwarming”

Tamlin/Briar Honorable Mentions:

A Dream of Roses by @isterofimias

A Court of Love and Healing by @readingwritingwatching

Tamlin/Feyre:

I Will See You Again by @goforth-ladymidnight

Rating: Teen, Words: 2k (oneshot, complete)

Summary: ACOTAR AU - Mere days before the seven times seven years are up, Tamlin decides to send Feyre back to the mortal lands. A glimpse at what might have happened if Feyre had opened her heart and said those three little words that held more magic than she thought possible.

“This creator is AMAZING, BRILLIANT and a great addition to the pro Tamlin community!”

Tamlin/Lucien:

lovely and lonely by @praetorqueenreyna

Rating: Mature, Words: 24k (multichapter, ongoing)

Summary: "In hindsight, Lucien thinks he fell in love with Tamlin the moment he first laid eyes on him." *** Lucien Vanserra must come to terms with his sexuality, and his complicated feelings for High Lord Tamlin.

“My favorite takes of the characters and Tamlin specifically by far.”

Tamlin/Nesta:

My Sun Shines Upon Me by @toast-com

Rating: N/A, Words: <200 (oneshot, complete), Summary: N/A

“Her creativity and descriptive writing. Tamlin creators, I am high-fiving all of you.”

Tamlin/OC:

Hyacinth by @suckerpunchfemale

Rating: Mature, Words: 90k (multichapter, complete)

Summary: Hyacinth, known as Cin, has seen the once thriving and prosperous Spring Court fall into ruin and lawlessness due to the absence of their High Lord, Tamlin. But after two years of waiting and hoping, Cin has had enough. Can these two trauma survivors, Cin and Tamlin, save each other and their home?

“I don't usually reach for fanfics with OCs, but you can't help but root for Hyacinth (aka Cin) as she tries to fix the very broken Spring Court in the wake of the war on Hybern. What I like about SPF’s portrayal of Tamlin is how she doesn't shy away from showing his suffering, but she doesn't let him wallow in his misery, either. He made mistakes, but he's not the villain here. It's a good and proper redemption arc! :D”

Tamlin/Rhysand:

A Court of Lies and Resurrection by @ashintheairlikesnow

Rating: Explicit, Words: 193k (multichapter, complete)

Summary: AU: Feyre is dead, torn apart by Amarantha when Tamlin did not send her away in time. Tamlin, forced to submit to Amarantha's terms, finds himself looking for help (and finding affection) in places he never expected.

“IT IS THE TAMSAND MULTI CHAPTER FIC!!!!! Their fic actually opened my eyes to Rhys potential post Amarantha which I didn’t realize was POSSIBLE”

Thank you so much to everyone who participated! Look forward to more pro Tamlin content by our wonderful contributors in June!

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the7thcrow · 2 years ago

Text

Not all that Glitters is Gold -> 09

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

series masterlist | previous chapter

Part Nine: indignation, drasilisks, and a nail in the coffin.

series rating: 16+

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

chapter details beneath the cut ->

wc: 14.0k

extra chapter warnings: n/a

chapter summary:

“Maybe we should take a step back and-” you start, but Woo cuts you off.

“Butt out, Libaiyan,” Woo says immediately, even if he does not look at you. “This isn’t your business.”

“It is her business,” San replies. “She’s just as wrapped up in this as the rest of us are.”

a/n: surprise! i'm still on semi-hiatus until the end of the school year, but i’m currently on my reading week break so i had a bit of down time. really been missing this story and these characters. hope you all enjoy! <3

Seonghwa and Woo will neither speak nor look at you, although considering everything both their eyes and lips could say, you should be more grateful than saddened by that fact.

The four of you walk in silence along the mountain pass, just as you have for the last couple hours. Although there’s been no more than a few words exchanged between the men of your party, none of them have been with you. In fact, you don’t believe your existence has been acknowledged since yesterday morning.

Woo takes charge up front, Seonghwa a few metres behind him, you following suit with the same after himself. San takes up the rear, singular horse in tow behind him.

You had to sell the other horse to the inn as payment for the damages caused by the fight, as well as in return for the supplies and luggage that they’d confiscated from your room. Woo tried to argue with the inn-keeper that Yeosang had attacked him first, but the bounty hunters had long-since left and the inn’s damage needed to be repaired. It was just business, but you could tell she felt a little bad when the boys dejectedly left the horse in the stable.

The result is the remaining horse being unrideable. The animal carries the luggage you’d previously split across the two of them, and wouldn’t be able to handle the extra weight. It’s left you with a far slower journey, time practically standing still between your walking pace and the thick tension hanging in the air.

You feel awful.

You've hardly slept since they’d found out the truth. One night having been spent in endless tears, with your knees planted in the fallen rain and mud. The other in your own tent, although the cold quietness of it served as a reminder of Seonghwa’s absence, and subsequently of your lies.

You managed to convince them to take you on the rest of the journey, less for your own sake and more for theirs. You’re almost through the Burovian Mountains, the minor kingdom of Bebbanburg being your last city before Kuroku. Even if the navigation would be a little difficult, you likely could have managed it yourself.

However, you know that reaching Kuroku alone would feel hollow, considering you’d leave them with nothing but San’s practical death sentence. You couldn’t just abandon them in such utter shambles, even if ultimately that would prove the easiest point of action for yourself. No promises to keep, nor extra strings attached to your arrival at the Kuroken castle.

You’ve grown too attached to these men, you know that.

They’ve become a weakness of the most dangerous kind. The type that you’re aware of is a fault, but rather than overcoming it, you continue to feed into its fragility. You came back for them, and you’re willing to deal with the ridicule and liability that may encompass.

You’ll do what it takes to make this up to them, even if you’ve tarnished every bit of trust you’ve built, and inevitably you’ll be leaving them for good no matter the outcome.

A weakness they are indeed, and feed into that fragility you will.

Fortunately, not every bit of hope is lost for your retribution. You told them of your situation, of your plan to ask the royal family if they will follow through with the betrothal. You’ve also sworn to beg them for the money regardless of whether or not they accept.

After all, Seonghwa had made the conditions of your return very clear: If you have a way to get them the money, come back. If you don’t, then don’t even bother.

“I know it’s not what we agreed upon. Not even close,” you had said, voice raspy and face puffy from having spent the night crying. “But there’s a chance, and I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if we didn’t at least try.”

“You shouldn’t forgive yourself anyway,” Woo muttered, before standing up from his seat at the fire and shouldering his way past you. Pulling back the tent-flap he slipped under without another word. They only set up one tent.

You glanced at Seonghwa, whose gaze wandered away at the mention of your betrothal. You weren’t sure if he was hurt by the marriage itself, or angry that you hid it from him. Likely a little bit of both. He wouldn’t meet your eye.

“Alright,” a voice said from your right. San stood by the horse, packing up the dry nuts and coffee from their breakfast that morning. He gave you a small, weak smile. “We’ll try.”

So you’re trying, although not everyone seems equally as enthused by your plan. While neither have said anything out loud, you know that Seonghwa and Woo aren’t happy with the arrangement, and would choose to head home if they were given the choice. But it’s not their decision, it’s San’s. He’s the one who needs the money, therefore it’s his choice whether to give you a second chance.

For some reason, he has. In fact, he didn’t even seem to contemplate it much, agreeing to continue the journey with no arm-twisting needed. While Seonghwa and Woo’s sense of betrayal reads blatantly in both their expression and behaviour, San's is far less obvious.

You cast a glance over your shoulder at the swordsman, who meets your eyes almost immediately. He gives you a tight-lipped smile.

You’re having a hard time understanding him. He has plenty of reason to hate you - the most reason, debatably, considering it’s his money on the line - and yet, he’s not treating you with any sort of animosity.

He doesn’t appear happy by any means, gaze a little vacant and demeanor overall quiet as you continue to trudge along, but he doesn’t appear crushed. You’d like to talk to him about it, to understand where his head is at, but you don’t feel as if you have the right. You have lost the privilege of having any of these men confide in you.

If he wishes to speak about it, then he will approach you. Let him decide that on his own terms, rather than your pestering curiosity.

Up ahead, Woo takes a sharp turn off the main path, causing Seonghwa to halt and jog after him.

“Woo?” Seonghwa calls. “This isn’t the right way.”

“Shortcut,” Woo replies plainly, not even bothering to slow down.

“Are you sure?” Seonghwa asks. “Because this trail doesn’t look very worn-”

“It’s heading South down the mountain, which is exactly where we need to go,” Woo interrupts, finally pausing as he points at how the trail descends. It’s narrower than the main path, as well as more twisted and steep. “It’ll save us some time, now that we’re reduced to finishing this on foot.”

