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sanktnikolais · 3 years

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this is what love does

A/N: so here is your friendly neighbor zoyalai who rewrote that scene in the Os Kervo main hall (Rule of Wolves chapter 46). Idk man this is what I have in mind and I just wanted to put more monologue and make some drastic changes KJHASDFLKHASDF

i think their scene in this chapter could have gone better ngl ahjsfkajsf but if you’re okay with canon, i’m absolutely glad you are. I just needed to make this bc my zoyalai heart said so HHAHAHA

as always @wafflesandkruge enabled me again and volunteered to edit this mess so thank you ily 🥺

contains some spoilers for Rule of Wolves so pls beware before reading :>

Word count: 4169

When the doors to the hall finally closed, Zoya released a breath of frustration. She wanted a moment of total silence, where she could shut out the voices of the people chanting her name or the affirmative tones of the dukes that agreed with Nikolai in nominating her as Ravka’s new queen. A bottle of brandy would be good too, and yet it didn’t materialize out of thin air just as she wanted it to.

She put a hand to her forehead, feeling the fatigue from the war slowly drain what was left of her strength. This was madness—everything that had happened in the past few weeks. Headache after headache, they kept coming like the barrage of Fjerdan firepower they had just encountered in the battlefield hours ago.

But the biggest headache of all was standing right in front of her in all his confident glory, the small grin never leaving his lips even as Zoya scowled at him. Nikolai Lantsov was a royal through and through. And despite the dirt that still smudged on his face, or the dried blood on his collar, he never lost that spark in him, no matter what he said about not wanting to claim the Lantsov bloodline.

How could he suddenly expect her to do this on her own terms?

"Are you out of your saintsforsaken mind?" Zoya hissed at the smiling king. He still was the king, and would continue to be as far as she was concerned. "I could strike you with lightning right now but I don't think I have the energy left for that."

Nikolai's grin turned into a wince. "Ah, but I'm always in the right state of mind," he said as he approached her with rather careful steps as if he was testing the waters around her. "And I have never been more sane and sober than now, Zoya."

The urge to summon lightning at him was still strong, but she shoved the thought down. Ravka didn't need another funeral right now, and especially not for its king.

"Say something spiteful."

Zoya furrowed her eyebrows. "What?"

"You're scowling again, and I think the only way to really know you're angry is when you combine your scowl with harsh words."

“Do you really have a death wish?"

The infuriating king pretended to think for a moment, his eyes narrowing curiously as he scratched the spot behind his ear. “I think we’ve had enough of staring down death today—”

Thunder rumbled in the skies as Zoya’s anger flared, and Nikolai flinched. But Nikola, being himself, recovered quickly with a grin. She looked at him in disbelief. It was both baffling and amazing how fast this man could change into one of his masks in just a matter of a second and then he was another person entirely.

It was their difference—Zoya didn’t have that skill. She’d never had the capability of pretending. Where she had walls around her heart to hide the girl who once believed in fairy tales and love and other nonsense, Nikolai wore his masks like they were his second skin, and it blended with the boy who just wanted what was best for his country, until he didn’t know who he was anymore.

She had never shown any signs of weakness or vulnerability, and even if she did, she would still deny it until she convinced her heart it had never happened. But he was different. He was ready to wear his heart on his sleeve if he wanted to, displaying his emotions at all times. And if he didn’t get anything out of it, he would put his mask back on like nothing happened.

Zoya hid; Nikolai pretended. If she were to look at it, pretending was better than hiding.

“Is it really that bad?” Nikolai asked softly.

Yes.

No.

I don’t know.

If she were still the same person she had been three years ago, she knew she would have accepted the offer right away. But things had changed and progressed since then, and whoever she once was, someone who wanted so much power, was long gone.

“We both know I’m not cut out for this, Nikolai,” she replied.

He didn’t say anything else, and just waited. Zoya huffed in frustration.

“You’re the diplomat, the charmer.” She gestured in the air vaguely. “Even if you’re not of the royal bloodline, there is no denying that you’ve always had the knack for this. I’m just—”

She was just what? A general? A Grisha who broke the boundaries of the Orders and achieved the impossible? An actual living saint?

Zoya let out a breath. A shadow passed on Nikolai’s face, his expression darkening to some kind of disappointment as if he already knew what she was going to say. But considering everything they had been through, it was definitely safe to say he knew her no matter how good she was at hiding.

She still said it anyway. “I’m just no one.”

“Don’t even go there.”

“You know I wouldn’t say anything I don’t mean, Nikolai. I was meant to be a soldier, to train and lead armies to their victory and be with them until our very last breaths. It was always like that.” And when Nikolai looked like he was about to contradict her, Zoya beat him to it by raising a finger to silence him. “Don't. There's nothing to say. And don’t start with me by saying you were never meant for the crown, nor the throne. That may have been the case, but you are what Ravka has needed for a long time. You fought for it instead of selling it. Hurt for it, bled for it, almost dying twice just to keep it from the mud. If that’s not what a king does, then I don’t know what I should call it.”

“A job well done?” he offered, laughing lightly when she gave him a glare that could silence the Second Army in a heartbeat. “I’m merely joking, Nazyalensky.”

“Can you be serious for once?” Zoya shook her head, heading over to one of the benches and slumping down on it.

It was only then she felt the weight of today’s war come back to her, and she found herself not wanting to stand up for a moment. Maybe she would just stay here until the madness outside passed, though she knew it would take a while.

She hunched forward with her eyes trained on her hands clasped together on her knees. She couldn’t bear to look at him as of the moment, and it irked her as it felt like she was hiding yet again and she was already tired of doing that. But when an enormous responsibility was suddenly presented to her, along with the ability to hold power over everything else, didn’t she have the right to hesitate or even think about it?

It felt like being appointed to the Grisha Triumvirate again after the war the Darkling waged that almost took Ravka down with it, and they were forced to stand up on their own feet to save the country from drowning right after fighting for their lives. It was never fair, but they braved through it.

But at what cost?

It doesn’t stop with us. It never does.

It was what David always used to say, and Zoya found those words haunting her every night after his death, knowing all too well she could have done so much better to protect him and save Genya from her pain. If it didn’t stop with them, what difference would it make if it was her seated on the throne?

Ravka was finally free, even if not completely yet, but the light at the end of the tunnel they had long since walked through was already bright as any star could have been.

A shadow on the marbled floor caught her eyes, and she looked up just in time to see Nikolai kneel in front of her, taking her hands in his. She almost—almost—wrenched away from him, but then she realized that it was him, the boy who wore his heart on his sleeve and bared everything to her without a second thought. He was looking up at her with such a soft, understanding expression on his face that she wondered if she was seeing right.

She blinked, and then she felt as if she was back at the ship again, hearing his confession that took the breath out of her lungs and made her heart beat like it had never been before.

And for the past years of her life and the rest that would still come, Zoya was sure she would never feel as frightened as she was now.

You promised yourself you would speak your heart when you had the chance, didn’t you? she scolded in her mind. Only the saints knew how much she had waited for this moment between them after the war. She almost didn’t have the chance. So why was she trying to run away from it again?

He was so, so near, and yet she was still terrified to reach for him.

"I can't do this, Nikolai," she said instead.

"I will be by your side." Always, was what hung at the end and not said aloud, but she knew he meant it.

Zoya felt a small smile on her lips, the urge to touch his face becoming stronger than her will to fight it. What was stopping her? Her pride? Maybe it really was that, but her damn pride had already cost her enough.

So she reached a hand up to his cheek, her touch gentle as the breeze that fluttered in the room when her skin met his.

Nikolai learned in her hand almost immediately, a content sigh coming from his lips.

"I would give my life for Ravka over and over again, as I know you would too," she whispered, her thumb gently brushing his cheekbone. She dropped her hand and put it on top of his. "But I don't think this is what's best for Ravka. We have fought and lived through the wars it suffered. We vowed to drag it from the mud it had fallen into until our last breaths, and now that it can finally stand up on its own, I think it's had its fill of kings and queens and wars. Ravka now needs to listen to its people."

Zoya knew it sounded ambitious and audacious, but it could be a start, a beginning of a new age. The journey would be a tedious one, as always, but she knew it was worth the try. Ravka was always worth the try, no matter how much it took from them.

Silence stretched between them for a moment, and Zoya was thankful for it being a comfortable one rather than a tense pause. She searched his eyes, trying to find the stubborn glint in them as a sign that he was thinking of arguing back. But she didn't see it.

There was only the look he had always sent her way, the same one he had when he bared his heart to her in the airship, and she felt her breath hitch in her throat. She really ought to strangle him for making her feel this way.

"Spoken like a true queen, I'd say," said Nikolai with a laugh.

Zoya scoffed, grateful for the sudden distraction. "I remember that I didn't agree with the proposal of me being the new queen, so that means you're still the king, Your Idiocy."

There was a hint of an amused grin at the corner of his lips. "What can I say? When I thought of what's best for Ravka, my mind instantly thought of you."

"Didn’t I ask you to be serious even just for once?"

"You speak as if I were making those words up."

"If you know what's best for you and Ravka, you would stop trying to change my mind because my decision would remain the same."

Nikolai smiled ruefully. "I know." He paused, turning his attention to their joined hands. There was an unusual slump in his shoulders, something she rarely saw him have. He sighed, and then slowly pressed his forehead to her knuckles. "I thought I lost you today," he said quietly.

Her heart clenched at the pain in his voice, but she understood it. She almost lost him today too. "You won't be rid of me that easily, Nikolai," Zoya said.

He chuckled, and it sounded more in pain than in amusement. Then he drew in a shaky breath before looking back up at her. "When I saw you fall, I thought the worst and I—" He stopped with a dry laugh. "But I guess you're right, I won't be able to get rid of you that easily."

She felt a smile curl on her lips. "I should be the one telling you that, but I figure it can go both ways," Zoya said, and before she could make herself hide away again, she gave in and lowered her forehead to touch his. In a soft whisper, she said, "But I've never been more grateful you're still here with me."

They were still here, alive and breathing, and she was glad they both got to see the end of the day. When she felt herself plummeting to the ground, she thought that it was her end, and she had accepted it. Exhaustion crept in her bones, her own strength not enough to whip up a draft to cushion her fall. But there was a gust of wind—from Nadia or from Adrik—that caught her, saving her from the deadly impact.

And then a voice. His voice, full of worry and hurt and pain, pleading her to wake. He was the first thing she saw when she opened her eyes again, and it was during that moment she allowed herself to wish that he would be the one she would wake up to every morning, and the last one she’d see when she fell asleep at night.

It had reminded Zoya of the time she saved the king from falling once, back when they were just soldiers fighting for their lives in the Fold, and she wondered if he had been glad to see her when he opened his eyes.

Nikolai reached a hand up to touch her cheek, his fingers light as if she were the most important thing in the world that he was finally allowed to touch. His eyes never wavered from hers.

"I would still choose you, you know," he suddenly said, his voice trembling. "Even if you didn't want to do anything with me anymore. Even if you were in some place else, reassigned to another position. Even if you didn't want me." He tried to smile, but it seemed to take more effort than just not. "I'd still want you. I'd still want you with everything in me."

Zoya already knew how he felt for her beforehand, his confession back in the ship sharpening into focus in her mind. And yet she still felt like she heard him bare his heart to her for the first time, even when he had already been doing it for years.

It would be so easy to tell him that she felt the same; those three words that were hanging between them for a long time begging to be set free. But still a small, terrified part of her held back, and she realized that it was the girl she had once been, the girl who believed in everything before the cruel world took that magic away from her and replaced it with fear.

This is what love does. It took away everything, blinded one's logic and reasoning, and even brought pain that no one should feel. Why should people hurt when all they ever wanted was to have and feel the love they deserved?

“I know I’ve already told you this on the ship,” Nikolai continued, the rueful smile returning to his lips. “But I wanted you to hear it again, as I almost didn’t have the chance today. No prince and no power could ever make me stop wanting you.”

Zoya felt her breath get knocked out from her lungs again, but her doubts and insecurities continued to cloud her, lingering in her as if they were the only ones her heart knew of. “Maybe for now you will want me.” She paused, unexpected tears stinging her eyes. She closed them instead; she didn’t think she could bear looking at him. “But soon enough you will grow to hate me. I’m too sharp. Too angry. Too spiteful.” And you deserve so much better than that. “That’s who I am, Nikolai.”

“Zoya,” Nikolai murmured.

She felt his breath ghost over her skin, and yet she still refused to look at him. She couldn’t. But if there was one thing she knew about Nikolai Lantsov, it was his persistence for everything.

“Zoya, my love. Look at me,” he said softly, and this time Zoya finally obliged him.

An unwanted ache clogged her throat as she met his gaze, bright and warm and open. There was nothing in them except the sincerity he always had around her. In this light, his hazel eyes looked almost golden. He had a golden spirit. Then it struck her, as she remembered the words from a memory a long time ago, that maybe she was finally looking at that boy in her aunt’s story. He had been in front of her all along.

Nikolai grinned, his eyes brighter than she had ever seen them, and there were tears clouding them as well. “You speak as if I haven’t seen you at your worst,” he said.

“You will grow tired of me, Nikolai.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. A tear escaped his eye, and she felt it land on her hand. He let out another breathless laugh. “I’d want you for the rest of my life, Zoya.”

Something broke inside her chest, and then a tear fell from her eye as well. Her fingers intertwined with his, their hold on each other’s hands tightening as if the other would disappear if they let go. He brought her hands to his lips and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. A few tears slipped on her hand as he did, but he had a look of contentment on his face, like he finally felt he was home.

More tears fell from her eyes as she pressed her forehead back to his. For years, she had let herself believe that she wasn’t worthy of being loved, that she was only made to be a soldier, a weapon to be used by her own country.

This is what love does. Zoya had been wrong from the start. Because in the end, Nikolai’s love for her was what made him see past her worst self. Every flaw and every scar, he accepted them wholeheartedly. She didn’t know how he’d come to love her, someone who had avoided any signs of kindness and sincerity he gave her, thinking that it would be used against her later.

There was no denying the pain they had caused each other through the years, when their words were too sharp and they wounded their hearts and pride before they could even have the chance to think of it. And yet they always came back to each other, their faith in each other still there if not stronger before.

Love was never without pain. It would still be felt over and over again because it was real.

And if tearing down the walls she had built around herself and giving her heart away would make her vulnerable to hurting, then perhaps it was something she was willing to do.

Because Nikolai Lantsov was worth every pain.

So Zoya took the leap, drawing him up to her and pressing her mouth to his, and everything felt like it finally clicked into place. He acted immediately, and she could almost feel his smile against her lips. After the long days of wanting, her heart was at peace for once. The Fjerdans could have come back and waged war against them again, but she didn’t care about anything but the warm press of his lips.

When the need for air became stronger than the need for each other’s lips, Zoya pulled away and rested her forehead against his. Her eyes were still clouded with tears when she finally said, “I love you.”

To say that Nikolai’s grin was bright would have been an understatement. In the dull colored room they were in, he seemed to be glowing. He let out another breathless laugh. “I never thought I would hear those words come from you,” he said, his eyes alight with utter bliss. “But for what it’s worth” —he wiped a tear from her cheek with his thumb— “I love you too.”

Silence fell around them and everything focused on the man in front of Zoya. Perhaps she could stay here in his arms for another while and ignore the looming responsibilities standing right outside the doors.

She was his, and he was hers. For now, that was all that mattered.

“Is there really nothing that can change your mind?” Nikolai said, breaking the comfortable silence between them, and Zoya wanted nothing more than to strangle him right now.

“You really had to ruin the atmosphere, didn’t you?”

He laughed lightly. “My ruthless Zoya, I am merely joking,” he said, and then his face became serious. For a moment, a small twinge of fear clawed at her heart. “Then what do you think about being a regent? At least until we find someone to rule properly, or until we could transition the monarchy towards something else.” He wrinkled his nose. “I mean, I said I would give you a crown, and this is my last chance to make good on my words even just for a short time. Besides, Regent Nazyalensky does have a nice ring to it.”

Zoya raised an eyebrow, the idea not occurring to her until now. She furrowed her eyebrows. “You actually suggested something reasonable,” she said, earning a pout from the king. She looked at him with mild concern then, realizing the meaning of having a regent. “Are you really abdicating the throne?”

“I’m not joking when I said that the crown was never meant for me, and I think my bloodline really solidified that fact. I realized I was only fighting for this country, not the throne.” He shrugged as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And if that’s really your decision, I would be with you in every step of the way. But I hope we can stabilize Ravka until we can have a solution to my....sudden resignation.”

“What’s your plan if ever that time comes?” Zoya knew she was asking so many questions, but she couldn’t help it. This man continued to surprise her with his declarations and she had no idea what could come next. “Play pirate again?”

Nikolai scowled at her, and she wanted to laugh at his expression. “Privateer,” he corrected like always. Then he smiled, his eyes suddenly having a faraway look. “For once, I don’t know. But maybe I would play privateer again as I’ve missed the seas terribly.” Then he turned to her, his expression gentle. “If I ask you to come with me as my first mate then, would you agree?”

Would she? Zoya had never known anything outside her life in Os Alta. For years, it had been a continuous battle for the freedom of the country that took everything from its people, and she had no time to think about her freedom if she ever did retire from being a soldier.

But she could already see glimpses of a future ahead, a quiet and easy life, without any fear of having to go back to war. And in those glimpses, she could see him.

Zoya huffed, making it sound as disbelieving as possible. But she already knew her answer. “I’d make a horrible first mate as I easily get seasick,” she said.

“Ah, but I don’t mind. As long as you’re there with me,” Nikolai said, taking her hands in his again. He pressed another kiss to her knuckles. “So what do you say, Regent Nazyalensky?”

The future was something she had no control over, she always knew that. The only way to know what it held was to continue fighting until she reached it, and as long as she had the right person beside her, she knew she would be alright.

They had always been a team, she and Nikolai, and they would continue to be like that for as long as they lived.

So without another hint of doubt, Zoya intertwined her fingers with his, squeezing his hand gently. “Alright, dearest privateer,” she said. “Let’s keep this country standing upright until then.”

And they would. Together.

#zoyalai #nikolai lantsov #zoya nazyalensky #rule of wolves #rule of wolves spoilers #row spoilers #or that scene in os kervo hall #where i changed a few things #BC WHERE IS MY HUG OR MY SOFT MOMENT BEFORE THE SAPS LEIGH #:SOB:#they just came from the war #and not once did i ever see a moment of relief #that the love of your life survived the war KLJHASFLKJHASDF #i needed this okay #and as i've said i felt a bit off abt the continuation of ravkan monarchy #but queen zoya works too so #i think the best thing they could do was to be regents for a while until they can do something abt the monarchy #or slowly transition it to a democracy #even if it's going to take a while #nik could still joke abt giving her a crown and actually do it KLJHASFKLHJAS #and i just wanted a more emotionally constipated and terrified zoya having inner turmoil abt love #;-;#and they could sail the seas after #IDK MAN THE POTENTIAL OF THIS SCENE #I JUST WANT IT TO DELIVER MORE #SO HAVE THIS MESS PLS

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vegalocity · 3 years

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Reunited (Red Groom AU)

This is the part where you guys realize i'm not going in chronological order and am probably just gonna do the scenes i like

but like who cares right that just means we're skipping to the good stuff

Also i combined the battle of wits and the Reuniting scene bc this is my AU and i do what i want

In a cruel turn of fate, when the Spider Queen stood alone between him and his most hated foe, the Red Prince wished he still had either the large blue fellow or the dragon with them still. At least the two of them were slightly more amenable to him. And maybe while they couldn't be persuaded to take these wretched restraining cuffs from his wrists they at least were better conversational partners than the half mad Spider Queen.

Tethered to the spider woman as he was at the time, when she began to mutter aloud to herself about trying to lose the Monkey King over a secret way, he had no choice but to follow as she dragged him off of the forest path and into a clearing. He'd assumed she'd gone mad, but before he could voice such opinions she'd spun a quick web and used it to blind and gag him. She'd activated the damned cuffs and finding himself unable to move on his own, he could only comply.

He could rely on naught but his hearing as the Spider Queen dragged him across the open plain and forced him to sit upon what felt to be a long felled tree trunk. He heard her arrange things with the shift and clang of cloth and metal, and soon enough he heard approaching footsteps.

One of her pointed legs pressed up underneath him, the tip just grazing where his chin met his neck.

“So, Monkey King, it's down to you and I once again.” She purred and he let out a shout of rage at finally finally being so close to the monkey who'd taken away his everything but unable to move or even look upon the face of that wretched foe.

“-By all means if you want the prince dead, come closer.” The point of the Spider Queen's leg pressed a little harder against him.

“Give me a moment, let me explain-” The Monkey King started, tense and rough and possessing none of the cocky lit his father had described it as in the stories he'd heard-

“There's nothing to explain!” The Spider Queen crowed. “You're trying to kidnap what I've rightfully stolen!”

“Per...haps an arrangement can be reached?” Why did the Monkey King even want him enough to not have grown bored and moved on? Some sort of assumed loyalty to his father? As if he'd go anywhere with the monster that had taken his-

No. Stop. Stop thinking about it, now's not the time.

The Spider Queen thought so too, he felt a small prick on his neck as she broke the skin there just a bit he let out a muffled yelp in surprise as she grabbed his arm for better leverage. “There will be none. And if you do not wish to bring a corpse back to his family you will remain where you are.”

The Monkey King's voice wavered, and for a moment it sounded afraid... and almost familiar-... No. don't you dare compare him to the monkey who killed him.

“Well... if no arrangement can be made, this is quite the impasse we've reached.”

“I would say so. If you went about swinging that staff I'd likely be squashed flat, yet if you dared do so your prize's blood will stain the soil before you finished the swing. Your brawn is unparalleled 'Great Sage' But so is my intelligence.”

“You're that smart, hm?”

“Whose the one holding the prize, Monkey King?” She gripped his arm tighter.

“Well, In that case how about a battle of wits?” There was that cocky lit. No doubt the Monkey had a trick up his sleeve to take care of the Spider Queen-

“For the prince?”

-and then if he could just play nice for long enough to get him to remove these damned restraining cuffs he could-

“To the Death?”

-he could charge at the simian with every ounce of pain and rage he'd built up in the past two years and turn him to ash and whatever smoldering stone he was made from that remained stone yet.

“I accept.”

He just had to be patient a little longer.

“Wonderful! Pour the wine, please?”

This would possibly be his greatest test of resolve yet. He heard the Monkey's footsteps approaching and as the creature drew near he smelled of peaches and the wind, and-...

Had- Had he stolen some of his beloved's clothes?!

His senses were stronger than an average humans and without his sight his other senses were sharpening and he could swear he smelled the distinct scent of-...of-....don't say his name don't even think it you don't have the time to be hysterical right now

-He didn't think he was CAPABLE of hating the Monkey King even more than he already did and yet here he was. His rage mounting and seething beneath his skin.

He heard the clack and pour as the wine sloshed into what were apparently two cups between his captor and his enemy.

“Smell this, but don't touch it.”

“This smells of nothing.”

“It's called Iocane powder. It has no smell, taste or distinctive texture but it can kill a demon in no time flat.”

“Hm.”

“Now it can't kill ME per se, but even I'm not fully immune to it. It'll put me into a sleep like death for a solid week, which is about as close to dead as I can get anyway.”

“Ahhh I see where you're going with this.”

There was another pause, and the sound of the two cups clinking as they were moved about.

“There. Which cup as the poison within? You select which you'll take, we both drink. And from there we see who has the custody of the prince, and who is dead.”

The Spider Queen laughed and released her hold on his arm to clap in her amusement.

“Truly? We both drink the wine and see who keels over? How delightful! You were never this collected with your gambits before, Great Sage! Truly I can only divine which cup is poisoned from what I know of you, Monkey King.” the Monkey King sucked in a breath and She laughed.

“I suppose the real question is how does the Monkey King go about when he plans on tricking people? Does he poison his own goblet or his enemies?”

Then the Spider Queen began on some long, painfully winded, tirade about what she'd divined about the Monkey King based on his reputation and what she'd gleaned from his behavior, and he honestly could not care about her backwards thought process one whit. He simply wished for this to be over and either make plans to return to this palace when the Great Sage was in his sleep like death and char him to a crisp or wait for the Spider Queen to fall dead and convince the Monkey King to free him so he may do the job himself.

“You're trying to confuse me into giving something away aren't you?”

“You'd LOVE that wouldn't you Monkey King? I know which goblet has the poison in it you great fool.”

“Then choose! Geez, this is boring me!”

“You'll see whose embarrassed soon enou- What in the world could that be?”

“What? Where?” Did.... Did the Monkey King really just fall for the 'look behind you' gambit? “I see nothing.”

...Really?

“I could have sworn I saw something- oh nevermind I suppose. Now, a toast. I select my own cup.”

“Very well.” the two cups clacked together dully.

“You chose wrong.” The Monkey King chortled, only to be cut off by the Spider Queen's cackle.

“You only BELIEVE I chose wrong! How humorous! The great and mighty Monkey King so easily duped!” the Spider Queen cackled “I switched our glasses as you were turned around Monkey King! You've fallen for one of the greatest blunders of them all! The Greatest of course being to never invade the far north nearing winter, but slightly less well known, is to never bet against a Spider when death is on the line!”

The Spider Queen laughed for a time longer before her laughter started to slowly dissolve into a coughing fit. Her hand scrabbled along his arm as she searched for purchase- and then fell away.

The Monkey King approached him and he most certainly HAD stolen the clothes of his beloved with the scent that clung there still—and oh how he'd wished he'd still have a remnant of him to remember with in his timeless eon of grief—and the sheer unbridled unfairness that his killer was allowed something that he so desperately had craved made him furious.

The Monkey King removed the webbing around his eyes first and he blinked in the sudden sunlight. The dark mask and head wrapping the Monkey King wore obscured the majority of his face and he found himself so full of rage at the idea of the wretched stone monkey being so close to him that once the webbing was torn from his mouth his first instinct had been to spit in his face.

He hadn't, but it had been a close call.

“....All that caterwauling and you knew you'd poisoned your own cup the whole time.”

“They were both poisoned, highness.” The Monkey King stated stiffly. “Iocane powder only works on demons and I'm immune to everything but what can kill an immortal... so you may not want to touch either of those cups yourself.”

The Monkey King reached for his bindings and he held his breath as he gave the shackles an experimental tug. The golden bands shuddered and tightened against his wrists. “What nature of binding are these?”

...just play nice, just until they're broken...“I'm not familiar with them myself, but they blast my own fire back onto me should I try to summon it, and tighten upon attempted removal.” Come on... if anyone could break them before they lopped his hands off it would be the Monkey King... and he'd thank him by giving him just what he deserves....

“Sounds like a stolen artifact from the heavenly court or something, you're probably stuck in those things until we return to Flower Fruit Mountain.”

