Ash And Cinders L.s.m.

ash and cinders • l.s.m.

Pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader Genres: smut (minors dni!), angst, royalty!au, fantasy!au, gods/goddesses!au Warnings: magic, mentions of blood, war, cruelty, tyranny - all that good stuff, mentions of religion (au-specific), violence (i.e. suggestion of murder), (death) threats, and possible gaslighting 💃🏻 which just means a minor power play between them at first okay 😬 i promise it's not that bad lmao i'm just paranoid, lots of making out, oral (fem. receiving), lil bit of temp play tbh, little bit of choking, uh I wrote this so long ago and just finished it so lmk if i forgot anything?? it's just basically me attempting to write prettily uwu WC: 4.24k A/N: soooo, this has been rotting in my drafts FOREVER!!! but yeah seokmin is my most darling, favorite boy i've ever stanned anyways ofc i couldn't help but use his elle magazine photos (yes that's how long this has been ROTTING) ahhhhh - ahem anyways this goes hand-in-hand with Mischief Maker so definitely recommend checking that one out too! heheh <3

He only stayed during the night.    

When the blanket of darkness covered even the moon with a hazy layer of clouds, leaving tiny twinkling stars for a traveler’s guide. The fire once dancing in the hearth dwindled down to scarlet embers barely emitting enough heat to fill the large quarters.

Not that it mattered.

Even as you lay naked amidst the silken sheets strewn upon the grand bed, the thought of your lover’s return alone was enough to engulf your body in a flame of burning anticipation that settles and simmers between your legs.

He had been gone far too long. A lengthy patrol around the surrounding territories had taken him away from your embrace. Although every morning the sun’s rays tickled your face as a sweet greeting and bathed you in a radiant light through the day, nights without him were by far the worst.    

Cold.    

Lonely.    

Dark.

On usual accounts, it was a grievous crime to keep the queen waiting. But you would forgive him for anything, wouldn’t you? It’s exemplified in the way he bursts through the doors without so much as a courteous knock that even your most trusted servants must abide by, water droplets dripping from his auburn bangs.

Despite the eagerness to see you as soon as possible, he refused to step foot into your chambers when reeking of blood after fierce combat and soiled with dirt from travel. You always protested. The gilded throne you reigned from, the heavy crown upon your head, and even the bed you shared — all were built upon those very foundations. But your lover insisted on only showcasing the glorious side of things to you.

The gold.    

The diamonds.

The luxuries.

All which adorned you by day. Glowing, glistening, and shining. Gems and jewels, fabrics woven from the highest quality quickly reduced to layers that only became a hindrance once it came time for his descent upon you. For you were absolutely beautiful clothed — this he very well knew — but when your whole body was bared naked for him and him alone? You were truly the definition of divine.

Those who dared to speak ill of you tried to foster ridiculous claims. Critical of the wealth in your possession. Mocked what they presumed was a lack of ambition. Wailed that you were a witch. A young monarch on an undeniable downfall to tyranny, one that would lead them all to hellfire and ruin.

Anything to validate that you were not worthy of the royal seal emblazoned across the lands in honor of a valiant leader with a royal bloodline still running through your veins.

Hypocrisy at its finest when you were the reason that they were bestowed or able to retain property linked to their names, money in their pockets, and a legacy to live by under your prosperous reign. Arrogant to cast down the very thing that elevated them to their current standing. But their greed would eventually come back to bite them. One day.

Even the religious sect whispered lowly, hidden in the shadows of the grand temples. Doubts that the king actually held a shred of affection for his partner — if the seldom visits seen visiting your chambers only when night falls were of any substantial evidence to go by. That he only lay with you out of duty, shackled and bound to an imposter who was never a faithful servant to the gods like they were.

Because not one of them truly believed that a god could ever favor, let alone love, a human.

You knew you were a savior to as many as you were also an enemy. A hindrance and a threat. A bold refusal to control or be controlled. There was nothing more to do other than lead your people as fairly as you judged. 

All the preposterous assumptions infuriated him — your devoted knight, unorthodox husband, and scandalous lover. But he manages to temper his fiery rage out of respect for you. Behind your ruthless, steely intent is a righteous and kind heart that always calls out for him, now fully vocalized and embellished by the sweet voice he's missed hearing dearly.

“Seokmin,” you murmur, grasping his warm hand once he's within reach.

An entity of many epithets with an existence worth a millennium beyond comprehension and full of worship. Yet his favorite phonetic combination he'd ever heard was the one that fell breathlessly from your lips. The closest the human tongue could get to a god’s true name. And his second favorite would be yours, the syllables rumbling in his chest like a song and you smiled in contentment.

He was back, he was home, and he was yours.

Even in the darkness, Seokmin glowed. The ethereal radiance surrounding the broad expanse of sinewy muscles easily proved his lofty status as the great god of the sun. But it was also his eyes, flickering with the unmistakable presence as one of many deities. The kind of power that has managed to refrain from turning you into ash and cinders.

Whether it's attributed to your resilience, a ruler born to stand out and lead, or an entirely different reason — or a mixture of all — Seokmin isn't really sure. He's not the first to appear in a human vessel nor the last, with at least twelve of his known brothers wandering the mortal world for various reasons.

He wonders if he's the first to bow his head willingly, though, holding back his more devious and destructive tendencies. To pay back tenfold the worship he's received since the beginning of time all to you — a mere human — yet nonetheless, his queen.

The event of swearing his undying fealty feels like it was yesterday. For a being that persists forever, it may as well have been that short ago. Every memory he etches and sears into his mind for eternity consists of you, and only you.

How could he forget? How was he supposed to bury away the confident smirk that graced your lovely lips? Would he ever not recall the first time he bent the knee in such desperation? Not for a trick or as a dark seduction that tumbles into a dreadful demise, a conquest for carnage, and an abuse of his powers. But instead for the good of humanity — however short of an era it may be.

And maybe… for more. One that his heart fears to admit, for it does not beat within his chest, but in a plane beyond the reach of mortals.

"Would you kill for me?"

"For you, anything," the god affirms. "I have laid waste to kingdoms, countries, empires, and even continents themselves. There is nothing I'm incapable of."

"And if I asked you to behead the entire entourage that has traveled with you?"

"… If it is what you will, then it is simply my command to follow. For you, I am a lone knight at your disposal."

Silken skirts flare out as does your anger when you turn away from the large windows in the tower's tiny excuse of a throne room — hardly fit for the heir — showcasing a brief flash of the lethal dagger strapped to your thigh. "Do you wish for my downfall before I've even risen to the throne? You expect me to be a tyrant, despised by the people I am meant to save? To lead?"

"Do you think I, a god, care what thoughts others conjure up in their silly little minds? I am to act on your behalf, get my hands dirty in lieu of you. No matter how morbid your desires may be."