He doesn’t look at you as he says it, but the annoyance in his tone shows it’s quite blatantly a shot at you.

You don’t want to quip back, having no interest in starting an argument, but the trail ahead appears less than ideal. Almost frightening, as it begins to darken with the shadows of bushy, low-hanging trees. Its descent is steep, not enough to cause you trouble, but likely some for the horse. It’s a gamble, and one you aren’t certain is wise to take.

“Are you sure that it’s safe?” You ask, trying to keep your voice level but also gentle, non-accusatory. “Or that it’s actually going to bring us closer to Bebbanburg?”

Woo starts walking again without answering you, and you don’t miss the way the ground cracks beneath his boot, fist clenched at his side. It tears through the trail, forming a foot-long divide between you and the two men in front of you. If Woo notices what he’s created, he doesn’t show it, simply keeps storming down the mountain.

Looks like there isn’t much of a discussion to be had. You cast a wary glance over at San. He shrugs, grip tightening on the horse’s reign as he too moves forward, although you note the way his jaw sets firm. He’s aware it’s not the best idea, but he’s also not about to contest Woo right now, especially not in an act of defiance against you.

You sigh, although you put up no form of protest. This is who you are to them now. A ghost, your voice a whisper in the wind. You are there to get them the money, just as you were prior, only now all the bridges of understanding you’d built have crumbled.

Swallowing your worry, you step over the divide before trailing after them. So be it, this is what you deserve.

“Woo, we should turn back,” Seonghwa says, the fourth time he’s voiced his concern in the last hour.

This time, Woo answers him with a grunt rather than any assurance or rebuttal. He likely doesn’t feel inclined to try and convince Seonghwa that the trail is safe - again - or perhaps it’s finally dawning on him that this wasn’t a good idea.

The trail has become even more narrow and steep, and San fights to keep the horse at bay behind you, gravel slipping and sliding beneath the animal's hooves as it whinnies in protest.

Hours have passed since you first began your descent, and the sun has become a simmering ember over the horizon, darkness falling heavy around you. The tree’s are barren with blackened bark, twisting and curling around the trail. The wind blows between them sharply, a high whistling noise in contrast to the peaceful rustle of leaves along the main path.

Night is falling, and with the trail’s steep incline and the wind’s unyielding chill, there is no option to set up camp. You either continue to trudge on through the darkness and further into the unknown, or waste a few hours heading back towards comfortable safety. You believe it’s obvious which option is more wise.

The horse slides down behind you, letting out a high-pitched whine as the rocks slide around its hooves. “Shit,” San mutters, clutching onto its reins to try and hold the animal in place, despite it weighing almost a ton and having the ability to crush him.

This isn’t going to work. Should you even make it to Bebbanburg by morning, you’ll be exhausted from the night-long journey and forced to waste the day with rest. If you’re bound to waste time anyway, there’s no sense in risking the loss of another horse and having San crushed in the process.

“Woo, we need to turn around,” you say. It’s the second time you’ve spoken all day, and your voice is a bit raspy from lack of use. When Woo doesn’t respond, you clear your throat. “This isn’t a good trail. San’s about to get crushed by the horse and there’s nowhere to set up camp for the night. We don’t even know for sure if this is taking us to Bebbanburg, let’s just go back to the main path.”

“You don’t get a say, Libaiyan,” he replies, ignoring both you and your reasoning as he does not even bother to cast a glance over his shoulder.

Frustration settles within your chest and you swallow down a haughty response. He’s being stubborn, but not only that, he’s being stupid. Woo has to know by now that this wasn’t a good idea, but if it means agreeing with you on anything, he’ll let his pride drive the lot of you into the ground.

“This has nothing to do with me, it’s common sense,” you reply. You’re aware that picking a fight is not the best course of action, but you also have no interest in wandering in this cold and barren forest all night due to an elemental’s pride. “Don’t make everyone suffer because of your hatred for me.”

“Right, because I am the one making everyone suffer. That’s rich,” Woo spits, finally stopping in his pursuit down the mountain, turning to face you. His eyes scream bloody murder.

“That’s not what I meant,” you sigh. “What I was saying was-”

“What you were saying was that you think you still have any sort of influence here,” Woo cuts you off, taking a few steps up the trail, gravel sliding beneath his boots as he places himself in front of you. When he speaks he presses a finger to your chest, accusatory. “Let me make this clear. We are delivering you, we are getting our money, and then we are done. You aren’t a person, you aren’t a part of our party. You are cargo, you are baggage, you are a burden. You have no say.”

“Fine,” you say through gritted teeth, fist clenched at your side as you swallow down your pride. You remind yourself that he is hurt, that he is also the man who bore his soul to you at the fire only days ago. It’s hard to do this when he looks at you as if you are something vile stuck to the bottom of his shoe. “Then at least listen to Seonghwa when he tells you the exact same thing.”

Woo scowls, huffing as he turns to face Seonghwa. When he speaks his tone isn’t angry, but it’s certainly frustrated. “You really want to go back?”

Seonghwa's eyes widen, only slightly, as his gaze flickers between yours and Woo’s. It’s the first time he’s met your eye over the last two days, and it almost immediately darts away. He swallows hard.

“No. We can keep going,” Seonghwa answers, and amidst your internal groaning of annoyance, there is also hurt. Seonghwa wants to go back, he knows it’s the better option, and yet he only agrees with Woo because he cannot bear doing so with you.

Woo blinks at him, surprised, before nodding. “Alright then,” he says, turning back towards the trail. “We keep moving.”

“No,” a voice protests, and this time it is neither Seonghwa or yourself, but San. One of his hands grips the horse’s reins tightly, while the other is wrapped around the animal's neck, still trying to prevent it from slipping. “Don’t be petty. She’s right, we’re going back.”

Woo’s gaze darkens, and you aren’t sure if it’s from San calling him petty, or stating that you’re right. Likely both.

“We’re not being petty,” he argues, spitting the word out like a curse. “I think we have fair reason not to trust her judgement.”

“Then trust mine,” San says lowly. Getting a better look at him, he appears worn. A dark circle of tiredness having creeped beneath his eye, he breathes heavily, grip shaking around the reins in his hand. He’s been at this for hours, and it appears his patience has begun to waver. “You’re being a fool, and this is ridiculous. It’s my money on the line here, I think you should remember that.”

“Of course we’re aware of that, but-” Woo starts.

“Then don’t make the journey harder than it needs to be,” San cuts him off, tone cold. “Don’t make borderline moronic decisions that have me carrying a horse down a mountain, or that would have us stranded for the night. This isn’t your battle to fight.”

“You aren’t the only one she hurt. You think Seonghwa doesn’t feel-”

“I wasn’t talking to Seonghwa.”

The silence that hangs in the air is glacial. Frozen in time as the seconds tick by, unmoving as neither of the two men budge. Woo’s jaw is set firm, twitching as if he wants to say something, but does not permit himself to let the words out.

It dawns on you that San does not know how deeply you hurt Woo. He does not know the depths of his past, the horrors of orphanage. Woo had made you swear not to tell him.

It’s immediate, how the guilt settles in your gut, and you try to remedy the situation.

“Maybe we should take a step back and-” you start, but Woo cuts you off.

“Butt out, Libaiyan,” Woo says immediately, even if he does not look at you. “This isn’t your business.”

“It is her business,” San replies. “She’s just as wrapped up in this as the rest of us are.”

At this Woo’s gaze finally does shift, into a look of complete and utter bewilderment. He baulks at the swordsman, eyebrows drawing together in disbelief as his mouth drops open, stunned. “Are you actually defending her right now?”

“I’m not defending her, I’m just saying you aren’t thinking clearly about this-”

“Oh, of course. I’m not thinking clearly! Me, not the guy who’s taking the side of a woman who scammed him out of a fortune. Naturally, I’m the problem-”

“You guys…” Seonghwa starts, too quiet to be heard over their arguing, as both Woo and San’s voice begins to raise louder.

“It was my fortune to be scammed out of,” San cuts back, rolling his good eye as he lets out a groan of frustration. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever seen San lose his temper like this, but the height of his voice matches Woo’s, as does his ferocity. “For the sake of the god’s Woo, if I - the one with his life on the line - can put my feelings aside to finish the journey, you think you’d be able to.”

Woo laughs at this, a cold sound. “I think you aren’t putting your feelings aside, and that’s the problem. Being a little blinded, are we?”

San scowls at this, giving him an incredulous stare. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You guys,” Seonghwa starts again, and this time his voice is louder. Hand falling to his side, you notice his fingers grip around the knife on his belt, and you frown. However, his words go ignored.

