#eventually the fear will ebb as he gets used to it. and then he'll be more okay around him. but for now [sucks air through teeth] Nnnhh. No

[wovenstarlight]

Hello! I'm thinking about your cached AU again and I was wondering, what is Yoojin's relationship with Song Taewon with like? Because their relationship in canon (at least up to where I've read) is heavily influenced by the fact that Yoojin is an F rank who holds power over S Ranks, making him both a threat and someone to protect. Does Taewon just go red alert whenever Yoojin around now? Does Yoojin keep trying to be friends with him? Does Taewon find that terrifying?

HAHAHAHAHHA. OH BOY. THIS SURE IS A QUESTION THAT HAS AN ANSWER. a very long answer so i'm putting it under a cut. thanks for waiting and im sorry if its incoherent its like 6ish local time. or maybe not im not very concerned wth reading clocks rn

(on ao3)

——

Be careful.

Taewon had wondered, when he received that message from Sung Hyunjae, if it was some sort of joke. A sly way of telling him he’d made trouble somewhere and he’d better prepare for the incoming paperwork, perhaps. The fact that it had been encoded suggested some degree of seriousness to it, but it was vague enough that he’d dismissed it and gotten ready for this long-delayed meeting.

Taewon locks eyes with Han Yoojin and is immediately struck by the complete lack of fear he finds there. So much so that he barely notices when Sung Hyunjae crushes his car with the breezy efficiency of a compactor.

And even as Sung Hyunjae gets out of his own car, even as he turns that amused, glittering gaze onto Han Yoojin, no apprehension sparks to life. No nerves. Just a cool, faintly disappointed look that he turns on the Seseong Guild Leader.

It stops the man in his tracks. Song Taewon blinks at Sung Hyunjae, faint smile frozen on his face, and looks back at Han Yoojin, who’s gazing at him now with a welcoming smile on his face.

…So that was a real warning, then.

Surely it can’t be for what Taewon thinks it is.

—

Taewon was told Han Yoojin was an A-rank. While the Hunter Association staff had confirmed his stats were well within standard range, they’d also made no secret of gossiping about how even the A-rank he’d come in with had looked vaguely spooked. How Han Yoojin carried himself with that unthinking confidence and grace all S-ranks had. How, when Seok Gimyeong had gone to personally take him through the registration process, Han Yoojin’s expression had gone flat and stony, and while he’d cooperated, something in his demeanor had had everyone around him going quiet and hurrying through the steps as fast as possible.

What it boils down to, in the end, is a sense that he’s not what he seems.

What Taewon thinks it is, quite simply, is a high-rank fear-inducing skill. Han Yoojin has no reason to claim he’s lower-ranked than he actually is, not when being higher-ranked would mean getting fast-tracked to a much better lifestyle than what he had before.

What Taewon realizes upon meeting Han Yoojin is that either he was very, very wrong about the other man’s ambition (or lack thereof, as it happens), or that the fear induction skill is far more potent than anyone let on.

“Chief Song-nim?”

Taewon stares at Han Yoojin. He’s merely standing there with a bag of instant coffee in hand, gazing at Taewon over his shoulder, and yet, if Taewon’s phone was in his hand right now, he’d probably have crushed it. As it is, he realizes distantly, his nails are digging little crescents into his palms. “Han Yoojin-ssi,” he gets out, and then stalls immediately.

He’d come here with the assumption that Han Yoojin was an A-rank. Which means all his questions (I wanted to check, are you safe, are you being pressured, why did such a high-rank monster appear in a dungeon with only two S-ranks in it and how did you kill it anyway?) were tailored for an A-rank. For someone that needed protection.

Is something wrong, he’d wanted to ask.

Is something wrong with you? is what his mind supplies now.

“Are you—alright,” he manages eventually.

Han Yoojin stares back at him, fingers tensing faintly around the bag as Taewon speaks. “I… yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

“…With… the Babar’s appearance in that last dungeon.” It gets easier to speak once he’s started. “And all the higher-ranks you’ve been around lately. I’d understand if you were feeling—stressed, or strained.”

“Ah.” Han Yoojin relaxes. “No, I’m alright. It’s been quite busy, but I’ve adjusted well enough, I think. Thank you for your concern.”