Stepping closer, you lift his chin with the tip of a dull sword intended to be ornamental. But it may be even deadlier than the one hung at his side, metaphorically sharpened and honed by a rebel princess's innate rage. 

His little show of bowing means little with the way he stares straight at you without a shred of respect in those galaxy-filled irises. However, it is the mighty sun god who is taken aback by the hellfire burning in your gaze, hungry and powerful enough to rival his own as you scoff.

"I will show you what kind of queen this land needs, the methods we will follow, and the morals I wish to uphold. You will learn in order to understand them and enforce my will. Not only to help guide the vision I desire but to keep me accountable lest I stray. A critical misstep such as that is when I'll ask you to cut me down. Will you swear to do that for me?"

"… You dare question a god of what he can do? Your tiny, impudent human mind couldn't fathom a sliver of my capability."

"I dare to question what you can't or won't do."

"I told you, there is not a thing beyond my realm of —"

"Leave."

"… Your Highness?"

Painted lips curl in a snarl at the first address of your proper title since his arrival. "Begone, I said! Return when you feel like acting like the god you are, not simply a tool to be harnessed and used at will. Until then, I have no need for you."

Seokmin's jaw drops as you seat yourself back on the throne with a sneer and flick of your wrist for the guard to usher him out.

A challenge. 

He's been abandoned many times. Discarded and tossed to the side once his usefulness has been expended. He's left before betrayal can even be thought of — for no one points a blade at a god's back — but never has he been rejected.

It was only the beginning of how you would become many of his 'firsts' and all of his 'lasts'.

Seokmin is lost deep in the memory even with the feeling of your lips curling in a gentle smile against his — a stark contrast to your initial meeting. A nail grazes his chin, digging lightly into the skin to fully bring the god back to the present. 

You'd be offended by the habitual spacing out if he hadn't admitted to only getting lost in thoughts of you. Something he'd picked up during the routine patrols away. Though you strive to bring the god out of dwelling in the past when you're sitting right in front of him — the present — and deepen the kiss.

Yet he pulls away to tilt his head. "Do you remember what you offered to me?"

"Have I not offered you my all, my king?"

Charcoal lying dormant in the hearth flares back to life, emitting playful sparks when he chuckles. "After I returned to pledge my loyalty to you."

"Ah, even though I had you wait outside the gates for five days."

"Unfathomable for a god to hang around at the whim of a meager human, isn't it?"

"Meager?"

"To me? Yes." 

His warm exhale of amusement feels just like the breeze that fondly brushes your cheeks every morning despite the eternal humidity. It may very well be him because no matter how far away physically from you he is, Seokmin's essence radiates in every sunray that stretches across the grand skies and below.

He is everywhere and everything all the time. But he is here with you tonight once again, kissing the palm you'd placed on his cheek. With mischief flickering like a teasing flame in his eyes, the god brings your hand to his throat, encouraging you to splay your fingers across his Adam's apple.

You free yourself from his light grasp to run them ticklishly up and down the bumps of his vocal cords. The movements of swallowing ripples beneath the light scratch of your nails until he halts you by replacing a veined hand over yours and murmurs, "Squeeze."

"Ah — but I…"

He repeats it again louder when you fail to do as asked, not even daring to move a muscle. Simply staring in almost awe-filled hesitation until he guides you to tentatively do exactly as he states, "You would have done anything to strangle me back then, what has changed?"

"… You know what."

"Tell me," he says it like it's a command, eyes brightening and swirling with an authoritative amber hue though it's all in jest. "Tell me what it is, my queen."

Never one to be deterred, only Seokmin could render you motionless for so long. You do as you're instructed, the gentle pressure applied by your hand around his throat causes auburn eyelashes to flutter. The slight restriction to an airflow that isn't all that necessary for a god's survival has his eyes rolling back before they re-focus on you, half-hidden by hooded eyelids.

"Love," you murmur. For it is the answer to everything, is it not?

"Love," is echoed with a resounding voice that doesn't fully come from the tongue of the man beneath you, but bellows out from an otherworldly essence that surrounds the entire world and beyond. And at the same time, he speaks it so fondly because ultimately, he's addressing it as a title for you.

The god of the sun, as immortal as he might be, has died before. Mortal vessels manage to persevere for a fixed number of years and a feeble human body can only endure so much wear and tear. Yet Seokmin's soul still shines steadily onwards despite the memory of death over and over again lingering… and he unsurprisingly realizes that he wouldn't mind dying like this — by your hand. 

Was that love? 

But the amount of power, energy, and time, along with the unpredictable wiles of the creator would never guarantee him returning to you. Preservation of this human shell was of the utmost importance, the first time he's ever handled a vessel with care before.

Perhaps that was love.

Rather than be swept up in unpleasantries, he entertains the amusing thought of how much fragility you exercise with him. Having already released your grip far too quickly and instead, fiddle with the untied laces on his loose shirt.

"Love," he repeats, this time as a call in a raspy drawl of his own voice. 

"Hm. Or maybe it was… pity."

An eyebrow raises and the corners of Seokmin's mouth twitch upward. "Only my queen would dare to pity a god."

"It was for what you were. And who you weren't. I despise those uppity, repetitive displays of unwavering loyalty that either party can easily discard."

"Like the former king's imperial court."

"Yes." 

Your angered hiss is exactly the same as the first time you informed him of your plans to take down your father and his cult. The disgust and rage have barely ebbed even after all the progress made for a better future and as many years that have passed. 

Seokmin scans your expressions. He's always admired your spitfire that could rival his own flames. But in times when it burns long enough to possibly exhaust or hurt you, he worries. You're strong — he knows that — so many times he simply becomes the safe space where you can seethe aloud without interruption. 

"Would you rather grow dull and be poisoned because someone is not even worth keeping an eye on or the thrill of unpredictability? A constant sword dance that keeps each other on their toes, never deviating gazes from one another."

He smirks. "That sounds familiar."

You think back to earlier days with him. A stubborn royal and an even more stubborn deity. When did the challenging, pointed glares at one another change to simmering looks of desire?

Instead of your swords tangling together in an angry clash over a small matter, it was your tongues after a heated sparring session. How condescension switched to respect to something more passionate… more primal… more intimate.

"Perhaps so. But look at you now — look at how you shine."

His skin indeed glows a bit brighter as he melts further into the soft touch of your palm returning to his cheek. Thumb tracing constellations between the pair of moles on his cheek while your other finger follows the nearly invisible scar below his eye.

"Little blemishes," he had once told you, "even the body of a god bears its flaws after fighting on a battlefield."

You thought they only made him all the more perfect.

"And look at how I've fallen."