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about,” Woo answers, tone dripping with annoyance. “You think I didn’t notice the longing, puppy-dog glances in her direction since the sand village? Then she betrays us and you’re smiling at her, San. Honestly.”

San’s eye widens as his jaw drops open, stupefied. “For fucks sake Woo, you’re being jealous? Right now? Are you kidding me?”

“Right, because I’m the one who’s delusional-”

“You guys!” Seonghwa finally shouts, and the two men momentarily break out of their argument. Seonghwa pulls the knife from his belt, sinking down to crouch lower onto his knees, eyes darting between the trees above you.

Sensing the urgency in Seonghwa’s demeanor, both Woo and San silence themselves, matching the empath as they crouch downward. You follow suit, an eerie chill passing through you as Seonghwa presses a finger to his lips. The forest is quiet, as the only sound is the wind as it blows between the trees and their blackened bark.

“What is it, Hwa?” San asks quietly, casting him a wary glance. His hand extends up to reach his blade fastened along his back, fingers clutched around the hilt.

“Do you hear that?” Seonghwa whispers, and you tune your ears into the forest’s sound, listening closer. A few minutes pass by in silence, when you admit to yourself that no, you don’t hear anything.

You’re about to tell this to Seonghwa when you still do not hear it, but rather see it. Something big, black, and scaly slithering along the tree a few paces to your left, blending into the bark so that if you weren’t on guard, you never would have seen it.

It looks almost exactly like a branch blowing in the wind, as it ripples along the barren wood, a shadow in the night’s darkness. Creeping its way up along the trunk, it extends itself to reach another tree, traveling between them. It’s only now that you see it that you can hear what Seonghwa had noticed, the slick noise of the beast traveling, scratchy against the wood.

Out of the corner of your eye, another branch moves.

Twisting to face it, you watch as another one of the monsters creeps along the trees. You cannot see its eyes nor its fangs, but it’s clearly some sort of serpent. A few feet long and thick as rope.

You swallow the frightened gasp that settles itself in your throat as another branch to your right moves. Then to your left, and another beside it. They’re everywhere.

When you bring your gaze down, you don’t realize what you’re searching for until you meet Seonghwa’s eyes. This time he does not look away from you, swallowing hard as he holds your gaze. His lips purse together. He’s afraid.

“We’re being hunted,” he whispers, and Woo nods, looking up and around just as you had. Gaze darting back and forth, he’s tallying them, you realize.

“Eight of them, by my count,” the elemental says, keeping his voice low. “What are they?”

“Basilisks,” San answers, followed by an unsteady breath.

Woo shakes his head. “They’re too small.”

“Children. That's why there’s so many of them.”

Woo nods, jaw tense as he flexes his fists in and out, quelching the small flames that continue to reappear within his palms. You don’t think he can help it.

“What do we do?” Seonghwa asks, and San considers the question for a long moment before responding.

“If they’re Basilisks that means they’re also blind,” he whispers, nodding to himself as he speaks. “If we’re quiet enough, we should be able to flee.”

Sharing a glance between the four of you, one that shares a mutual understanding of caution, Seonghwa takes a step forward. The rocks within the gravel of the trail protest, a crunching noise echoing from beneath his boot. The Basilisks begin to slither a little faster, and Seonghwa winces.

He corrects his next step, the crunch of the gravel much softer as he makes his way down the trail. To go up now is futile, as attempting to maintain silence will be much harder if fighting against the falling rocks.

Woo takes a step after him, light on his feet, with you following suit. You extend a hand out to San, who accepts it, his other still gripping the horse’s reins.

Turning his attention to the horse, he bows his head, ushering it to follow him. However, without an audible order, the animal doesn’t understand the command, huffing in annoyance at its reins being tugged.

San winces at the loudness of the noise, looking over his shoulder at both Woo and San. “Do we leave him?” He asks, voice so hushed it’s barely audible.

After a moment they nod. San drops the reins, and the group of you tread slowly down the hill. The swordsman keeps his hand out-stretched to calm the horse, hoping it won’t make another noise.

Fortunately, it doesn’t.

Unfortunately, it follows instead.

The rocks of the trail crunching loudly beneath its hooves, it follows after you, before beginning to lose its footing as the gravel slides. The horse lets out a loud sort of squealing noise, before slipping down the trail.

It would have crushed you, if it weren’t for the three black blurs that came darting from the forest’s thicket. Each of them lodging itself within the horse - one in its neck and the other two within its torso - the animal goes stumbling into the bush, letting out a loud whine of pain that makes your gut clench.

It’s quickly quelled by fear, however, as loud hissing noises emit from all around you, the trees shaking as all of the snakes begin to move. Alerted by the noise, you watch as many of their tails stick up, a rattling motion.

You don’t know much about snakes, but it doesn’t take a genius to know that that can’t be a good sign.

San and Seonghwa both immediately begin to run, instinct taking over where yours appear to be lacking. Woo swears beneath his breath. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters, reaching out to grab your arm, grip firm. “Run!”

Pulling you after him, you both take off down the trail, the sound of slithering following close behind. A black dart flies over your shoulder, and you can feel the air rush passed as the beast narrowly misses your ear.

“They can pounce!” You yell, dread curling within your stomach. “We can’t outrun them!”

None of the men respond, but Woo does look over his shoulder, before releasing your arm and holding his own out steady behind him. Maintaining his pace, he summons a ball of flame before throwing it at one of the Basilisks, which appears to be nothing more than a black line zig-zagging across the trail.

However, instead of hitting the monster, Woo’s ball of fire is cut off.

By the beast's own flame.

The snake’s jaw falls open, sharp fangs glinting even in the darkness, and from its gaping mouth comes a large stream of burning orange heat. The flames collide with Woo’s own, diminishing it.

“Oh, shit,” Woo says, eyes wide. He turns forward again, shouting towards Seonghwa and San. “They may be blind, but they sure as hell aren’t Basilisks!”

San casts a glance over his shoulder to see what Woo is talking about, letting out a gasp as the beast begins to spit another stream of flame towards you. Woo blows it back in the opposite direction with a gust of wind, but the snake merely slithers through the flame, letting out an agitated hiss as it remains unscathed.

“Fuck, they’re fire-proof too!” Woo observes, quickening his pace as his adrenaline sparks higher. There appears to be fear in his eyes, genuine, an emotion you aren’t sure you’ve ever seen on him. “What should we do?”

“She’s right, we can’t outrun them,” San answers, hand drifting to the hilt of his blade. His sprint suddenly settles into a jog, and you nearly crash into him, stumbling as you maneuver yourself around him. “We only have one choice.”

When San unsheathes his sword, he twists around with it. A blur of motion, one of the snakes pounces forward, flying towards him with its mouth open and long fangs on display. It moves at lightning speed, like a black shadow whirling through the air.

San slices it clean in half.

The snake falls into two separate pieces on both sides of him, a thick black liquid oozing from where its body had been severed. It smells rancid, like something rotten as it spreads across the forest floor, acidic as the pebbles begin to sizzle and melt.

The other snakes chasing you begin to slow, as they dart themselves into the forest. You can still see them, as none of the bushes or trees have leaves to hide them. The blackened bark suddenly makes sense, the area over-run by the fire-breathing monsters.

You’d think it would have been nice for someone to have put a sign before the trail, warning of a flame-spitting-snake-monster breeding ground. Then again, perhaps nobody has survived to make note of one. Your stomach sinks at the thought.

A large stream of fire flies towards San, and the swordsman narrowly dodges it by twisting it to the left. Another blast of flame shoots out at him, and San ducks, the flames an inch away from searing his scalp.

San grits his teeth in annoyance, gaze darting around at the many snakes surrounding you. “Woo, can you ensure their flames won’t hit me?”

“But there’s so many of them-” Woo protests, although he’s quickly silenced by San casting him a glare, one that says: “I wasn’t asking if it would be easy.”

The elemental sighs, before shaking out his hands and shoulders. “I can do it.”

“Good,” San states, before bending low on his knees, standing light on the balls of his feet. Battle stance. “Then let’s work.”

When San begins to move, all the praise that Seonghwa had been spewing about him is immediately proven wrong.

It never even came close to illustrating the man’s skill.

San moves with an uncontested quickness, traveling through the air as if he were a part of it. His sword swings and twists as if it were its own being, an object cursed with a vengeance to destroy anything within its path.

The snakes fly at San from every angle, attracted to the sound of gravel crunching beneath him as he moves and parries between their attacks.

A snake springs from behind him, and San twists to avoid it without even a glance backwards. Meanwhile, another comes at him from his left, and despite being in the middle of a complicated twisting maneuver away from the other, he manages to swing at the beast through the motion.