“...Excuse me?”

“Well I know very little about the surrounding area, how short a time it's been since I've returned to the world, and if I remember correctly this mercenary group said themselves they were hired by your fiance, So we should probably assume his palace is hostile territory, and to send you home would surely double our journey time before we can be assured of safety. It's far safer to head back to my own mountain and send word to your home from there.”

No...No no no no That was not allowed. He got to his feet—in such a rush the Monkey King stumbled back in surprise—and couldn't hold on to his temper any longer.

“I will no nowhere with you! You- You absolute-! I- I can't even find the words to DESCRIBE how deeply my hatred runs for you!” The Monkey King flinched back in surprise, before huffing.

“Well you don't have much of a choice, do you? I can't remove those restraints short of chopping your hands off and the sun is due to set soon; How long do you think you'll last in the wild without your fire power? Far as I see it, You either return with me to my mountain, or leave as powerless as a human without even a weapon by your side and hope to make it back home on your own before you're either eaten or slaughtered.”

Red Son growled under his breath, but when the Monkey King gestured for him to follow, he did.

They made it to the outer side of a mountain, a steep decline into the valley off on their side and in the center of the valley lie a dark and tangled forest.

“We can rest here for a time-”

“I refuse to put my guard down around you, ape.” The Monkey King bristled.

“Would you mind terribly to indulge me as to why you've decided to detest your own savior, highness?”

The horrid monkey should know what he's done- “You killed the love of my life”

And then the bastard had the gall to remain unshaken “Maybe I did. I've killed a lot of people since getting free.” The Monkey strode forward and began to circle him, like a predator toying with its prey.

Red Son decided he wouldn't need his fire to attack this creature. Sure he may die within moments, but his rage would at least let him one punch before his skull was split open-

“Tell me, who was this 'love' of yours? Another prince like yourself?” The Monkey King leaned in. “Rich? Cutthroat? Bossy?”

Of all the disrespectful- “He worked in an Inn when I knew him! He was poor!” He rounded on the disgraceful simian yet the killer before him wasn't his focus. “I didn't care about his wealth!”

He couldn't think on him or he'd fall to pieces and-

He couldn't-

“I never cared about that.”

The memory of gentle laughter echoing in his ear, the bright excitement and bounce in his step, those elegant yet calloused hands and he had to stop this right here because the Monkey King wasn't ALLOWED to see him so vulnerable-

“He was perfect in every way...”

Yet now that the memory was in his head again it wasn't going away. And he found his heart aching as deeply as it was during his period of mourning.

The shimmer of adoration when he'd simply glanced at him briefly and known his heart; the embarrassed way his gaze had darted away when he'd later confronted him on his discovered feelings, the warm, bright joy when he'd told him his feelings were returned-

“...With eyes like the space between the stars...” His voice had grown weaker, barely a murmur as the memories reclaimed their long repressed spot in his mind.

Xiaotian... his face, his voice, His passion and energy and-

And the tired look on the Inkeep's husband's face when he'd informed him of their son's death-

-The eager excited look on his face as he'd eagerly listen to Red Son talk about his projects, always listening even if he didn't understand.

The feeling of the floor falling out from under him and and a million horrible noises and feelings mounting up in his throat and chest but restraining it just long enough to find somewhere to be alone

-The energy in his voice as he talked about his art, looking for all the world like his greatest pleasure in the world was taking a brush into his hand and immortalizing the world around him into inks and papers.

Kneeling in the grove of trees for hours screaming his rage and sobbing his despair until a stranger had finally found him.

-The stories he loved to hear and tell in turn, entire body going into his storytelling as he gestured and enacted and faked fights

Night after sleepless night tirelessly working trying to—needing to—just stop thinking else he'd be able to do nothing but wish the world itself had died when Xiaotian had so at least the sun would stop rising and the birds would stop singing and the servants would stop bringing him meals he didn't have the appetite for and he could just work and work until his body finally collapsed in on itself and the light of his forge would go out blanketing the world in eternal darkness like it deserved to be after the greatest light of them all was extinguished.

-one picture, just one, given to him the one time he'd returned to the town by the Inkeep, stating in a gruff, tired voice that he may as well keep it. A figure done up in coals, his own visage of that one beautiful night they'd had together, the paper folded and held in a secret pocket right over his heart where it remained forevermore.

That final goodbye, Xiaotian pressing a feather light kiss to his knuckles as though still trying to be respectful to a prince. And he couldn't suppress the laughter at such a overly fancy action so once his chuckles had subsided he'd pulled him into a proper kiss. And they'd both known it would be some time before they'd see eachother, so they made it a proper goodbye-

But he hadn't thought it would be the last time he'd ever see him alive.

If he'd known... all the things he would have said, all the pleas to keep him there with him in the little town just beyond the palace. To- To move him into the palace, and yes his parent's wouldn't approve of a peasant for a husband, but he'd have no other and eventually they'd come around to it. Especially after they actually MET him and knew the kind of man he was-

But he didn't. And Xiaotian was dead-

He was dead at the hands of someone he'd admired and loved the stories of.

And his rage returned. The fire burned beneath his skin and begged to be let loose but he had to keep a lid on it to keep the cuffs from bouncing his power back onto himself and burning away like an effigy of love and loss.

“He was staying in the village you burned to the ground when you left your traveling group.” his voice was low, as calm as he could possibly make it, if he went any louder he would begin screaming, he knew it. “The one you ensured none would live to tell about beyond your former friends-”

“'Friends' is such a heavy word. My 'traveling compatriots' perhaps would work better.” The Monkey King interrupted him -He interrupted him! “And I mean I couldn't afford to show any mercy while I was leaving them behind! If people thought the Monkey King had gone soft after his five hundred year imprisonment nobody would respect him! Then it's nothing but work work work to rebuild that reputation!”

“Are you mocking me?! You destroy my everything and you have the gall to mock my pain?!”

“Oh, Life is pain highness.” He couldn't see the Monkey King's eyes but he was sure they were mockingly rolling in his self-assured life knowledge. “Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is just selling you something.”

Then he looked off to the side, and he was so tempted to just charge the Monkey, see how far he could go before he was struck back. See how far his rage could carry him alone. He twisted the restraining cuffs on his wrists, they tightened, he grit his teeth at the squeeze.

“You know, I think I remember this inkeep boy of yours. I separated from my former group about... what, two years ago was it?”

...You know he'd thought that if the Monkey King did remember Xiaotian it would give him some sense of catharsis. That his love had at least made an impression on the great fool, and was not just some faceless passerby, but...

It didn't.

“Does it bother you to know?”

“I'll not give you the satisfaction of hearing any more of my thoughts on the matter.”

“Well, he died well if that's any consolation.” The Monkey King was peering at him through the mask. “No bribe attempts with those meager savings, no blubbering. He pleaded his case to me only the once.” he looked away, seemingly lost in the memory, head tilted upward as though to help him remember. “He said 'Please... I need to live'...Not a lot of people say 'please' and mean it highness, so it gave me pause.”

“I asked him what was worth sparing him over, and I remember this, he said 'True Love'” His chest felt tight...

He reached up a hand and pressed it against his collarbone to try and alleviate the pressure, he could practically see it, the village up in flames, the Monkey King in this same hideous black outfit, his staff already stained with blood, and his precious, darling, beloved Noodle Boy kneeling in the dirt, blood seeping down his face from a cut somewhere on his head, and pleading just for a moment. And-

True love...

“He then went on to describe a gentlemen of great intelligence and deep passion; I can only assume he meant you...Have to say, I'm surprised you're not grateful to me destroying him when I did.”

His mind stuttered to a stop, his entire train of thought completely derailed as the Monkey King spoke.

“...What?”

“You know, before he could see the kind of person you really are.”

His control snapped in half, his fire sprung forth, the golden bands shuddered and the flames erupted out only for a moment before being bounced back onto him. The heat of his own fury scalding him until the pain made him stop. The Monkey King took a half step forward but Red Son made SURE he kept his distance with his glare alone.

“And what, pray tell, kind of person am I?!”

It seemed like he'd finally pissed off the Monkey King. Good. His shoulders tensed and those long canines bared, as though ready to tear into him. “He was really stuck on the idea that you were the faithful sort, highness. That no matter what, yours wasn't the kind of heart that could be swayed! He was so sure that you would wait for him-”

Wait- why was that what had angered him?

“-So tell me, when you learned of your 'love's death did you start accepting suitors the next day or did you wait a full week out of respect for the dead?!”

His hand went flying before he even thought about it, he should have punched him; if that was his only shot in he should have punched him, but his reflexes had decided the action for him and instead his palm was out and he'd slapped him instead.

“How dare you?! You mocked me once see if you live to do it again!”

But he wasn't thinking about that, he wasn't thinking about anything beyond the pain that had gone from a dull ache to white hot in his chest, the absolute blinding rage and the sting of tears welling in his eyes from the sheer tidal wave of anger and despair.

“I DIED THAT DAY”

The tears turned to steam the second they left his eyes, smoldering trails out of either, just barely able to vent that little bit of flame into the world without hurting him but he didn't care if the proof of his despair was made obvious by it or not.

He didn't care about any of it. He didn't care he couldn't summon a single plume of fire or how completely eclipsed his ability was by the Monkey King's without it, and possibly even with his it. He only cared about making him pay. He pounced on the monkey when he seemed stunned by his vehemence.

The scuffle was brief but he DID get another hit in before he was pinned. This time it was a real punch, and it was just as satisfying as he'd hoped it would be.

But too soon was he pinned, The monkey pressing his front to the ground, a knee between his shoulder blades and his hands held together against the small of his back.

He let out a shout of rage, not even bothering to try and give any more words, no more words were necessary.

“Calm down! You need to listen-!”

The steam was clouding his eyes so greatly he was nearly blind with it, his fire was trying to come out unbidden to throw off his opponent, the scalding agony rippling through his body proof of such. But he was numb to it beyond it fueling his anger even further; maybe if he just burnt hot enough he could melt the cuffs right off of him. Everything was hurting, his clothes were going to be a holey mess, but he could smell cooking meat and he could only hope it was the monkey above him. He HAD to burn the Monkey King first. Even if he was immolated himself in the process!

“The only thing I'd like to listen to is your demise! You-! You wretched ape! You heartless horsekeeper! You took my everything you don't deserve the breath you stole from his lungs!” His own lungs ached, was it through holding back sobs? Was he experiencing smoke inhalation for the first time? He couldn't tell.

The pressure was off of his back and his hands were released, he made a blind swipe to try and right himself but his arms wouldn't obey him, and at that realization the pain finally kicked in.

The world went fuzzy at the edges, then dark at the edges. Until he could only see a small spot in front of him and the rest of his sight was naught but a haze of black.

Then everything was black-

It was probably his own flesh he could smell burning-

There was rapid muttering above him-

How embarrassing if this was what did him in, revenge in his grasp and he was too eager to kill the Monkey King right there he let cursed jewelry trick him into offing himself-

Someone was sobbing, was it him? He didn't think he had enough breath in his lungs for that-

The pain was going away, did that mean he was dying-

He tried to open his eyes, but he was still face down in the dirt and could only manage one, the former grassland around him was still smoldering from his fire as it eased back into focus, his breathing was ragged, and at some point his skin had stopped burning so hot, he felt cold.

The pain had eased but hadn't vanished, but the shock was still heavy in his system as he couldn't respond when he felt a pair of arms lift him up and pull him against a hard yet warm surface.

Dark fabric met his eye, and...he knew who this person was, didn't he? At some point in the writhing pain he'd forgotten just what he was doing here, mind going blank for everything but the burning sensation. But whoever they were they felt familiar. Their arms wrapped around his torso like they belonged there, as though the two of them were made to be like this.

The next thing that processed was the sound. His ear was pressed to the person's torso and he could hear the rabbit flutter of a panicked heartbeat. But nonetheless there was something... familiar about it. And alongside the heartbeat there was the vibration of words in the stranger's chest, but these he couldn't quite make out as their face was pressed against the top of his head, buried in his hair and making the words indecipherable.

It was then that his mind finally re-engaged and he realized that it was the Monkey King holding him so tenderly. His anger felt muted by the cold cold blanket of shock, but he still struggled in his grasp to pull away, if only to try and make sense of what was going on. If the Monkey King had such judgmental and inaccurate views of a man he'd never met before now, why was he doing this?

The Monkey King held him tight and he felt the shake of his shoulders as he was pressed even closer. Why was he shaking? He shifted again and this time found his face pressed against the dark fur of the Monkey's neck.

But it... felt off... it didn't feel real. It felt more like fabric with an illusion placed over it than it did actual fur...

The smell of burning flesh finally faded from his nose and was replaced with-

…What?

No that- that wasn't possible, he'd stolen Xiaotian's clothes sure but his face was pressed to the Monkey King's neck, that can't be his scent that can't be-

His arms were still aching as he reached up and found the knot tying the dark mask and headscarf around him. Both fabrics fluttered away and with them came a puff of a cloud of smoke, a shapeshifting form dissolving around him.

And he was pressed against a very human body.

This- this could still be a trap, this could be some sort of illusion to pacify him, so he wouldn't ask any more questions, so he'd just lose himself entirely-

The human—the alive human—clutching to him tightened his grip and he could finally make out the words he was muttering

“I'm so sorry never do that again you scared me to death I'm sorry I'm sorry-”

The cocky lit in his voice was gone and it sounded so achingly familiar without it, and the feeling and the scent and it- it couldn't be....

It had to be

It was a struggle, his arms still felt heavy from the echoes of pain and the numbness of realization, but he pulled away just enough to properly look at him and-

Oh...

Like the space between the stars...

“Xiaotian...”

He was crying, just beginning to pull himself together now. Pulling an arm off of him to scrub at that beautiful face. Those enchanting eyes he'd thought he'd never see again darted away from him and he wanted to protest at not being allowed to simply look at him after... after EVERYTHING... but he couldn't find breath in his lungs.

“I think your fiance's been tracking us- I hear horses. Can you walk?”

He tried to respond, he really did, but he found himself spellbound by the sound of his voice, just as he remembered it without the false persona twisting it until the point it had become unrecognizable.

“Red Son?” he shuddered at the sound of his own name being spoken by that voice again. So many emotions and memories, the hole in his chest finally being filled, and knowing without a shadow of a doubt this time he wouldn't let anything part them again still leaving him stunned. The fire was gone from his skin and finally, finally he felt one emotion beat the others and bubble up to the surface.

Red Son started to laugh. Tears bubbling up and sliding down his cheeks as true, overwhelming joy engulfed him. His arms ached and felt stiff from the burns he'd laid onto them but he pulled them around Xiaotian's shoulders all the same and squeezed with every ounce of strength that remained in his body.

“You're alive...” he wasn't sure if his laughter had turned to sobbing or if the two had simply mixed together but his breath was hitching and the tears wouldn't stop. “If you wanted I could fly”

Those arms pulled around him again and now he could truly appreciate just how easily the both of them fit together.

“I- I still don't understand, why did you accept the proposal if you still loved me?” Xiaotian's voice was a whisper against his shoulder, and he didn't want to think any more of his family's decisions and his hopeless acceptance, yet-

“My parents decided it, and what else could I have done?” he paused for breath “You were dead.”

Xiaotian responded with such conviction he had no choice but to instantly believe him:

“Death can't stop true love; it can only delay it for awhile.”

His lips were rougher than he remembered, but Red Son had no complaints upon kissing them again.

#Spicynoodleshipping #MK Red Son #Qi Xiaotian #MK Spider Queen #Spider queen dies :( sorry bout that #tw death #Red groom AU #vega writes stories too #Princess bride AU #Monkie Kid #LMK #Lego Monkie Kid

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: mingyu x fem!reader | purge!au ⚬ word count: 15,728. ⚬ warnings: weapons, death, drugs, blood. ⚬ genres: ANGST, spicy/nsfw scenes, fluff to mend the heart, romance, action, and whatever else you could fathom lol.

✧✎ synopsis: the annual purge was a system of purification, alleviation, a supposedly psychological device in which people found a moment to unleash their indignation. you never purged until you met mingyu, a boy whose warmth was just as palpable as his darkness. you begin to fall for him, which means involvement with the evil he’s managed to attract.

✧✎ a/n: longer note at the end of the fic! sorry i’ve kept this in the vault for AGES bc i couldn’t figure out how to write in the ‘twist’ or whatever the fuck. you’ll know when you get there. anyways this is for @mihgyu (sorry it freakin took so long!) and @solgyus as they are my Resident Mingyu Stans. i also changed the title bc i thought... yknow... it fits better!

You had always wondered what life was like for the previous generation, the generation who grew up without acquaintance to the annual purge. It was an alien concept if any concept at all, one so foreign and inexplicably bizarre that the cogs in your mind would start jamming against each other in a struggle of comprehension. The education system had groomed its pupils into believing it was the only plausible way to recover from an economic collapse, feeding into gullible and malleable minds the possibility of clearing rage through bloodshed.

When your parents disappeared at dawn, leaving nothing behind but the sound of a lock clicking shut and a note advising you to stay away from the windows and doors, it could be assumed they’d return at morning with crimson-stained clothing, crusted lacerations, and heavy weaponry sealed taunt to their hands; or maybe they wouldn’t return at all. Yet you were taught to believe that was okay. At least if you didn’t have your family, you had your friends.

At least if you didn’t have your family, you had Mingyu.

As much as you despised admitting to yourself, Mingyu meant to you what the moon meant to the tides, what the sun meant to the meadows. He kept you in perpetual motion, allowed you room to recuperate and blossom into a much stronger version of yourself after your father never came home. When he lost his job your family lost its momentum. The last you ever saw of the man was his backside as he slipped through the door frame, a chortling in the evening air, a black revolver clasped to his hand.

He seemed to disappear alongside your mother’s sanity. She isolated herself and pushed everyone away, even you, the only person capable of nurturing her. In school you’d learned that the purge was supposed to bring purification, it was responsible for cleansing humans of the everyday stresses that slowly crushed them flat. Purging allowed them happiness; a twelve hour capsule to unleash what the law prohibited three-hundred-sixty-four days a year.

Yet when you looked to your mother, you didn’t see any traces of happiness or fulfillment, just an empty shell that sat with sunken eyes in her rocking chair, mumbling to herself like a toddler. Before you even had time to find closure after your father’s disappearance, your mother suffered a similar fate, abducted through the windowsill by a maniac who sought vengeance for the crimes committed beneath your father’s hand. He was a stingy businessman who often scammed to make his money, therefore collecting a myriad of enemies.

Notably, you didn’t start purging until you met Mingyu. The first time you’d ever used a gun with malicious intent was when you ran into the man responsible for abducting your mother. The kick-back from the trigger had you stumbling across the watered asphalt, the silver slick rain that caved down from the clouds washing away the minuscule spatters of his blood that blew onto your face. As he slumped down against the red bricks, the animation draining slowly from his eyes, he spluttered,

“S-She’s dead, she payed for your father’s incompetence, his greed.”

In complete lifelessness you lowered the weapon, not realizing how close the distant gunfire sounded until Mingyu had to drag you away by the wrist. He murmured his condolences to you when the air was tinged with less bloodshed, carefully nuzzling you into his chest when the reality of what you’d just done had come spiraling forth, leaving a slap so brutal across your face the burn seemed more realistic than the raindrops hitting your skin.

You felt disgusting, enclosed in a body that had been consumed by the purest form of hatred, and there was nothing you could do to evade the feeling of that ugly gun pressed into your hand. But within that same moment, hot tears pumping onto Mingyu’s shirt, you understood a certain satiation that tempted so many people to do what you had just done.

“We can’t stay here,” You felt the vibrations from his deep voice against your cheek, coolness stinging the heated flesh of your face when you lifted your head to meet his gentle eyes.

“Gotta keep moving, alright? It’ll be over soon, I promise.”

Mingyu’s composure was definitely an admirable trait. But then again, he’d been exposed to this environment long before you ever questioned purging. At that point you had felt completely numb, allowing him to wind you through the crevices and shadowy tunnels building the foundation of the city, your vision blurred by a mixture of salt and rain water. You felt safe with Mingyu, though it hadn’t always been like that. Before your friendship you were an outsider to the boy, harbouring nothing but a tiny crush toward him and his handsome face.

In fact the first time you’d ever spoken to Mingyu, it was after his fight with Wen Junhui, one of the most infamous, cynical purgers you prayed to never meet.

Two Years Ago –

“I’ll kill you if you come near her again!”

“Is that supposed to scare me?!”

You’d never seen a fist fight in real life before, and you were positive that was a good thing. A large crowd steadfastly increased around two tall, venom-eyed boys caught up in their alcohol. They were spitting profanities, threats, and whatever else their clouded minds could formulate within the gap of the other’s speech. The party had been rather lackluster before that point anyways, so like the congregation swarming to the centre of the room, you etched into the crowd and managed to stand just inside the inner circle.

“Shit – sorry,” you squeaked as you were suddenly shoved into the girl beside you. Your face became hollow like a crater on the moon when you saw that it was Mingyu’s girlfriend.

“What am I supposed to do?” She mumbled whilst biting her nails, “I didn’t know how to stop it.”

“Stop the fight?”

She continued babbling, “Junhui kept coming on to me and Mingyu saw. They’re both competitive, boggle-brained idiots when they’re drunk. I don’t know what to do.”

Her name was Yang Yeeun, born and raised by parents maintaining such wealth that rumours began circulating their bloodstream was crushed rubies. You could see her pearl earrings flashing behind the straight black locks framing her small face. You don’t think she ever took them off. Her father manufactured security systems for the purge; however, the most recent release had been proven to bore many defects and flaws. She didn’t care, as long as she got a slice of the wealth.

In the beginning, Yeeun and Mingyu’s relationship came as a slap to the wrist. How could two people reaping such difference in personality become so close? Yeeun was frank and staid, with cold, cindered eyes that never displayed an eclipse of emotion. Her complexion was just as pale as the pearls she wore and her heart swam darkly.

Mingyu was her polar opposite.

Sure he was intimidatingly tall, but any menace he constructed with his height was easily derailed through his bubbly nature. He was what you call, “a gentle giant,” and anyone who contacted him for more than a brief period understood this. The warmth was in his honey-brown gaze, the velvet of his tanned skin, the sepia tones that were shaggy in his hair. When he spoke you could feel the gravel roll beneath your feet, and when he said your name heat would flood your face like steam throughout a hot spring.

Again, Mingyu and Yeeun made a bizarre couple, yet he loved her so deeply you swore the dark coverings in her heart had peeled back a little.

You kept in mind, a little.

“They’re fighting over you?” You questioned carefully, trying not to exaggerate your words so that it seemed utterly impossible for her to be worth fighting over.

“Yes,” Yeeun gritted, her eyes darting around the crowd, strangers pressing into the circle, allured by drunken shouting, “can’t they wait until purge before they start ripping into each other?”

Wouldn’t it be best if they didn’t rip into each other at all?

“Like you said, they’re drunk and stupid,” you opted for the latter choosing.

Mingyu’s mellow stare had been licked over by enraged flames, the remaining liquor still pumping through his system and warming his blood until it sizzled. His fists were balled tightly, fangs peeking past the taunt snarl on his lips. Junhui appeared calmer, though the bar of composure was quite low to begin with. The unkempt ends of his midnight black hair were shaking, his sharp nose crinkled, and his stare so impossibly intense that you were nauseated a vein on his neck might become engorged and pop.

As interesting as it would be for you to witness your first fist fight, you knew it wasn’t a wise idea for these two to start swinging at each other.

You set a hand on Yeeun’s shoulder, “maybe you should stop thi—,”

Suddenly, her palms encased her mouth as the last few words of toxicity were spat between Mingyu and Junhui, the crowd erupting in brazen cheering as the two lunged for one another in a flash of blurred colour. Your jaw was permanently unhinged, your body set in stone, attention completely spellbound under the boys who were viciously entangled. The world seemed to spin at a snail’s pace whilst the fight flickered faster than lightning. At one point Mingyu had Junhui shoved up against the wall, one hand nearly ripping through the boy’s black-collared shirt as he tore his free fist back and swiftly launched it forward. The hard ridges of Mingyu’s knuckles connected with Junhui’s eye, his head smashed back into the drywall so that an indentation remained.

“G-Get the fuck off me, Mingyu!”

“You fucking asked for this, dumbass!”

In another fuzzy whirlwind of movement, Junhui managed to push Mingyu backward and onto the snack table, bowls and bottled alcohol spilling across the floor with jade shards of glass scattering in flurries. Junhui drew his fist into Mingyu’s face, the collision splintering against Mingyu’s brow bone. You could see the speckles of blood flying off Junhui’s hand as he curled his fingers into another ball, preparing to throw once more. Panic encompassed you from every angle; it drowned you above your head until the crowd’s bellowing became a muffled choir to your ears.

You could hardly breathe as your sights shifted to Yeeun, the girl with her hands still clasped to her mouth, doing absolutely nothing.

Was that a smirk hidden behind her hands?

She really did have a dark heart. By the looks of it no one was going to intervene. You were most likely the soberest person in attendance. Even if it downright petrified you, letting those two get their hands so bloodied it would look like they doused their arms in red paint wasn’t a viable option.

“Hey!” You barked, slowly etching your way into the clearing, “what the fuck is wrong with you two?! Get off each other!”

Mingyu and Junhui were still a violent mass now buckled to the floor, anger and alcohol swelling through their bodies like a drug. You felt your knees wobble, as though a tight fist had an ironclad grip on your entrails and was squelching them around slowly. Junhui had Mingyu pressed to the floor, and raised in his arm was a sparkling shard belonging to a smashed bottle. You didn’t know what it was, but something inside compelled you to react. In a mere instant you were ripping the shard from Junhui’s hand and screaming at the top of your lungs, the crowd’s cheering turned to hushed whispers.

“Enough!”

Your chest was heaving, fingers grasping the glass piece tightly enough that thin lines of red began dripping down your hand. Junhui and Mingyu had peeled themselves apart, the deep marring of hatred etched so profoundly into their eyes you’d never be able to forget it. Yeeun suddenly blossomed with emotion after standing on the outskirts smirking into her palm, the girl bounding toward Mingyu and snaking her arms around his neck like she’d been downright sobbing with worry the whole time.

“C’mon, Gyu,” she gritted, “we’re leaving.”

Thanks for the help.

You were tempted to call.

The fight between Mingyu and Junhui might have stopped, but the party continued to thrive. You were wandering through the upstairs hallway as the wooden floorboards jolted beneath you, driven by incessant music that became a furthering echo. Fresh blood had yet to stop streaming down the grooves between your knuckles, pooling from the lacerations of that jagged, glass shard and wetting your warm skin. You continued seeking for a bathroom, any room really that might contain a first aid kit, or at least some water and tissues that would help to clean your hand.