As if to demonstrate his murmured words, Seokmin moves at the speed of light — his normal pace — to lie on his back, umber strands of hair spread out like flames of fire against the grandiose bed's silken sheets.

Somehow, he'd positioned you on top of him. Much accustomed to the tiny displays of omnipotence here and there, you remain unbothered. Affectionately, you brush back his bangs. Fiery wisps of hair that seemingly move on their own accord with the amount of power that ripples through their thin fibers.

He might just be the most powerful among his fellow deities and you could wield all of that as your own because he sits obediently in the palm of your hand. Lays dociley among your silken sheets. What he's trying to prove to you — the hold you have over him — immediately enthralled under your spell as you play with his locks and softly whisper, "You're Seokmin. My Seokmin."

Despite your bare chest quite literally in his face, the god waits. Fully clothed in soft linens where he can feel every tempting pulse thundering in your precious mortal body on top of his. 

And still, he waits. 

His hands don't even reach out as you unlace his shirt. Though he has wrecked and ruined your body in a thrillingly sensual, blistering, and passionate heat of love-making before, tonight he gives himself over to you. Vulnerable and all yours for the taking, watching with faint amusement as you impatiently urge him to shed the rest of his garments.

"My queen."

"My king."

"There is no rush. We have all of eternity."

"Do we?" you breathe out and look him in the eyes as your fingers dance along his inner thigh. "Or is it only you, divine ruler of the everlasting dawn and never-ending night?"

"My graceful moon," Seokmin sighs and distracts you from grasping his weeping shaft, urging you to straddle his legs. You follow his will despite the object of your desires lying neglected between your bodies, coating your stomach in the molten saltiness that drips from it.

"My stars, my sky, my galaxy, my universe." Each title of affection is seared into your skin with a burning kiss to brand your body. Your cheek, your ear, your neck, your shoulder, and your hand. "Without you in it, the world ceases to exist."

"My sun, my warrior, my knight, my shield, and my sword." You repeat a version of your own display of worship and what he means to you — mimicking the same actions across his lithe body. "My love, it would do you good to live in the present with me. Must you think of a dire future so soon?"

"Each inhale of life thus returns an exhale of death. I dread every moment that brings me closer to your end."

"Such morbid thoughts you carry, my darling. Where is the fearless god that took a poisoned arrow to the heart and pulled it out without so much as a flinch?" 

"You think me weak when I'd take the blow of any weapon as long as it does not harm you."

The irony when you'd both been struck by invisible, non-lethal darts fired from the god of love's feathered bow. But the terrifying memory of Seokmin taking the assassination attempt in your place causes a rare, but true, fear twisting in your gut. The flash of life before your eyes changed the trajectory of your tactics and your relationship with the god. And as always he reassures you with what he knows to be the truth — for the most part.

"Nothing can hurt me as long as you're alright." 

"Then make me your goddess in return so that I will be invincible enough to protect you from harm's wrath too." 

"But that… you know I can't," he whimpers, "no matter how much I long to." 

A tear trickles down his cheek, crystallizing when it falls. Like many before and well after, all bodily fluids of the god will be found transformed as various tiny diamonds and gems. Tangled within the bedsheets the following morning as they always are and stored away in the queen's treasury.

Seokmin cries, not just at his frustrations, but at how you gingerly hold his hot and hardened length. Heavy in your palm that rubs and strokes it lovingly before sinking down with practiced ease, having already stretched yourself out earlier while waiting. Undulating your hips in slow, controlled circles that make him dizzy with desire. Your words pierce his chest, paining him like no sword that sliced him open could ever compare.

"If fate will not let it happen, then bury me in the ground so I can thrive beneath your warm rays that whisper sweet nothings. Let me smile up at you after winter passes while I bloom brilliantly through spring and long into the heated days of summer. Weave my soul among the stars so I may greet you in the morning and kiss you goodnight every evening. Scatter my ashes into the windy gusts of the north and down the silver rivers flowing south so I may laugh and dance in the skies alongside your sunbeams."

He sobs at the poignant emotional tug of your words, every poetry waxed by your breathy voice punctuated by a tantalizing undulation of your hips. You reassuringly clench around him, foreheads and bodies pressed together, hands clasped tightly in each other's grasp.

The god's chest heaves and the mountains on the eastern border shift to the left. Sometimes the air cools when this occurs but tonight, it shimmers and glistens as if straining against his commands. A hot wave that threatens to distort the very seam of reality itself. 

"I will always be yours," you kiss the corner of his trembling lips, "and you mine, my darling god."

"My sweet goddess, my everything… my love."

Seokmin's hips buck up anxiously and you let him lead the pace. Wild thrusts take over as he chases that high, wanting and needing to take you over that peak with him. Your body lays prone against him, along for the jostling ride as the god seeks his own pleasure through and with you. Praises and worship fall from his lips, never failing to be in awe of how your cunt molds and works his cock like a blacksmith shapes an iron rod yet he can bully it as he wants to fit him. Only him. 

You were made for the god of the sun.

Golden ichor thrums through his veins, lighting his skin in flashes like the sparks of embers. He's beautiful. Otherworldly. Your lips capture each glowing pulse of godliness that erupts beneath his flesh with a tender peck. He's all yours.

And he was made for you.

When Seokmin plunges into your welcoming warmth that is his alone to claim before he finally succumbs, it's blinding. On the other side of the earth, the sun shines a little brighter. A harsh glint that already emits a sweltering heat from its fiery nature flares even hotter in the blue sky. A blessed priestess looks up in contemplation, waving away the worried maidens who tend to her every need.

You feel his large hands — one presses in a bruising hold between your shoulders, the other on your lower back. Keeping you flush against him, holding your body to his while you welcome inside the scorching spurts of his seed within your womb that feel like lava. Your walls flutter around him and he basks in the feeling of them pulsating as you jerk your hips 

"Come," he begs out. It's loud and resounding. More of an instinctual command if anything and your body almost obeys unwittingly, unaware of his intent before he lifts you up with inhuman strength and clarifies, "Up here," and sits you on your rightful throne — his face, "where you deserve, the queen of queens. My queen. My love. My goddess."

He laps at you like a dehydrated dog. Both cleaning you up and creating an even bigger mess. Your thighs squeeze tightly around the sides of Seokmin's head, one hand tugging harshly at his hair and the other mercilessly wrinkling the silk bed sheets. His moans are sweet songs of praise but muffled as he sucks his release out of your cunt only to push it back inside with his tongue. The addition of globs of spit accompanying the still-hot, smeared mess causes your own sounds to grow much louder, writhing on top of him from the sloppy sensations.

Back and forth he repeats this a couple of times, the firm point of his nose stimulating your sore clit in his efforts. And finally, you come undone — spasming on top of Seokmin's chin and suffocating him just like he likes. Breathing and drowning in your essence, the very elixir of life.