He slices yet another snake in half, as Woo preoccupies himself with preventing San from having to also worry about their flames. The elemental keeps his hands outstretched, eyes darting between the monsters, watching for when their jaws drop open. It’s at lightning speed, reflexes nearly cat-like as Woo redirects their fire away from San. The monsters hiss in displeasure.

The sound of hissing slowly dies out as both the elemental and the swordsman master the beasts. San takes them down one by one, the black corrosive liquid in replacement of blood oozing thick across the forest floor.

You simply watch. Seonghwa stands next to you, rendered equally as useless considering his bow and arrows were left with the horse. Besides, you imagine that shooting one of these beasts would be nearly impossible, anyway. You consider trying to help with your own sword, but you’d likely be getting more in San’s way than actually assisting him.

You cast Seonghwa a glance, although he doesn’t meet it. His eyes are focused on San, jaw dropped open ever so slightly, watching the swordsman fight in awe. He does not look away.

San slays the final snake, breathing heavily as the monster tumbles to the ground. It looks far less menacing now, immobile and coated in black ooze and dirt.

“Let’s go get our supplies,” San says quietly, holding no sort of pride or glory at the impossibility he accomplished. He just looks tired.

In silent agreement, the four of you begin to walk back up the path. Towards their horse, which is surely dead. Another gone, and although you feel for them, you’re at the very least glad that this time you are not at fault.

San stops.

Unprepared, you run into him, bumping your nose against his back. “What are you-” you start, but he hushes you, gaze flickering back into the forest.

“Are there more?” Woo asks, tone dreadful.

San doesn’t respond right away, he doesn’t have to. The sound of something moving, slithering through the forest is immediately apparent, rocks either being crushed or slipping down the hill.

You look around, searching for the beasts. You catch sight of movement, something black and massive twisting through the bush, before it disappears behind a tree-trunk. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot another, slithering within the ashen underbrush. They appear bigger than the last, far longer as you cannot see their full length, body a couple feet thicker in girth.

“How many are there?” You ask, trying to keep your voice low.

“Not many,” San answers, although for some reason he sounds more devastated than relieved by the fact. “Only one.”

You cast him a confused glance, prepared to point out the third beast you see slithering behind a rock.

“Fuck,” Woo whispers, the realization dawning on him just as it does you.

The first beast you saw that had crawled up the tree… it has also slithered itself around one of its branches, before connecting itself to the next one.

The second beast that slithered through the underbrush, its torso does not disappear behind a blackened bush, it continues past it. All the way to the third beast, its body twisted around a rock before curling up yet another tree stump.

There are not many beasts, but one. One massive snake that’s body has completely surrounded you. It hangs across the trees, trails through the underbrush, curls around rocks and stumps alike. Black scales slithering in the shadows, it’s everywhere.

“Where is its head?” Seonghwa asks, looking up into the trees, eyes full of worry.

The silence in response to his question is a testament to how nobody is sure of the answer. Woo crouches down, grabbing a large rock. He weighs it in his hand, as if to deem whether or not it is heavy enough, then brings his arm back and throws it down the trail.

It sails a solid distance away from you before falling back down. Skipping a few times, it loudly crashes against different small stones with each of its jumps.

Less than a few seconds after it settles, the rock is devoured whole.

The beast appears in a whirl of darkness and motion. Flying down from the tree-tops, its open mouth - which is a few feet long, by your estimate - contains massive fangs that drip with a white venom as it swallows the rock.

The monstrous snake hisses with satisfaction, pink and ribbed tongue flickering out in front of it. It lets out a breath, and the faintest hint of flames flare out from the monster’s nose. The beast's black tail continues to fall down from the tree’s, and you can hear it moving all around you. Tens, maybe even hundreds of feet long.

It begins to slither along the ground, making zig-zags along the trail as it surrounds the smaller snakes that San had slain. It stops in front of one, nudging its body with the tip of its nose, to which the smaller snake flops over lifelessly

“Shit,” San whispers, gaze flickering between the massive snake and the ones he’d discerned to be children. “That’s mom.”

The snake continues to hiss, becoming increasingly agitated as it lets out a strange, mangled growling noise. It’s of a higher-pitch, breaking slightly, and the beast lets out a blast of fire that scorches the area around it. It’s upset, and part of yourself - the tiny fraction that is not consumed by fear - feels almost guilty.

Then it turns to face you.

Its face is difficult to make out. Features indiscernible as its scales are the colour of midnight, a stark contrast to the bold pink of its gaping mouth. The white venom from its fangs continues to drip onto the soil, equally as corrosive as its blood.

What’s most terrifying however, are its eyes. Gleaming rubies glowing within the darkness, they shine a bright red. They’re also cloudy, like fogged windows, a testament to the monster’s blindness. Even though it looks in your direction, you know it cannot see you.

And yet, it doesn’t move. It’s face hovers a couple dozen feet before you, tongue flickering. It huffs once more, a bright orange flare puffing from its mouth.

“It must be some sort of Basilisk and Dragon hybrid. Both rare, both deadly,” San whispers, expression grim.

Woo nods to himself, lip briefly curving upwards. “A Drasilisk,” he offers.

San gives him a look of disbelief. “What is wrong with you?”

“Would both of you quit it,” Seonghwa says, voice a panicked whisper. His gaze flickers between them and the beast, before swallowing hard. “What are we going to do?”

“It’s blind. So if we don’t make any noise, it’ll leave eventually,” San answers, and Seonghwa nods. It seems plausible enough of a plan, reasonable enough to work. Besides, your content with nobody having to try and fight this thing, whether that be you or any of them.

The snake curls upwards from its place on the ground, coils forming around itself as it hovers in the air, looming tall. It lets out another broken whine, this time louder. Amplified by the mountains, it echoes all around you. It resembles a woman screaming.

The beast flares its nostrils, the action accompanied by a quiet puffing sound. It’s not the same as it had done before, accompanied by fire and annoyance. Instead, it sounds like an inhale rather than an exhale.

The beast continues to make the sound over and over again, nose outstretched as it twists back and forth, almost as if it’s… sniffing.

It begins to move towards you, slithering slowly, following your scent down the trail as it creeps closer.

“You think just standing here is a good idea now?” Woo asks, a ball of flame forming within his hand. It’s useless, considering the beast is fireproof, but perhaps it provides him comfort. A false sense of control.

“No,” San says plainly, rolling up his sleeves before unsheathing his sword. “Ready to go again?”

“You aren’t seriously thinking of fighting that thing are you?” You ask, because it sounds ridiculous. The smaller snakes in relation to this monster is like comparing a puppy to a wolf. It’s a death mission, suicide.

“Not much of a choice,” San breathes, before rushing towards the beast. Woo lets out a shout of panicked protest, and while his intentions may have been good, the beast perks up in acknowledgement of their presence.

It lets out a vicious, blood curdling roar - a sound you never thought could come from a snake - and with it comes a blast of fire. Like an avalanche of flame, red and orange flurries tumble down the trail. Even from a fair distance away you can feel its heat immediately, and San only manages to avoid the flame by diving out into the bush.

Even so, it catches his ankle, the flames alighting his trousers. He extinguishes them with a handful of dirt, casting an annoyed glare in Woo’s direction. “Thanks a lot,” he says, both in relation to the elemental having alerted the beast and failing to redirect its flame.

Woo doesn’t apologize, but he does raise his hands in front of himself, prepared for the beast's next blast of fire.

San rushes towards the monster once more, the necessity for speed obvious, as its gaping mouth extends to where he’d just been standing. The beast instead collides with the ground, venom squirting into where its fangs sink into the soil.

San’s good eye widens, as if realizing how close he’s dancing on death’s doorstep.

While his attention is preoccupied, the beast's long torso swings towards him. The monster commands its body like a whip, extending itself to meet the swordsman with an alarming amount of force. From the sheer power of the strike, you fear he may fall.

However, when it pulls its body back, San isn’t on the ground. He’s not standing either. In fact, he’s not anywhere.

Your brows furrow into confusion. Focusing your gaze, you search for San amongst the darkness, unable to find him where he’d previously stood. As if he’d been wiped from existence.

Then you notice a flash of colour amidst the beast's jet-black body.

San clings to the monster as it raises itself into the air. Arms held around its torso, he holds onto it with sheer core-strength, face twisted with the necessary effort.

He caught it. Somehow, he managed to catch the three-foot wide whip hurtling towards him.

Seonghwa cheers in a rally of support, and you nearly clap in amazement, as well as disbelief.

San pulls himself up so that he is sitting on top of the beast, legs wrapped around its torso as if he were riding it. With a hand clutching onto one of its scales, he uses the other to lift his sword into the air. The sword gleams in the moonlight as he raises it high, like a knight from a storybook as he brings it down, triumphant and glorious.