Each room was either occupied or locked. A defeated sigh ghosted from your lips as you stood at the end of the hall, weakly knocking your healthy hand against the last door. Scarlet drops were creating a puddle on the wood whilst you waited, until the brass handle jiggled and you were stepping back in shock that someone had actually acknowledged your presence.

Of course, the person doing the acknowledging had to be Yeeun.

“Oh! It’s… you.” She murmured. Behind her slim frame you could see Mingyu sitting on the sink, holding a cloth to his eyebrow.

“It’s me,” you replied, desperately wanting to skip the small talk and use the first aid kit. Didn’t she say she was leaving?

Yeeun finally noticed the red pathways on your hand and nodded, “I see you need to get yourself bandaged up.”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You hummed, trying not to sound impatient but utterly failing.

“Well… I’ll be right back then. Just so you know there’s no gauze left.”

“That’s okay, I don’t think I’ll need an—,”

“I’m going to look for some!” Yeeun called as she squeezed her way past you and began trudging down the corridor, “be back soon!”

Mingyu tossed you a lopsided smile when you entered the bathroom. You kicked the door shut with your foot to drown as much noise as possible. Though the small barrier didn’t do too much in regards to sound, it certainly made the bathroom feel one-hundred times smaller. Or maybe it was solely Mingyu and his gargantuan height. Perhaps it wasn’t any of those factors and you were just feeling nervous to be enclosed in a private space with him. Either way, your face turned into magma and you felt like swallowing sand. Without saying a word you turned on the sink and let the cold water stream between your fingers.

“Hey.” He began.

Oh no. If you initiate conversation with me there’s a ninety-nine percent chance I’m going to fall in love with you.

“Thanks for intervening. You kinda saved my life there.”

You scoffed whilst scrubbing the dry scarlet from your wrist, “I think you could have taken him.”

Mingyu took the wet cloth from his brow and folded it over before reapplying pressure to his own wound, sighing deeply. “Fuck this. I hate getting drunk.”

Fastening your teeth into your lower lip, you remained silent and continued swirling around the bloodied skin until the red currents seemed to all drain away, down the white porcelain. You winced a little because there was indeed a stinging sensation, but it was better than allowing the cuts to get infected. Mingyu’s curious gaze was watching the scene intently, and with his body propped right next to the sink, there was really no easy way to avoid your feelings other than to talk with him.

“How’s your injury?”

“I don’t know, how is it?” He peeled the damp cloth from his brow bone. You could see that directly in the centre the skin had spilt, a little ways above the brow and a little beneath it, bright pink flesh gleaming from between the dark hairs and tanned skin. It would definitely leave a scar.

“I’m no doctor, but you might need stitches.”

“Seriously?” Mingyu grimaced. “That fucking sucks.”

You scoffed. “That’s funny. The same kid who socked Junhui in his eye is afraid of getting a few itty bitty baby stitches.”

Mingyu pouted, his thick brows then slanting downward which made him wince petulantly. You couldn’t suppress your chuckling, turning off the sink with a coy smile playing along your mouth.

“I’m joking.”

“I know.” Mingyu said. “I’m sure everyone’s gonna start saying he’ll rake my eyes out at purge.”

You laughed at that too, though deep down you both knew it wasn’t anything flowery to laugh about. Junhui was the definition of nefarious. Similar to Yeeun his family danced in riches, their security systems were top-notch, and his access to weaponry and blueprints of the city could be in his hands within minutes. People worshiped the ground he walked on, but it wasn’t because they liked him. It was only sensible to play nice to the person capable of taking your life away in a single breath.

Of course, Junhui’s reputation made him a prime target, yet despite all the people who secretly wanted him dead, it was difficult to even lay a scathe on his amber skin.

In your eyes it was better to avoid the boy altogether. That way you never gave him any reason to seek out your oblivious-self during the annual purge. Mingyu had crossed that line to the fullest extent. He laid more than an innocent scathe on Junhui; the boy had given him an entire fist to his pretty, supposedly untouchable face. Feeling your heartbeat thump widely, you quickly willed to change the subject.

“Do you see any cloths? Or Kleenex? Anything?”

Mingyu frowned. “Sorry, nothing.”

You shook your arm out over the sink to shed some water droplets, yet the blood still continued to bead. Mingyu looked sympathetic. He presumed it was his fault you were even injured in the first place.

“Yeeun’s getting gauze.”

“I think I’ll be okay—,”

“Wait!” Mingyu suddenly piped. “This might be super awkward but—,” the boy’s tongue peaked out between his pink lips as he gripped the end of his white t-shirt and gave it a tear, pulling off a strip of fabric.

Your cheeks began crackling and your palms felt oddly clammy, “M-Mingyu, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

“Doesn’t matter,” the boy said, “this shirt’s old and busted anyways. It’s better than walking home, dripping blood everywhere.”

You smiled softly and stared at the floor.

“Here! I’ll even wrap it for you.” He purred, gently reaching for your arm and twining the white material like a roll of bandages around your hand.

Forgetting about his own spilt brow that began clotting with blood, Mingyu finished his dexterous work with a tender glance that made your stomach flip, his chocolate bangs falling endearingly before his eyes. After shaking the fringe away, he gave you a thumbs-up.

“Now you look like you just got into a fight.”

“Right, because I’m the first person everyone suspects to start a fight. You hit the nail on the head with that one.”

Mingyu chuckled at the heavy sarcasm, blinking his pretty lashes at you with such warmth you keened to melt like an ice cream cone. You supposed after that moment, Mingyu might not be nearly as brutal as his drunken, love-induced mind influenced him to be. For a fleeting moment you even doubted that this was the same boy with his own kill-list. His eyes glimmered like diamonds catching a shaft of light.

“That’s something only time can tell.” He purred

Two Years Ago –

When Mingyu and Yeeun broke up, it was like the universe took its cue to make everything in life feel unreal. If their romance was nothing more than a mirage, then had romance ever existed in the first place? At least to you, it routinely appeared as though Yeeun’s heart had never been within the same realm as Mingyu’s. There was always an island of separation between them, one little ploy that prevented the couple from truly clicking like puzzle pieces. That ploy was exigent in the form of onyx hair, a sultry voice, and bottomless eyes.

In other words the obstacle was Junhui. Yeeun started dating him no less than a month after the break-up.

Mingyu, he was crushed; taking the point of devastation and expanding it an extra nine yards. In contrast with Yeeun’s heart, his was always wide open, warmer than a summer fire and more embracing than sun rays. You swore she would be the girl he took to meet his mother, the girl whose finger he delicately touched to slide upon a silver loop. A part of you crumbled each time you saw them together, before the break-up, and even more so after the party.

Remembering how his rough fingertips skimmed the wet (and surely burning) skin of your hand as he wrapped the cloth around it did something peculiar to your mind. Reminiscing on the soft timbre of his chuckles made your head spin, and replaying the manner in which his eyes twinkled as he gazed at you through his thick bangs brought forth fluttering in your stomach. It was what you were daydreaming about even after their infamous break-up, fingers clacking against the keys on your laptop whilst you finished an essay in the library. To your dismay, the thoughts were scattered by conversation at the table behind you.

“Think Junhui is gonna gut Mingyu at purge?”

“Probably not, Mingyu would be expecting it. And it’s not like he’s hopeless. Did you hear about how he stabbed someone to death in the tunnel last year?”

“Yeah. But Junhui’s clique practically owns the purge. They’ll tear your fuckin’ house down if they can find it.”

“…True. Those two seriously have some bad fucking blood. Do you remember the rumours about how Junhui sho— ”

Unable to listen any longer without this horrendous churning against the walls of your stomach, you shoved your laptop into its carrying case, swung it over your shoulder and began shuffling between the book shelves. Your stare traced the floor whilst a pummeling sensation thundered into your ribcage. Mingyu didn’t seem like the type to kill, though you didn’t know him personally, and perhaps he had matters of vengeance that crooned for redemption. This tiny hope inside you flickered, prayed that Mingyu was unlike Junhui, the kind that tortured for torture’s sake, the kind that shoved a pistol beneath your jaw because you looked at them funny.

Suddenly, you collided with someone. Blinking upward, you gazed at the body you’d walked into, Mingyu, who was in the midst of pulling out a book.

“Sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologized.

You hadn’t seen him for a while, but he looked healthy, a bit tired perhaps, but mostly healthy. Dressed in comfy clothing, a grey hood drawn with his earbuds plugged in, he popped one of the speakers out and lent a small smile. His eyes were slightly veiled by his earthy bangs, the coarse fronds wavy in front of his forehead. His scent was a concoction of something tropic mixed with cannabis, and when he spoke his voice was lower than usual.

“Were you leaving?” Mingyu asked.

Yes.

“No, no. I wanted to finish my essay somewhere that wasn’t... back there.”

“Oh,” he sighed, “seemed like you were in a rush.”

“I was just thinking.”

Mingyu stuck the book back into its gap and smiled, “about?”

You sniffled. “What?”

“What were you thinking about?”

Obviously you were not going to admit that you just overheard conversation about Mingyu being gutted under Junhui’s hand, about Mingyu supposedly cramming a knife through whoever’s chest during last year’s purge, about Mingyu’s history of participation in the annual mayhem that plagued the country like a sickness each year. Now that the purge was on your mind, a dark worry skulked in the shadowy crevices of your brain, yet it seemed to dissipate just as quickly as it arrived when Mingyu stared at you so gently.

“How much I hate essays.”

He nodded. “That must be it.”

Without thinking, you blurted, “what happened with your eyebrow? Did you get a scar?”

He simply carded back the bangs covering his forehead and poked at the nick with his finger. It would have been courteous to receive a warning that he was going to reveal his forehead. He had no clue how powerful a mechanism it truly was, how badly you wanted to kiss that tiny scar after seeing the slit through his brow. Swallowing the flushed heat that arose in your throat, you grinned with a closed lip.

“Well, it makes you look like a badass if that’s any comfort.”

Mingyu let his hair flop back into place and laughed quietly. “What’s up with your hand? That cut looked so nasty.”

Looking down at your fingers, you probed the faint lines of where the glass had sliced your skin, engraved almost, like a stone carving.

“Kinda. It doesn’t look as cool as your eyebrow slit though. And you’re way less busted than Jun. His eye is still purple.”

For a brief ellipse you simply embraced the opportunity of being alone with Mingyu. That some higher deity had taken pity on your life barren with romance and granted you this precious exchange to add to your vault of daydreams. The more his hoarse voice lapped at your ears, surely roughened yet equally soothing, you felt your chest create a burrow for him, a gap that only he could fill. It baffled you, that Yeeun could break his heart. But it didn’t surprise you. She was built from titanium, similar to Junhui, and together they were hawks that would make prey of everyone.

“Trust me,” Mingyu said, “it wouldn’t make me feel any better if we were matching.”

His jaw clenched, and his stare slipped to the floor for a transient moment. A nearly imperceptible breeze tickled up the back of your neck, causing you to rub at the fine hairs as Mingyu’s usual aura slowly dissipated into a much darker nuance. You gulped, attempting to laugh something of comfort back into the air.

“There’s a lot we could match in, like... bracelets! Or a necklace! Or one of those couple t-shirts... Not that we’re a couple,” stuttering helplessly, you felt electricity tingle in your cheeks, “I was just thinking about matching stuff and that popped into my hea—”

“It’s fine.” Mingyu responded, the storm clouds cast in his gaze finally ebbing away. He smiled, and a deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

“You’re pretty cute y’know? I don’t think I’d mind.”

1 year ago –

You never spoke commonly to Mingyu about the idea of purging until you were thrust into the political nightmare on a whim, a stupid, stupid, moonstruck whim. The few times the morbid topic arose seriously, neither of you had enlightening stories to exchange. A bitter knot lodged itself into your throat the night you reiterated to Mingyu about the tragedies concerning your parents; the disappearance of your father and the abduction of your mother, a tearful lining glossy in your eyes.

You’d never seen Mingyu express such grief when he returned the storytelling.

He moved out from his parent’s house when he was eighteen years old, his best friend, Minghao, making the journey alongside him. Faintly, you remembered Minghao, more or so from your high school days when you shared the same last period art class. He had always been rather subdue, never really speaking with anyone apart from Mingyu, though there had was a handful of times where you caught him and another boy, Wonwoo, skipping class together. Apparently Wonwoo didn’t have a very good home life. He’d supposedly been forced into purging since middle school, and his psyche never quite recovered.

You never even saw Wonwoo smile apart from when he was with Minghao.

However, one day that boy from your art class just disappeared, and the rumours hadn’t stopped swirling since. It was a common fact that Minghao never purged. He didn’t have any bad blood with anyone either.

Not that you were aware of.

In the beginning stages of Mingyu’s purging he used to commonly venture with a group of three friends. Wonwoo happened to be one of them, plus another named Jihoon (who you could recall dawdling around in the background of the party) though Mingyu never named the third. He described it as being pure, inexplicable dread. They were constantly finding themselves in gruesome situations that forced their true colours from camouflage, how they stole burning glimpses of the other when the night came to an end and blood was caked to their clothing. The purge had tainted all of them, some more than others, whether it be with drug addiction, eternal madness, or an unhealthy fascination to mend so seamlessly with the evil that they personified it.

However, genuine fear pitted in the core of your stomach when Mingyus’ fists had clenched in his lap, his features distracted by a look of anguish as he sucked in a breath and spoke in an unsettling, distant tone.

“It was four of us in my car. I was driving, Wonwoo and Jihoon were in the backseat, and he... he took up the passenger seat. It was different... How he reacted to the purge... The rest of us were still somewhat fearful of it but he almost thrived in all the destruction. We were even talking about going purging without him the next year, but...

Mingyu had to clear his throat.

“I guess Minghao was waiting for me to come back to the house. He probably wasn’t even waiting on me specifically, he had this little crush on one of my friends, Wonwoo. They were always messing around together. Minghao probably got excited when he heard us, so he came outside, onto the grass... But then I heard the pop of the gun out the open window... I just... I don’t fucking know if he thought Minghao was a maniac or... If he was on drugs or something... But, God... He just —“

You didn’t allow him to say anymore when his words became warped, when his voice cracked and his eyes split like a sheet of broken glass. Minghao didn’t just disappear - he was killed, and Mingyu knew who was responsible. Instead of pressing him for details, you reached for his hand, rubbed your thumb along his knuckles, made sure he knew that you were there for him.

And yet you had been thrust into the setting of the same picture during your first purge, the first time you had ever experienced what it was like to harm someone, turning their existence into an irreparable patch in the universe.

This is your emergency broadcast system, announcing the commencement of the annual purge.

At the siren, all crime, including murder, will be legal for twelve hours.

All emergency services will be suspended.

Your government thanks you for your participation.

“This is going to be your entire fault if I die tonight, Mingyu! I just want you to know that!”

“Relax. You’re going to be fine. We’re going to be fine.”

It was nothing short of chaotic. Pitch blackness shrouded the skylight like a heavy cloth, the distant rattle of gunfire and screams sitting heavy in the air as you raced down the street. The horrendous acts were most commonly centred to the city’s heart, where prime businesses, rich corporations, and notorious killers congregated to create havoc. Still, that didn’t make you any less petrified, your nails sinking into Mingyu’s hand like dog’s teeth. Fights were slowly beginning to litter the sidewalk, a store going up in orange flame and hissing embers now glinting behind you.

“I knew that we weren’t going to make it back to your place on time. I knew it was stupid that we even questioned going out on purge in the first place - Ah!”

You shrieked at an unprecedented decibel as two men came tumbling out of the alleyway only meters away from your feet, your body slamming into Mingyu’s backside when he cemented himself to a halt. The men payed no notice to you, entirely engulfed in their own world of vengeance through bloodied fists and messy punches.

“This way.” Mingyu’s words were like a breeze in the midst of a hurricane.

You hardly registered he’d even said anything until his grip lurched you forward and you were stumbling to the opposite side of the street. Then, your jogging pace skyrocketed into running, the breaths just squeezing from between your lips and the pain in your chest aching so potently you felt like vomiting. Your stamina was breaking faster than glass. You couldn’t afford to run any longer.

“M-Mingyu, can we please stop?”

The boy didn’t seem to have a choice as your fingers began unclasping from his hand, your body collapsing on the concrete staircase belonging to the city bell tower. Mingyu anxiously carded his hair back, his eyes moving hyperactively down the street only to be greeted with more and more violence consuming his vision. Gunshots seemed to thunder from every direction, splintered shouts joining hymn. Large trucks blared down the black pavement with ominous members hunched in the open cap, holding weaponry and wearing masks of painted wood.

The boy squatted down, his palm firmly encasing your cheek and keeping your head up.

“I’ll give you a minute. But then we have to keep going. It’s too dangerous to stay in one spot.”

You stared into Mingyu’s face with a tiresome expression, the bronzed and gleaming hue of his skin reflecting the fire that crackled in the distance. His touch became sterner as he moved in closer, his eyes no less than a few inches from your own.

“Trust me, I know you’re exhausted. We’re gonna be at my place soon though, okay? You just gotta hold tight for a little longer.” He pressed his forehead against yours, and met your gaze head on. “I’m going to keep you safe, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

An intruding shout echoed a little too closely down the street, engendering you to choke on your own heartbeat. Mingyu growled in irritancy, pivoting his head and glaring at the stranger who stepped from an alleyway. Rather than looking frightened (you were on the verge of sobbing bullets), Mingyu’s forehead crinkled angrily, the tiny scar that cut through his brow beginning to slant.

“Stay put.” Mingyu commanded you.

There was a colder lining to his tone that you’d never heard before, malevolent and icy. As soon as his touch fell from your cheek, you knew his hands were about to tend to a much different matter. Your mind implored for you to look away, yet your heart waned for the exact opposite. The man was scraggly and a bit stockier than Mingyu, a mischievous intent welling in his movement as he seemed to dance back and forth like a hummingbird. He wore a smooth, white mask and a heavy brown coat that bore many unidentified stains, a long, curved blade in his hand.

“You’re just a kid,” the man taunted, “it’s always the younger crowd that get so riled about the concept of murder, think they’re all that, but they drop faster than flies when it comes down to it.”

Mingyu didn’t waver. “You should keep talking if you want that knife poking through the opposite side of your throat.”

You inhaled stiltedly. This was definitely not the same Mingyu who smiled with the power of a burning star, his mannerisms filling your chest with laughter and his golden eyes bathing your face with heat. You thought back to the library, the conversation that drawled behind you. This was the Mingyu they were talking about. You had a feeling that the innocent projections in your head were close to changing.

The man chuckled and pointed his knife, shaking it at Mingyu, “you’ve got the same cockiness as that rich China boy’s little clique. I’m sure you’ve heard about them. They’ll be flocking to the streets any minute now.”

Mingyu spoke gutturally in response, the disgust and repulsion so thick in his voice you almost couldn’t recognize it. “Don’t you fucking dare compare me to him.”

The man chuckled darkly, “hit a nerve, did I?”

You weren’t sure what happened next, mainly because it all happened so fast, a series of swift movements (on Mingyu’s behalf) that resulted in your pulse fizzling like hot oil. Ultimately you were going to be exposed to murder one way or another, though watching it reflect in the glassy curve of your own eyes left behind a deep scarring. The man lurched at Mingyu with his hefty blade slashing for the chest, most likely assuming that because of Mingyu’s height he would be quite slow and lack agility.

However, that was severely not the case, to the man’s dismay more than anyone else’s. Within the span of sixty measly seconds Mingyu had tripped him onto his back, snatched the blade from his grip and wedged the knife directly into the man’s windpipe, exactly as he said he would do.

At that point you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. Mingyu’s breathing was level as he rose from the man’s waist, a burgundy pool of blood bubbling at the neck where the blade had punctured skin. Mingyu lifted his jacket, pulled the knife out, and attached the weapon through his belt. He spent an extra few moments patting the fresh corpse down until he uncovered a small revolver hidden in the inside pocket on the man’s coat. When Mingyu handed you the revolver in means of protection, you didn’t realize you were shivering.

“Now,” he pronounced, “we’re going home.”

And at the time you believed him.

Until thirty minutes stretched into an hour, an hour into two hours, three hours, four hours. The chaos that was the purge had encompassed you both. This supposedly psychological device controlled you like a ventriloquist. Violence sneered at every turn and eventually an unspoken conclusion emerged; that it was easier to join chaos than it was to run from it. Later that night everything came full circle.

You were the one pointing the weapon, aiming the silver barrel into the face of the man who had broken in your home and abducted your mother last year, on account of stupid, petty crimes your father had committed in the past. Seconds before touching the trigger, all you could picture was his face swathed in moonlight, the horror that clawed in your stomach when you ran down from your room that night to see him yanking her out the smashed window.

And when you felt the release of the bullet, it became emboldened that it truly was a small, cruel world.

Present –

Squeezing one eye shut, you held the black gun with both hands and aimed the muzzle toward a tree stump that acted as your target, a cheek pressed into the taunt muscle of your shoulder as you inhaled a steadying breath. Delicate winds blew across the meadow, each strand of grass rippling in a hypnotic wave. The horizon lay beyond the tree trunk, a bleeding yellow sun submerging quietly behind the endless terrain, casting a honeyed glow to speckle like rain droplets upon your face.

There was not a single sound apart from the grassy fronds tickling against each other, your concentration solidifying to a mar in the tree bark. Then, your finger ghosted over the trigger, a sharp burst echoing into the pale yellow sky and causing a distant congregation of birds to take flight. The bullet struck the wood, right where you had envisioned the lead entering.

“Look at you,” the tension keyed into your bones drifted away, exiting your body in a shallow exhale once Mingyu’s prideful tone filled the spaces between the winds, “your shot may be even better than mine now.”

After lowering the firearm to face the earth and switching the safety on, a demure smile danced across your lips. Mingyu’s arms were strong and looping carefully around your waist, hauling you back into the broad expanse of his chest. He buried his face into the smooth plane where your shoulder met your neck, his soft locks feathering along your jaw. You giggled the second his lips kissed your shoulder, evening sunlight spilling across the meadow and encouraging heat to caress your skin.

“The student becomes the teacher,” you purred, “I even remembered to turn the safety on this time.”

“You’re damn right you remembered to turn the safety on,” the boy quipped sternly, his palms gliding downward to grip your hips and spin you around, “you almost took my kneecap off the last time.”

Furrowing your brows, you pursed your lip at him petulantly, “can we stop talking about that? It was a mistake you big idiot.”

“I know, I know,” Mingyu cooed, “a very, very, very dangerous mistake.”

You rolled your eyes as he unwound the black firearm from your fingers. He walked toward his jacket that sat on the blanket you’d strewn across the grass, making sure to place it back inside the pocket.

“You still need some more practice, but I think for today we can call it quits. How does that sound?”

The boy then fell back onto the blanket with his head titled to the side, his eyes staring up at you winsomely. With the sun flaring behind you, the vibrant streaks set the grass aflame, making it appear as though Mingyu was sitting in the centre of a fire. His skin twinkled like golden silk and his canines peaked between his lips in a smirk. Shrugging your shoulders impetuously, you stumbled toward the blanket and fell into the boy’s lap, squirming against his broad body until he became pinned beneath your weight. As though he were a glass vase, you gingerly swept your finger along his scarred brow.

“Sounds fine,” you hummed, “since I kinda wanna makeout with you right now.”

“I love how straightforward you are, baby.” Mingyu confessed with his intoxicated gaze drinking in your image, already imploring for a taste of the strawberry balm that defined the pretty arches of your mouth.

Unable to quell how your body yearned for him, you gave your eyes a toss and pressed your lips to his. Mingyu craned his neck forward in immediate desperation to feel more pressure against his mouth; however, he soon gave up his craning and allowed his elbows to give out beneath him. His hands snuck beneath your shirt, to which he placed soft squeezes against your ribcage, fingertips skimming lower and lower until they were running along the back hem of your shorts. You continued to straddle his waist as the kiss drawled further, rhythmically slow and sweet.

You didn’t think it was humanly possible for your chest to be so encompassed with fondness, yet here you were, brushing your digits through Mingyu’s tresses, pressing your forehead to his, encasing his lower lip between your teeth to experimentally tug until the flesh swelled and glistened in garnet. You weren’t really sure how you started dating, it just sort of happened. It was perhaps an escalation of lingering touches, infatuated glances, and hot, fever dreams that kept you both slamming awake at blue midnight.

After your first purge together, the connection between you strengthened, like welding two pieces of molten iron into one. It was an experience that ruined you, stripped you of any innocent fragments still clinging to your bone, and once the night came to an end and you were sitting on Mingyu’s bed with blood spatters sopped into your cloths, you burst into tears. Strangely, you weren’t sobbing out of pain, mortification, you were sobbing because you could. It was the only accurate way to depict the weird melancholic, hopeless lump in your throat.

You squeaked as Mingyu grew impatient of your slow kisses. His want was increasing and he couldn’t bear to hear the quiet mewls that kept slipping from your mouth. His strength effortlessly allowed him to flip you on your back, his mass keeping you slack against the blanket as his lips dotted your jaw, your ear’s cusp, until he craved to taste more of the natural salt on your skin and his kisses ventured further down your throat.

Mingyu began suckling at a sensitive patch near your pulse. The warmth of his tongue combined with his teeth, and you felt him scrape his canines sharply against your skin. It wasn’t until the boy nudged his thigh between your legs that your fingers lurched into his scalp, tugging the earth fronds tightly. You couldn’t help but buck up against him, summoning a growl from his chest that only made him press his fangs into the soft skin with more force; not enough to actually break the petal-thin flesh, but enough to leave deep, possessive indentations. The ecstasy drumming in your veins was insatiable.

And yet, you knew it couldn’t progress.

With a fragile whine you placed your hands against Mingyu’s chest and gave the giant a small push, his mouth regretfully detaching from the beautiful marks he was intent on leaving all over your body. He spoke coarsely, breathlessly, when his rosy face surfaced from your neck, though the glaze in his eyes had quickly softened out of fear he’d made you uncomfortable.

“What’s wrong? I wasn’t being too rough, was I?” He gathered your hand in his and kissed along your knuckles apologetically.

“No, not at all,” You mumbled, still dealing with the blare of crimson running through your veins, “I just… Don’t think we should, do it, in a field.”

The hollow grooves in Mingyu’s features immediately flushed with solace, a large sigh escaping from his chest as he allowed his head to tumble into your shoulder.

“Thank God, I thought I hurt you or something,” he heaved in relief.

Your heart sang wildly, knowing that he truly was a boy gentler than butterfly wings and softer than cotton. It was difficult to imagine him as the same boy who ruthlessly shoved a blade through a man’s windpipe, allowing thick trails of blood to slide from the open wound and create morbid puddles on the hard cement. The evening air seemed to turn cooler, the wind’s peaceful lilting now picking up with more vigor. Mingyu collapsed at your side, one of his long legs still tossed over your waist as you stroked his hair.