"I shall make you mine," he whispers later, dutifully laying your deliciously aching but clean body onto freshened sheets. Your lover is ever so attentive, rarely nearly needing the same amount of aftercare he showers upon you.

For he is a god from the heavens to bestow blessings upon his desired mortal.

"I am already yours."

"But for all of eternity, it shall be so."

Satiated and content, you reach for him. He lovingly takes your hand and presses a kiss to the tip of each of your fingers. "How?"

"The Mother. She's the closest thing we have to the Creator and might be older than the universe itself. There's nothing she doesn't know so I'm sure she'll have the answers I seek."

"Must you leave so soon?"

Seokmin smiles as he pulls the sheets over your shoulders. "The sun never fails to rise, my dear. I will be back before you know it bringing with me tidings of great news."

"I'll be waiting."

Your shared kiss is soft and gentle. Sweet and full of sentiment. Indeed, you always wait for him and the sun god leaves with a full heart of hope. Little does he know, and little do you suspect, the true one lying in wait was the shadowed figure holding a poisoned dagger beneath their cloak.

And so, with the death of a queen so loved by the god of the sun… the prophecy begins.

onlyseokmins: September 2024 ©

Heartbreak Hotel | prologue.

“Every single day is dreadfully boring when working at a hotel in the middle of nowhere. That is until an enigmatic guest arrives, seeking not a room nor directions, but to hear stories about your past relationships.”

one | two | three | four | five

Genre: anthology, romance, smut Pairing: SEVENTEEN Hip-hop Unit x Reader Warnings: mature themes Notes: 2k words. 1 of 4 parts. Listening to Heartbreak Hotel by Tiffany Young. This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

“This place is the worst,” you muttered for what felt like the hundredth time today, releasing a long sigh. Complaining wouldn’t change anything, but it became a habit—one that had kept you going for the past six months. Every month, you swore you’d quit after getting your paycheck. And yet, here you were, still stuck at this hotel in the middle of nowhere.

No one asked you to take this job. In fact, your friends and family had tried to talk you out of it. But you’d accepted the promotion to concierge after four long years of work, eager for the new title, even if it meant moving away from everything you knew. At first, you thought the distance wouldn’t matter. A month in, you were already regretting it.

If it wasn’t for Elena—the 58-year-old branch manager who’d smugly told you that you’d quit like everyone else—you might’ve walked out weeks ago. But you had your pride, and leaving now would feel like admitting defeat.

Your eyes drifted to the tall grandfather clock in the hall, and you felt a small flicker of relief. Your shift was almost over. Though you didn’t have much to look forward to in your quarters—maybe a movie on your laptop or some mindless scrolling through your phone—anything was better than sitting in the dead silence of the lobby.

Another sigh escaped as you leaned your head into your hand, eyes drifting shut. Just as you started to relax, the sharp sound of knuckles rapping against the wooden counter made you jolt upright.

“Yes!” you stammered, straightening your posture as you met Elena’s stern gaze. “I wasn’t sleeping. I was just… resting.”

Elena’s disapproving sigh said it all. “You’ve got two more hours left in your shift. Get it together. Someone’s coming.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you replied, forcing a smile you didn’t feel.

As if on cue, the front doors swung open, and in walked a man in a sharp navy-blue suit. He glanced around, squinting slightly as he adjusted to the dim lighting of the lobby. The sun had just set, casting the room in shadows. Behind him, the bellboy followed with his luggage.

The man’s gaze fell on you so suddenly it caught you off guard. You quickly straightened up, flashing a polite smile. He raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment as he approached the desk.

He placed a hand over the wooden counter, looking not at you but at your nameplate. When his gaze flitted back to you, he said your name with an inquiring tone.

“Yes, that’s me,” you replied, still smiling. “Would you like to book a room for the night, Mr…?”

“Choi Seungcheol,” he finished, his voice smooth but distant. “And no, I’m not here for a room. I’m here to ask how much it would cost to book your services for the evening.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “Excuse me?” you managed, the words coming out sharper than you intended. You fought to keep your composure, waiting for him to explain himself.

“I apologize,” he said quickly, holding up a hand in a gesture of peace. “I didn’t mean to offend you. I can see why that sounded inappropriate.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving him a chance to clarify.

“This might sound unusual, but I’m in need of company for the evening,” he said carefully, as if searching for the right words.

You rolled your eyes, dropping any pretense of politeness. Crossing your arms, you responded coolly, “You’re in the wrong place, sir. We don’t offer that kind of service. But if you drive about half a mile north, I’m sure you’ll find plenty of places that do.”

“It’s not what you think,” he said, his tone steady but firm. He reached into his coat and pulled out a card, sliding it across the counter toward you. “I’m not asking for anything inappropriate. I just need someone to talk to. We wouldn’t be in a room—just here in the lobby, or perhaps the bar, if you prefer. And I’ll pay you by the hour. Just tell me the rate.”

You eyed the card but didn’t pick it up. “Why me? And what exactly do you want to talk about?”

“I’ll explain everything once you accept my offer,” he said, his eyes steady on yours.

“We’re done here,” you told him, pushing the card back to him. He was some CEO of a company you’d heard of but unfamiliar with.

“Fair enough,” Seungcheol replied, pocketing the card and pulling out a different one—this time, a credit card. “I’d like a suite please.”

You took the card, checking him in quietly. After handing him over to the bellboy, he left with a polite nod. “Thank you,” he said, his tone once again reserved, before disappearing down the hall.

The rest of your shift passed in a blur. After clocking out, you went to your quarters for a quick shower and a nap. When you woke, it was 9 p.m., and your stomach growled, reminding you that you still hadn’t eaten.

You threw on a sweater and left your quarters, heading toward the employee pantry by the hotel restaurant. You ate with two other staff, talking quietly and laughing at some jokes.

“Here comes Leo!” said one of your coworkers, nodding at the pantry door where the hotel chef just walked in with a tray.

“Anyone in the mood for seafood pasta?” Leo grinned, setting the tray on the table.

“Cooking up the hotel’s stock again, Leo?” you teased lightly.

“Not at all,” he defended with a playful shrug. “A guest ordered some, so I made a little extra.”

You chuckled. “Right. Does Elena know?”

Leo waved his hands in mock horror. “I don’t do this all the time!”

“Relax, Leo. She’s just teasing,” another coworker said, laughing.

“Yeah, don’t sweat it,” you added, standing to clear your plate. “I’m heading back. Enjoy the pasta.”

“Leaving already? Sure you don’t want some?”

“I’m good, thanks,” you replied with a wave as you left.

The halls were quiet, as always, the soft hum of the air conditioning the only thing breaking the silence. As you made your way downstairs, you found yourself thinking about Seungcheol. His strange request lingered in your mind, replaying like a bad dream.