Truth, Taewon thinks. He seems too confident for it to be anything but. But how can that be? To face an SS-rank monster as a supposed A-rank—

“Are you sure?”

Han Yoojin glances at him out of the corner of his eye. The tension isn’t back, but there’s a frown tugging at his lips. Taewon forcibly uncurls the fists his hands have balled into, and continues. He needs a reference. He needs to know what Han Yoojin looks like when he’s lying. “The Babar alone was an SS-rank, and you may have had your brother and ward with you, but even then, facing such a monster as an A-rank—”

And there it is, the slightest creases around his eyes, how he looks down and to the side slightly before meeting Taewon’s gaze once more, lips thinning into a line. Taewon’s so busy thinking over their conversation so far, matching these markers against what’s been said, that he doesn’t realize what he’s saying—

“…seeing them fight… They may be your family, but they’re S-ranks before that. Which makes them dangerous, more than you know—”

Until it’s too late.

“What are you trying to say, Chief Song-nim?” Han Yoojin asks, letting go of the bag of coffee and turning to face him properly. His voice has taken on a sharp edge, and Taewon steps backwards before he even consciously acknowledges the sound. Han Yoojin just steps forward to match, bringing him dangerously close— “If there’s a point to this, I’d like if you could—”

Taewon has a hand around his throat.

Han Yoojin raises a hand (touching? grabbing?). Seize his wrist, twist his arm, shift the grip on his neck, until Han Yoojin is pinned face-down against the counter, cheek pressed against its surface.

Then Taewon realizes he’d moved to begin with.

“…What are you doing?”

Han Yoojin’s flat question kills Taewon’s hasty apology before it can even leave his mouth. His grip tightens instead of loosening. Some quiet part of his brain is counting out the handful of people and low-rank Hunters present in the building today. A much louder part of his mind says he’s testing the hold.

Han Yoojin flexes his hand again, shifting easily even in Taewon’s grip, and he—

He panics.

Looting flares, black not-smoke wreathing his fingers and Han Yoojin’s limbs. Vague surprise flickers over Han Yoojin’s face before his eyes rise to a point in the air before himself, likely checking his status window. Whatever he sees there has his eyes widening sharply.

And then, all at once, something closes off in his face, and he goes limp.

A different kind of alarm spikes through the white-out fear in Taewon’s mind and he tilts his head to get a better look at Han Yoojin’s face. There’s a tightness around his eyes, still, lips pressed together like he’s bracing for something. But when those eyes flick up to meet Taewon’s stare, there’s also a dull sort of… familiarity?

No, not familiarity.

Resignation.

Taewon feels sick. He all but rips his hands off Han Yoojin, backing away hastily. There’s already shadows on his skin where Taewon’s fingers had pressed against it. There’ll be bruises there by tonight. Earlier, even, because—how long had he had Looting active?

He can’t remember. He can’t remember the last time he lost control like that. His stomach twists. He feels sick.

Han Yoojin still hasn’t moved. Taewon tries to remember how tightly he was gripping his neck.

And then Han Yoojin slowly, slowly draws his arm to his side again, pushes off the counter with his other hand, and straightens back up. A pause. Then he turns, just a little, so he can look at Taewon.

They stare at each other in silence like that for a moment.

Then, in a thin voice: “Interesting skill you have there.”

Taewon’s breath catches. Han Yoojin doesn’t seem to notice as he tilts his head slightly and opens his mouth again.

“Why’d you stop?”

…

Taewon—

Taewon leaves, after that.

He doesn’t remember what he says. What he does. Han Yoojin has a knack for disabling his rational mind, it seems.

What he does know is this: that Han Yoojin’s voice, when he asked that question, was genuinely curious. Perhaps even a little pleading.

What he does know, looking back, is that Han Yoojin didn’t try to pull away. He shifted in Taewon’s hold, yes, and in his panic Taewon overreacted. But he never tried to break free.

(What Taewon doesn’t know if he wants to know is this:

How does a man like Han Yoojin end up feeling resignation?)

[wildernessuntothemselves]

Devil on Your Team | Part 1

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: angst, smut

A\N: Asgard AU where Felix is Loki, Chan is Thor, and OC/reader is Lady Sif

Gif credit @915archive

“Will you join us this time, brother?”

Loki hesitates at Thor’s question. He was never good at the sort of thing that his friends enjoyed so, which made him a target for ridicule across the realm. What kind of man, a prince nonetheless, was so weak and fearful? Not a real man, that’s what.