With the sun halfway behind the horizon, you gulped whilst watching the yellow sky fade into watered, fierce shades of orange.

“Mingyu?” You hummed.

“Yeah?” His warm breath scattered in a ticklish manner against your neck.

“What’s going to happen with you and Junhui?”

Mingyu stiffened instantly. Nibbling on your lower lip, you watched with sincere eyes as the boy lifted into a sitting position. You joined him, closely monitoring the contours of his face that had surely twisted at the mention of the sinister purger. There was no room to blame Mingyu for harbouring such distaste toward the boy. Junhui did swoop in and steal his ex-girlfriend fresh after the breakup and run purge night like he invented the device himself.

Still, you wondered if there could be something more. If there could be a more profound explanation for why the air was so stale between them.

“Nothing is going to happen,” Mingyu said flatly, “are you scared?”

Caught off guard by his sudden questioning, you stumbled over your syllables for a painful second, his gaze turning back to wrack you curiously.

“N-No, I was- I just- I was only wondering.”

“He’s too obsessed with himself to care about me. Don’t worry, okay? Nothing is going to happen, baby.” Mingyu said in a much lighter tone, his signature, canine smile quirking along his lips.

Despite his calm protrusions, you could sense that something murky was swimming behind the curve in his eyes. The boy leaned backward and planted his lips against your forehead, leaving a small, adoring kiss. Shaking away the ominous tension that came with simply speaking the purger’s name, you grasped for Mingyu’s hand and smiled.

“Let’s head back into town.”

He set his jacket as well as the blanket in the backseat and climbed to sit at the wheel.

“Don’t forget about that, y’know,” you reminded him whilst gesturing to his jacket, “it’s not like there’s a gun in there or something.”

“A gun with the safety on.” He replied sheepishly, to which you simply huffed and stared out the window.

You stopped Mingyu when you were no less than a block away from your new apartment building, the tires crunching to a halt beside the common coffee shop.

“I’ll get out here,” you told him, “I’ll be fine to walk back to the complex. I just really want caffeine.”

Mingyu leaned over and pushed the car door open for you, his palm tenderly grazing your thigh as he found your lips. He gave you a quick goodbye kiss, and you felt flowers bloom between the bones of your ribcage.

“Text me when you get home, alright?” He reminded when you slid from the passenger seat.

Scurrying into the coffee shop, you already had an idea of what drink you’d like to get. As you stood off to the side waiting for an employee to call out your coffee, you fell into a slight trance, your eyes casting mistily across the cozy atmosphere whilst the sky began darkening beyond the clean window panes. You thought about Mingyu, how laughable it was that you were dating, and yet you knew you loved him like ink loves to kiss paper.

Hm, you chuckled inwardly, that girl sitting in that booth by the window, she looks like Yeeun, and that guy beside her really resembles Junhui. That’s funny.

That’s funny.

That’s… funny…

“Order 24, half decaf, two sugars one cream.”

To your inexplicable terror, heart-twisting dread, and every other repulsive emotion that could have cloaked you in that moment of realization, the couple sitting at the window booth was indeed Junhui and Yeeun. The employee called out your order again, this time a little louder, drawing customers to look left and right with puzzled glances. The nefarious couple was sitting across from two familiar faces, one with jet black hair brushed away from his forehead, the other disquieting with how vacant his face appeared, a grey beanie pulling back the fronds from his porcelain features, and a lollipop shoved between his lips.

It took you a minute, but you eventually recognized the lollipop boy as Wonwoo. He looked insanely different compared to your outdated, high school memories, where he was just a scrawny, fox-faced boy with the straightest black bangs you’d ever seen, always running around next to Minghao, getting pink in the face when the younger so much as smiled at him. It was evident that purging had completely hardened his face, his aura, to which he developed an almost sinister light. Whoever he was now, he definitely wasn’t the same boy. Jihoon sat next to him, impatiently spinning a stir stick between his fingers.

You didn’t know why you weren’t moving. Mingyu’s words rang in your head.

Are you scared?

Craving nothing more than for a sinkhole to form beneath your feet and swallow you whole, you did the sole thing your body permitted you to do; walk sternly out the coffee shop and pretend you never ordered a single thing.

God - I hope they didn’t see me. That would be the last thing I want, for Junhui and his purging buddies to have anything to do with me.

Jihoon and Wonwoo with Junhui was odd. Had they always been friends? Junhui never attended your high school either, rather he used to be a student at a prestigious private school you couldn’t ever dream of getting into.

Your apartment was close. You could distinguish its height amongst the low-cut buildings lining the sidewalk. If you just walked a little faster, you could be up the cement staircase, swinging open the glass doorway, and be safe within the front lobby. Titling your head back you quickly ogled at the sky. It wasn’t completely black yet, but there were distant tinges of dark, oily colours that pressed down like a heavy thumbprint amongst the grey. The wind picked up behind you, slamming into your backside in menacing howls.

Finally, you’d reached the cement steps—

But it was too late.

His tone was smoother than a crystal ball, lower than baritone, and incredibly seasoned at feigning genuineness. Hearing your name cascade from his mouth that was deceivingly shaped as a heart made your breath flatten. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but it was too late to pretend you never heard his chant. Unwillingly, your body pivoted like a stone statue, your foot taking that one victorious step back as it left the staircase.

“You walk so fast, you could have been sprinting.”

“Exercise is good.” You nearly wheezed.

For the first time, you realized just how tall Junhui was, his body appearing as a shadowy mass as the wind blew the tails of his trench coat. His brows were slanted, lips quirked, his irises so rounded you could hardly see the white bits. He was handsome in the way that some people found graveyards entrancing. It was the eeriness that allured you.

“You left your coffee.” He stated.

“I realized I had somewhere to be.” You tried to hold his gaze, but it was impossible to evade the nervous eye fluttering.

“As anyone would, it’s getting late.”

The wind whistled between you, dark clouds swirling above your head as though the sky were a witch’s cauldron.

“I think it might rain,” you said meekly, “are you looking to ask me something?”

Junhui took a step forward. He’d never been this close to you before, maybe a few inches away from the tip of your nose. Your gaze tripped to his eye, the eye that Mingyu had driven his clenched fist into that one night, causing Junhui’s head to thrust back against the plaster. You swallowed the salty brick in your throat.

“I heard you like to purge now.” Junhui said with a smile. You swore his caramel gaze glinted with excitement.

Your blood froze. How did he know about that? Junhui saw through you like a translucent piece of plastic. He saw how you inwardly panicked.

“I was surprised,” he cooed, “you don’t seem like the type… But I suppose all that running around with Mingyu changed your morals.”

Your heart was beating at such a frantic pace you feared it may dislodge itself from your chest and land in your mouth.

“I’m so elated you found purpose,” his midnight fronds then fell mischievously before his eyes, keeping the candor of his secrets hidden from you, “the purge is a time of cleansing intended to help people like us find a little alleviation in the world. That one person whose been causing you grief? You won’t have to worry about their disgusting discrepancy that makes you so infuriated. It’s quite healing,” Junhui purred, “if you ask me.”

It felt as though someone just ripped your tongue from between your teeth. You couldn’t speak even if you wanted to. A splash of rain thumped your forehead, and yet you allowed the cold bead to trickle along the side of your nose and run onto your cheek. Junhui’s hand delicately raised, his thumb caressing the droplet away. He stood closer now, eliminating any room in which the wind could whisper through, his bangs tickling your forehead as his onyx pupils bore through your heated face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, looking toward your lips through his heavy lashes, his fingers pointing your chin upward, “I wouldn’t want you to get hurt just because Mingyu can’t take care of you.”

“I-I trust him,” You managed to squeak, though it required every bone in your body to summon equal modicums of courage.

“C’mon,” Junhui seemed to taunt, “you know who I am, right? I can have any weapon, any blueprint, any ctv footage I want directly in my hands, and all it takes is a single phone call.” He grinned wolfishly. “Besides, Mingyu doesn’t have the most durable history of looking out for others.”

His grip on your chin hardened like steel, heart-shaped lips pressed lightly to your ear’s cusp, “you do know what happened to Minghao, don’t you?”

Your body turned more frigid than ice, the warm blood that pumped beneath your skin running colder with every second that Junhui stood, seeing straight through you and to his old friend he’d hurt so dearly. You instantly grew sick to your stomach. The universe beyond Junhui’s shadow was spinning wildly, darting in nauseating circles like a carousel. The images came in flickers; the truck pulling into the driveway, the window cranking down, the crack of the gun as its bullet pierced a shape in the darkness. No wonder Jihoon and Wonwoo were friends with Junhui. He had been the other person in Mingyu’s car.

You felt lightheaded, like you were going to faint.

“I’ll let you go, but just consider your options. Really, truly consider them.” Junhui murmured. “I’m sure you have some personal contentions kept covert beneath that kind tongue of yours. Given your participation, I know you can upheaval your need to feel purification. If you’re wise, you’ll cleanse with us, with me, as you are entitled to.”

Without a single ripple Junhui broke away, his touch drifting like the edges of a silk blanket from your cheek. Immediately afterward, a disturbing burst of wind whipped between your bodies, inducing a long shiver that crept down your spine and fizzled at your fingertips. Your throat felt like cracked sandpaper and your chest bottomed out with a horrendous, wrenching fear.

Junhui knew that Mingyu didn’t fear him, but he knew that you feared him, and he knew that your fear would grow to consume you now that you’d been introduced to the devastating truth.

The radio was on, high-pitched static and monotonous advisement rasping through the car’s sound system. It was clear that in time, there would be a chorus of other harsh noises leaping to fill the sky, any pockets of oxygen, and the spaces that lingered between your hazy breathing. Yet in the dense heat, you could care less.

This is your emergency broadcast system announcing the commencement of The Annual Purge, sanctioned by the government.

It was hot, burning. The air felt like scorching linen that pressed fire into your skin. Mingyu’s teeth scraped along your collarbones, the thin layer of flesh that mapped over them singed with bruises and bites and kisses that still glistened.

Weapons of Class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.

The radio continued to blip. Your fingers tangled through his earth-toned tresses, gripping the thick strands and tugging on them as your throat started to ache. The windows were splotched with oily fingerprints that had been left earlier, when you first climbed onto his lap.

Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.

Your legs quivered over his thighs, his hands guiding your hips with such a brute strength that the pain welled into numbness and everything that surrounded you seemed nonexistent, save for where your bodies connected like a jewel to its staff. His forehead fell on your shoulder, groans muffled as they brushed your hot skin. He continued to hit deep, and you knew you couldn’t hold on for much longer, the sparks catching a foreshadowing flame

Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.

It was then, when your weight came down on his lap for the final time, his hips stuttering upward at the perfect moment, that your head tossed back and you felt the energy rip from your body in a single scream. Mingyu wrapped his arms around your waist, keeping you flush against him, working the pleasure for all its worth. You then buried your face into his neck, a soft sea of your whimpers filling the thick air whilst Mingyu emptied inside you, filling you with warmth.

Police, fire and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7am, when the Purge concludes.

For a moment, you just needed to close your eyes and breathe in his scent, hear his heartbeat, feel the familiar heat spread throughout your abdomen. He squeezed your hips tight, and his words were barely audible, attempting to drown over the radio’s static as well as the heavy breaths from your lungs. You heard them, even if your ears really had to strain to decipher the syllables whispered at the peak of his sensitivity. Mingyu said he loved you, and he meant it with every ounce of his soul as he felt your body shake in his arms.

Blessed be our New Founding Fathers and a nation, reborn.

And you would have meekly hummed the words in return, if the sudden cacophony of a siren didn’t shred the air like pastry, startling your system that had just come down from the best cloud nine experience you could ever fathom. It would have been wondrous to bask in the afterglow, to trace patterns on his biceps and run your lips over the scar in his brow. It had all been purloined from you in an instant. Though your centre still ached, you crept off his lap and into the passenger seat, cleaning yourself up as best you could.

“Here,” Mingyu held out his jacket that he’d tossed in the backseat, probably since your training in the fields, “it’ll keep you warm if it actually rains tonight.”

“Thanks.” You murmured whilst slipping the fabric around your body, noting that something a little heavy was inside one of the pockets. You remembered the gun was still inside. Suddenly, Mingyu started the car, the engine purring lowly and musty clouds of exhaust puffing into the empty parking lot.

He tapped the steering wheel with his palm, “where should we head?”

When the sirens faded away, you looked to him and smiled, “wherever you want.”

The red sun seemed anxious to disappear, for its rays cracked across the sky like bloodied, broken ice, hurriedly pushing itself further below the horizon as Mingyu drove into town. The Purge never introduced an easy atmosphere to stomach, yet tonight, you felt the bile in your throat was more acidic than usual. Maybe it was because you knew a huge secret, one that tied Mingyu’s hatred to Junhui’s existence.

You didn’t confess to Mingyu anything. Every word that seeped like a venom from Junhui’s lips was sealed within you, and only you. It was already painful enough for Mingyu to brace through such a traumatic incident. There would come a time when he told you his reasons for hating Junhui, and that time had yet to come.

Even so, the terror was exhausting. The first few nights after your encounter with Junhui, your slumber was plagued by gruesome nightmares, his comfortable laughter, and the black fire that seeped in his eyes as though he were some underworld creature. You’d slam awake in a cold sweat. At times you’d be so drenched that you needed to take a shower before going back to sleep, that is, if your mind allowed you to. Sometimes you would phone Mingyu and lie to him, tell him you needed to hear the brass in his voice as your nighttime spell.

You never told him about the nightmares, the panic, or the anxiety. Now the Purge had returned after its position was quelled in the nation for a year. Your head turned to glance more thoroughly out the window after you flitted past a man holding an axe tool, a painted mask shielding his face.

It didn’t take long for the streets to begin flooding with people of the same stature, and if their eyes of thirst were hidden behind costumes, then it became more than evident in the weaponry that adorned their guises. Mingyu seemed calm as he stared out the dash, his eyes giving away nothing that would hint toward his inner complex. You sighed and let your cheek rest in your palm, your gaze unable to stop tracing each and every person that emerged from the dark crevices.

About forty-five minutes had passed, driving around the quieter outskirts of the city. Looking into the side-mirror, you watched as the occasional killing occurred behind you.

Mingyu smiled. “The night just started and you already look like you’re over it.”

The echo of a gun pierced the air. You cringed slightly.

“I don’t know if I’m over it or not. I guess I’m thinking about how I’ll ever suppress witnessing senseless murder, y’know?”

The boy gently stuck his arm out, across the glove compartment, his thumb stroking your cheek for a fond moment.

“We don’t have to hang around. I can drive up to the field where we’ll be away from the worst of it. What do you want, baby?” He asked.

You scratched at your knuckles and puffed through your nose. “I don’t even know what I want. Am I supposed to feel this way?”

Mingyu raised an eyebrow, “what way?”

“Melancholic, sorta like everything seems pointless. How do you feel?”

Mingyu took a wide turn to avoid a collection of smashed bottles that glinted on the road, increasing the vehicle’s speed steadily as the chaos increased. Like your first Purge, you saw the distant glow of burning buildings appear across the lake, at the other side of the city.

“I don’t even know if I can describe it anymore.” He shrugged.

You turned your head to look at him, deciding to ask something rather abrupt, but a topic you were curious on nonetheless.

“Why did you start purging?”

The boy’s canines pushed into his bottom lip as he probed his mind.

“Because I was friends with someone who wanted to. Even involving yourself once makes enemies. You can’t hide from it after that.”

Staring at the side of his face, you felt almost dirty for knowing a pivotal piece belonging to Mingyu’s past.

“Were you friends with Junhui?”

There was a thick silence as you waited for Mingyu’s response.

“At one point, yes.” He admitted, his words sounding distasteful.

You shifted up in the seat, stretching out your hand to rub Mingyu’s bicep.

“I don’t care if you were. I know you aren’t the same as him, and that this night changes people. You don’t let it consume you like he does.”

Mingyu took a turn through a wide alleyway to avoid a hostile situation escalating at the far end of the intersection. You didn’t get a good look as the sky was continuing to lose its orange light, but the flash of the group’s masks and weapons was convincing enough to take a different path.

You couldn’t help but note that Mingyu’s eyes had become slightly watered.

“It was never about purification,” he told you, “I never had any specific target, or someone I detested. Neither did Jun. But he comes from a family that relies on purging as their income. His mom designs weapons and his dad works for some underground branch, assigning bounties. He just isn’t the same as us. I was lucky if I could even hold a gun in my hands without trembling. I had to learn how to desensitize myself. For Jun, it was almost natural.”

A familiar sickness made your stomach twirl.

“It’s sad he had to grow up like that.” You sighed, glancing out the window whilst Mingyu remained silent.

A few minutes later, and you were laughing. “I didn’t mean to make the mood so terrible. I was just wondering.”

“I know,” Mingyu said, his lips curling warmly, “I can’t blame you for being curious, baby. I just don’t think back on my past all that much.”

He then gave you a thoughtful look, and your chest started fluttering embarrassingly fast. “I like focusing on right now, where I have you.”

It was quiet again, to which you let your thoughts roam astray.

You pictured the night your father disappeared, the night your mother’s life was taken away from her when she wasn’t even capable of defending herself. The feeling of coming down the stairway to broken glass, spilt moonlight, and a dirtied face lugging her away couldn’t be compared to any pain. And daring to unlock that enraged, bitter half of yourself, you thought to applying pressure on the trigger that killed the man responsible for her death.

Those memories influenced your appreciation, your gratitude, toward Mingyu, the boy who you had always admired at a distance, never knowing he could be so tender and benevolent. It was possible that you could have turned out similar to Junhui if you let your indignation take control. Seeing how Mingyu always remained so grounded helped you keep your footing, and you hoped there never came a day when you started looking at the world how Junhui did.

All of sudden, your musing was shattered when a pick-up truck roared from an alleyway and soared into the street, plumes of grey smoke pumping from its pipes as the tires screeched against the asphalt.

”Mingyu, watch out!” You screeched, gripping the steering wheel.

At the same time, Mingyu veered away from the truck, your heart nearly tearing a hole right through your chest as the head of your vehicle rammed into a light post. The collision jolted your body forward, though the seatbelt kept you strapped in and unscathed. Mingyu cursed through his teeth.

“Fuck, are you okay?” He rasped.

“I-I’m fine. Let’s just get the hell out of here.” You replied shakily.

Mingyu’s facial expression relaxed for less than a second. He appeared ready to oblige, though casting another inspection into his features relayed a nauseating truth. Suddenly, Mingyu’s hand gripped the back of your neck and he forced your head down between your legs. You heard it, the crisp echo of a gunshot. Except there was no bullet that punctured the glass and made fragments rain over your body. There was no dent in the metal door either. The barrel was purposely aimed to a different area, and as the second shot fired off, you felt like passing out.

They’re shooting at the tires.

Mingyu whispered to you with a coarse urgency, “this way!”

He’d managed to open his door, your only choice of escape a labyrinth of alleyways that lay beyond the mangled car. The alleys were dark, damp, and most likely rife with impending danger. Your throat closed in when you attempted to swallow. You could see the blade that Mingyu had collected from the console, already tight in his hand. Licking your leathered lips, you squirmed out his side after he’d gone through. He was squatted down, waiting for you.

Just as you joined him, you cast a glance above Mingyu’s head, your blood turning into ice as a slim figure appeared around the back end of the car. It was a man, dressed in a black raincoat, long and glossy. He was wearing a dirtied, white mask, where kohl paint was runny down the large eyes and the mouth was outlined in a red marker. Next to his side was the long barrel of a shotgun, and you felt unimaginably dizzy. Mingyu immediately identified the terror that leaked into your gaze, and with a thick gulp, he dared stare over his shoulder.

“Hey Mingyu,” the stranger mumbled, taking the pointed chin of the mask and tipping it upward, revealing a fox-like face, “long time no see.”

Mingyu wrapped his fingers around your hand and stood up slowly, ensuring your body was sheltered by his size. You breathed as quietly as your vandalized chest would allow, your diaphragm keening to erupt.

“Wonwoo?” Mingyu echoed, “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

“Didn’t mean to scare you or anything.” The boy said, his voice very deep and smooth. The depth reverberated in your chest and made your skin crawl.

“Are you crazy, dude?” Mingyu growled. “You shot out my fucking tires.”

Wonwoo scratched the nape of his neck. “I was just following orders.”

You had no idea what was happening. The only piece of concrete knowledge that hadn’t been fogged over in tangible fear was that you could still hear incessant firing in the distant, chaotic screaming and rioting. Looking down to the blade that glinted in Mingyu’s palm, you were able to plant a little reassurance in yourself knowing of his skill and ability to stay grounded. Keeping your mouth shut, you held Mingyu’s hand in a vice grip.

“Following orders from who? What are you talking about? Are you wired?”

“It’s understandable you would think that,” Wonwoo sighed, “but I’m not. If I were though, your death might be a little easier.”

“Since when are you supposed to kill me?” Mingyu sounded flat out bewildered.

It was then that it dawned on you: Mingyu really had no idea Wonwoo was still a part of Junhui’s brigade.

Grinding your teeth together in contemplation, you finally decided to swallow the grain in your throat and break the truth. Getting close to Mingyu’s ear, you whispered to him what you knew, no matter how much of a fable it may be perceived as. Visibly, his body stiffened. His fingers gripped the blade’s handle with an unprecedented rage.

“What are you doing?” Mingyu implored, candor in his despair. “Even after what he did to Minghao? What the hell is holding you to him?”

“It’s nothing personal, but as you know already, Junhui is filthy rich,” Wonwoo gloomed, cocking the barrel once more, “and he’s promised me some things.”

Mingyu clenched his jaw. “You mean more of those drugs he keeps stealing from his dad’s lab? Wonwoo, what the fuck happened to you? The last time I heard from you, you were getting clean, you were going to start fresh!”

There was an unorthodox twinkle in his black stare, oddly full of emotion, hurt, repressed pain that cut deeper inside than out.

“I tried,” Wonwoo stated, a slight anger tainting his voice, “I went to three different rehabilitation clinics. I took a vacation to the rural springs and received lessons in guided meditation and bought myself a journal so I could document my success in getting clean. And you know what? I haven’t touched that journal since the day I fucking bought it. Tell me, Mingyu. How the fuck am I supposed to care about staying clean, how the fuck am I supposed to care about anything when I saw the love of my life get fucking shot right in front of me?”

Mingyu shook his head in disbelief, “Wonwoo, I--, I know that was horrible, I know that hurt you and--”

“Just shut up,” the elder interrupted flatly, “maybe today I’ll actually feel something when I put this barrel between your eyes.”

It was impossible to stand by and remain silent. Chewing on your bottom lip, you gathered a modicum of courage and poked your head around Mingyu’s shoulder.

“So you’re going to kill us just because Junhui wants you to? That’s how you’re going to live the rest of your life? Listening to his psychotic fantasies about purification and entitlement?”

Wonwoo narrowed his eyes at you, his jaw taunt.

“I know you loved Minghao, I know your life hasn’t felt the same since. Minghao was Mingyu’s best friend too. You weren’t the only one who lost somebody. Do you think when I came downstairs at fourteen years old and saw my mother get pulled away through the window that I wasn’t upset, angry, confused at the world? Junhui just sees you as a pawn to delegate the matters he doesn’t want to dip his hands into, but you’re a real person. Wake up and act like it!”

For even just a fraction of a second, Wonwoo’s shoulders slumped, his finger that was feathering the gun’s trigger drifted from contact, and the stoic cloud in his eyes fuzzed a little. You were starting to feel confident. Yet just as easily as the feeling came to you, you were caught off guard by an arm that slid around your neck and lurched you backward, against a hard chest.

Mingyu barked immediately, his blade drawn and eyes wildly dilated as he turned to face the person responsible for holding onto you. Biting the inside of your mouth, you squirmed and thrashed and kicked, until something cold pressed into your temple and suddenly the energy evaporated from your body like dew droplets on an August day.

Mingyu’s voice sounded rusty as he gaped again. “Jihoon?!”

Wonwoo piped up suddenly, and his eyes turned cold once more. “Be careful, dammit. She’s the one we can’t afford to bruise up.”

Jihoon’s arm was now wrapped around your neck, pressing against your windpipe and causing your air supply to falter. You knew it was a gun that was poking sharply into your temple.

Mingyu’s gaze was wild and rife with fire. He growled between his teeth like a wolf. “Don’t even fucking think about it, Jihoon.”

Wonwoo stepped forward and shook his gun at the boy who was closing off on your breathing. “Junhui wants that one,” he pressed the snout of his weapon into your chin, “alive.”

Jihoon sulked, his voice rumbling in his chest, “So what’s our fun tonight? We kill Mingyu and then pack up?”

You wriggled again in Jihoon’s arms, tempted to gnaw right into his wrist. “Can we not kill anybody?!”

“Calm down,” Wonwoo instructed, “I hate shouting. If any of you shout I’m planting a bullet in your brain.”

“You’re such a bore,” Jihoon whined, pressing into your windpipe with more force, painting speckles of white across your vision. Mingyu was bubbling with rage, like a teapot left on the burner for too long, his teeth clamping down so tightly his whole face was aching.

Wonwoo used the muzzle of the gun to tip your chin toward the moonlight. “A word of advice. Stop struggling and you won’t get hurt.”

“H-He’s hurting me,” you attempted to coherently spit past the pressure concocted against your throat. Jihoon was issuing enough force to make your eyes water and your head spin. Mingyu piped up, but Wonwoo was swifter and beat him to it.

“Lighten your grip.” He told Jihoon.

“I’m not even holding her that tightly!” The boy protested. Wonwoo’s face didn’t crack. He just repeated himself with an underlying menace.

“Lighten. Your. Grip.”

“It’s all pretending! Can’t you see? They’re trying to distract you so Mingyu can shove that blade through your back. Don’t be so fucking soft, Wonwoo. Look! I’m hardly touching—“

Bang.

Wonwoo dug his gun right into Jihoon’s forehead and pulled the trigger, the strict barrier against your throat immediately releasing. A fresh gulp of air hastily entered your lungs as you stumbled, Jihoon’s body folding onto the sidewalk from the corner of you eye. Mingyu quickly caught you, cupped your face in his hands and wiped the beaded sweat at your forehead. He kept whispering to you that you were okay, repeated the words in a soothing, husky mantra, his thumbs stroking your jaw in comforting sweeps. The ringing in your ears was unfathomably painful, it stung and stung and stung.

“Well,” Wonwoo announced with a despondent sigh, setting the gun over his shoulder, “I really do hate yelling.”

Mingyu’s kissed your forehead briefly. Your lips were still dry and they struggled to form a word of thanks to Wonwoo. The boy shrugged.

“He was holding you kind of tightly.”

Mingyu gasped, “no fucking kidding.”