Why would a guy like him be asking for company? Doesn’t he have friends?

You shook your head, dismissing the thought. Just another eccentric rich guy who thought money could buy him anything. But even as you told yourself that, the way he'd said it kept bothering you. He hadn’t seemed sleazy or inappropriate. Polite, even. There was something else to it, but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

When you reached the lobby, you paused at the sight of Seungcheol sitting on one of the plush armchairs near the large bay windows. He wasn't looking at his phone or a book. Instead, he stared out at the dimly lit hotel grounds, hands folded, deep in thought. His navy blue suit from earlier had been traded for a more relaxed outfit—a simple gray sweater and slacks. He looked different. Less intimidating. Maybe even…lonely?

You frowned, realizing you had slowed your pace to a near stop, watching him from the shadows. Should’ve gone to a therapist, not here, you thought, reaching the bottom of the stairs.

You were half tempted to just ignore him and go on with your night, but something kept you rooted to the spot. What does he even want to talk about that he’d pay a stranger for it?

Your thoughts drifted back to your earlier frustrations—six months stuck in this place, no real connection to anyone, no escape from the monotony. Maybe that was why his request bothered you so much. You had your own share of unspoken things too.

Before you could change your mind, you took a deep breath and approached him. Seungcheol must have sensed your presence because he glanced up just as you stepped into view. His expression shifted slightly—surprise, maybe?—but he didn’t say anything, waiting for you to speak first.

“So,” you began, folding your arms across your chest defensively. “About your earlier request…”

Seungcheol raised an eyebrow, but his posture remained relaxed. “Yes?”

You shifted your weight, hesitating. “Look, I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing here, but what exactly do you want to talk about? You said it wasn’t anything inappropriate, so mind explaining it to me?”

He studied you for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. Then, with a slight nod, he gestured to the seat across from him. “I understand your hesitation. Please, sit.”

You hesitated for a moment before sitting down, making sure to leave some space between the two of you.

Seungcheol leaned forward slightly, folding his hands together. “It’s really quite simple,” he began, his tone calm and measured. “I need someone to talk to. Not just anyone, but someone who doesn’t know me, who has no preconceptions. I’ve found that… strangers have a way of seeing things differently. Offering perspectives you wouldn’t get from friends or family. I thought you might be that person.”

You frowned, trying to understand. “Why me, though? I’m just some hotel concierge.”

He smiled faintly. “That’s exactly why. You’re just a concierge of a faraway hotel. You’re disconnected from my life, from my world. You don’t have an agenda.”

His explanation made sense, in a way. “And what exactly do you want to talk about?”

Seungcheol paused, his eyes flickering with a hint of something deeper. “Relationships,” he said quietly. “Your past relationships, to be exact.”

You felt your body tense. “Why? What does that have to do with anything?”

He sighed softly, leaning back in his chair. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately—about life, about love, about the choices we make. I’m not looking for answers, just… perspectives. I thought you might be able to offer that.”

You stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide if you should just walk away. But something about his sincerity, the way he spoke about it, made you pause. 

“Alright,” you said at last, feeling equally nervous and curious. “I’ll tell you. But I’ve got questions too.”

Seungcheol’s expression softened. “Ask away.”

You crossed your legs, leaning back in your chair as you studied him. “What do you get out of this? Why go to all this trouble just to hear about someone else’s love life?”

He smiled slightly, though there was no humor in it. “Let’s just say I’m trying to understand something I can’t quite figure out. And sometimes, the best way to understand yourself is through someone else’s story.”

His words struck a chord with you, though you weren’t entirely sure why. You nodded slowly, still unsure where this conversation would lead but feeling oddly compelled to continue.

“Fine,” you said, exhaling. “I’ll bite. Where do you want me to start?”

Seungcheol leaned forward again, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. “Start with the one you think about the most.”

You tilted your head a little, thinking. You’d had your fair share of relationships, but when he said that, the first name that came to mind was…

You glanced back at him. What exactly did this guy want to hear? Why were you even considering sharing something so personal with a stranger? Yet there was something about his calm patience, the way he wasn’t pushing—just waiting—that made you want to say more.

“Will I be hearing opinions and judgments from you or are you just gonna sit and listen?” you questioned, suddenly hesitating at the thought of being judged by a stranger.

“Unless you ask for an opinion, I’m just gonna sit and listen.”

You hummed. “Alright then. Do you know someone called Kim Mingyu?” You hadn’t said that name out loud in a long time, but suddenly, there it was, slipping through your lips like it had never left.

Seungcheol shrugged. “Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Good, because he’s the kind of jerk who never knew what he wanted.”

To be continued in [Backburner]

---

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳𝔦

pairing: lee jihoon x female!reader genre: historical au, fluff, angst, smut (later routes), supernatural members: choi seungcheol, wen junhui, kwon soonyoung, jeon wonwoo, lee seokmin, kim mingyu, boo seungkwan, lee chan, hong jisoo, xu minghao, choi hansol warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, major character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical inaccuracies for the sake of plot progression word count: 20k

taglist: @reiofsuns2001, @lovrehani, @hipsdofangirl

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳𝔦𝔦

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 7𝔱𝔥, 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Sometime after the incident between Jihoon and you, you begin to move northward, back to Hanseong. Nearly a month after its liberation from the Goguryeo forces, the Hwarang settled on a private estate just outside of the city’s walls. Youngmin had been reluctant to return to the battlefields, but after several conversations with Jihoon, he’d become convinced otherwise. 

Until the preparations to siege Pyongyang were in place, you would be set up in Hanseong to train. Hansol had gone to a town some ways south to train in Tang weaponry with one of Wong Kunhang’s assistants, Hao Chujun. Seungcheol and Soonyoung had left with the Fury Corps along the naval route to Bakjak as they were not permitted to travel to Hanseong. 

“Do you know where the Gukseon Kwak is?” A voice calls out to you, and you turn to see Kim Dohoon standing there, his eyes wide. 

“I think he’s reading in his room,” you have to think of when you last saw him. Weight shifting from foot to foot you try not to look concerned, “Is something the matter?” 

“It’s nothing in particular, but…” There’s a peculiar expression on his face you can’t quite grasp. “I can’t shake this worrying feeling like he’s lost the will for us to fight again since the last time we were here…” 

“Hmm…” You purse your lips, “I don’t think that’s the case. I can’t say that he’s completely lost his will to fight.”

Dohoon is hesitant to respond as he stays quiet, eventually speaking again, “You’re probably right, huh? I mean, Commander Lee is still giving his all for him. I’m sure he’ll return to his old self soon enough.” With that, Dohoon quickly scurries off, racing back into the depths of the manor. 