The sword bounces off of the beast's scales.

San’s brows furrows, and instead of a plunging motion, he attempts to slice the beast as he had the smaller ones. Once again, the sword merely rebounds off of the monster, useless.

The snake lets out a roar of annoyance, becoming aware of the nuisance that has attached himself to its back. It launches itself upwards, before immediately descending down, the rest of its body following in a peristaltic motion. The ripple ascends towards San like a massive wave, and the swordsman’s face settles into an expression that says nothing less than “Fuck me”.

When the snake’s body launches upward beneath him, San attempts to hold on, but the effort is futile. The scale beneath his hand rips off, and he is sent flying. Losing the grip on his sword, it goes soaring out into the forest, disappearing into the underbrush.

If there is any sort of optimism to be found in the situation, it’s in that at least San is sent hurtling towards you rather than in the opposite direction. He crashes into the ground, catching himself on his forearms, bare skin shredded as he slides along the trail’s rocks and gravel.

Wincing, he does not allow himself to dwell on the pain, as he shakily pushes himself back up and unto his feet. His arms are stained pure red, the layer of flesh wiped clean off. He swears beneath his breath, before yanking both of his sleeves down as if he cannot stand to look at it.

“Well,” Woo says, a look of disgust on his face as blood begins to soak through the fabric of San’s tunic. “Are you done?”

“I’m done,” San hisses through gritted teeth.

Woo nods. “We run then?”

San looks over to the snake, who lets out a loud hissing noise as more fire sparks from its nose. “Yeah,” he breathes. “We run.”

The four of you take off down the trail. Keeping one eye over your shoulder, the beast turns to face you all, letting out a violent roar that shakes the ground. It opens its mouth, another avalanche of flame tumbling down the trail.

Woo twists around, running backwards as he redirects the flames into the forest. Sweat has begun to bead on his brow, and you believe it has little to do with the actual warmth of the fire, but instead the effort required in combating it.

This isn’t going to work. You can’t outrun this monster, just as San can’t slay it and Woo cannot hold off its flames forever.

You’re going to die.

The realization is not as startling as it should be. After all, the brink of death is a place you’ve found yourself numerous times the last few weeks. Beginning at outrunning the black-clad men in your castle, followed by about a dozen more deadly challenges since.

Which means there must be a way to maneuver your way out of this one too. What you need is a change in perspective, in strategy.

You cast another glance over your shoulder, the snake only a dozen feet from you now, long body winding back and forth behind it.

“We need to split up!” You shout, to which Woo shoots you an incredulous glance.

“So it can pick us off one by one?” He retorts, appalled by the idea. You shake your head.

“It can’t see us,” you say, words tumbling immediately from your lips as you think of them. “If noise starts coming from different directions, we may be able to confuse it.”

He opens his mouth, prepared to shut down the idea, but pauses. His eyes light up in realization that it actually might work, before filling with annoyance at remembering that the idea is also yours.

“Dammit, Libaiyan,” Woo mutters, turning around once again to redirect the monster’s flames. He groans in frustration. “Fine. We split up.”

“We all run into the forest on the count of three,” San chimes in. He casts a glance at each of you in turn. You, Woo, and Seonghwa all give a nod of affirmation, and San swallows hard, breathing heavy as he speaks.

“Three…two…one!”

The four of you split off from one another. You and Woo both sprint to your right, while San and Seonghwa turn left. You run through the forest, no trails to be found, narrowly avoiding the sharp branches of the ashen trees.

You can hear the snake behind you, the beast also having chosen to go right rather than left.“Great,” you think pleasantly, taking a sharp twist westward as the hissing grows louder behind you. “Just my luck.”

Another blast of fire erupts from its mouth, and you dart behind a tree to avoid being swallowed by its flames. The large glowing blaze emerges from both sides of you, and the heat is scolding against your skin, burning even if not directly touching you.

The monster appears beside you, lightning-fast as it continues in the direction you had been running. It passes right by you, continuing down further into the forest.

You let out a sigh of relief, as the beast continues to move further and further away, its head becoming a small - well, smaller - shadow in the distance. Its body continues to move beside you, the hundreds of feet winding down like the string of a fishing pole. Careful to keep your footsteps quiet as you walk, you tread with caution back towards the trail.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Woo doing the same a few trees away. You catch his eye, and he gives a curt nod, before heading over to you.

“Is it really gone… Just like that?” You ask, astounded by the ease of your escape.

“Looks like it,” Woo replies, although the unease in his tone sounds like he’s not quite convinced himself.

However, he does continue moving forward, and you jog to catch up behind him. You don’t say anything, not wanting to push your luck. It appears that at least for the moment, he’s forgotten to be hostile towards you, and you’re more than willing to soak in a rare fraction of peace in the man’s presence.

It’s after less than a minute of walking - the trail appearing just a few metres in front of you - that Woo stops. You come to a halt, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t notice, gaze fixated on the tail that continues to wind down.

“Is it just me,” he starts, before swallowing hard. “Or is it moving faster?”

You narrow your eyes, as it’s a bit difficult to tell. The scales create almost an illusion against the blackness of the ash, making it hard to notice that it’s moving at all, but you think he’s right. It is moving faster, which is strange considering there isn’t actually anything for it to be chasing, so why speed up?

The answer becomes obvious when both you and Woo look back into the shadows of the forest, only to see a dark, twisted silhouette reappearing in the distance.

The beast let’s out another harrowing roar, fire once again exploding out from its gaping mouth. The trees there are not as barren as the ones closest to the trail, and you watch as the leaves catch fire around it, casting a smouldering glow that expands as more begin to burn. It’s ominous, like hundreds of small candles being lit all at once, and your breath dies in your throat.

You feel a hand wrap around your forearm, yanking you sideways. You stumble as Woo pulls you into him, his back pressed against the bark of a tree, hiding the both of you. His eyes are wide, but surprisingly calm. Alert but poised, as he listens as the sound of the beast’s hissing becomes closer.

Terror seizes within your chest. At least when you were running you had something to focus on, to keep your mind busy. Sitting here as the beast moves closer makes you feel helpless, like predator and prey.

Woo suddenly places his hand over your mouth, and you realize that your breathing has become heavy. Not out of tiredness, but panic. You glance up at him, although he does not meet your eyes, his own gaze trained forward. Avoidant as his jaw is set firm in annoyance.

He detests you, and yet here you are, pressed against his chest with his fingers settled on your lips. He wants you dead, and yet it appears a part of him will not let it happen so easily.

Even now, Woo is not as cruel as he believes himself to be, and you feel almost sorry for him.

The monster roars once more, and this time sparks billow to your left, the two of you finally within the beast’s reach. The sound of its scales sliding through the dirt becomes softer, as the monster begins to slow down in its pursuit. You note the familiar noise of puffing air, as the beast catches a whiff of your scent.

Woo’s eyes fall shut and his grip on your arm tightens, as if he needs something to hold onto.

For that something to be you, this really may be the end.

Your eyes still do not leave Woo’s own, even if his are not open to meet yours. When you speak you keep your voice low, so quiet that rather than hearing your words, he can likely better feel them with his fingers against your lips.

“I’m sorry,” you say. Woo’s eyes open at this, meeting your own. He does not smile. He neither nods nor whispers any form of acceptance.

Yet, he also does not deny them. At the very least, you know that he heard you in your sincerity, and perhaps that is the most that you can ask for.

Closing your eyes, you place your hand on his tunic, fingers clutching onto its fabric. The beast’s sniffing has become louder, only a dozen feet off by your estimate.

“Hey!” A voice suddenly shouts. It’s far off, much deeper into the forest. When he shouts again, you can tell that it’s San. “Hey! Over here!”

The beast lets out a loud roar and fire engulfs the tree you’re hiding behind, flames rolling out on both sides of you. Woo pulls you further into him, away from the heat that nips at your exposed flesh, causing you to wince.

Then the monster takes off, deeper down into the forest, leaving the two of you behind. Woo removes his hand from your lips, and the two of you take a moment to breathe, heavy and relieved.

This relief is short-lived, however, as Woo’s eyes widen. Realization dawning on him.

He scowls, shoving you off of him. “That dumbass,” he spits, before taking off into the forest, following the monster that has now shifted its pursuit onto San. Chasing after him, you follow the monster's tail as it winds and twists through the trees, moving at rapid speed.

When you finally catch up to them all, the forest has been replaced by some sort of clearing, the wind fierce and ground coated in jagged rock rather than dirt. Looking ahead, you can see that past the monster pursuing both San and Seonghwa is… nothing.