Thor didn’t make it easier for him. Being the picture of the formidable, valiant warrior, he made Felix’s shortcomings all the more stark. Loki was all too aware of the comparisons people liked to make between them--they would fawn over how Thor was so brave, so strong, so much like the king that his frail little brother could never be. They would laugh and thank their stars that the fates were kind enough to have Thor be the old king’s first born and not his pitiful little brother.

Even Thor, who claimed to love him most in the world, was embarrassed of him. He always tried to egg him on and make him engage in “manlier” endeavors and forsake his witchcraft, forcing him along on his reckless adventures with his gang of hooligans so he would toughen up. How can he say that he loves him when he saw him as something that needed to be fixed? Thor didn’t love him. He pitied him.

Only you gazed upon him and accepted him for who he was. You knew too well what it felt like to be underestimated and ridiculed for being different, for daring to not adhere to their millenia-old customs of what makes one a good warrior or a proper lady. Every time he would hide and cry, you would find him and remind him that underestimating him will be their downfall, that true weakness is stupidity and arrogance and they had that in excess.

And there you were, coming to his defense once more.

“Shut up, you big oaf. Loki doesn’t care for our silly games.”

“Why not? All he has to do is sit back and not get in the way of our fair maiden and he should be fine.” Volstagg cuts in, followed by a series of chuckles that ebb and flow through the group.

“Volstagg.” Thor warns, shooting him a glare that quiets the snickering down, but by then it was too late, the damage had been done.

For, worse than the comparisons between himself and his golden brother, were those between him and the woman he loved so dearly.

Your close relationship made it so it was easy for people to jeer at the fact that the warrior lady is doing a man’s job while the prince practised such cowardly arts as magic that were meant for women. The comparison wasn’t flattering to either of you as he was thought of as a weakling and you as a woman trying to be a man.

“No, Volstagg, go on. Tell me what exactly you mean to say.” Again, you start defending him, ready to start a fight with the large man who began slinking back when faced with your unbridled fury. You were always so passionate about defending him, but Loki cannot let you keep doing that. He needed to prove that he could look after himself, not to impress those mindless thugs, but to prove to you that he could be a man for you, and provide you with protection just like any other man.

“I’m sure he’s just joking, my lady.” Loki interrupts and you look at him with surprised eyes that get all the wider as he continues, “It doesn’t matter anyway as I’ll be joining you.”

“My prince, you don’t have to--”

“I don’t have to do anything, my lady. I want to. Now let’s stop this useless bickering and go.”

__________________________

There was a nervous energy within the group the whole time they were in Alfheim. The men felt weird with Loki there and Loki felt weird with the warrior lady always hovering around.

“Lady, if I didn’t know any better I’d think that you were trying to guard me. I don’t need guarding. I can defend myself.” He didn’t want to snap at you like that but he desired so desperately for you to see him as a man for once.

“O-of course, my prince.” You splutter, a pretty blush on your face from being called out, and hesitantly take a few steps away from him, still not going far.

Loki huffs and charges forward carelessly, if you weren’t going to give him space, he will take it himself. And it’s precisely his attempt to distance himself from you that gets them in trouble.

“Brother, look out!” Thor shouts and Loki looks up barely in time to see an elf descend on him from the tree he was under. Shouts rise up and fill the air as their party gets ambushed by the rogue elves they were after.

Loki gets outnumbered, one of the elves delivering a blow to him before you can make your way to him. But your party quickly overcomes their momentary shock and works fast to push back the elves, steadily gaining control and shifting the tides in your favor.  Eventually, you beat the band of rogue elves and send them scattering back into the woods.

When the fight dies down, things only get worse for Loki as you rush to cradle his body in your arms, thinking he is unconscious, before turning back to the men. “Shame on you! If you hadn’t been absolute pricks to him, he wouldn’t have felt the need to prove himself to you and get himself hurt. Why must you be like this?”

“I’m sorry, my lady.” Thor speaks up, sounding genuinely upset too.

“Oh, shove it up your big behind, my prince.” You growl, lifting Loki up in your arms and moving towards the portal to go back home.

Even without opening his eyes, he can feel your worried gaze on his face and it kills him.