As you watch him, you can’t help but let his words sting you a little. Youngmin certainly had lost some of that ambitious fire he’d always had in his eyes as of late. If he wasn’t holed up reading in his room, he’d spend time in solitude out in the garden. Yet, you hold on hope that his confidence had deflated only a little after the battle in Hanseong. 

Prompted by the meeting with Dohoon, you decide to pay the Chief a visit a few hours later. 

“I’ve brought you some tea,” You say quietly as you slide open the door. Youngmin sits behind his desk, nose buried in a bound novel, and he greets you with a smile. “What are you reading?” 

“Oh, this is Jemangmaega,” he lowers the book, closing it but saving his place with a scrap piece of parchment. “A collection of poems but more critical than that if one reads further into the text. I practically know them by heart now, but with each time I reread them I find I learn something new.”

“When I was younger I wanted to be just like Kim Yushin– he fought for others, more so than just himself,” his grin lasts for a moment before fading, “But I suppose dreaming about being a great commander doesn’t just make you one… I wish I realized that a bit sooner.”

“What are you talking about?” You tilt your head, “You’ve only just begun.” 

“... How’s Jihoon?” He asks, not seeming to have heard your prior statement. 

“I think he’s in his room writing something.” You state, “Probably writing orders for Hansol, he’s off with Hao Chujun in Kyeju, you know.” 

“Ah…” Youngmin sighs, “I keep giving Jihoon so much to do.”

“I don’t think he’s pushing himself too hard,” you say quickly, “And nothing makes him happier than being able to help you. That’s just the kind of guy he is.” 

Youngmin chuckles at that, “You’ve turned out to be quite a page to him, haven’t you? I think you know him quite well by now.” 

“You think so?” You feel your cheeks warm at his certainty. “That’s right… I was supposed to be his page, wasn’t I?”

“To be truthful, I never thought that you’d be with us for this long…” Before you knew it, the two of you had begun to reminisce about your time in Seorabeol. Back then, you never could have guessed where fate would take you. There have been constant challenges, but you thought that’d you’d eventually return to your lives in the capital. 

“I know things will work out. The Commander will get us through this.” 

Youngmin responds with a melancholy laugh, “Don’t you think you’re asking quite a bit of him?”

“... What do you mean?”

Before Youngmin has any time to answer, the door opens with a snap, Wonwoo and Jihoon briskly walking inside, their faces tense and drawn. 

“We have to go. Now.” Jihoon says sharply, “The place’s surrounded.” 

“There’s two, maybe three hundred of them out there. We came in through the back so they wouldn’t see us,” Wonwoo says solemnly.

“If it were only twenty or thirty then we could take them… But we don’t have time to call Hansol and his men. Guess we’ll have to come up with something here. You two take Youngmin and go on ahead,” Jihoon says quickly. 

“What?!” You speak up, “Not even you can take on that many people. And it’s still daytime…” 

“A majority of the soldiers out there are archers,” Wonwoo says as both you and he move toward the door in an effort to block it should Jihoon try to get out. 

Youngmin, having been in quiet contemplation since their arrival, speaks out, “You needn't do that, Jihoon. I’ll go and have them take me to their headquarters.” 

“What the hell?!” Jihoon shouts out incredulously, “You might as well just paint a target on your chest!” 

“I won’t introduce myself as Kwak Youngmin of the Hwarang, of course,” Youngmin sighs as he rises to his feet, “I’ll tell them that we’re soldiers here to just secure the location. At any rate, it should buy you enough time to get away.” 

While you and Wonwoo lay shocked into silence, Jihoon doesn’t relent, “Listen to yourself! You really think they’ll let you waltz in and fuck with them like that?! You know how they work! There’s no way in hell that those bastards don’t hate our guts! They won’t believe that shit about us being soldiers for a second!”

“Well, even if I do get captured, I have the status of a Lord. They can’t just kill me.” 

“You have got to be kidding me.” Jihoon’s face is a near vibrant red at the moment, “You think they’ll give a shit about a title you have from the Kingdom they’re against?! You go out there, you’re signing your death warrant. You really think I’ll just let you do that?!” 

No matter what the Commander yells at him, Youngmin’s expression doesn’t change. 

“I’ve made my decision. Nothing you say can convince me otherwise.” 

Jihoons fists begin to shake by his sides. In all your time with the Hwarang, you’ve never seen either of them act like this before. 

“No! No! What the hell are the Hwarang going to do without their Chief?!” Jihoon shouts, “You’re coming with me even if I have to knock you out and drag you along! You have a responsibility to the Hwarang! You don’t get to die and run away from that!” He’s screaming at Youngmin, his white knuckled fists now gripping the front of the other man’s robes and his eyes red with held-back tears.

Yet his fury and pleas break across Youngmin’s impassable calm like wind against a mountain. 

“This is a direct order!” Youngmin says sternly as Jihoon’s hands drop from his robes, “You will go to Kyeju to meet with the rest of our men. The two of you will accompany him as well.” Jihoon stumbles back a step or two at the force of Youngmin’s voice. 

“You’re going to tell me what to do…? What the hell is this?!” Jihoon asks near incredulously. 

“Aren’t your Chief’s orders absolute?” Youngmin asks with a tilt of his head, “You’ve ordered men to kill themselves, or to become Furies from disobeying that rule. Are you somehow an exception? Is that the sort of warrior you want to be?” 

Jihoon says nothing. 

As long as he’d been commander, Jihoon strove to lead by example. He lived by the O Gye and demanded that others do likewise to groom the Hwarang into true warriors. There’s no doubt Youngmin had counted on that fact. He meant to do it to keep Jihoon alive.

Youngmin looks to you and Wonwoo, stepping a few paces in your direction, “I want you to leave with Jihoon. If you take too long, they’ll attack and my surrender will mean nothing.” He gives you two a small shove to get you moving, Wonwoo turns to look at Jihoon.

“Commander… Let’s go.” 

He only stands, chewing his lip, until Youngmin lays his hands on his friend’s shoulders, giving him a warm smile. 

“Hey, Jihoon… Let it go. Let me go.” Youngmin says softly, “You’ve run yourself ragged trying to earn me the status and fame that I wanted. You even turned yourself into a Fury… It kills me to see you do all of these things for me… I’m not worth it.”

Jihoon doesn’t meet his friend’s gaze, he instead blinks rapidly, trying to hold back tears, and stares desperately at the floor. Then he swallows the lump in his throat, his voice tight and strained when he speaks, “I– If I do this, then what have I been fighting for all these years? I became a warrior, served our Kingdom… I won numerous battles and killed men… All because I thought you’d be there at the end with all of us…” 

“I’m sorry,” Youngmin’s voice reflects the softness of the other’s, “I brought you here, I did this to you. Thinking back on it, it was all sort of a dream. We weren’t real warriors yet but we strapped on our swords and went to work.” His voice is warm, but that seems to make it even more difficult for Jihoon to let go.