The rocky landscape cuts off, and past it all you can see is empty space, followed by the next mountain over in the distance. A cliff. Your heart pounds faster.

Woo appears to notice the sudden drop the same time you do, his pace quickening as he summons a ball of fire in his hand, throwing it towards the beast. It does nothing, of course, merely bouncing off of its scales. It doesn’t even grab the monster’s attention, its focus trained solely on the two men in front of it, not even noticing that you and Woo have nearly closed the distance.

Seonghwa’s hand slips into San’s, and both he and the swordsman share a look. Nothing is said, but as they both nod, there seems to be some sort of understanding made between them.

Together they run off the edge of the cliff.

“No!” Woo shouts, although it’s more of a horrified shriek than anything else. The monster twists away from the cliff’s edge, not interested in following suit in their plummet.

It all happens in the split of a second, as Woo grabs your hand and drags you with him. He makes massive leaps and bounds, desperate as he pulls the two of you past the beast.

Not only past the beast, but down the make-shift pathway created by its absence and over the cliff’s edge.

The moment your feet leave the comfortable firmness of the ground, dangling in the weightless state of limbo between the earth and sky, you decide that this is a feeling that you never want to experience again. Fortunately, it appears you won’t have to worry about this, considering you won’t be living much longer.

Your stomach plummets as you do, tunic billowing out behind you as you fall through the air. Looking down, your eyes sting from the wind blowing upwards, although you force yourself to keep them open.

You see San and Seonghwa falling beneath you, a solid distance away but also not yet having splattered against the ground.

Or…not ground…water.

Water.

A massive lake expanding from the cliff's edge all the way to the next mountain. A beautiful blue lake, reflecting the light of the moon against the night sky, glassy in its stillness.

It’s not ground beneath you, it’s water.

Despite yourself, you laugh. A joyous, disbelieving laugh at the sheer luck of it.

What are the odds that out of all the cliff’s you could have thrown yourself off of, it would have been one with a deep and expansive stash of water beneath it? Next to none, and you can’t help but smile.

Woo drops your hand, extending both of his own out in front of him and down towards the lake. Clenching both of his hands into fists, you watch as the lake breaks its stillness by beginning to ripple. Good, otherwise you may as well be falling onto cement. He then pulls his arms upward, and the water rapidly rises, minimizing the fall by at least fifty extra feet.

Woo manages the maneuver just in time, as both San and Seonghwa crash into the lake a mere second before yourselves.

The water is a blast of cold, engulfing you as its chill settles deep within your bones. You made sure to land feet-first with your body tight. You remember years ago Mingi telling you that was the right way to land, the only way, if you had hope of not compressing your spine or breaking any bones. This was after he’d had water training during his earlier years in the kingdom guard. He’d been gone for a week near Dildysus’ shores, coming back tanned and with a dozen stories to tell. At the time you were envious of not being able to go with him, pettily treating him with a cold shoulder and avoidant gaze. Now you’re just eternally grateful he took the time to share with you some of what he’d learnt.

You open your eyes and are greeted with what is mostly darkness, although you can make out the bubbles of your breath and a few dark blurs that you sincerely hope are the boys. Kicking upwards, the bottoms of your feet burn, ankle aching in a way that you’re sure it’s at least minorly fractured.

With the severity you could have had in your injuries, you can’t bring yourself to fret over it.

Face breaking past the surface, you take in a massive gulp of air, the wind having been completely knocked from your lungs upon impact. San and Seonghwa both turn to face you, Woo popping up soon afterwards. None of you speak right away, taking a moment to catch your breath, to take in the inconceivable fact that you all are still alive.

Eventually, San speaks, motioning behind you. “Make our way over there?”

None of you respond, it’s not necessary. Instead you simply set in motion towards the shoreline, to safety at last.

When you reach the shore, it’s on your stomach compared to your feet. Dragging yourself up onto the beach - which is more dirt than sand - you pull the rest of your body up by your elbows.

The couple of miles you had to swim felt a lot longer than it looked, even with Woo creating a current to help carry you the length of the distance.

San is a little ways ahead of you, pulling himself up into a seated position before flopping down onto his back, chest heaving as he looks up at the stars.

You hear Seonghwa cough from behind, wet and hoarse in a way that you can tell he’s choking on water that he swallowed. You cast him a glance, the empath sitting slumped on his knees, Woo giving him a firm slap to the back that causes him to cough up even more water.

You lay down, sand embedding itself in your hair and rough along your cheek, but you can’t hold yourself up any longer.

What a sorry bunch the lot of you are.

“All our supplies,” Woo says eventually, defeated as he lets out a guttural cough before continuing. “It’s all gone. Our tents, our horse, our food, our sleeping bags, everything. Gone.”

“Just be thankful we’re alive,” San retorts bluntly.

You know that’s not the best thing to say at the moment, and you brace yourself for Woo’s response.

“Oh, sure. All thanks to you, right?” Woo says, glowering. “What were you thinking, shouting after it like that?”

“I was thinking about saving your life,” San responds, tone far more calm than Woo’s.

“My life didn’t need saving.”

“It definitely did,” you think, but you know better than to interject yourself into this.

“What you were doing was almost getting yourself killed,” Woo continues, voice rising with every word. “I mean really, what was the plan San? You threw yourself - no, sorry, you and Seonghwa - off a cliff! You think that’s some kind of heroic gesture, that I’d be thankful?”

San does not respond.

“No, seriously. Tell me, San, because that has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, and I’m at a loss at what you were possibly thinking.”

San does not look away from the sky as he speaks. “Would you two go check if there’s any place we can take shelter around here? I need to speak with Woo alone.”

Seonghwa and you share a nervous glance. He purses his lips together, worried about what may be said and what that may mean for the rest of your journey.

Although, this isn’t either of your business, and you both awkwardly rise to your feet. “Alright,” Seonghwa says, the two of you beginning to make your way down the beach.

You try to catch his eye again, to see what he may be thinking about all of this, but he keeps his gaze straight ahead. The two of you don’t talk again even as you make it past the beach, down the open field and into the forest’s thicket.

San waits until the two of you are completely out of sight, having disappeared from the shoreline and into the woods. He still does not look at Woo, does not want to see his angry furrowed brows, his tense jaw and clenched fists. The stars are easier to speak to.

He isn’t sure where he gains the strength to say it. Perhaps there is something about surviving a plummet to your death that makes you take a step back and think about things. San doesn’t really know. He just speaks.

“Maybe I was thinking the same thing as you when you dragged her off that cliff with you. That same reckless, thoughtless panic that you felt when you saw me go over and decided to throw yourself after me. That blind instinct that says I’m willing to die in a heartbeat, so long as it gives you a chance to survive.”

San waits for Woo to say something, but he does not. Although the swordsman can hear him shuffle, clearly growing uncomfortable, exposed.

Amidst Woo’s silence, San connects Kuroku’s constellation in his mind. He and sister used to search for them in the night sky when he was little, finding Libaiya’s sun and Zaria’s siren amidst the bountiful little glowing beads. That was before Jude died. Before everything became so damn complicated.

San sighs. “I’m tired, Woo.”

There’s so much that he could be referencing, too much, but Woo understands it to be about the journey. “I know,” he says, his voice softening slightly. “But we’ll get to Kuroku soon, and then things can go back to normal.”

San laughs, a breathy chuckle. “Normal,” he says, mulling over the word, the silliness of it. “What is our normal?”

“What do you mean?” Woo asks, prodding a little further after being met with silence. “San?”

“When are we not fighting? Or avoiding each other? Or pretending this limbo we’re in doesn’t matter when it so obviously does?”

When his words are met with silence, San swallows hard. His throat feels tight, almost sticky. Like his body is begging him not to do this, his heart screaming at him to not say anything, not to burn this bridge even if it’s falling apart at his feet.

But San has to do this. If not for his heart, then for his sanity.

“We’re killing each other, Woo,” he whispers, still not looking at him. Not letting himself be swayed. “Or at least… you’re killing me.”

There’s a thick silence that follows these words, that leaves San a little surprised. He’d expected the elemental to get defensive or angry, just as he had been up the mountain earlier. Instead he remains quiet, hesitant.

Perhaps he can tell that this time is different.

“What are you saying, San?” Woo asks, quiet.

“I’m saying that I’m done,” San replies. “I can’t keep fighting like this, I can’t keep watching you throw yourself into open fire over jealousy, I can’t keep letting this thing between us put everyone in danger.”

San drops his voice to a whisper, so quiet that he isn’t sure if Woo can even hear him, the words too vulnerable to be said so loud. “I can’t keep waking up alone.”

San can hear Woo swallow, hard and thick. When he speaks, his voice is shaky.