Wonwoo sighed. “I guess I don’t expect to live much longer now that I’ve gone and wasted my companion here with my last few bullets. Not to mention I have prolonged the existence of your life, Mingyu, which I was strictly ordered not to do. It was nice to meet your little partner in crime too.”

“What are you talking about?” Mingyu questioned whilst gathering you into his side.

“I didn’t follow through on my order. I can’t bring myself to do it. ” Wonwoo mumbled. “We’ll catch up in the afterlife or something. Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. You’ll probably be with Minghao while I deservedly rot. One of life’s many mysteries, right?”

There wasn’t much of an opportunity to process the situation, not when a gunshot echoed from down the alleyway and pierced the boy in his temple. The shotgun clamped in his hand clattered against the cold, concrete sidewalk, and his mask clattered off his head. His body joined the likes of Jihoon who’d been staring up at the night sky with dead, glazed eyes, a trail of red leaking down his nose. Your head pivoted and you felt a surge of vomit climb to the back of your mouth, for the person behind the trigger was Yang Yeeun, her pearl earrings flashing against the silver moonlight.

“Horrendous.” Her accent was thick with venom, heels clicking down the alleyway as she stalked in her black trousers and white dress shirt.

Intimidation sweltered against your skin at just her attire. The fact she dressed expensively for the night proved she wasn’t expecting to get in any confrontation that would result in her own blood being spilt.

“I expected Jihoon to cause trouble, but not Wonwoo. He was so promising. I guess he really did need drugs to stay sane.”

She stepped over a corpse you hadn’t noted lying face down in the alley, growling between her teeth.

“Filthy,” Yeeun remarked without a grain of empathy, “nothing but filth.”

Mingyu gripped your wrist and you felt your body stumble behind him. Keeping your arms drawn against his back and softly breathing, you inhaled the musky scents of damp, nighttime air and car exhaust. Though you couldn’t directly see Yeeun, her voice was still audible, lacquered in such a feigned delicacy it reminded you of Junhui. Mingyu hadn’t said a thing. He didn’t have to speak for you to know his heart was decaying.

“There’s my sweet boy.” Yeeun cooed. She was close now, so close you peered between Mingyu’s legs and saw her shiny heels standing in blood spatters.

She regarded Mingyu like they were still together, like they still reflected the image of romance that was envied by so many people, you included. Her arm extended, pale, numb fingers brushing along his amber cheek. You wanted to scream at her to never touch him again. It was her own mistake to let Mingyu go, when he was positively in love with her and preached their future with honeyed words, like an artist who preaches with paint.

“You know, I miss you,” she hummed, tracing the flint of his jaw, “I’m so terribly sorry you had to witness your old best friends get a bullet to the brain, but, that is what happens when tensions are high, and, you know, we can’t afford to let many errors slip past us. Now, let’s not let that put a damper on the night. It’s still young, and so much has yet to happen. How about you come with me?”

You knew there was a handgun she was keeping pressed to her leg right now, and that if neither of you complied, it would be put to good use. Mingyu hadn’t opened his mouth. His lips were tight and his eyes were concentrated. Maybe he was trying to scheme.

Yeeun stretched out her gun and let the muzzle clink with Mingyu’s knife, trying to push the weapon from his hand.

“Just drop this and follow me, sweetheart. Due to these unforeseen events, there’s been a change and your presence has been urgently requested.”

Quicker than expected, Mingyu complied. He let the blade untwine from his grasp and rattle against the ground. If he did have some sort of plan, you were hoping that giving up his only weapon was part of it.

“She can come too,” Yeeun purred, “Junhui wants to see both of you.”

Yeeun trudged behind you, her weapon drawn, a manicured nail feathering upon the trigger just in case one of you attempted something of trickery. Tall, grimy buildings surrounded you, leading up to the black sky, where the stars gazed down in lamentation. Mingyu’s fingers were wrapped around your wrist with such steely strength that you felt your circulation dwindle, though the tiny, tingling feeling would never surpass the fear that sat like a pound of tar in your stomach. Similar to your first purge, tears pushed at your ducts, though there was a certain exhaustion shrouding your body that prevented them from falling.

Despite your unstable condition, the possibility of death snickering right in your face, the wavering thought that either Junhui or Yeeun could imbue a torturous fate, you were worried about Mingyu.

Yeeun was playing him expertly. She knew it wasn’t her heart that cracked after their breakup, it was Mingyu that suffered independently. Only he bit the nail, only he felt the salt mix with his wounds, and only he would welt in self-contemplation over a love that he nurtured, alone. If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate? Would he be afraid of hurting someone he used to treasure so dearly? You didn’t doubt his affections for you. His heart was strong, but what if Yeeun’s deceit was stronger?

The labyrinth of alleyways had finally led you to a dead end. Your wrist shook in Mingyu’s grasp, for the man nonchalantly leaning against the solid wall was none other than—

“Junhui,” Yeeun cawed, “you won’t believe what the fuck just happened. Wonwoo popped Jihoon. He’s dead, should have brought more crew instead of displacing them like we did.”

She finished her sentence by fitting her gun right snug at the back of your head.

Junhui spat onto the floor before he unstuck himself from leaning against the wall, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dark trench coat.

“It doesn’t matter,” he dismissed, “using Wonwoo and Jihoon was a squander anyways. I could have concluded both their lives at a much more efficient pace. I’m guessing you took care of the traitor?”

Yeeun cackled, “right though the side of his head. He fell like a stack of cards.”

“It’s a real disappointment,” Junhui huffed, “since the beginning Wonwoo and Jihoon have shown the utmost loyalty for me and my craft. But, I guess this just demonstrates how purifying this device truly is. We’re ridding the streets of scum, aren’t we?”

Mingyu released your wrist, and you felt like a bomb had just dropped to the soles of your feet. His lips parted and his voice was deep. Hearing him speak allowed your heartbeat to calm, even with Yeeun’s gun taunt into your hair.

“The streets will never be rid of scum until you’re over and done with.”

Junhui cocked his head, his mouth falling open and his eyes twinkling as though a tiny flame had ignited in their inky depths.

“And here is the biggest traitor of them all!”

Junhui tossed his head back and ludic laughter echoed into the compressing air, “how do you suppose you’ll rid me, Mingyu? Are you going to give me another black eye? Curse at me? Damn me to hell and back because of what happened that night? Damn me behind my back because I took Yeeun away from you? The girl you once loved and valued with your every essence?”

It was then that Junhui shifted his sights on you, his lips pulling wide in a smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re aware Mingyu, but your partner and I exchanged a very compelling conversation a while ago. I guess word never got around to you.”

Junhui’s boots dragged over the crumbs of dirt and asphalt that littered the ground, his presence nearing closer and closer. When you tried to lower your head, Yeeun’s gun pressed with a stricter force into your scalp, filling you with enough fear to keep your gaze straight.

“You’re very fortunate, Mingyu. To have such a pretty thing to call your own.”

Junhui’s hand reached for your chin. His touch was colder than the dark shadows that masked his soul, and it engendered a shiver to slither along your spine.

“Don’t put your hands anywhere near her!” Mingyu seethed, to which Yeeun instantly switched her gun to point against the back of his skull.

You could see his jaw clench from your peripheral vision. But Junhui didn’t listen, and his thumb pushed down on your bottom lip as though he intended to brand your skin with his insanity. He spoke lowly, smoothly, confidence lathered into his every syllable.

“Do you know why I did it?” Junhui stared into your eyes and asked.

“Dd-did w-what?” You warbled.

“It wasn’t because I was jealous of Wonwoo and Minghao, or because I had some personal contention against the boy. I didn’t even think when I pressed the trigger. I spent the whole night adding so much blood to my hands, that the moment I saw another shadow move, my body just - it just acted for me. Like it was an instinct. I wasn’t sad... But I wasn’t happy. I only knew I was no longer myself... I was someone stronger, someone enhanced, and that is the greatness of this evening!”

Junhui clutched your shoulders and shook them, his eyes alight with a certain derangement that petrified you to your core.

“You’re reborn! Don’t you get it? You’re no longer tied down by the concept of goodness, and your free will is truly free. When will you two realize that--”

Out of nowhere, Mingyu shoved into your side so aggressively you stumbled sideways and collapsed on the sooty ground. The air was knocked from your lungs and your heart pumped like it had been electrocuted. Fuzzy splotches of colour coalesced before your watered vision, projecting nothing but an obnoxious blur. There was shouting, the loud crack of a harmless gunshot, and scuffling that emanated from every direction. Before you could separate the blacks from the blues, something cold wrapped around your wrist and dragged you backward. Then, your entire body was thrust up against the brick, scrapes and bruises already forming on your bare skin.

When your head stopped spinning and the world dulled down from reflecting three versions of the same image, you were shuttering, whimpering, as Junhui held you firmly against the wall.

Across the alleyway you could see that Mingyu had Yeeun pressed to the floor, his palm covering her throat whilst he took advantage of his weight to keep her slim frame still. He fought to unwind the firearm from her fingers, but when he did, the weapon was digging into her forehead. You wanted to scream at him to pull the trigger, to fucking end her already, even if your throat felt like it had been scraped of all moisture and scrubbed with a pad of steel wool. You heard Junhui snicker, his mouth twisted cynically. It was evident what he was thinking, for it was identical to your own thought.

“Like hell you’ll do it!” Junhui screamed.

If it came down to it, and your life was on the line, would Mingyu hesitate?

Love. It was just as much a weapon as it was a comfort. And as Mingyu stared down at Yeeun, silver pearls of water slipping from her brown eyes, the eyes he had fallen for, you felt consumed by terror, that your life may truly end at this exact location. Mingyu proved your doubts were transparent and his finger jammed against the trigger. Except – there was nothing, nothing at all. The gun had no ammunition left. Yeeun sighed heavily.

“Don’t do this,” she mewled, still wriggling beneath him, full-fledged tears pumping down her flushed, scarlet face, “I never meant to hurt you. It’s just – you wouldn’t understand why – he didn’t leave me any choice!”

Mingyu released his ironclad grip over her throat and used his fingers to sweep the stray hairs from her eyes.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” He abruptly snapped. “You lie through your teeth like it’s the only thing you’re good for. You don’t love anyone or anything. I bet you lost that silver spoon you were born with, huh? Daddy’s security systems aren’t as bulletproof as he thought they were? So you had to run to Junhui?”

She gargled slightly on her own saliva, coughing a bit of foam, though she never tried to respond.

Mingyu lifted Yeeun’s head in his hands. Squeezing your eyes shut didn’t make the snapping noise any less gruesome. If anything, it only amplified the sickness building in your gut, it only amplified Junhui’s enraged storm of cursing as his companion’s body went limp, her eyes stained with not even a smidgen of regret. If there was any regret at all, it was that she couldn’t have killed you herself. Hope began trickling back into your body, and, taking advantage of Junhui’s distracted vacancy, you attempted to give him a swift kick.

And yet that thought was a mistake in itself. Junhui lost his composure, his sophistication.

Your struggling only encouraged the anger spilling inside him, prompted him to uncover a blade that was hidden inside his coat, its silver gleam reflecting off your eyes for a millisecond before you felt its sharp edge nuzzle into your skin, somewhere around your stomach. A surge so violent and unbridled soared through your body, forced you to lean over the blade where your eyes soaked up the unholy sight of Junhui’s knuckles pale as snowflakes wrapped around the handle. You spluttered out nothing but air, watched as dark liquid began seeping from the wound and wetting your shirt.

Junhui took it upon himself to slowly, ever so slowly, extract the knife from its crevice, his teeth grinding together as just the point remained in your flesh. Then, he dug the blade back in through its opening, giving the weapon a slight twist.

When Mingyu had risen from Yeeun’s corpse and tore Junhui away from you, a silent sob wobbled off your lips. At some point that your mind was too fogged to remember, you were sitting, slumped against the wall as thick, grey storm clouds crowded the night sky. When you could no longer find solace amongst the stars, your gaze flitted across the alleyway, to where Junhui and Mingyu were a vicious tangle of limbs that punched and kicked and pulled. It reminded you of the party, the stupid party that had somehow preluded your path to cross with Mingyu’s. They were shouting at one another, at war for Junhui’s knife that kept slipping from their grasps like butter.

Wincing, you stretched an arm to fold over your stomach, attempting to apply even the meekest amount of pressure to your wound. Your brow furrowed when something hard nudged against your arm, a harsh weight that seemed to sit inside your jacket.

Well, it wasn’t your jacket, it was Mingyu’s.

Chewing down on the inside of your mouth, you ignored the pain that cut through your every nerve and fought to wind your hand within the jacket, fingers poking and shuffling around until they brushed the pocket stitched to the inside. Despite your battered condition, you nearly yelped when you gripped the handgun, the same gun that you’d used to practice your aim in the fields. There was not a moment to squander, nor a moment to think. Your whole body screamed as you drew the weapon from its pouch, fingers slippery with blood as you fought to turn the safety off.

Your entire arm shook like a brittle leaf in mid-autumn, yet you still held the gun forth, your head banging, your vision blurred, bile pushing and stinging against your throat. Junhui had Mingyu pinned to the grit, his boot heavy on Mingyu’s wrist. Raised in the air was the knife, stained with red globs of your blood. It was just like the party, except it wasn’t a tiny glass shard sealed between Junhui’s fingers. It was a literal hacking device. There was nothing you could do to stop your arm from shaking. You had no more ammunition apart from the bullet left in the gun.

What if I miss, what if I miss Junhui and hit Mingyu? What if I hit Junhui but it isn’t enough to stop him? I don’t think I can do this. I can’t I can’t I can’t—

“So,” Junhui barked, his vocal chords strained and hoarse, “where’s your little guardian angel now, huh? If it weren’t for your girlfriend fucking getting in the way two years ago, you would have had it, Mingyu. But now there’s no one to save you. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting for this moment. Finally, I’m entitled to purge how I’ve always wanted.”

The tears finally erupted from their ducts, streaming down your dusted cheeks and dripping at your chin. You felt like a child, a blubbering infant.

But it wasn’t worth it to lose Mingyu.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened when you sucked back the distracting binds of your self-doubt and clamped the trigger down. It didn’t register that the bullet had struck Junhui’s head until his body collapsed off of Mingyu’s lap, lying lax on the pebbles like a sack of flour. It didn’t register that you had saved Mingyu’s life until the first few cold splashes of rain thumped against your forehead, dampened your lashes, and trickled along your scuffed flesh. The gun dropped from your fingers and the whole world went black.

The next time you awoke, you were faced with a pair of glimmering, penny eyes that rapidly blinked, tiny crinkles mapping along wet, amber skin. An instant pain jolted into your gut when you attempted to fidget, and a whine nearly tore itself from between your cracked lips.

“Don’t try to move,” you heard a rough voice, “stay still as best you can.”

“Mingyu?” You croaked, reaching upward to stroke his cheek.

His fingers coiled gently around your wrist, bringing the scars that were carved like ancient hieroglyphics to his lips. The second he pressed kisses to the old wounds, you smiled.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you awake,” he rasped, his eyes soft, gleeful, “you fucking saved me, y’know? It’s because of you I’m still here, still breathing. All because of you.”

Your face scrunched in confusion.

“Wait… So, I’m not… dreaming?”

Despite Mingyu’s earlier advisement to stay still, you forced your body upward, though you faced immediate repercussions as a jarring bolt struck you in the stomach. Mingyu attempted to make you relax once more, but you refused to listen to his cooing. Distant thunder rolled in the distance, and you could see a pale glow beaming behind the flossy clouds that shielded the sky. Seven o’clock was probably on the brink of arrival. You were still in the alleyway. Casting a glance toward your new wounds, you noticed that Mingyu had wrapped his jacket tightly around your waist.

“Now would be a good time for lots of gauze, right?” You smiled.

Mingyu settled his palm delicately at the back of your neck and pushed your lips together, a smile slowly dancing along his mouth as he felt your fingers thread through his locks. Just like Mingyu had predicted, a misty rainfall was spraying from the early morning sky, infinitesimal droplets of glass sitting upon his skin as though he were a springtime rose. You kissed his lips again, and again, and again, until the pain in your stomach became too much of a distraction and your head was falling to the crook of his neck. Stealing a glance around the alleyway, you couldn’t help but notice that Junhui and Yeeun’s bodies had been laid beside each other.

You thought about what Wonwoo had said.

Maybe where you’re going is different than where I’m about to go. One of life’s many mysteries, right?

Well, at least Junhui and Yeeun would share an eternal fate in the one place they truly belonged, and it wasn’t exactly a mystery where that place was either.

“Mingyu,” you reached for his shirt and gave it a small tug.

He peered down at you through the fanned arch of his lashes.

“Are you still in a lot of pain, baby? I wish I could take it all away from you. I’m sure the medical services will be here soon, I promi—“

“I love you.”

Mingyu stuttered over the humid air. “O-Oh – I, um, I – I love you too… But, I think you already knew that.”

A molten blush crawled up from the column of his neck and flushed throughout his face akin to a raspberry burn. Though it ached to giggle, you couldn’t evade in doing so, your eyes turned to crescent moons as more golden splashes of dawn light ebbed through the clouds. Somewhere in the distance, you no longer heard gunshots, incoherent slurs, riots and the skid of tires creating friction against pavement. You heard the whirr of emergency sirens and helicopter wings, medical services beginning to flood throughout the city like a creek. It was over. Mingyu was still tangible, warm, smiling whilst he pressed kisses against your forehead.

You don’t know how, but you survived the chaos, you survived Wonwoo and his ludic friend, Jihoon. You survived Yeeun and you survived Junhui.

You survived the Purge together.

✎ a/n: ugh. this is just one of those fics where you become v attached to the characters. i was able to write this quicker than expected (MINUS THE STUPID TWIST THAT STUMPED ME) bc i was truly invested in the plot, and i rly adored every moment of it. actually, this fic was supposed to be posted ages ago, i think last year? but last year was terrible in terms of my health and wellbeing, so i kinda forgot this fic existed as i went on my hiatus. anywho, in my opinion, the first purge film was the best.

i haven’t watched any of the newer purge movies tho, so they could be good! since im a horror/thriller fan, i liked the aspect of vulnerability the purge brought and how it forced ppl to invest in their capacity for violence, especially when the ppl they loved were involved. obviously - only for the fic lmao. bruh, during a real purge i am going to lock myself in the crawl space with a blanket and some cheerios. ALSO!!!! A HAPPY ENDING!!!!!! be proud of me!!!! this was an adventure!!! i hope you can enjoy the story as much as i!! hearing ur thots is appreciated as always!

#mingyu scenarios #mingyu fluff #mingyu angst #mingyu fanfic #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fanfic #seventeen angst #seventeen fluff #mingyu au #mingyu x reader #svt scenarios #svt angst #svt smut

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waynedunlaptheorgandonor · 4 years

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10.16: a certain doom

spoilers (both general and caryl) under the cut:

the episode iiiiiissss not super worth the six month wait (like in general, not vis a vis caryl)

it’s marginally more exciting than the penultimate episode

marginally

i think the problem is they utilized time poorly, so the attack on hilltop was Amazing, but then they accidentally forgot to make the end of the war suspenseful or interesting lol

that being said, it had its moments, so let’s break it down, shall we?

first off, caryl have a brief scene in the beginning in the stairwell where daryl is telling carol that michonne left, and he’s like “everybody leaves and then i never see them again :( “ and carol is like “...i haven’t left” and daryl goes “-sure jan-” and leaves carol looking like a hurt puppy bc she thinks he still hasn’t forgiven her/never really will, more on that later

lydia and carol have a scene where lydia is like:

and carol was like “that’s cuz you should hate me and shouldn’t try and look to me for advice, go find your own way in life” and lydia says “k i’m not asking you to be my mom, i’m asking if we can be bros, but w/e, i’m sure this conversation isn’t foreshadowing to an event that will happen later”

more on that later

princess & crew broke their bikes so they were running late to the rendezvous, and eugene was about to give up, but zeke gave an empowering speech about Never Giving Up (which is kinda weird coming from a dude with cancer whose wife left him and whose son got murdered, but w/e, you get on with your optimistic self, zeke) and convinced him to carry on, more on that later

(here’s an exclusive sneak peek at the scene tho:)

there’s a two hour long scene of our main peeps walking through the giant horde covered in guts, which would be more interesting if they didn’t do that all the time

beatrice got eaten which would have been more of a bummer if i remembered who beatrice was

it did get lydia involved in the fight tho, so that’s something

side note: negan gave lydia alpha’s mask as if it was supposed to be symbolic or something, instead of incredibly traumatizing to this little girl whose abusive mother just got her head chopped off, like couldn’t she have just put guts on like the other people? ok, my dude, way to be a surrogate father figure ig

while carol is still stuck in the horde daryl asks where carol is, which has been the majority of his lines this season

they try to lead the horde away by blasting talking heads, which is a little on the nose but entertaining nonetheless, but then carol had to go and say “protect the horses,” which is a guarantee that the horses will get eaten, bc it’s twd, so whomp whomp, they lose their apparently only plan for leading the horde away

(how have they not learned better by now?)

(better question: how are there any horses left??)

daryl has an unintentionally funny line where he’s like, “k so this is a super shitty idea, and i am aware of that, but let’s just go fucking kill all of the whisperers”

lydia then volunteers to go throw herself off a cliff to get rid of the horde, and daryl brushes her off, more on that later

anyway they go and just. kill all the whisperers ig? including beta? whose death took like two seconds and involved a brief flashback montage and was incredibly anticlimactic for how fucking badass he was (negan draws him away, daryl stabs him the eyes, which was kinda cool, and then he goes and stands in the middle of the horde and smiles wistfully while he’s eaten alive, like a normal person would do)

up at headquarters gabriel is about to get murdered by whisperers, but then maggie and her masked friend somehow make it past the entire horde and up the stairs in time to save him

sure

cut to lydia leading the entire horde to the cliff, but then carol jumps in and tells her to go and that she’ll do it, and is about to go for a fun tumble, BUT THEN lydia pulls her away and they have a brief argument about it

their whole plotline this episode is very:

anyway

what follows is what’s meant to be a heartwarming scene between the two of them where they put aside all their baggage and hug each other and realize they’re stronger together than at odds, and objectively it’s a good scene, but i couldn’t stop laughing bc they kept showing the walkers falling off the cliff and it looked SO STUPID, it was hilarious

they just. literally kept just stepping off the cliff and falling like bricks askdfljs

and then lydia went and threw alpha’s mask off the cliff and that Did Not make it less funny

idk, i’m probably just a bad person, but it was super fucking funny, anyway

maggie reunited with judith, which was actually very sweet, esp when you remember that she delivered her (in the most traumatic way possible)

the caryl scene was nice. i had to watch it a couple times before i decided how nice, bc like everything else in the episode it felt kind of rushed, but essentially carol and lydia return, and daryl is standing in the exact position he was standing in “no sanctuary”, bc apparently that’s how he leans on trees, and carol approaches him super warily, and they both stare at each other, and carol asks him if he’s good, and he is visibly trying not to cry when he goes “yeah. it’s over. right?” and she says yes, and he asks her if she got what she wanted, and she says no, and he tells her she still has him, and she’s like “yeah?” while crying, bc, per earlier interaction, she was p sure she was never gonna get him back entirely, and he says yeah, and then they hug, and carol makes a little sob noise, and daryl buries his face in her shoulder and is teary, too, and then daryl brings up new mexico, and carol says “maybe someday” and daryl deffo looks disappointed but agrees, and then carol has her “we still have things to do, i’m clearly saying this as a set up for dramatic scenes that are about to follow” line

cue dramatic things following

connie is alive (we been knew), but is banged tf up, and runs into virgil. or more like collapses on the ground and virgil finds her and they stare blankly at each other until connie passes out

and then we jump back to princess & crew, who are sitting there bummed out bc stephanie isn’t there, and eugene is like, “bc of zeke’s wise words, i am Not Giving Up, we set out to find and recruit people (did they? i literally don’t remember) and so that’s what we’ll do!”

and it’s a Big Moment of Solidarity and Strength

for all of five seconds, bc they are then accosted by stormtroopers, who presumably work for commonwealth. whether or not commonwealth is building a death star is unclear at this time, but i suppose we’ll find out soon

cue end credits!

so overall: the episode occurred. it wasn’t like, devastatingly disappointing, in that the penultimate episode didn’t really set me up for any sort of big anticipation, and also i had spoilers ahead of time. i wish there had been more time for things like beta’s death to be played out properly, but i wonder also if they were limited on what they could do bc of pandemic shit and trying to get it edited as quickly as possible

as it stands, even tho the whisperers are my favorite twd villains, i’m glad they didn’t do what they did with the saviors and have it drag on for ten million years for no reason

the bottle episodes should be interesting, and prob will lead us into commonwealth, which, again, not sure on the status of the death star, but i’m excited to see what happens regardless

on the caryl front i’m about where i was before, which is fully anticipating canon coming, and my guess is the season will really heavily set up their departure, which means we will have many more scenes to come

the end

as usual, stay hype, stan kang, and get daryl to call carol sweetheart 2k20 (i still have three months left, i’m not giving up yet, zeke wouldn’t want me to),

-diz

#caryl #caryl spoilers #twd #twd s10 spoilers #dunlap tp

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zhuhongs · 3 years

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Since rewatching the guardian drama after reading the novel has made me mad about how bad and good both of them are I am Obligated to write out a list of what I think the perfect merger btw both versions of canon are. This will be in list format otherwise I’ll end up writing like 6k words again.

TLDR: the genre stays as supernatural from the novel and not Sci fi, bc that was rlly not fleshed out well. Shen Wei is a ghost king, and all the dixingren are ghosts or demons like originally intended. The ghost race naturally exists and wasn't born from kunluns shoulder fire or anything. They just exist separate from humans. Not all ghosts are former humans, some people are just born as ghosts, like Shen Wei. Zhao Yunlan has the guardian whip and all the cool stuff that comes with the Guardian order. Overall, i’d keep the novel’s plot and relationship progression and ending without the backstory. Instead the backstory is a merger of both canons. From the drama I’d keep the characterization and themes as well as like half the extra cases and omit the other half.

I’ll be elaborating much further on my ideal backstory and other stuff under the cut bc the rest is 1.5k and I don’t wanna clog the dash

Okay SO In my ideal backstory there are two timelines just like the drama but the mythology of the book. The god Kunlun is actually zyl that went back in time and became a god. But the one that went back isn’t the current Zhao Yunlan. There has to be an original timeline where the god Kunlun never existed. Thus the great seal nor the separation of the three realms don’t exist either. Zhao Yunlan must go back in time to become a god, meet Shen Wei in the past, and create the current timeline where the separation exists but isn’t perfect. The current timeline is the one that the majority of the series takes place in.

In the original timeline, Zhao Yunlan is just some dude living in a world where ghosts, fairies, and all other beings just live in a giant free for all and it's kinda just a mess.