The room is still before the commander speaks, “Jeon… Send a message to our remaining men. We need to secure an escape route.” His gaze then falls to you, “Stay here. Once we’re ready, I’ll come get you.” 

“Okay,” you nod quickly. And with that, Wonwoo and Jihoon leave, and Youngmin and you are alone once more. 

“Take this with you,” Youngmin says as he begins to reach for something in his robes. After a moment, he hands you a small cloth bag, it clinks as it rests in your palm. 

“What is it?”

“Money. To help you escape. I wasn’t able to do anything for you. This is a token of my appreciation, for all you’ve done for us. Please, take it.” His warmth still lingers on the fabric of the bag, you feel a lump rise in your throat. “You still have time. I’ll tell Jihoon. Once you get away, go somewhere safe and look for Doctor Namekawa… Just forget you had anything to do with us. Marry someone you love and live a peaceful life. Find happiness.” 

While you appreciate his kind gesture you cannot find it within yourself to follow his guidance, “No, I won’t run. I want to go with Jihoon. I’m… I’m his page…” Your teeth catch your lip, afraid that if you say any more you may cry. Instead, you look up to Youngmin and do your best to smile. 

His eyes are warm as he looks to you, “Our Commander’s been blessed with some great friends. I’ll be counting on you, then. Take care of him for me.” 

Eventually, Jihoon and Wonwoo return. They gather you and the rest of the men in an outer courtyard on the premises, including Junghwan and Dohoon. 

“What?!” Junghwan shouts, “We’re going to leave Chief behind? Is that true Commander?!” 

“Chief’s orders,” Jihoon says sternly, “You’re all going to escape this place and I’ll be right behind you.” 

“If he just surrenders, then his cover will be blown immediately!” Junghwan insists, “At least here, I could remain by his si–” 

“I said, ‘Chief’s orders’! Or do you have shit in your ears?!” Jihoon snaps, “Don’t you dare put Youngmin’s efforts in vain with your stupid suggestions!”

Junghwan looks as if he wants to respond, but instead he looks down as he tightens his fists and shakes. 

Just then, Dohoon says, “I’m going to stay. I understand they’re the Chief’s orders. However, as a warrior of the Hwarang, I cannot abandon the Chief.” 

“Kim Dohoon!” Wonwoo raises his voice, only to be interrupted. 

“Dohoon you bastard…” Jihoon frowns, angrily tapping the hilt of his sword, “You really want this steel in your gut right now?”

“No! It’s not like that,” Dohoon’s eyes burn with intense vigor as he glares back at Jihoon. “I understand you, more than anyone else, want to remain here. But the Chief entrusted the Hwarang to you, which is why you can’t… So that’s why I want to protect him in your stead, Commander!” 

Jihoon curls his lip, staring at him for a long moment before unsheathing his blade at his hip. 

“Commander!” As the exclamation leaves Wonwoo’s mouth, Jihoon points the tip of the sword toward Dohoon’s throat.

“You said you’ll protect the Chief, right?”

Sweat trickles down Dohoon’s reddened cheeks, “...Yes, I will.” 

“Then you’d better keep your goddamn word. No matter what, your eyes don’t leave Kwak, got it?” 

Dohoon’s eyes grow wide, trembling for a moment but soon after brim with a fiery determination, “Yes, sir! I, Kim Dohoon, promise to protect the Chief's life, no matter the cost!” 

It seems as if he’s convinced Jihoon, as the latter returns his blade to its sheath. “Let’s go.” His words are curt as he nods quickly before leaving the residence behind. 

In a short while, Youngmin and Dohoon will hand their terms of surrender to the Goguryeo army. You find yourself looking back over your shoulder many times as you run. Soon, Youngmin will give himself to his enemies. Perhaps, you think time and time again, if you turn around now, you can rescue him, 

Wonwoo seems to feel the same way, but Jihoon never once turns back. 

You run and run through the forest to Kyeju. It doesn’t matter how quickly you get there– it’s not soon enough to bring back an army to save Youngmin. 

“Are you alright?” Wonwoo asks as he falls in step by your side, “We can rest if you’re tired.” 

“I’m alright,” you shake your head, “I can keep going.” 

Jihoon, with his back to you, says nothing, but you can feel each pained step he takes away from his friend. 

The sun begins to dip towards the western horizon and night starts to fall when your party is stopped by a group of Goguryeo soldiers. 

“You there! Stop!” One of them commands, his hand already hovering over the hilt of his sword, “Where are you headed?” 

Jihoon only frowns and makes his way to walk past the soldier. 

“He said to stop!” Another soldier yells out, “Goddamn it, are you more of those Silla guys?”

“Hold,” the first man pauses, “I’ve seen him before. You’re that bastard from the Hwarang, aren’t you?”

“You mean those guys that offed Yoon?” The soldiers around them begin to scramble for their weapons.

Unfortunately, they aren’t fast enough for Jihoon. His hair snaps white and he shoots forward, toward the soldiers, sword in hand. His strikes are so fast and elegant that the eye barely even has time to perceive what happened before the two men fall dead. 

“Wrong day to fuck with me, boys.” 

A volley of soldiers rush forward, as well as a few arrows loosened in his direction. One of the arrows pierces his shoulder and Jihoon cries out, swiftly pulling it from the wound. It immediately begins to close as he smirks at them, “That’s how it feels getting shot, huh? Not as bad as I thought.” His gaze sharpens on those left before him, “This is nothing! This doesn’t even come close to what Youngmin’s going through!” 

Jihoon launches himself at the nearest of the soldiers, his sword already in motion and his face twisted by grief and anger. Even without Fury powers, Jihoon and Wonwoo could have made easy work of this small troop of men… But rage and frustration boiling over since you’d left Youngmin had erupted in a torrent of violence. 

“You can’t use your powers–!” You call out to Jihoon, trying to stop his relentless assault. 

“Shut up!” He snarls at you, “Stay out of this!” 

He knows what he’s doing, but he’s far past caring. Jihoon leaps from tree to tree, his sword flashing like lightning. Every time it moves, a life ends. Rage, anguish and an unrestrained thirst for blood radiates from him like heat from a blaze from a fire. Blood soaks his face and hands. Still, he cuts and cuts, never satisfied. 

You see Wonwoo and Junghwan sweating as they stand silently, watching Jihoon fight as a Fury. They’re mesmerized and you can hardly blame them. Every swing of his sword spills a man to the dirt. He looks like a monster. At last, the only man left alive is Jihoon himself. 