“Is this about her?” Woo asks, but his tone is not accusatory, nor angry and jealous as he so often is when the subject of you arises. Instead it is broken, defeated. Rejected.

“No,” San answers, and it’s with a small laugh. Not of the condescending kind, just a hum towards the idea of all of this starting with you, as if he’d only started feeling this way mere weeks ago. “She may have been the final nail in the coffin, but we’ve been hammering for years, Woo.”

Another silent pause, before the elemental’s voice becomes even smaller. “Is there anything I could do to change your mind?”

San considers this. May as well be honest. “Yes, but you couldn’t do it.”

“What is it?” Woo asks immediately, driven by scheer instinct. Willing to do what it takes, willing to be thoughtless and reckless. Willing to jump off any cliff need be.

“You would need to give me all of you,” San says softly, a comet whirling by in the sky above him, as if what he’s saying is some sort of wish. Fool’s hope. “No bits and pieces. No secrets, just full honesty. Nothing hidden. Stripped bare.”

“You already have…” Woo rushes, before abruptly trailing off. San finally looks up at him, pushing himself back onto his elbows, meeting the elemental’s eyes.

Woo’s face has fallen, mouth drawn open as the words fail to come out, as he realizes they would be a lie.

San does not have all of him. There are things he won’t share, vulnerabilities hidden deep within him, a part of himself that he is not willing to unravel.

San wishes the Woo would take a breath, then unwind himself. That he would explain everything, why he pushes San away yet refuses to let him out of his reach, or why he needs San so badly on the coldest of winter nights, but disappears come the sunrise in the morning.

He’s always believed that this is because Woo also loves Seonghwa, that there is space in his heart reserved for another, a place that San can never hold no matter how much he tries.

But the way that Woo looks at him now, his mouth drawn open and eyes wide with an agonizing desperation, San knows that there is something deeper than that. Something dark, something holding the elemental back, something that Woo’s heart pleads for San to know but is unwilling to actually share.

Something that Woo will never tell him, that makes him wonder if he truly knows the elemental at all, and San is too tired to hold on to false hope any longer.

“We’ll get to Kuroku, then we’ll go home and figure out what we’re going to do about this,” San says finally, and he knows his voice sounds cold. Inside his heart is screaming, wailing, clawing for attention. His mind shuts it down. “For now let’s just finish what we started.”

“Okay,” Woo answers, gaze falling down from San’s, staring at the ground. The little speckles of grey-coloured sand surround them, murky and wet, cold. San wants to reach out and touch him. Hold him, kiss him, make him feel better. He stops himself.

He supposes that this will take a lot of time to go away. So be it.

“I’m going to go see where they ran off to,” San says. He rises to his feet, and his knees feel like jelly. He wants to collapse, his brain buzzing, vision foggy within this state of delirium. It feels like he’s not in control, cutting himself off from his emotions leaving him empty and hollow, weightless.

“Okay,” Woo says again, even quieter than the last, still not looking at him.

“Don’t stay out here too long. It’s cold and you’re soaked,” San says, before his feet are moving towards the forest and away from the beach, footprints trailing behind him on the sand.

“Sure,” Woo says, and his voice shakes. There’s a certain wetness to it, raspy as it rises up from his throat, and San realizes the elemental is holding back tears. It nearly stalls him, as San isn’t sure if he’s ever seen the elemental cry beyond a few silent tears.

He knows he would not be able to handle it, and so he continues forward, leaving Woo behind.

When San finds you in the cave that you and Seonghwa found, his expression is solemn. Sitting down a couple feet to your left, he reaches behind him to remove his sword from its sheath, only to remember that it’s no longer there. It’s somewhere back up the cliff, lost to the bushes after he’d been thrown off the monster’s back.

Upon realizing it’s gone, San sighs. He runs his hands through his hair, before keeping them placed on the back of his neck, as if he can no longer hold his head up on his own.

“Impressive fire,” he says suddenly, in reference to the hand-made fire crafted in front of you. It is rather impressive, made of a bounty of small sticks and logs all arranged in an intricate fashion, as well as some sort of fern stuffing the middle that helped get it started.

You chuckle, the thought of you containing the wilderness skills to make something like this amusing. “Seonghwa started it,” you explain, and San smiles, before glancing around the darkness of the cave.

“Where is he?” He asks.

You nod towards the cave’s exit. “Took a walk in the forest.”

San quirks an eyebrow. “It’s the middle of the night, almost sunrise.”

“Yeah, well,” you start, albeit awkwardly. You don’t want to sound too self-pitiful. “I don’t think he felt comfortable sitting alone with me.”

San’s smile falls, own eye drifting from yours to the flames. “Ah.”

You decide to change the subject. “Where’s Woo?”

“Down at the beach.”

When he doesn’t add anything else, you know that he doesn’t wish to speak about the elemental any longer.

The two of you sit in a not-so-comfortable silence, before you notice the dried blood on his tunic, having soaked through the fabric of both of his forearms. Amidst the more immediate danger, you’d forgotten the nasty fall he’d taken from the beast’s back, having wiped the skin clean off. You grimace at the thought.

“Your arms,” you start, clearing your throat. “Do they hurt?”

San glances down at them, eye widening as if to say: “Oh, right. That happened.”

“Uh, not really,” he says, before pulling up one of his sleeves. His breath catches at the sight of the skin, painted with bright bloody patches and a consistent red all throughout. He lets out an uncomfortable laugh, in shock. “Although, it looks like they should, doesn’t it?”

You frown, chewing on the inside of your cheek. “Do you want me to clean them?”

“We don’t have salve anymore, remember?” San says with a nonchalant shrug, brushing it off.

“Still,” you start, glancing behind you. “Even just some water could help.”

Before he can protest otherwise, you rise to your feet. The sound of dripping water can be heard from deeper within the cave, loud enough that you figure it would be a quicker journey than walking back to the shore. Besides, you want to give Woo his space.

Following the dripping, darkness swells around you, the light of the fire fading in the growing distance. You and Seonghwa hadn’t ventured any further than the opening, not wanting to risk stumbling upon any more deadly monsters in your search for shelter. Fortunately, you find the source of the dripping before the darkness becomes too thick. It falls as a steady stream, trailing from the top of the cave, likely sourced by a pond of sorts further up the mountain.

Taking a page from Seonghwa’s book, you rip off the bottom of your tunic, using it as a make-shift cloth as you soak it in the falling stream.

When you make your way back to San, he gives you a soft smile, although it quickly falls as you begin to dab at the scrapes with the shirt-cloth. He winces, attempting to tug his arm away, but you keep your grip on his wrist firm.

You don’t need to explain it to him, he’s surely had enough injuries to know that momentary pain is a small price to pay against infection. He stops pulling, letting his arm fall limp in your grasp. His gaze drifts up from his arm to your face, settling there for a moment, before trailing back down.

“San…” you start, hesitant as you trail the cloth along his skin. Perhaps it is unwise to ask, to risk stirring the pot more than you already have, but you need to know. “Why are you letting me do this? Why aren’t you avoiding me like Seonghwa, or yelling at me like Woo?”

When he doesn’t respond right away, the question quickly turns into a nervous ramble. “I mean, I screwed you over. You need that money, San. How can you just sit there and…and smile at me, knowing what I did to you? To all of you?”

That same soft, sad smile spreads over his lips now as you say those words. He sighs, although it is not a defeated or exhausted sound, more contemplative. When he looks up, his gaze is more gentle than you deserve.

“I probably should be more mad at you, shouldn’t I?” He says, letting out a quiet laugh that’s more a quick puff of air through his nose.

You respond with a nod, pursing your lips together. He sighs. “I guess… I guess I just get it. I know what it’s like to be desperate for something, to do things that you know are wrong and eat you up inside, but it feels like there’s no other option.”

Your brows furrow, watching him carefully. You don’t look away when he meets your eyes, a way of asking without saying anything aloud. He hesitates for only a moment, before swallowing hard, good eye flickering downward and away from yours.

“In the year after Jay killed my family, before I met Woo, I was living in The Cat’s Cradle. I had nowhere else to go, and to work towards paying off my debt, I had to work as his errand boy.”

San swallows hard, squinching his eye shut as if relieving it all. “I did a lot of things I’m not proud of, that I hated myself for then and still do now. Spying on people who had just as little as I had, who were also in debt to Jay, ratting them out. I may not have actually killed anyone, but I may as well have by turning them into him.”

“San…” You start, but trail off as you’re unsure of what to say.

“I guess in a way I always knew it was too good to be true,” San says softly, lip curving upward, although it’s more defeated than anything else. “It would be too easy. Much easier than I deserve.”