Like there’s government in modern context and all and all races live with each other but there's constant tension. ZYL works at some equivalent of the SID (same staff and side characters, but novel vers. Lin Jing is a monk, CSZ a zombie, etc) to protect people and all that and their job is rather hard. One day encounters the thousands year old ghost king Wei (who isnt shen wei yet bc zyl gave him that name in the future) who works alone as like a rouge cultivator of sorts. He lives on the surface undercover as a professor still bc he’s trying to not catch Yezun’s attention but does all the stuff he normally does as Heipaoshi. The two ally together for a case and bc they both have the same goals of getting all races to live in peace. At current, there are forces working together to decimate the human race, all lead by Yezun

As they work together they become closer and all that. Shen Wei tells him about how he was unable to prevent the great war 5 thousand years ago and neither could the gods so he’s spent the past 5 thousand years trying to make up for it. As they search for ways to stop Yezun, they gather the 4 hallows and learn how to use them to manipulate time so ZYL can go into the past and stop the great war and separate the three realms (living, dead, ghost). Shen Wei wants to go back with him but he can’t because he was alive all those years ago so if he goes back it will create a paradox. ZYL promises he’ll find Shen Wei in the past and create a timeline where they could be together in peace (that is the current timeline)

When goes back he becomes the god kunlun because there needed to be a new god born at the time to prevent the war. Also this time traveller looked promising to Nuwa, Fuxi, and Shennong. And I know in the guardian universe gods are usually born and ppl don’t become gods. EXCEPT this can happen when a god passes on smth from their body onto them bc that did happen in the novel with Kunlun making shen wei a demigod. And since fu you and ma gui are supposed to be gods Nu Wa and Fuxi I think that when they die, they should make ZYL a god and that's how this stuff happens.

So like ZYL explains to the gods the time he came from and how he wants to save everything and they make him a god and he works to save everything just like he did in the drama but this time with the novel plotline. During this time he meets young Shen Wei (he’s still like a hundred or so years old) and they get close and all the stuff from the backstory happens. He gives him his name, all that good stuff. The entire time doesn’t let him know that he’s from the future or that his real name is ZYL. He just poses as kunlun.

The two of them alongside the other gods (who still die at the times they do in the novel) work together to end the war and establish the great seal and set up the cycle of reincarnation, per the current timeline. Although the seal and cycle of reincarnation aren’t perfect. Gods can’t reincarnate, and ghosts still don’t have souls. And just like the novel, doing all of this kills ZYL bc it takes a lot of energy to create the seal even though it isn’t perfect.

Shen Wei of course doesn’t want ZYL to die and zyl says it's alright because he fixed the timeline so there must One day they will meet again and ZYL reveals the truth about the timeline to shen wei before he dies. This becomes the promise that Shen Wei mentions to meet again. Before he dies, ZYL gives him the shoulder fire as a memento ( i still like the candy wrapper necklace deal but i’ll take this too. Maybe both.. The pendant is still just rlly cool.. Gay ppl)

Shen Wei knows gods can’t enter the cycle of reincarnation and still makes the deal with Shennong to strip Kunlun of his godhood and let him reincarnate. This sets us into the novel timeline where isn’t allowed to meet any of zyl’s reincarnations before he becomes zyl otherwise he will die and also fuck up the timeline. The same 5 thousand years of pining still ensue bc Gay Ppl and i love making Shen Wei suffer but he doesn’t have the shrine room thing bc i think thats weird and yea.. Bad.

In the meantime Shen Wei does a lot of things mostly just protecting the great seal and working for Hell to keep the peace but still does other stuff. He still watches out for ZYL’s reincarnations but doesn’t do much besides make sure they don’t die a premature death. They meet again finally at the beginning of the series and the timeline resumes like canon. And that's my master plan that merges both drama logic and novel logic while making a much better timeline. (I hope that makes some sense)

Da Qing is still Kunlun’s pet cat and important. Novel backstory applies to him. And I already mentioned him kinda but as for Yezun (Gui Mian in the novel) his deal is similar as in the drama but just a ghost. And he is a big player in the great war, he thought Shen Wei abandoned him as a kid but they were just separated. Shen Wei doesn’t know it's him till the end of the war and couldn’t stop him in the OG timeline and vows to bring him to justice and make amends. Shen Wei continuously tries to explain things to him but he just won’t listen and is imprisoned in hell bc yk… war criminal stuff and yeah he’s the main antagonist trying to break the great seal bc he’s still made about the past. Idk. Yezun wasn’t well written in the novel OR the drama so like… honestly he just needs to be completely rewritten and I don’t care enough about that. He can just be a weak villain idk

the drama characterization stays the same for everyone else bc found family go brr. However for Lao Chu i… hmm… i think he should still be a zombie but the reason he killed someone should be related to his brother. I like that addition and then shen wei realized his sentence was unjust and exempted him. i like that storyline merger. bc the brother thing and him admiring Heipaoshi was drama only. in the novel lao chu just murdered some kid for a rlly whatever reason.

uhhh in terms of the cases… id make adjustments to most of them. i think the li qian case should be like the drama bc the novel just had her as a murderer and it was boring.

For the mountain river awl one was fine… novel version was funnier and more interesting action wise tbh… rip zyl and his exorbitant flirting. uhhh the whole reveal that shen wei was the soul reaper thing was kinda… ehh in the novel but i did love the comedy of afterwards Shen Wei pretending he went into cardiac arrest when he actually just… has no pulse bc he's a ghost.

ID KEEP THE WORTH IT SCENE AND RAIN SCENE… THOSE FUCK SO HARD… I love the drama for adding those every damn day. the novel version of zyl losing his sight sucked and was sooo boring. Keep the drama version on that.

also id keep dr. cheng. i'm very pro dr. cheng and her friendship with shen wei it adds so much to his character imo. keep the fruit seller man and his wife for the merit brush..omg it adds SO MUCH the way the drama did it.. like the drams build up with the novels pace of that arc.. mwah. it felt like it dragged a bit in the drama but if it went faster and without the hospital ep and with sha ya (sorry sha ya) that would've been so good. tho keep novel version of da qings memory loss and lao li. that was rlly impactful.

id say keep some of the cases like the mirror one, the eyes doctor one, etc. just to like.. yk have more to fill in general.. novel pacing but drama characterization without the bs that wasn't fully realized. and novel ending ofc. And that’s it!!

I hope most of this makes some amount of sense but it probably doesn’t. In my head it all tracks but like ik most of u don’t know anything about the novel so this sounds like gibberish. Also I know this would literally never happen but this is MY ideal merger of the two canons that I feel compelled to expand on for some reason. Anyways, as io said,, we need to rebuild guardian. Like literally let me and the mutuals write Guardian and it will be 500 times better.

#🐌.txt #镇魂 guardian #as always... if anyone wants to ask me any questions abt this or guardian in general... pls do.. my mind goes brrrrrr #guardian meta

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Note

34 and 11 please with Lucifer and Simeon.

So, I couldn’t tell if you meant Lucifer/Simeon as a pair or Lucifer and Simeon with the reader... sooo I just went with it. Took me a while to figure out how to write this with a good dynamic. A little bit of fluff, a little bit of angst, a lot of romance... I hope you like it! (unedited bc we die like heroes here) Gender Neutral Reader

_(:3 」∠)_

Part of the Two-Part Drabble Game Requests

Setting: Date gone wrong Quote: “Your hand is in my personal space. Not that I mind. Character: Lucifer and Simeon

It was supposed to be a cute little outing downtown with Simeon. It was supposed to be a well deserved break from your hectic life to unwind and spend some time with the guy you liked. It was supposed to be the perfect day out. Some lunch, some window shopping, maybe a stroll in the park and then watching the sunset together.

Supposed to be.

However, neither of you had been made aware of the festival being held in town that day. Instead of the usual bustle of a reasonably busy weekend, the streets were packed with crowds. Your senses were assaulted by all the sounds, smells and sensations that came with a festival.

At first, you wanted to ride it out, pretend it wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. However, Simeon could sense your discomfort with having to deal with so many people in one place at one time. “Let’s go somewhere else.” he suggested when he noticed the way you flinched at any remotely loud, sudden sound.

You were more than happy to get out of the thick of things and to somewhere quieter. Simeon seemed to know all of the good hole-in-the-wall cafes and brought you to one of his favorites. Immediately, the warm wood finishing and the quiet chatter put you in a much more agreeable state of mind.

Simeon led you to a quiet corner of the cafe once your orders had been retrieved and placed his hand on top of yours. “Sorry I didn’t plan this day better.” he apologized, rubbing soft circles on the back of your hand. “I know how you are with crowds and I didn’t think to look…”

You shrugged, taking a sip of your drink and letting the familiar flavors take the edge of your frazzled nerves more. “It’s okay.” You reassured him. Though the date hadn’t gone as planned, you still got to spend some quality time with him. “I don’t think either of us really looked up if there was going to be anything going on downtown today. It’s neither here nor there.”

He smiled softly, adoring how you were still so determined to be out and about with him despite usually being an introvert. It was a rare opportunity for both of you to have time to do anything like this. Simeon didn’t have the right words to quite express just how happy he was to just have time with you. “Well, since we’re here, I think I remember there’s a pa--”

“Simeon?”

Simeon stopped mid sentence when he heard his name being called. He looked around to see who the owner of the voice was and as soon as he saw who it was, he broke out in a wide grin. “Lucy? Is that really you? I haven’t seen you in ages!”

Simeon scooted his seat over to allow Lucifer to join in. You stared, dumbfounded at the sudden intrusion, but didn’t question it. The way Simeon beamed and grinned when he saw this person was an expression you rarely saw. It was likely best to leave things for the time being.

“It has been a while, hasn’t it? And who might this be?”

“My partner!” Simeon stated proudly before introducing you to him.

“A pleasure to meet you. Lucifer.” The stranger greeted smoothly before pulling up a chair to join you at the table. “I hope I’m not intruding on your date together.”

“Oh, no not at all.”

It would have been rude to interject and tell him that he was intruding. You had to keep Simeon’s smile in mind. It was an expression you rarely got to see. He was usually so cool and collected, seeing him so animated was a bit of treat for you. For his sake, you didn’t want to cause a scene. Your initial date plans had been foiled anyway, it wasn’t like your day could get any worse, right?

“Lucy and I go way back.” Simeon explained. “At least two decades.”

“I think it’s a little more than that.” Lucifer chimed in. “And can you not call me that in public?”

“Okay fine Lucifer.” Simeon corrected himself. “What have you been up to these past few years? I feel like we lost all contact after you quit your last job.”

“Ah, well…”

What they had was a bond that went beyond what you could ever hope to achieve. The way they interacted and reminisced about the times they had together pushed a thorn of envy into your heart. They had all the time in the world and you had only ever occupied a fraction of Simeon’s life. It didn’t feel right to cut into their conversation as they reminisce over the past and caught up.

They pulled you into a life with them that you could never experience. The drink in your hand grew tepid as the hours went by and they continued to chat. It was almost as if you weren’t there, as if you didn’t matter. Despite being surrounded by people, it felt oddly lonely to be at that table with them. They were in their own little world and you could only imagine what it would have been like if you were with them.

For a moment, you were pulled out of the romantic moment you were having with Simeon to see him in a way you were never permitted to. This stranger and his stories about his life drew out an energy and a life no one ever got to see. It was an odd magic Lucifer had and you were equal parts grateful and envious of it.

There was something that drew even you in. Lucifer had a way with words that had you entranced and falling in love with the world he built. You could understand how Simeon seemed to be so smitten with reconnecting with him. The stories he shared were mundane yet somehow so colorful, you could imagine yourself right there with him. It put you in a comfortable lull and you didn’t mind being so quiet during the time the three of you shared.

“So what brought you out to this side of town anyway?” Lucifer asked, turning to you for a change and dragging you into the conversation.

You snapped out of your daze and blinked. Surely he was asking Simeon and not you; however, when you looked up at your partner, you were surprised to see that he too was looking at you, waiting for an answer. “Ah, well…” You laughed nervously, fidgeting with the empty cup in your hands. “We were supposed to be on a date downtown…”

“So I was interrupting something.”

“Well, no. I mean, it was too crowded downtown so we left early.” You shrugged, pretending it didn’t affect you as much as it did. Having a whole day of plans ruined more than once weighed heavily on your shoulders. But, moving the focus to yourself was selfish and rude. After all, Simeon hadn’t seen Lucifer in years, you weren’t about to break up a long awaited reunion. “It’s not a big deal. It’s probably better that we ended up here anyway.”

Lucifer hummed, tapping his finger on the table and assessing the energy between all parties at the table. “Well, I apologize nonetheless for interrupting and usurping your time. Allow me to make it up to you both.”

You learned quickly that Lucifer moved the world at his own pace and all in his wake were helpless in objecting his whims. He led the two of you out of the quiet cafe and onto the streets washed with the warm oranges of a perfect sunset. One of his hands held onto Simeon while the other near dragged you along to follow his impossibly quick gait.

He moved with a grace and a purpose you wouldn’t have expected for someone traveling so fast. You stumbled, half jogging to keep up with him. You didn’t know if you should be worried about where you were being taken. Simeon’s cheerful laugh as he was being towed behind Lucifer seemed to at least bode well.

While the scenery flashed by you and all you could do was focus on keeping up with Lucifer’s long strides and purposeful direction. You could only hope that he wasn’t about to lead you to your untimely demise. While frantically trying to match his pace, you realized that you couldn’t deny how easily this man had injected himself into your life. The way he asserted himself and dominated the pace of the day had you a little bit infatuated with him. His life beyond the little tidbits he shared at the coffee table had piqued your interest and left you yearning for more of his stories. The backdrop of Simeon’s gleeful laughing only added to his allure as it seemed like this man was the only person in the world who could pull such strong emotions out of your partner.

By the time he let the two of you stop and catch your breath, you were greeted with a grand view of the town below you. If you squinted, you could make out the rough outline of the downtown buildings where your day had begun. The sun had just sunk past the horizon and twilight washed across the city. Tiny twinkling lights from the windows illuminated the darkened residential areas, bringing the night sky to earth.

Further, the distinct whistle and pop of fireworks went off where the festival was being held. You made your way over the railing at the ledge you had arrived at and leaned against it to get the best view of the show. “Oh wow, I didn’t know this place existed.” You breathed, admiring the light show.

“Hopefully it makes up a little for the awful date this has been.” Simeon apologized softly, he reached for your hand and squeezed it softly. “It’s been a bit of a flop, huh?”

You giggled, it was impossible to be mad at him when he was so cute. Oblivious as he might be, you could forgive him for one terrible date. “Well, really, you have to thank your friend for saving it.”

Simeon tilted his head and looked at Lucifer who had joined you at the railing and mouthed a quick thanks in his direction. Lucifer only shrugged, waving it off as if he did things like this on a regular basis.

While they had their little silent exchange, you let your emotions stew. You were being unreasonably selfish wanting to keep Simeon in your life while also getting to know Lucifer better. The two of them had a chemistry you couldn’t deny and if all things didn’t work out in the end, you reasoned it would only bring them together while you made a graceless exit out of their lives. Perhaps it was the overall romantic ambience that emboldened you to go for it.

You tried to be subtle, but you were sure Lucifer was the kind of person who took note of everything that happened around him. Before you could reach out for him, you felt his fingers pull your hand closer to his, lacing themselves in between his own and securing your palm against his.

“Uhm… Excuse me, your hand is in my personal space….” You paused, averting your gaze and trying not to be too flustered about it. “Not that I mind…” You mumbled the last part as the boom and crackle of the fireworks drowned out your words.

One hand held the love of your life, the other held the hand of an alluring stranger who had an impossibly strong pull. Between them, you were torn and impossibly selfish, wishing you could have both in your lives. The show was dying down and before it ended, you knew you had to make a choice.

“So, Lucifer.” You started, finally gathering up enough courage to look him in the eye. “How about you come over for dinner sometime?”

“That sounds lovely, I would be honored to join you.”

Behind you, Simeon leaned to the side, catching his old friend’s eyes. He grinned from ear to ear, winking knowingly and squeezed your hand in reassurance.

Perhaps the date wasn’t a total flop after all.

#Simeon x Reader #Lucifer x Reader #Simeon x Lucifer #Simeon x Lucifer x Reader #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Simeon #obey me fanfiction #my writing #requests #Anonymous #Happy sunday #I have never had a single coherent thought in my life

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trensu · 4 years

Text

Episode 47: The One where JGY Gets Kinky with WWX and NO ONE Likes It

so our boys are still wandering around yunping and wwx is trying his hand at being matchmaker

he starts asking lwj if there's any female cultivators that *insert list of traits here*

they're still walking ahead of wn, who looks distracted by smth idk what

lwj: what for?

he asks as soon as wwx finishes listing off traits

It’s off-screen tho so we don't get to see his expression

But this is lwj we’re talking about and we all know how he gets when wwx so much as implies interest in other people

wwx: it's not for me!!

LOL WHY DID HE FEEL THE NEED TO RUSH IN AND EXPLAIN THAT??

IT’S NOT LIKE HE’S EVEN NOTICED LWJ’S JEALOUS STREAK

WHY WAS IT SO IMPORTANT FOR HIM TO KNOW IT WASN’T FOR YOU, WWX?? HMM??

and then he goes on to say how wn is all grown up now and probs can't spend the rest of his life third-wheeling them

wwx looks back and sees wn surrounded by children while lwj is still facing the other way

and i only mention this bc once wwx sees wn with the kids, wwx reaches over and PHYSICALLY TURNS lwj around by gently grabbing him by the shoulders

wwx: following me like this, is not an appropriate life for him. According to the bro code, i def need to find him a partner

this is actually so sweet tho, wwx doesn’t want his buddy to be lonely!!

wwx: hanguang jun, what do you think?

lwj: *nod*

wwx: at least, he needs to make some friends

AND THEN HE GETS A SMILE ON HIS FACE AND LOOKS AT LWJ

wwx: lan zhan, i think sizhui is a perfect candidate

OMGGGGGG

I AM LITERALLY LAUGHING OUT LOUD RN

AS SOON AS WWX SAYS THAT LWJ LOOKS DOWN AND SO VERY AWKWARDLY TWITCHES TO THE SIDE AND KEEPS WALKING

I'M D Y I N G LOLOLOLOL

HE'S LIKE SHIT FUCK HE STILL DOESN'T KNOW, DAMN IT, I DIDN'T TELL HIM YET, I MUST LEAVE RIGHT NOW

wwx doesn't dwell on lwj's abrupt departure bc when ISN'T lwj abrupt, right?

After wwx rescues wn from the children, he tells him to go wait at the inn while he and lwj continue to investigate.

wn goes all Sad Puppy about it.

but wwx doesn't see it bc he's already running towards lwj "lan zhan, wait for me!"

Small interruption to say that i really really enjoy watching our boys walk side by side?

we're constantly getting shots of their backs as they walk next to each other and even if they weren't EPIC SOULMATES, it’s still like, aesthetically pleasing.

Oh look, they found out that jgy's deed was to a Temple of Doom

or okay, a standard religious temple but considering what goes down in there eventually, i think Temple of Doom is a pretty accurate name for it

lwj mentions he senses a magic circle hidden in the temple and they proceed to talk plot stuff

but i'm just so distracted by their pretty faces

mostly wwx's, but lwj also has a pretty face

blah blah plot blah

it's decided they need to come back at night when it'll presumably be empty

now wwx is politely questioning a monk

wwx: Asks Clever Plot Related Questions

me: *dreamy sigh* so pretty wwx, so pretty

ooooh, wwx's Clever Plot Related Questions reveal that the monk is a FRAUD.

idc about it or why he's a fraud but i just wanted to demonstrate HOW SMART MY SUNSHINE BOY IS. he’s got beauty AND brains!!!

cut to next scene and IT'S NIGHT TIME

wwx, lwj, and wn are approaching the Temple of Doom

lwj stops wwx from getting any closer to the doors with an outstretched arm

then lwj gets closer to the doors and kind of just...lobs a bit of his blue spiritual energy at the door

turns out it's warded! no getting in that way

so wwx says they'll get in through the courtyard or smth and tells wn to stand guard

LOLOL LOVE THIS LINE:

wwx: i am half a wreck but we still have hanguang jun~

WWX HAS SO MUCH FAITH IN HIS SOULMATE

we get some alone time with wn who notices some ominous black clouds rolling in so he takes off to investigate

MY BRATTY SON!! MY BRATTY SON IS HERE!! FOLLOWING HIS DOGGY

And that dumb dog is leading my precious brat of a son straight to the Temple of Doom!!

GO BACK TO BED, BRATTY SON, YOU DON'T NEED TO BE HERE

now we cut to our boys spying over the wall and they see a whole bunch of random dudes with bows/arrows

and now we hear barking! AHH!!! THAT STUPID DOG IS PUTTING MY BRATTY SON IN DANGER

jl knocks the door AND BEHIND THE DOOR ARE A BUNCH OF ASSHOLES AIMING THEIR ARROWS AT HIM

HOW DARE THEY

DON'T YOU TOUCH A HAIR ON MY BRATTY SON'S HEAD, I WILL KILL YOU DEAD

wwx is thinking to himself: why is jl here? why didn't wn stop him? naughty kid, leave quickly with the dog!!

BUT JL DOESN'T LEAVE WITH FAIRY

INSTEAD JL DOES WHAT HIS UNCLE WWX DID AND CLIMBS UP THE WALL TO PEEK OVER

we get a close up shot of wwx's eyes here and i'm mentioning this for two reasons

1) wwx has beautiful brown eyes and everyone should take a moment to be grateful for this close up of them

but, more importantly

2) WE ALSO GET A GLIMPSE OF HIS EAR IN THIS SHOT AND HIS EAR HAS FRECKLES AND IT'S THE CUTEST THING EVER. FRECKLY WWX!!! WWX WITH FRECKLES!!! I'M SO HAPPY

okay back to the show i guess

jl manages to pull himself up BUT OH NO, THEY'VE GOT AN ARROW AIMED AT HIM

WWX SEES THIS AND HIS EYES GO WIDE WITH FEAR BC THAT'S HIS DARLING LITTLE NEPHEW THEY'RE PLANNING TO SHOOT

we see wwx gripping his bamboo flute

and in the next second the bad guys loose their arrows at my bratty son!! HOW DARE THEY

wwx thinks fast and flings his flute at the incoming arrows and one of the arrows oh so conveniently splits the flute so it's unusable now

wwx: jin ling, run!!

WWX GAVE AWAY HIS POSITION TO SAVE HIS NEPHEW, I LOVE HIM SO MUCH

now our boys are getting shot at and it's super stressful

but wwx and lwj leap off the roof (wwx does a fancy flip bc ofc he does) and wwx starts flinging talismans everywhere like nbd

they're smoke bomb talismans apparently

NOOOOOO I DIDN'T REALIZE WHAT SCENE WAS COMING UP HERE I'M NOT READY FOR IT

so smoke bombs right, and we see somebody walking calmly through it

our boys land on the ground and get ready to start fighting

BUT SUDDENLY WE SEE A FLASH OF GOLD THREAD

WWX FLINCHES BACK TO AVOID IT BUT ALL IT DID WAS MAKE IT EASIER FOR FUCKING JGY TO WRAP IT AROUND WWX'S (BEAUTIFUL) EXPOSED VULNERABLE NECK!!!

IT'S A GARROTE AND MY SUNSHINE BOY IS CAUGHT IN IT

JGY HAS THIS DARK EVIL LOOK ON HIS FACE AND HE'S HOLDING WWX HOSTAGE!!!!

I'M GONNA PUNCH THAT EVIL SMIRK RIGHT OFF YOUR FACE JGY

LET GO OF MY SUNSHINE BOY, YOU BASTARD

lwj has his bichen drawn and pointed directly at jgy but he hasn't made a move yet bc wwx is being used as a human shield!!

jgy: i advise master wei not to whistle. it doesn't matter if the flute is broken. but if a finger or tongue is lost, that would be tragic

he says it with a fake, condescending concerned expression

I HATE HIM SO MUCH, I'M GONNA STRANGLE HIM WITH MY BARE HANDS

wwx gives a little huff and says sarcastically: you have a good point

eeww, we hear the garrote creak as jgy starts walking backwards

and wwx has no choice but to follow BC HE'S GOT A GARROTE AROUND HIS NECK

lwj keeps pace with them, sword still pointed at jgy BC HELL NO HE'S NOT GONNA LET HIM TAKE MY, I MEAN, HIS WEI YING AWAY

oh, side note, we get a nice peek at some decorative etchings along bichen’s blade, kinda like suibian’s red line, except they’re pale silvery blue

Have they been there the whole time?? HOW DID I NOT NOTICE??

I blame wwx’s beautiful face for distracting me at every turn

Anyway, the etchings are pretty, whatever they are

Jgy is like don’t even THINK of trying anything hanguang jun!!

the garrote creaks bc FUCKING JGY TIGHTENS ENOUGH TO CUT INTO THE TENDER SKIN IN WWX'S NECK AND MAKES HIM BLEED!!

at that, lwj stiffly lowers bichen and he immediately gets surrounded by jgy's henchmen

the expression on lwj's face!! this is him scowling up a storm

since this is lwj's face we're talking about tho, there's only the slightest downward pull at the corner of his mouth.

his eyes, on the other hand, his eyes are glowering fiercely

wwx tells lxc not to feel so bad about being tricked bc after all jgy is the best at what he does

now wwx and jgy are doing that thing i love, you know the trope?

when the good guy and the bad guy speak to each other lightly, casually

As if no one is actually poised to get murdered or anything

with an implicit acknowledgement of each others' immense skill

And they exchange notes as to how the good guy discovered the bad guy’s nefarious plot and the bad guy taking it as constructive criticism for future evil endeavors

Good stuff, good stuff

as they do this, jgy keeps his eyes pinned to lwj, who is the only real threat to him right now

wwx: since we’re completely at your mercy how’s about you tell me what kind of treasure is in the Temple of Doom?

jgy: the price to satisfy your curiosity is high. are you sure you want to try, master wei?

he says all falsely regretful

look i hate jgy with every fiber of my being, but i do appreciate this sort of banter

unfortunately it gets interrupted by some henchmen dragging in my bratty son!!!

jgy gives jl a sweet benign smile, with dimples and all

which kind of cracks me up tbh, bc it does not mesh with the fact that he's got wwx by the neck here

jl: uncle jgy!

jgy: 'sup a-ling?

wwx: what's wrong with you, kid? why'd you come here at night??

JL: IT'S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS

OH GOD, THAT'S HILARIOUS.