__________________

Loki became closed off the entire period he was healing. The more you fussed over him, the quieter he got. He was so disappointed in himself and you taking care of him only wounded his ego further.

“Stop babying me, woman. You’re worse than the lot of them. Would you like me to hand you a pair of scissors so you can snip my balls off and hang them around your neck?”

You were taken aback by his outburst, and Loki regrets his outburst for a second, thinking he’s finally pushed you away. But instead of stomping off, you get on the bed and straddle him, grabbing his neck and growling roughly, “You don’t want me to be gentle with you? Fine, I won’t be gentle.”

You smash her lips to his, tearing a noise of surprise from his throat. You’d been patient enough with him but he insists on being a brat. If that’s the way he wants to be treated then so be it. And judging by the way he kissed you back eagerly, you don’t have to wonder long.

He was almost healed by now, and you could be free to run her hands all over him without hurting him, eliciting instead the most needy moans from his pretty lips. But when he tries to do the same, he is met with hard, unyielding steel.

"This is unfair. Take this off." He protests against your lips.

"I think not. You have been quite the sourpuss lately, I don't think you deserve to touch me. Matter of fact, keep those wandering hands up." You grab his hands and pin them to the bed, intending to punish him for all the hell he made you go through.

"No, please, my lady, let me touch you."

"Oh you're already begging, that's not very manly of you." You bite at him, still upset that he endangered his life just because his ego was bruised.

He cowers under your intense glare, feeling reprimanded. "I'm sorry, I'll be good."

"Oh you will be. Now quit your protesting or I'll gag you too."

He shuts up, though he's unsure if it wouldn't have been better for you to gag him as the noises that come out of his throat at your ministrations were not very dignified.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting to get my hands on you, my prince. You drive me crazy." You drawl, palming his member and making him turn to hide his face in his arm as a blush covers his face.

"I should punish you for teasing me so." You  slowly pull his trousers down his hips, exposing his eager member to the cool night air that was clashing with your warm breath so close to where he needed you the most. "Will you be good for me from now on, my sweet prince?"

This was everything they ridiculed him for, being so subservient to a woman like this, but damn did he crave it. He needed you to own him.

"Yes, my lady." He stares down at you as you lean down ever so close to his cock, your breath fanning over him, as hot as ever and he feels his skin melt under it. The heat spreading to the rest of his body made his blood simmer in his veins. Sweat beaded up on his skin and his mind sweltered as you put your mouth on him, but he could do nothing but push himself into the scorching heat of you, submitting himself to the flames.

But all too suddenly, he stops burning, coolness flashing over his body like one of his brother's storms, and he stares down at you in betrayal, ready to apologize for everything and profess his undying love for you if only she would put your mouth back on him, but the horror struck look on your face sobers him up.

"My lady, what is--"

"What is happening to you?" You shriek, and for the first time he sees fear in your eyes.

"What do you mean?" He puzzles, looking down at himself in reflex, wondering what had possessed you when a flash of blue catches his eyes…

Huge patches of his body were covered by rough blue skin, the likes of which are all too familiar to him. He can't help his own shout of panic. "What is that? What is happening?!"

"You're turning into a….a monster." You shake her head, tears springing to your eyes at the horror unfolding in front of you.

"Lady, help me please.” Loki is even more shaken, tears already streaming down his face as he seems terrified of his own self. “Did they put a curse on me?"

"I-I don't know." You lament, feeling hopeless.

But then an idea pops into your head, "I'll get the king. He'll know what to do."

"No, please!" His hands fly out to hold onto you but you jump back, and Loki quickly pulls his arms back to his body, wounded at the disgusted look on your face.

"Why not?"

"You know he doesn't favor me."

"Don't be ridiculous. He's your father." You try to calm him down but he only gets more disconsolate. "No you don't understand. You don't see the way he looks at him when no one is looking. I'm… I'm scared."

Your heart breaks at the way he shivers, but there is nothing else you can do. You’re sure he’s just panicked. Odin is good and kind and you trust him beyond measure. "You're hallucinating, my sweet. The king would never hurt you."

"No, you don't understand--" He squeaks, and you reach out to cradle his face in your palms, only flinching slightly at the coldness. "Hush, my sweet." You kiss him gently then run to the king. Hearing Loki sob behind you only makes you run faster.

_________________________

A/N: lol surprise