You open your mouth to say something, to likely spout your condolences and that he certainly does not deserve what you’ve done to him, but he must not want to hear it.

“I can tell that the world hasn’t been kind to you, just as it hasn’t been to me,” he says, not giving you the chance to speak. “Your family is also dead. Powerful men are also hunting you. You also have nothing left.”

Tears well in your eyes, and he takes the cloth from your hand, setting it down on the ground. He replaces it with his own hand, gentle as his fingers intertwine with yours. “I may be disappointed, but I can’t be mad. It’d be too hypocritical.”

It’s too kind, too understanding. The tears begin to slip from your eyes, and he reaches forward with his other hand to wipe at them, grazing his thumb along your cheekbone. When it makes its way to the corner of your face, he keeps it there, the rest of his hand cradling your head.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbles, thumb rubbing back and forth against your skin. “I said this to make you feel better, not to make you cry.”

“Sorry,” you say, with a breathy laugh. It quickly falters, fading into a stifled sob. Your lip quivers, face contorting inward on itself. Mingi always said you were an ugly crier.

“I’m sorry, San,” you say, and this time it is different. This time it is so much more.

He smiles. “I know.”

The silence that surrounds the two of you is thick. He continues to watch you, eye holding yours. A part of you wants to shy away, knowing how weak you look, the vulnerability in your swollen eyes and trembling lips.

Yet, you don’t, because at the same time you feel safe. You don’t know the last time you felt so truly understood, the last time you were stripped bare. Not lying, not pretending to be someone you are not, not walking on the egg-shells of a mistake.

And in the face of that person - the person that you truly are, horrible faults and all - he does not shy away.

He has seen you unravelled but holds you all the same, and amidst the situation's ugliness, it is the most accepted you have ever felt.

San leans in, slow and careful, like the air has transformed into molasses. His gaze falls, lingering on your lips. Your heart races as he draws closer, quickening beats that echo through you.

When he’s only a few inches away, he stops, and something flickers over his features. Sorrow, hurt, and all the emotions that have been building for so very long. In you, in him, in all of you.

Somehow, you know that this hurt is not about you, about this moment. This pure and vulnerable moment that he does not wish to taint with the pain of something else.

Instead of finding your own, his lips drift upwards, settling onto your cheek. Onto a stray tear that slipped past his thumb, gentle as he removes the wetness from your skin.

He pulls back to place his forehead against your own. He is warm, breath holding that same rich scent of coffee as it did a couple days ago. It’s cozy, comforting, and you feel the need to let him know how deeply you appreciate this. Appreciate him.

“Thank you,” you whisper, sitting in the promise of a kiss, noses brushing but lips never quite touching.

While he does not say anything out loud, the way his hand gently squeezes your own tells you everything that you could have wanted to hear.

Wooyoung pauses at the entrance of the cave. Having followed the flickering light of the fire and the sound of hushed voices, he wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting to find.

However, whatever he may have anticipated, it was not Seonghwa sitting outside of the cave with his arms drawn around his knees, avoiding the display of you and San huddled around the fire. Your faces are pressed so close together that Wooyoung wonders if the two of you had just finished sharing a kiss.

His eyes are puffy and his nose is stuffed. He feels gross. Wooyoung hasn’t cried in a long time, at least not like that. Maybe since Yeonjun and Winter, which makes sense, as this is the closest he’s felt since then to losing someone he loves. Any tears he’s shed from then on have either been minimal, or born from pure fury. These were neither.

He sits in the entrance for at least a minute, and when it doesn’t seem like the two of you are going to stop any time soon, he walks over to sit with Seonghwa.

The empath glances up at him, letting out a short sigh. “Hey,” he says, shuffling over to make space next to him.

“Hey,” Wooyoung replies, taking a seat. Despite himself, Wooyoung sniffles, and Seonghwa’s gaze darts over. Wooyoung knows that he’s giving him the look without having to meet the blonde’s eyes.

“Do you want me to-”

Wooyoung’s answer is immediate, knowing exactly what it is the empath plans to offer. “No.”

“Alright,” Seonghwa says quietly, casting a glance behind him, at the two of you by the flames. Wooyoung notices that Seonghwa doesn’t seem angry. He’s not fuming or sulking, more so impatient, fingers tapping along his knees as he seems to simply be waiting for the two of you to finish.

Wooyoung doesn’t get it, how Seonghwa handles these things. How he doesn’t explode. How he doesn’t lose himself in anger the way Wooyoung does. How he avoids your gaze rather than stares daggers into it.

He turns to Seonghwa, nodding towards the both of you. “Aren’t you mad?” He asks.

“No… Yes? I don’t know,” Seonghwa starts, a tad frustrated. He leans back so that his head presses against the cave's rocky exterior, lips drawn into a weak smile. “If San can forgive her, I'll let him. It’s not my place to foster grudges for him.”

That’s not really what Wooyoung meant, and he tries to be a little more direct.

“How does it not bother you seeing them like that?” Wooyoung asks, along with the unspoken question: “How do I make it not bother me?”

Seonghwa laughs, although it is low and unhumourous “There isn’t any jealousy to be had, Woo. She isn’t mine to keep. She never has been, even when I thought of it as…more than it was. I always knew that it wasn’t meant to last longer than Kuroku. We’ve just reached the ending a little sooner than I expected.”

When Wooyoung doesn’t respond, Seonghwa shrugs. “If she can bring San a little peace, well, why should I not let her?”

Wooyoung doesn’t know what to say to that. When he looks at you he sees the Libaiyan orphanage, he hears the oath he gave swearing complete obedience to your father three times a day. He thinks of those nights he spent dreaming of your entire family's demise, of what he would give to be the one to set that kingdom on fire.

But he also sees the broken girl crying over the horrors she committed. He sees your worried gaze lifting him from the sauna’s fog and casting him a trusting glance across the table when trying to trick the mimic.

He sees you knees deep in the mud, begging him to understand that you never knew about the orphanages. Tears in your eyes as the two of you were at death's door, whispering about how sorry you were.

How can you be both of those people at once? How can you be his greatest enemy, but also the only person he’s been able to tell the truth about his past?

He hates you. He also doesn't.

Wooyoung doesn't know what to feel. He wishes he could just be angry. It's so much easier to be angry than anything else. Than this, whatever it is.

Wooyoung sighs, casting a glance back at both you and San. You’ve finally pulled apart, backs turned as you both watch the flames. He can hear you whispering, and would be able to eavesdrop if he wanted to, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to hear what San might be saying to you.

With the thought of San returning to his mind, his face immediately feels too hot again, throat scratchy and his eyes wet.

He relives it. San’s cold voice, his defeated laugh, his footsteps following behind him as he left Wooyoung in the chilly, wet sand.

“You would need to give me all of you,” San had said, right after saying it was something that Wooyoung could never do.

The worst part? He’s right.

Wooyoung’s chest aches, and then it begins to shake, convulsing. The sobs rattle within him as he does not allow them to be released from his mouth. San can’t hear him, he will not make this any worse than it already is.

“We’re killing each other, Woo. Or at least… you’re killing me.” San’s words.

“We both loved you, and this is what we get for it?” Winter.

Two different beats to the same drum. Is this what he does to the people he loves? Hurts them? Makes them feel worthless? Kills them, or at least their souls?

He’s always feared of getting too close to San, of what he might do if he let down those remaining walls. If he would hurt him, if he would lose him.

He’s always tried so hard not to lose San. Steering the swordsman away from any perceived danger. From you, initially. Trying to protect him in any way he can. Even when it’s irrational, even when he knows it's only pissing San off, he’s never been able to help himself.

When San threw himself off the cliff, Wooyoung felt the world crumble to ash around him. It was Yeonjun all over again, the moment his head cracked against that rock, and nothing else mattered.

That would not happen to San. Not again, Wooyoung would not let it. He would not lose him.

Well, here he is, having lost him anyway, just in a different way. Perhaps it was inevitable, doomed from the moment they met, yet another curse on the god’s behalf.

Perhaps San is better off without him. Safer.

Wooyoung places his palm over his own mouth, stifling another sob. He feels a hand settle on his shoulder. Seonghwa. Fingers moving back and forth, he rubs the area around his neck in a soothing, comforting fashion.

Wooyoung would normally shove his hand away, tell him to piss off. Don’t get too close to this, don’t trouble yourself with my problems, take your hand away from the flames or else you’re going to get burned.

He doesn’t. Instead Wooyoung lets Seonghwa touch him. He does not move closer, he does not place his head on the empath's shoulder. He does not fully accept it, but he also does not push him away.

And for tonight alone, Wooyoung breaks.

~~~~~

next chapter.

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