IT REALLY JUST SHOWS HOW MUCH OF A KID HE STILL IS (BC HELLO, HE'S LIKE 12 I MEAN 16)

that was totally just a reflexive indignant response to wwx's tone, i love it

bc it's not like his one uncle is threatening to murder his other uncle or anything important lololol

and for all the dog lovers out there, to really hammer in how evil jgy is, jgy orders his henchmen to go murder fairy

my bratty son is very upset by this

lxc comes in here and is like, hey, jl is just a kid!! and also your nephew!!!

and jgy is all like, ofc i know he's a kid and my nephew! what do you think i'd do?? kill him???

well, i mean, you did murder your own infant son

i can't imagine killing your teenage nephew is that big of a leap for you, jgy

and then he goes right on to say that hey nephew, if you run or scream, probably something awful will happen to you so maybe don't do that

MY POOR BRATTY SON

oh now we cut to the inside of the temple and people are digging into the floor

wwx is wondering what the heck jgy is looking for

then he looks at lwj and with just a twitch of his eyebrows indicates that OMG JGY IS DISTRACTED AND THERE'S AN OPENING FOR AN ATTACK, GO FOR IT LWJ

or at least i'm assuming that's what that eyebrow twitch meant bc lwj catches it and leaps into action

he raises bichen and dives towards jgy aiming to cut his head clean off, it looks like

but jgy sees it coming in the last second and jerks wwx in front of him.

bichen stops just barely an inch or two away from wwx's bleeding neck

wwx closes his eyes in disappointment bc they had been so close!

and now he just looks so upset bc he thinks he’s ruined their chances by letting jgy use him as a shield

jgy: hanguang jun, put bichen down now. do you really want to kill master wei?

THAT’S LOW FUCKING BLOW, JGY

HE KNOWS IT TOO

HE KNOWS LWJ FEELS GUILTY ABOUT WWX’S DEATH, THAT BASTARD

and omg wwx's face his eyes are red and teary, wide open and pinned to lwj as we all watch lwj obediently lower bichen

wwx: lan zhan, don't listen to him!

my sunshine boy's brow is all furrowed and he sounds desperate here

wwx: i have never blamed you! lan zhan, you go first to find reinforcements!

HE'S PRACTICALLY BEGGING HIM HERE

BC DEEP DOWN HE KNOWS THAT LWJ IS NOT GOING TO LEAVE

LWJ IS TOO GOOD OF A PERSON TO LEAVE SOMEONE IN DANGER

BUT WWX HAS NEVER FELT WORTHY OF THAT SORT OF SACRIFICE

HE’S ALWAYS BEEN WILLING TO DIE FOR OTHERS, SO HE’S TRYING TO CONVINCE LWJ TO LEAVE

BC WHAT'S IMPORTANT IS TAKING JGY DOWN NOT SAVING HIS OWN LIFE

Lwj looks him straight in the eye and shakes his head no for everyone to see

bc nothing will tear him away from wei ying, not again, not when he finally got him back after 16 long long years.

I AM IN PAIN

THE ANGUISH IN BOTH OF THEIR FACES IS KILLING ME

jgy: great! Next, please sheathe bichen

there's a slight twist to lwj's mouth as he sheathes bichen angrily

but he did it with no hesitation

the sound fx team really made the shing-clack sound of it very prominent here

i'm assuming to emphasize how lwj is briskly and willingly de-fanging himself in order to keep wwx alive

wwx: LAN ZHAN NO!

wwx pants a couple of times (bc lwj is putting himself in danger!!) and his beautiful beautiful face twists into a snarl

wwx: jgy, don't go too far.

jgy: is it too far for you already? next i even want hanguang jun to seal his own spiritual power by himself. what would you call that?

wwx's eyes widen like, no, no don't

and we get a shot of lwj who is the picture of grim resignation

he knows that as long as jgy has that garrote around wwx's neck, he will do anything he asks of him, anything at all

wwx protests but jgy just tightens the garrote

lwj sees that happening and immediately locks down his spiritual energy

(side note to say that i really like the sound effects and the motions they choreographed for the "locking of energy" thing here. It’s really cool)

wwx: lan zhan…

WWX'S EYES ARE BRIMMING WITH TEARS AND HE SOUNDS LIKE HE'S HOLDING BACK SOBS

lwj presses his lips into a firm line in response

THIS ALL IS GIVING ME ANXIETY AND KEEPING ME ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT

WHICH IS STUPID BC I ALREADY KNOW WHAT HAPPENS

BUT HERE I AM, FREAKING OUT ANYWAY

oh and now there's a convenient thunderstorm TO SET THE MOOD I GUESS??

jgy is like, hey guys let's move this inside so we don't get rained out. no worries, if you do what i say i totally won't maim and/or kill you

cut to inside the temple

creepy breeze? Check

eerie candle lighting? Check

highly contrasted cool colors vs warm colors? Check

jgy also likes his classic villain tropes, it seems i wonder if he and xy compared notes on that...

jl is sitting next to lxc, clutching his sword

meanwhile lxc keeps his eyes closed like maybe if i refuse to see what's happening, it'll make it not be happening!

Which, hey, we’ve all been there!

okay, maybe not this exact same scenario, but still! Totally a valid coping mechanism, probably.

and on the other side of the room we've got our boys sitting shoulder to shoulder against a pillar together

wwx: lan zhan, you don't have to do this. that year....you owe me nothing

Aka, it’s not your fault i died. You don’t need to atone for anything!!!

lwj takes in his words for a moment

lwj: i don't think i owe you.

he says it so seriously

wwx: so why did you do that??

lwj looks over to him

lwj: it's what i should do.

BC THEY'RE SOULMATES AND HE LOVES HIM

AND WWX SMILES THAT LITTLE PINCHED SMILE OF HIS

some mood-setting stuff happens

you know, creepy wind slamming open doors, blowing out candles, that sort of thing

oh, there's a knock on the door and FUCKING SU SHE APPEARS BC THINGS WEREN'T HORRIBLE ENOUGH ALREADY NOW WE GOTTA DEAL WITH HIS UGLY MUG TOO

huh, he's got an unconscious nhs with him

wow he just drops nhs on the ground like a sack of potatoes, rude

blah blah evil plotty exchange between evil master and evil subordinate blah blah

blah blah emotional confrontation between jgy and lxc that idc about blah blah

ugh gross now su she is approaching wwx and lwj and is talking to them all smugly condescending

i want to hit his face with a brick tbh

LOL

WWX AND LWJ ARE NOT AMUSED

wwx just rolls his eyes and lwj looks off to the middle distance bc this insect is not worth his time or attention lololol

god that chip in his shoulder that he's got for lwj is really getting annoying

ss: i just can't stand his attitude, as if he's better than everyone else!!

idk about “everyone else,” but he's definitely BETTER THAN YOU, YOU GREASY LITTLE COWARD

lol wwx gets offended on lwj's behalf (bc lwj has yet to acknowledge su she at all)

wwx: when did lan zhan say he was better than everyone else?

awwwwww!! lwj sneaks a glance at wwx when he starts to defend his honor. that's so cute!

wwx: iirc, in the great big book of lan fam rules, there’s one that says "don't be arrogant and prideful"

AND LOLOLOL MY BRATTY SON CONTINUES TO BE A BRAT OF A TEENAGER EVEN IN THE MIDDLE OF ALL THIS DRAMA

jl: how do you know the principles of gusulan so well?!

wwx frowns all sulky and taps his nose adorably

wwx: i have transcribed it so many times that i memorized it.

jl: why did you transcribe the principles of lan??

WWX GETS ALL DEFENSIVE AND IS ARGUING WITH A TEENAGER WHILE THEY'RE BOTH BEING HELD HOSTAGE LOLOLOL

wwx: do you think it was my choice? that (and here he glances at lwj from the corner of his eye and lwj is side-eyeing him and it's hilarious) was my punishment

jl: shame on you!

he says it all haughty and adorably irritated and turns his head away sharply. it's GREAT

After that, wwx is going on about how lwj has had that indifferent expression on his face his whole life and he can't really help it, it’s not bc he’s snooty or whatever ss thinks

and he continues to blabber on in that way he does

ss gets all mad and moves to strike him with his hand

and quicker than a blink of an eye, lwj puts bichen (still sheathed) between wwx and ss

He glares at ss like, just try it, i dare you! and doesn't put bichen down until ss lowers his hand

i would like to point out that ss still relented to lwj even tho lwj HAS NO ACCESS TO SPIRITUAL POWER

BC SS KNOWS HE'S A WORTHLESS NOBODY AND LWJ COULD DEFEAT HIM EASILY EVEN WITHOUT HIS RENOWNED CULTIVATION SKILLS

as soon as ss backs off, wwx runs his mouth again, i love it

There’s a bit where wwx says, "i'm not afraid of death, i just don't want to die"

which i guess is some kind of word play in their native tongue? Idk

wwx goes on to explain it but idgi; either it doesn't translate well or i'm not bright enough to understand it, lol

anyway, this all culminates to ss drawing his sword to kill wwx for being annoying

BUT HE GETS INTERRUPTED BY JC'S EPIC ENTRANCE

ZIDIAN CRASHES OPEN THE DOORS AND SENDS SU SHE FLYING

WE GET SOME SHOTS OF POURING RAIN AND A BLOODIED UMBRELLA

A SHOT OF JC’S HAND WRAPPED AROUND SANDU

AND THEN AN OUT OF FOCUS SHOT OF HIM IN THE RAIN

FOLLOWED BY A SHOT OF THE FLOOR ON THE ENTRANCE WHERE WE SEE HIS SHADOW SLOWLY GROWING LARGER AS HE MAKES HIS WAY IN

THIS IS SUCH A COOL SCENE OMG

SLOW MOTION CASUAL SAUNTER ONTO THE SCENE

AHHH, SO COOL JC SO COOL

lwj does not look impressed lolol but you can tell wwx thinks it's pretty neat

(not that he'll ever admit it bc you never admit those sort of things to your little brother, LOL)

jl is so happy to see him!

jl: uncle!

jc: you're calling me now? you know how to call me now? why did you run away a while ago?

and jl looks away with that yeesh expression kids get when their parents start in on their scolding lectures

THIS ALL CRACKS ME UP BC IT'S NOT THE TIME OR THE PLACE FOR THAT SORT OF EXCHANGE

JC JUST BARGES IN AND STARTS TELLING OFF HIS NEPHEW LIKE THEY'RE NOT ALL TRAPPED BY AN EVIL MASTERMIND

oh here comes fairy AND WWX IMMEDIATELY CLINGS TO LWJ'S SHOULDERS

wwx: lan zhan!!

lwj calmly lifts his arm so wwx can cower behind his billowing white sleeve

LOL

jl is commanding fairy to bite ss and as wwx is cowering, he's ALSO encouraging fairy to bite ss

(which really just means that, while wwx will probably never get over his phobia of dogs, he might eventually be able to get used to fairy maybe)

lol ss goes running with fairy hot on his tail

then we cut to wwx who notices how he's clinging to lan zhan's outstretched arm and gets embarrassed

he gently pushes the arm down and gives it a pat and smiles bashfully at lwj

IT'S ADORABLE

fun fact, this scene is the reason i started watching the show, i saw a gifset of this little exchange here and was like, THAT'S AN ADORABLE SMILE ON THE MOST BEAUTIFUL BOY IN THE WORLD

IT’S SO CUTE HOW THAT THE GUY IN WHITE LET HIM HIDE FROM THE DOG LIKE THAT. I HAVE TO WATCH THIS NOW.

and now some henchmen try attacking jc and jc whips them away with zidian and is generally just looking AWESOME

then lxc warns him about the Evil Magic Music

so jc's solution to that is to grab a random sword with zidian and chuck sandu into zidian and then scrape the two swords together?? to block out the music with super irritating noise, i guess???

lol even lwj is wincing at the racket

you know what, i'm gonna ignore the weirdness of this makeshift solution and just enjoy how cool zidian looks

now jgy is monologuing at jc and it's boring

lol, wwx leans over to lwj while that's happening

wwx: seriously, he talks like xy

he is not impressed by it lololol

both jc and jgy hear him and give him a Look and wwx puts on an innocent face

jgy starts picking at jc's emotional wounds and complicated brotherly feelings

jc starts getting defensive and snappish

lxc: don't answer him. he's good at talking.

so at least lxc is learning from his mistakes here, that’s good!

jgy switches tactics and starts in on wwx and his complicated brotherly feelings

but wwx responds with, hey man, i already know jc hates me so that isn't gonna work

oooooh, now jgy is revealing how he heard that jc was running around lotus pier asking ppl to unsheathe suibian

wwx's eyes get all wide and surprised

he throws a desperate look at lwj

wwx: my sword? didn't i give suibian to wn??

lwj doesn't answer but wwx realizes that he hasn't seen wn carrying suibian lately

and he starts frantically asking lwj how suibian ended up with jc and why the heck would jc ask others to draw suibian

wwx: has he drawn it by himself??

pretty sure he knows the answers to all those questions and is basically asking lwj to tell him his suspicions aren't correct

lwj: wei ying, calm down

jgy notices wwx's reactions and pushes on bc he's found a weak spot and he's def gonna exploit it

he's like, oh yeah, i also heard you were able to draw suibian from its sheath, jc

wwx's face is full of dread as he realizes what happened

he starts blinking back tears and he's getting all shaky bc this is his nightmare unfolding before him

FUCKING JGY NEEDS TO SHUT UP

HE'S DREDGING UP ALL OF JC'S INSECURITIES, AIRING THE YUNMENG BROS TRAUMA FOR ALL TO SEE

I WANT TO THROTTLE HIM

he gives jc a sarcastic bow and keeps picking at those wounds

wwx jerks forward as if he was going to try to shut up jgy, but lwj holds him back bc honestly, what was wwx going to be able to do anyway?

jc staggers back as if physically wounded

wwx's eyes are red with tears bc this was never supposed to happen

AND I'M JUST HURTING SO MUCH FOR MY YUNMENG BROS

jgy chooses this moment to attack and now we have a sword fight

we get a shot of lwj and wwx here

wwx is squirming in his seat like he wants to intervene but knows that he can't

Lwj is keeping a close eye on wwx, ready to stop him the moment wwx tries to sacrifice himself for jc (again)

in the middle of their fight, jgy suddenly flings his sword right at lwj!!

lwj tries to raise bichen but it's not gonna be quick enough

jc sees this and dives towards lwj and manages to block the sword

lwj looks at him in shock, which is understandable bc jc doesn't even like him

he could've totally just let that sword slice him in two and been guilt-free bc hey he's in the middle of a life or death battle himself, you know?

but he didn't! he took the time to protect lwj

For his efforts, he gets wounded (like mortally wounded) and now he has another reason to hate lwj lol

Anyway, jc can't do much now except channel all his spiritual energy into the wound so he doesn't, yknow, DIE

wwx is watching him with worry

here comes su she, all bloodied up

lol looks like fairy was able to tear into him a bit. what a good doggy!!

now i guess the henchman were able to finish digging or whatever, WATCH HOW MUCH I DON'T CARE ABOUT THAT NONSENSE

Let’s check in on our boys instead

wwx and and lwj share a look

and all i can think is omg look at how close their hands are, if they each shift just a couple inches they'd be holding hands!!

LET MY BOYS HOLD HANDS

But no, we're going to have an emotional discussion instead

wwx: did you know about it?

lwj gives a very reluctant nod

wwx: when did wn tell him?

lwj: while you were knocked out

also omg they're having this conversation and jc is literally only 3ft away

HE CAN HEAR YOU GUYS, YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT?

wwx: that's how we left lotus pier??

lwj: wn is very sorry about that

look at lwj being a bro and sticking up for wn!

wwx: i've told him time and again to never speak of it

jc: never speak of what?

and here they seem to realize that yeah, hello, everyone can hear their conversation

they look at jc all surprised

*facepalm* guys, guys, i get that you both get a little wrapped up in each other sometimes, but c'mon

AND THAT'S THE END!!

SO INTENSE, SO STRESSFUL

But we still got quality times with our boys, and some fun times with jl and jc, so i guess that evens the scales!

Return to Masterpost

#WangXiantics #wangxian #the untamed #cql

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icharchivist · 3 years

Note

hello icha!! i finally got around to finishing the stranger haha,, by which i mean i just watched it today. was veryyyy excited for it as i really like the poster design for this one. anyways. this event starting w/ the sort of portrait format or whatever / that narration is like. god. threw me right back to autumn troupe. I kind of love that the storytelling format itself is so distinct for autumn! the moment I realized it was omi I started getting teary… like oh man oh man… omi…. And the connection with him taking photos! ahh!! now that I think about it… omi kind of seems a bit like early version tsumugi, huh? also I keep forgetting this man is a college student lol. suspension of disbelief I suppose. onto the play i think like. mankai should invest in a fainting courch for tsuzuru. i also went to watch the play and 1) im betting yuki had a hell of a time costume design wise like the vines on the body? such fun costuming wise and 2) the ethical implications of whatever this play has,,, fun fun. tsuzuru was clearly having some kind of thoughts. i love zeros design and am always up for a3 characters crossdressing bc 1) i think its fun and 2) the costume design. i also dearly wish this whole thing was animated bc I feel like it’d be o fun to see taichi act as zero. or at least I hope this event gets full voiced one day... moving on to the scene where omi adds soy sauce to the paella I know it’s just like haha homare funny so lets five him a lil bit but like everyone in autumn troupe making their comments on the paella and like homare just jumping in. homare autumn troupe besties. just thinking. also the way they just r like. no no no omi it’s fine if u made a mistake!! it’s ok! we like it (you) anyways <3 it’s got it’s own special taste. something something omi’s perfectly pleasant as he is now but even if he weren’t on his a-game and was dealing with all of the biker gang stuff they would love him just as hard. another thing that got me was omi telling banri that he’ll give him something sweet so juza will stop grinding his teeth in his sleep… guys… guys you’ll give him cavities…. mb omi is a college student after all lol.

anyways when i saw the actual costumes. appreciative of them, i like the lil circuit-esque detailing on banri’s outfit, and that sakyo and taichi (nine and zero) both share that like collar detail? its very symbolic and probably also literal but its a nice way to sort of signify their relation to each other visually! also sakyo just looks nice. seeing him without glasses is so great. whoever thought up the like two mole detail for him was doing gods work.

something that confused me was ryo mistaking juza for nachi for a split second? like. does juza… look similar to nachi? or was it just that ryo only heard juzas voice and made that mistake. if it’s appearance wise too. kumon nachi confirmed. I’m joking lol bc I feel like I would’ve heard at least something abt it in one of the like small conversation comments, plus that doesnt seem like itd fit summer troupes style and kumon is for sure the wrong age… but still.

i really like how for this event, the roles for taichi and omi were kinda reversed. and taichis just so like. idk. smiley. rly lifts ur spirits. its kind of nice how this event contrasts to that cg where taichi is crying on omi. I also think like. idk. considering the story of the stranger. wolf gives zero a sense of purpose and life and I think that zero helps wolf lose his apathy. it’s about “the stranger” and the ending makes him like… not a stranger, right? because he’s got a companion. in the same way, taichi brings omi out of his emotional isolation. the picture taking! also the stickers coming back… thats such a good setup! the found family of it all!!

when he was trying to work out zeros character as soon as taichi mentioned a sharp speaking style I KNEW it was Yuki… yuki would never be as honest as zero is though lol… to me i imagine she’s got a sort of juza internal monologue feel? anyways. the taichi yuki dynamic intrigues me. havent yet decided how I feel abt it but when I do… yes. sorry that I make literally no sense. I think it’s very obvious that yuki is my fav chara kind of? I’m just. hmmm it makes me think! I’ve been monologuing to myself abt the yuki and juza dynamic lately which, to my a3 knowledge so far, doesn’t exist, but its ok bc I’ll make it exist! uhhh anyways this event was very good i liked the pacing. i think it didnt drag too hard and it really properly honed in on just omi and taichi, which was quite nice. they really did a lot for just an event!

time to listen to the event song,,, ok so. ah. i rly enjoyed just for myself it was very much to my taste so. out of curiousity i was like ok lemme look up the composer / producer AND IT WAS YUYOYUPPE....... that guy is like!!!! one of my FAV producers ever!!!!!! i know him from like. his vocaloid days and god leia is still one of my fav songs to this day...! this knowledge gives me so much joy omg!!! like wow!! wowwww!!! like i knew yuyoyuppe was out there doing other stuff (i know he worked on a lot of babymetal music which is cool) but like idk. to suddenly encounter it like this. heheh.... its so nice! made me soooo happy. going to relisten to leia now haha

WAIT ONE MORE THING. i was like "haha let me look at other songs i remember liking a lot" which. for me was rakuen oasis and don't cry. anyways. rakuen oasis is ALSO by yuyoyuppe???? oh my god!!! oh my god... sigh. feel like im in heaven.

OH HI FRIEND!! so good to see you with an a3 update!! :D

godd yeah The Stranger started so strongly and the idea to still incorporate portraits in his story was really something to make us cry!

And linking Omi and Tsumugi like this is pretty interesting :O <hat is your reasoning exactly? :O

For the fainting couch for Tsuzuru LMAO and i'm letting you know there's a webcomics that addresses it in Act 2 (hough there's no spoilers aside from the fact Chikage is here)

Im glad you liked the costume and the play!!! yeah i love the designs and it is always a blast to see them this into it, and yeaaah Tsuzuru has thoughts huh. It'll get voiced sooner than later hopefully and there we'll see more in details :3c but also that's what made the seiyuu live so fun bc they perform the songs in play cosplay and replay a bit of the play everytime and it's *chief kiss*

HOMARE AUTUMN TROUPE SOLIDARITY YES. LOVING IT.

And yeah the scene itself was so cute TwT they all want to reassure Omi and be there for him it's so sweet :( but yeah i love how you say it all, Omiimi TwT

and dLKFJDFLKJFDFD Giving Juza cavities is the price to pay for sleep i guess??

yeah agreed on the costume they all look so cool! and nice catch on how those three seem linked like that with their costumes, Yuki (and the designers) does such a good job! and god yeah for Sakyo.. yeah. He has sucha good design dLKJFDF

aND DLKFJD yeah no Juza is supposed to look like Nachi physically, but mostly his face? like i think Nachi was had green hair? we see a sprite of him in a future story, and yeah, everything is in the eyebrows. so Kumon should be safe? Omi mentions he sees a lot of Nachi in Juza, and while it is mostly due to their passions i think, the fact they're also rough looking guy with a heart of gold must play a part as well. but yeah, he does look like Nachi a bit.

and i love your deeper analysis of the event yeah!!

I feel like Taichi is really an emotional core of the troupe in the sense that is, he tends to catch on what others are feelings easily. And he uses it in the early chapters to ease off the tensions and stuff, but he was being held back by knowing he was deceiving them. So now that he's more free, he can be more of himself. but yeah i also love the contrast with how Omi was the one to help Taichi through his breakdown and guilt, and now it's the other way around, it's Taichi helping him through it. and the parallelism between the play and their dynamic is spot on imo! well said!!

and god yeah the sticker things made me cry sO HARD, and the pictures! and everything!! sobs it's such a sweet found family i'm going to cry :(

And! i love what you say about Yuki, Taichi and Juza on this one. I love that Taichi keeps bringing it back to "that childhood friend" and it's always like. so obvious who it is for us rip. But it can make you wonder if Yuki was more honest as a kiddo when Taichi knew him, though now he's clearly not. I love the mention of how Zero is more like Juza's internal speech (which, if anything is another argument about why you should let Juza wear a dress, cOWARD)

but also your mention of the Yuki and Juza thing, while i can't think of them having a dynamic per se yet, but i actually wrote a post during my reread about how i was baffled at the fact they treated Muku the same way?? like both of them tried to push Muku away because they were scared of how people would react if they say pure, sweet Muku was associated to them. And i find it fascinating because i guess those two are pretty aware of how the world see them, and it used to stop them from fully allowing them to be themselves.

I also find it relevant with the fact Yuki says in his personal song that while all of this way people judge him weight on him, he rather be himself, and "I want to love myself". Meanwhile we have Juza who's also aware of the way people judge him and it weight on him, and he wants to change himself from this person he hates, this self loathing - and in a way, he can grow in a way to be "someone" he may not hate, even on stage. I feel like those two have quite a bit in common in this way of being rejected by their peers in some sort of way.

I really want them to share some stuff at some point because there's really a groundwork on it all :(

But i'm really glad you liked that event!! agreed on the pacing and i do love what it brings to the characters! it really fleshes them out and have them move forward a little and it's pretty sweet.

AND OMG THAT'S SO COOL FOR THE SONG!! i'm so glad you liked it, but that's incredible it turned out to be from one of your fav producer!!! ahah sometimes life is like that where you end up finding the stuff you loved back into new stuff! and the fact Rakuen Oasis was from him as well... that's so cool!!! just, so so cool!

im pretty sure he has more songs going forward so i hope you'll enjoy the ride even more!!

thank you once again for sharing your thoughts about a3 :3c it always makes me so happy to see them!!!

Thank youu <3 have a good day :3c

#ichareply #ichafantalks a3 #sonnets of beauty #long post for ts

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violetpeso · 3 years

Text

new book update! If u want to see the original post on it here is the link:

Ok so first of all characters. I decided violet is going to look like me:

Her best friend is going to be named leslie like MY best friend @l-peso and is going to look like HER:

shoutout to miss leslie toe she is pretty as fuck. Ok so continuing — I gave my book a WORKING TITLE. This may not be the final title but I felt like I should have something to call it. The working title is Serendipity Says. It’s referring to the clairvoyant, whose name will be Serendipity (as of now). What she says happens, so, there you go. Serendipity says.

serendipity — the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

ex. “a fortunate stroke of serendipity”

Actually, it’s kind of perfect because it’s kind of symbolic of how violet meets casino boy (who I now named axle) by chance which leads to him sacrificing himself for her in the end. It’s funny, because I didn’t try to find a word that would fit like that. I was just like hmm what should I name my book and then literally out of nowhere my brain was like “serendipity says.” What’s crazy is that I didn’t even know what serendipity meant (although of course I recognized the word). I searched it up and was like woah this actually fits PERFECTLY. Wow maybe I should keep it as my final title actually but we’ll see.

Ok so in other news I figured out why she goes to Vegas. So by the end of chapter one she finds her mother dead 🤭🤭🤭 and she kind of loses her marbles and goes to the bank pretending to be her mom and withdraws all of her mom’s life savings — let’s say $30,000. She then goes over to Leslie’s house and is like ayo we gotta get the fuck out of here NOW. So Leslie’s family is basically a bunch of deadbeats so they just take her family car and dip. They don’t rlly have a destination in mind, but they just kind of end up in Vegas. The first major scene in vegas will be when violet meets serendipity the seer. So anyways in the casino w Axle:

So before I continue let me just say that serendipity gives violet some kind of charm and she’s like “keep this for good luck” or smth like that. It’s rlly important to violet bc she knows serendipity is the real deal bc 1. What she said abt her life was accurate as FAWK like frighteningly accurate and 2. She moved the tarot cards over without touching them on some freaky shit. So yea after they sneak into the casino violet leaves the charm somewhere w her stupid ass and while she’s looking for it the guards spot her and they’re like u gotta leave bc she’s underage and shit duh. But she’s like no I can’t I can’t my charm thingy!! (Idk what it will be yet). So they’re like trying to drag her out and she’s screaming and shit and this is where Axle comes in. He’s basically like let her go it’s ok blah blah. Ik how sweet. So he’ll find her charm thingy for her but he won’t know why it’s so important to her obviously. And yea like I said in the original post violet ends up betting all of her $30,000 bc of some coincidences that happen to match up w what serendipity says blah blah it’s in the original post if u wanna see what I’m talking abt. So yea I’m p sure this will like put her over the edge and make her lose every last marble she has left. For some reason or other she stays in Axle’s room for the night and like breaks tf down bc she’d been running from her moms death this whole time but it finally catches up to her. And yea that’s part of the romance I just love putting girls through trauma and having guys witness that shit I gobble that shit tf UP as u can tell

So leslie is basically the badass friend. Her family situation has always been shitty so she’s rlly pessimistic and like idgaf type beat. Violet is the opposite. She’s rlly optimistic and happy go lucky and la la la u feel me. BUT that’s until tragedy strikes and she finds her mom dead and she loses all her marbles. Then their roles are kind of switched, and leslie becomes the more normal one here.

Ok so back to the title violets arc will be like after her mom dies she kind of loses her marbles and shit yk but by the end she’ll realize that there’s still good in the world. After axle sacrifices himself for her, she’ll realize that her mom wasn’t the only one looking out for her. And she still has Leslie and Mr. Homeless. Basically she’ll kind of get her optimism back. Hooray for bittersweet endings!

So basically the point of this post was to say that although theres tons of shit idk yet I’m basically ready to start chapter one. (Not rlly but kind of). Ik that chapter one will be violet and leslie hanging out and then at the end violet will go home and find her mom dead. But idk what they should be doing. As soon as I figure that out I should be ready to start writing! (Or at least prepare to start writing). Hooray!

I’d love to hear suggestions from y’all! Hmu or say smth in the question box! Also as a side note I’d love to beta someone’s work so hmu for that too!

Ciao 💋

tag list: @l-peso @shaelinwrites @violetwrites @justaburnedoutskank @littlebitofwitchery @your-local-book-worm345 @coffeeinthelibrary @vwritesblog @madmaxst26 @amarantine-amirite

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chocosvt · 4 years

Text

⚬ pairing: seungcheol x reader. ⚬ word count: 4865. ⚬ warnings: drinking / smoking. ⚬ genre: mostly angst, fluff, some suggestive/borderline nsfw scenes. a casual life!au? (meaning he isn’t an idol)

✧✎ synopsis: seungcheol knows you’re no longer together, that he should’t be thinking about you as often as he does, and yet, you keep appearing. his heart doesn’t know how many times it can afford to split.

✧✎ a/n: i really wanted to write smth as i work toward finishing that other massive fic. so HERE. bc i miss seungcheol ;-; and idk i just like angst lol.

Seungcheol doesn’t know if it’s right for him to be looking at you like this. It doesn’t necessarily feel wrong, but there’s a distinct craving in his gaze that spots him with doubt. You’re not together any more. The chapter where your lives were once romantically intertwined was coldly shut months ago, leaving little room for reconciliation or even the most surface-level of acquaintances. Yet, Seungcheol is struck with a sudden pining as his eyes inspect you from top to bottom across the room, finding it pure luck you were both at the same new year’s party.

There’s a doorway from the living room that leads into the kitchen. Seungcheol is sitting on the sofa with a jade-tinted bottle in his hand, though the amount of alcohol he’s consumed since first arriving has greatly subsided. He’s too distracted by you to even raise the bottle to his lips, nor does he adequately listen when Joshua attempts a conversation. You’re talking to some people he doesn’t recognize, your eyes rather milky and a shiny can in your hand. He stares at the side of your neck and thinks it would be nice if he were giving you a hickey right now.

“Hey.” Joshua bumps Seungcheol’s shoulder and the boy finally turns his head.

He sees Wonwoo and Hansol as well, who give Seungcheol a warm glance. He notes that Hansol is carrying his signature black lunchbox.

Joshua then leans toward Seungcheol’s ear in order to whisper over the music: “We’re going outside to smoke, you coming or not?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Pass,” he says, “I don’t really feel like it.”

He pays attention to the beer in his hand, titling his head back as he gulps down a significant amount of the tangy, bubbly flavour. It doesn’t taste that good, and the bottle’s not even cold at this point, but Seungcheol figures he should just finish it anyways. Joshua sees you in the kitchen, leaning generously against the sink while you attempt to smile at the strangers who converse with you. It was worth a try to get Seungcheol off the couch and away from lamenting at your lost relationship, but he’s unimaginably stubborn when he wants to be.

“Okay,” Joshua replies, patting his shoulder, “don’t get too hung up or anything.”

Seungcheol watches the small crowd weave their way through the congregation to reach the patio door, the last he glimpses of Joshua being his bright blue hat before he slips into the chilly night. Quickly, Seungcheol polishes off the remaining alcohol inside the jade bottle, heavily swallowing the deep burn that melts down his throat while deserting the glass on the arm of the couch. He senses a distant thrumming in his cranium, knows he’ll regret every sip by morning, but for now he cares so very little.

As he leans back in his seat, Seungcheol comes to focus on the body that’s suddenly standing right in front of him. It’s weird, who would do that? However, the breath instantly whisks from the boys’ lungs when he realizes that it’s not just some intoxicated, fucked up stranger who isn’t even cognisant of what room they’re in. It’s you. You’re standing in front of him, to which Seungcheol poorly hides the stupor that colours his face. Before he can stumble out a single word, you’re straddling his lap and settling your hands against his firm shoulders.

Evidently, Seungcheol doesn’t know what the hell is happening. Neither of you are in a sober headspace. Furthermore, he hasn’t touched you (let alone been this close to you) in almost three months. Out of habituality, he grabs the familiar warmth of your waist, the simple contact with your skin igniting an emotion that was once wholly repressed. Staring into your eyes, he sees how foggy they are. He knows his can’t look much different.

“W-What are you doing?” Seungcheol stutters, his cheeks hot and sunset pink.

At first, you don’t speak, only crack a small smile while wrapping your arms around his neck, bringing your faces in close proximity until you’re practically breathing the same air.

You blink at him heavily. “Kiss me.” You whisper against his mouth.

Seungcheol doesn’t believe he’s capable of ever denying you.

The next few hours seem to seamlessly blend together. Seungcheol remembers the intense make-out that ensued on the couch and the little regard he carried for the environment around him. Once he tastes the sharp liquor from your lips, he completely submits to that catastrophic buzz you give him. Feeling your weight push down against his lap, how your fingertips slip through his soft, onyx hair, the way it feels morally wrong to welcome your tongue into his mouth, but so physically right that Seungcheol can only pull your hips closer.

He remembers the warm, open-mouthed kisses he nipped to your sensitive neck, murmuring in a slurred, gritty tone: “let me take you upstairs, baby.”

Joshua might throw the remainder of Hansol’s stale bong water over his head if he discovered what you and Seungcheol did. Somehow, there’s an empty bedroom available at the end of the dim corridor. After falling onto the sheets, you hastily pull the white top over your head and fling it toward a dusky corner, reaching for Seungcheol as he climbs over top your body. While pressing more heated kisses against your throat, already bruising and marked with indents from his teeth, Seungcheol’s hand rubs a sweet friction between your thighs, right over your jeans.

He hears you release a small cry of his name, your nails dragging down his back.

Nothing has ever made his heart shake more.

ii.

Seungcheol is confused as to what time is it. There’s no alarm clock on the bedside table, and his phone is buried within the pocket of his navy green jacket slumped at the end of the bed. He can’t hear much from the level beneath him. Looking toward the blinds, he can only gauge slits of the night sky. All of a sudden, there’s a sickly coughing noise from behind the shut bathroom door, to which he views a small sliver of yellow light underneath. Seungcheol notes the empty space beside him. He hears another cough, followed by a pained and irritated groan.

Damn – you have to be hungover.

Stumbling drearily out from the bed, Seungcheol brushes away the black strands of hair that flop before his eyes. He almost topples over trying to get his boxers back on. The pounding in his head isn’t unbearable, and he figures he’ll be fine after getting some water in his system and dozing off to a few painkillers. Seungcheol taps his knuckles against the bathroom door.

“Hey,” he calls out, his voice still thick with sleep, “how bad is it?”

There’s a moment of silence. Seungcheol assumes it must feel bizarre to have your ex consoling you through a hangover, especially considering the history of last night.

“I don’t know…” comes your weak response, “I think I’m dying.”

Seungcheol leans his head against the wood and laughs. “You’re not dying, honey. Can I come in?”

The door swings open, and Seungcheol sees you half-dressed in your white t-shirt and underwear, a watery film in your eyes and a look of pure exhaustion draining your countenance. Then, you’re immediately collapsing back to the cold tiling, leaning your head against the side of the bathtub while the toilet sits across from you. This doesn’t feel like an unfamiliar scene. Seungcheol used to always nurture you through your intoxication, and at least this time you possess enough strength to stand without your legs trembling.

“You want me to get you anything?” Seungcheol asks. “Water? A wet cloth? Some pills?”

He doesn’t know where he’ll get the pills. It’s probably three in the morning, but he figures the convenience store in town might still be open.

You swallow tightly and wrap your arms around your knees, the fluorescent lights gleaming against your balmy, flushed skin. It seems as though you won’t look him in the eyes. Seungcheol understands. This isn’t supposed to be happening. Neither of you should be in this bedroom.

A poignant sigh escapes your chest. “What’s wrong with me?” You ask, the water glimmering bright in your eyes. “Why did we do this?”

Seungcheol stiffens. When he catches a glimpse of his body in the mirror, he can read the hazy extent of your night together. The bruises are tinted like cherry and violets, smudged against his chest, his collarbone and neck. Even now, as he really concentrates, Seungcheol can feel the cool air sting dully against his back, which he can only hypothesize is decorated in long, deep scratches that will possibly burn like hell in the shower. His body hasn’t looked like this in months. There’s a clandestine part of him that wishes the marks will never lose their vibrancy.

He doesn’t know how to soothe your conflict.

Instead, Seungcheol takes a seat on the edge of the bathtub and stares down at you tenderly.

“I don’t know,” he replies, “we don’t always make the right decisions.”

You tilt your head back and meet his eyes. Seungcheol’s chest flutters.

For a moment, you look like you want to say something; however, an immediate grimace wrinkles your face and a tight hand is curling around your stomach. You scoot close to the toilet, holding onto its rim while a heavy cough burns acrid against your throat and suddenly, you’re upchucking the potent, venomous liquor from last night. Seungcheol collects your hair in his hand, pulling it back from your face. Once the surges calm for a few minutes, you’re too energy-depleted to do much apart from hang over the toilet, Seungcheol rubbing your back.

It’s three in the morning, but he feels like he would do anything for you.

iii.

Seungcheol opens his wallet and forks out the bills necessary to cover his lunch. He slides out from the booth first, accompanied by Seokmin and Jeonghan who suggested they go out to eat after their basketball game. Seungcheol trails behind them on his phone as they walk down a slim corridor toward the front of the restaurant. He’s texting Joshua about what their fridge looks like, and if it’s necessary to ask Jeonghan about making a stop at the supermarket. The afternoon light is dull as they enter the front house, and Seungcheol sees it’s raining outside.

“Wait—,” Jeonghan stops them before they can leave. “Let me try the gumball machine. Does anyone have ten cents?”

“The gumball machine?” Seokmin laughs. “Are you a child?”

“Shut up.” Jeonghan tuts in response. “I want a pink one. Now do you have ten cents or not?”

“Sheesh, give me a second, I’m checking.”

Seungcheol has developed the skill of tuning out their innocuous banter. He looks through the windows and into the downpour, which ripples unforgivingly against the glass and slicks the pavement. For their sake, he’s glad Jeonghan was able to find a parking spot across the street. As the boy gets down on his knee and crams the small coin into the slot, cranking the handle, something manages to catch in Seungcheol’s peripheral vision. His heart skips a beat. You’re looking out the window while nibbling worrisomely upon your bottom lip.

“Are you freaking kidding? Orange? That’s the worst.”

“Why does it matter?” Seokmin quips. “They all taste the same.”

Jeonghan huffs petulantly. “But I wanted pink! Do you have another ten cents?”

Seungcheol hasn’t seen you since your wicked hangover at the New Year’s party. Though it’s a moment of the past, he remembers the situation so vividly, even more so how restless he felt afterward. He was unable to remove you from his mind, and he thought about you so often that he felt the ache with his whole chest. You haven’t noticed him yet. Seungcheol wants to approach you, though he’s not sure how kindly you’ll react or if you’ll brush him off.

“Awe, yes! Pink!”

Jeonghan stands triumphantly from the gumball machine. He holds the pink candy between his fingers and gets ready to pop it straight in his mouth, and yet, the slippery thing flings from his grasp at the last second. The gumball hits the floor, rolling outside into the rain just as someone runs indoors with their umbrella. Seokmin starts cackling, and Jeonghan just looks like he wants to go home. But Seungcheol can’t leave right now. He decides he has to talk to you.

“Meet you guys in the car,” he says, “I have to do something first.”

Seungcheol taps you on the shoulder. You jump slightly, and he feels bad about scaring you, but he’s relieved to see that your expression is cordial rather than aggravated. It blatantly feels strange. You don’t resemble a stranger, yet you’re not extremely clear to him either.

“Seungcheol? Did you eat here?”

The boy nods. “Yeah, I came here after basketball with some friends”

“O-Oh,” you stutter, looking off to the side, “I’m just waiting.”

You then gesture out the window, toward the grey, heavy rain. Seungcheol spots Seokmin and Jeonghan walking across the street, sporting their jackets pulled over their heads, looking somewhat like imbeciles who he has a soft spot for. At one point you were close with both of them, but now Seungcheol doesn’t even know if you still keep in touch. When you broke up, your worlds started floating apart, and that included contact with each other’s friends.

“Right,” Seungcheol snaps his fingers, “you’re still doing the tutoring thing at the library, huh?”

A timid smile pulls on your lips. “I’m tutoring someone today, but it’s so rainy out. I don’t think it’s gonna pass very soon.”

Seungcheol finds that he doesn’t even process what comes out from his mouth. There’s a sudden rush of giddiness in his veins, and he feels like his nervous, sophomore-self that once crushed on you before your relationship even started. At the same time, it’s an offer he used to make without thought when you were dating, and it warps into a conflicting, emotional mess.

“Do you want my windbreaker?” He asks, plucking at the black and white fabric. “It’s waterproof and stuff.”

Your mouth hangs open for a little bit.

“Uhm… I just—I don’t know, you don’t have to—,”

“It doesn’t matter, seriously.” Seungcheol replies, staring into your wide eyes with a soft expression. “Just give it back whenever we see each other again, okay?”

You lick your lips, swallowing tautly before nodding your head. Seungcheol removes his jacket and helps you slip into the material. It’s a little bit big on you, and the hood droops down far over your face, but, god, seeing you in his clothes engenders Seungcheol’s heart to beat so unbelievably fast. He experiences a concoction of different emotions, different memories. He remembers how it felt seeing you wear his t-shirt after the first time you slept together, how he felt when you’d set up a long distance skype call and you’d be dressed in his old hoodie.

Everything comes rushing back. He doesn’t want to walk away from you, but he knows it’s wrong to linger. You don’t belong to each other anymore.

But at least he’ll get to see you again.

iv.

Seungcheol bounces the basketball a few times against the lacquered floor, feeling the leather texture brush beneath his palm. Then, he takes a deep shot, watching the ball suction perfectly into the hoop just before it echoes against the ground. He was the sole person occupying the gym after a late-night practice. Seokmin was with him about ten minutes ago, but he ended up packing his things and heading off to shower stalls, wishing Seungcheol a goodnight. Even though Seungcheol said he would be leaving shortly, he didn’t know why he was still here.

He picked the ball up and tossed it again, hearing the satisfying swish of the net.

The gym doors suddenly squeak, loud and metallic, to which Seungcheol takes out an earbud assuming that maybe Seokmin forgot something. However, the face that smiles at him doesn’t belong to Seokmin at all, and Seungcheol feels his heart soar. You’re holding the windbreaker that the boy let you borrow during the downpour last week, and he hears a relieved sigh.

“I figured I might catch you here.”

Seungcheol smiles and sets his earbud back in. It astonishes him that you can recall the days he has basketball practice, though Seungcheol supposes it makes great sense considering you used to attend all his warm-ups and games. He grows oddly fond seeing you from the court again.

“Just put in next to that black bag on the bench.”

“I never got to thank you for letting me use it,” you explain while returning the windbreaker to the rest of his belongings, “it was really pouring out, but I was definitely less wet than if I had nothing. I wasn’t too sure if you would still be here. Of course, I knew when I saw Seokmin.”

“It must’ve been weird for him to see you coming back here.” He replies. You would never come to the court unless Seungcheol was there.

“He said hi to me,” you admit, scratching your arm, “he looked kinda nervous though.”

Seungcheol can’t help but note that you seem a little saddened by the interaction. The break-up between you two was all but civilized and pretty. There was shouting, tears, bitter and cold words shanked through the thick air with infinitesimal regard for the other’s feelings. Seungcheol remembers you pushing a picture frame of you two together off the shelf, how the glass cracked, different shards scattering far across the floor. He remembers storming into his bedroom and throwing all your clothes into one heaping pile, demanding that you leave, swearing that he hopes to never see you again. Now, everything feels so pointless and stupid.

The falling out crumbled an entire web of ties between you. Seungcheol understands why Seokmin would be nervous to see you, but he hates to know how it’s upset you.

“Hey,” Seungcheol calls out, attempting to lift the depressive mood, “Wanna shoot?” He bounces the basketball.

You immediately tense. “Uh – no. I haven’t touched a basketball since we were dati—I mean, well – you know. I haven’t played at all.”

Seungcheol smiles, rolling his eyes. “Just come here.” He beckons. “I’ll remind you.”

“I-I don’t know, my friend is in the car. I shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“It’ll take two minutes.” He reasons. “I promise.”

The boy is delighted to see you comply, even if you are hesitant and approach him with bleeding apprehensiveness. While he shows you how to hold the ball as well as the correct motion to make with your wrist, there’s a smile blooming from one corner of your mouth to the other. Sometimes the past feels exactly like it should: the past. At this moment, a warmth ignites between you two, a spark that feels passionate and ever-lasting. Once he gives a few examples, the ball is suddenly in your hands, and he watches brightly as you sink a basket.

Seungcheol collects the ball, smirking. “You wanna play?” He then asks, checking the ball straight into your chest.

“No,” you respond, sending it back harder, “you know I just said I have someone waiting.”

“It hasn’t been two minutes yet.”

“There’s probably thirty seconds left. We have no time.”

“Fine,” Seungcheol shakes his head, “be a loser.” He doesn’t wait for you, and flicks the ball through the hoop.

It hits the glossy wood, bounces a couple times, and proceeds to roll slowly across the ground. You look at Seungcheol, and Seungcheol looks at you. There’s a small moment of silence.

Until you’re both racing across the floor with arms extended, practically throwing yourselves toward the basketball. It just ghosts under your fingertips, and somehow you manage to secure it against your chest, though you’re unable to even rise from the floor as Seungcheol straddles your waist and attempts to whack the ball out of your grip. The chime of your laughter echoes loudly through the entire gymnasium. You’re too slippery and end up weaseling away, scrambling haphazardly to your feet and using your last breath to sail the ball toward the net.

Seungcheol is too late. He reaches for you, but the ball has already gone through.

As the boy wraps his arms around your waist and hugs your back against his firm, hard chest, you cry out triumphantly, pumping your fists in the air. To anyone who observed from the outside, you wouldn’t exactly paint the image of a broken relationship. You were laughing, celebrating, making harmless mockery pertaining to the other with stupid grins on your faces.

“You’re such a cheater.” Seungcheol says.

Wriggling to face him in the comfort of his grasp, you slide your arms around Seungcheol’s neck and scrunch your nose.

“How did I cheat? That was fair!”

Seungcheol grabs your hips tight, pulling you in close against his body until he can almost count the individual sparkles in your eyes and smell the sweetness of your hair.

“Uh? You said you weren’t gonna play.”

“I wasn’t!” You giggle. “Until you called me a l—,”

The metal doors squeak again. At the speed of light, you and Seungcheol detach from each other, the playful mood disintegrating as the girl who’d been waiting in the car comes looking for you. Seungcheol sees the light drain from your eyes. He watches your shoulders slump, and the deep lump you forcefully swallow upon being interrupted. Seungcheol is utterly disappointed too. His heart doesn’t quite beat the same when you bid him the tiniest, quietest goodbye before running over to your friend, apologizing to her for the unexpected wait. The doors rattle once more, and then the gym is completely empty. It stings worse than anything.

Seungcheol doesn’t understand why he can’t just have you back.

It’s sometime after ten-thirty when Seungcheol finally leaves Hansol and Wonwoo’s house. It’s not a long walk back to his miniscule apartment complex crammed in the middle of town, and he loves to soaks in the calm beauty belonging to the clear, star-speckled sky. He only went over to smoke after a tiresome day at his job, but he ended up staying much longer after Wonwoo revealed his game console. They took turns playing Portal and Grand Theft Auto. It was fun, a perfect way to unwind, and now Seungcheol is ready to wash up and go to bed.

He’s wearing his earphones while walking through town, listening to old songs that remind him of you, a playlist actually, one he started making before you were even together. No matter what happens – Seungcheol is always thinking about you these days. He misses you in a way that aches deeply, like his heart has been split in two by a sharp and jagged stone. In fact, while standing at an intersection, waiting for the light to glow in a walking man symbol, Seungcheol almost mistakes someone sitting at the bus bench across the street for you.

A moment passes, and he squints through the meagre lighting. Wait—that is you.

Your gaze keeps flitting nervously from the lurid phone in your hand to the dimly lit area that surrounds you. Your knee is quickly bouncing, and Seungcheol can sense at a distance how nervous you’re feeling. He doesn’t know why you’re sitting alone in the dark, but he can’t just leave you there. Instead of walking his usual route back to the apartment complex, Seungcheol approaches you, calls out your name softly as to not make you afraid. At first you respond to him with a moonfaced expression, but then you recognize his face and your heart quiets.

“Everything okay?” Seungcheol asks, taking out his earphones.

You gulp thickly and reflect a jittery smile. “Um, kinda. My boss made me stay late for closing. I tried texting my friend to pick me up, but she’s not responding.” A frozen breeze rifles through the air and you shiver. “I-I just, I don’t want to walk home alone.”

Seungcheol doesn’t hesitate to extend his hand.

“C’mon, I’ll take you.”

A grateful smile warms your face. Standing up from the cold bench, you grab Seungcheol’s hand and interlock fingers. Your address is still fresh in his mind, to which he easily navigates the streets with you beside him. At one point, a loud dog starts barking from a few blocks over and you nearly jump out from your own skin, though Seungcheol just slides his arm around your waist, gently pulling you further into his solace. He feels you instantly relax against him. An indescribable light fills his chest. To be able to make you feel safe, like he used to, it’s aweing.

“This is it, right?” Seungcheol asks upon approaching the house porch. He knows it’s right, but he waits for you to confirm it.

“You’re right.” You tell him in a tiny voice.

His hand grazes the small of your back as you walk up the steps together, stopping before the door and its weathered, white paint. A bitterness stings against Seungcheol’s throat, a truly horrible bitterness. He doesn’t want to say goodbye – he wants to stay. He wants to take you inside and wait on your bed as you get ready for the night. He wants to experience that beautiful fluttering in his stomach when you crawl into his arms and shut off the light, his hand stroking your spine as you fall asleep, your soft, slow breaths fanning against his neck.

Why does it have to hurt like this? Seungcheol hates that he’s so in love with you, but he’d never want it any other way. Even if he has to endure this pain, it’s better than never getting to know you, touch you or love you. He swallows the hot salt and gets ready to bid his goodbye.

“Sleep well, okay? Maybe I’ll see you agai—,”

Suddenly, you’re hugging Seungcheol. Your arms wrap securely around his waist and you bury your face in his neck. He takes a slight step backward, caught off guard by the blitz of affection. He hears you suck in a trembling breath, and then he feels wet, cold droplets slide against his skin. Instantly, he holds you, one hand dearly cradling the back of your head while the other passes up and down your back. You shake in his arms and he doesn’t know why. Seungcheol just hugs you tighter. If he has to, he’ll hold you for the entire night.

“S-Seungcheol,” you release his name in a sob, lifting your head from his neck. His heart beats wildly as he looks directly into your teary eyes. “I’m s-sorry.” You cry to him. “I-I’m so sorry…”

“What?” He cups your face, collecting a few thick tears with his thumb. “For what, honey?”

“E-Everything,” you hiccup, grabbing his waist tighter, “for the st-stupid fights, the p-picture, all those h-horrible things I yelled at you – I hate my-myself because of it.”

Seungcheol shakes his head and brings your face in closer to his, brown eyes glistering. “I don’t care about that. I don’t. I said horrible things too, sweetheart. I yelled at you, I told you to leave, I made you so upset, and I know exactly how you feel.” He rubs his thumb tenderly below your damp eye, and you ease into his touch. “But that was a different time. No matter what, I’m still in love with you. What happened months ago doesn’t change that. I promise.”

You sniffle back the new pearls that nearly stain your face.

“Really? Y-You still love me?”

Seungcheol leans in. He presses his forehead against yours, his fingers delicately framing your wet, warm cheek. And then he’s kissing you softly, pouring every ounce of his heart into the contact. Your hand curls around the back of his neck. You respond passionately, keeping him as near as possible, nipping gently at his bottom lip while stealing each other’s breath. Seungcheol peers directly into your gaze. It’s glassy from the tears, but also sincere and welcoming.

“I never stopped.” He says earnestly.

He feels your fingertips thread through the black silk of his hair. You kiss him again, and his grip finds the familiarity of your hips, leading you backward until you press against the door.

“I love you too.” You admit to him between every peck.

In the rising heat, you whisper against the boy’s pretty mouth, “I want you back,” to which the words engender Seungcheol’s heart to positively melt. Seungcheol knows you already have him. It doesn’t take long before you’re unlocking the door with the key beneath an ancient flowerpot. You hop into his arms, and Seungcheol catches you like it’s nothing, sitting you on top of the corridor dresser while his kisses wander further down your neck. Every whimper he hears turns him fonder. You admit again that you love him and he smiles against your skin.

Seungcheol will always need you. He hopes he always has you.

#svt scenarios #svt fanfic #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #seungcheol angst #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #svt smut #s.coups scenarios #TIME TO CRY!

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