Silence falls over the forest once more, save for the birds that have restarted their chatter, 

“Wonwoo… Junghwan… Go see if there’s any more of them.” Desperate to distance themselves from the bloodshed, the two depart quickly after Jihoon’s orders. “You. Go with them.” 

Normally you would do as he’d asked and followed after them but now… 

“What?” Jihoon turns to you, noticing your hesitation, “I gave you an order.” His words cut like a knife but you don’t move. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that.”

“I am your commanding officer. I am giving you an order.” He sounds angry, as he oft does, but just behind that there's a deep, miserable sadness. If he doesn’t stay angry, you feel, he’d probably be crying.

“I promise I won’t get in your way, but please, just let me stay here with you.” There’s nothing you can do for him, but you cannot bear to leave him alone. 

He turns his back to you– to everything, his face hidden. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing.

You search yourself for something to say, something to ease him, but you find nothing within yourself to better him. And, after a few moments, he speaks.

“What the hell did I do… all of this for?” 

How can this be the fate dealt by the gods for two men so honest and determined? It just doesn’t seem fair…

“Was it just so I could give Youngmin to those bastards? I busted my ass to give my friend to the enemy?” His voice trembles with every word, the weight of it all still resting heavily on him, “I was going to make him important. Help him carry himself to his family’s standards. I wanted to see him fight in the kind of battles they wrote about. Like a true warrior… I wanted to see just how far the owner of a school in the sticks could go.” 

You’re not even sure if he knows that you’re still here. If he does, it seems as if he no longer cares.  

“I thought we were shooting for the same dream. Long as it was for him, I felt like I could do anything. So what the hell am I doing here, alive, while he’s… he’s god knows where?! After all that self-righteous preaching, what did I do?! I turned around and left him to the wolves! He… I’m just like the king. Soon as things get dangerous, I turn tail and leave better men to deal with the mess! God damn it! Why am I alive?!”

It tears you apart to hear him lament his inner machinations aloud. You find yourself stepping forward, wrapping your arms around his back, pressing your face against his uniform. 

“Youngmin said… I mean, after you’d left, I told him that you’d figure it out,” you say softly,  “and he said that I was asking too much of you.” Tears run hot down your cheeks, “It’s not your fault, you can’t blame yourself… He didn’t want you to die. That’s why you’re still alive. Just… Please don’t blame yourself.”

 Jihoon listens, saying nothing. Or perhaps he didn’t even hear you. Why do words feel so powerless when you need them the most? What good are they if you cannot comfort someone at their lowest? 

“He did this to save me… but what the hell am I supposed to do without Kwak Youngmin of the Hwarang? The dream of helping him is what brought me here in the first place.” Jihoon’s shoulders shake, “Now that dream has left me… I don’t have anything left. I’m nothing.” He gives a short bark of humorless laughter, “Seriously Kwak… Stop giving me all the shitty jobs.”  His voice chokes on a sob and falls silent. 

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 10𝔱𝔥, 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The days that followed were somber, and eventually your group returned to Ungjin before regrouping with Hansol in Kyeju. When you arrived in the city, Junghwan mentioned he was going to visit a friend of his, and left. However, you think Junghwan’s just trying to be considerate and give Jihoon some space.

Arriving back at the compound, you’re shocked to see none other than Boo Seungkwan waiting for you.

“Evening,” he says as you walk inside, “Who would’ve thought you guys would ever come to visit me?”

“Nevermind that you should be in Sabi– why are you up this late? Just look at you,” Jihoon frowns, crossing his arms.

“I’m a bit tired of sleeping alone, you know?” Seungkwan muses, “At this rate, I’ll never get a chance to shine again… Seems to me it’s time to join you guys.” 

“The hell you won’t! What makes you think you can hold a sword with that body?” Jihoons words cut through the air.

“Come on, cut me some slack.” Seungkwan snorts, “I’ve been feeling great lately. So…” As he begins his next statement, he turns to cough into his fist. The fit doesn’t relent until he crouches on the floor, coughing painfully with strained breaths. 

“Are you alright, Seungkwan?” You ask, rubbing his back as he tries to catch his breath. Under your palm, you can feel the bones of his back. At first glance, he may look to be improving but he’s lost a lot of weight and it’s almost painful to look at. 

“See?” Jihoon turns to look down at him, “What’d I tell you? Why don’t you admit you’re sick for once, and take it easy?”

Seungkwan bites his lips out of frustration, grimacing at the thought of admitting his weakness, he sighs deeply and rises to his feet, “So, how’s Kwak doing? Too busy to visit me again?” 

You flinch at the mention of Youngmin, which causes your body to jolt unexpectedly. Jihoon, however, is unfazed by the question. 

“He’s a little preoccupied at the moment.” 

“How’s his shoulder doing? Isn’t it tough for him to be up and about?”

“That was a while ago. He’s fine.” Jihoon says, “He may not be able to wield his sword but, well, with his promotion, it’s not like he’s charging from the front lines anyway.” 

“Spare me,” Seungkwan waves his hand, “You’re bragging about his promotion like it’s you out there and not him. But… that’s good to hear. Youngmin’s okay then.” The Hwarang seems to have eased down. It looks as if Youngmin’s well-being is the only thing keeping Seungkwan invested in his own health. 

“Look,” Jihoon states, “I promise I’ll bring him next time. Just sit tight, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll wait. But I’m not holding my breath. You’ve always been a bad liar, Jihoon.”

“Who the hell are you calling a liar? I’ve never lied to you about Youngmin.” The tone of their conversation sounds like their usual banter, but you can understand why Junghwan may have been inclined to step out. You begin to gather that there’s much for them to reminisce on, so you take the chance to sneak outside. 

Cool nighttime air whispers against your cheeks as you gaze to the stars hanging above. It seems like tonight would be the final farewell between Jihoon and Seungkwan, you need to let them have this moment to themselves. Being an outside observer to the intimacy of their conversation tells you this, at least. 

In the midst of your contemplation, you think you see Junghwan speaking to someone in the distance. You know he said he’d been planning to meet a friend in Ungjin but you don’t recognize the figure. 

“Are you sure about that? You’re the Commander’s acquaintance, aren’t you?” You hear Junghwan speak to him as you slowly approach. “You’re already here so why don’t you stop by?” 

“I think I’ll pass on that.” The person says coolly.

“Why?” Junghwan questions further, “This may be the last time we step foot in Ungjin.”

“Wasn’t Youngmin just arrested by Goguryeo soldiers in Hanseong?” The person murmurs, “I don’t know what I’d say to Jihoon in a time like this, knowing what everyone’s been through and all.”

Junghwan’s head suddenly hangs, as the words from the conversation penetrate and resound around his head, “You don’t need to mince words. Just, you know, tell them how you feel… talk about what you’ve been up to, or what you’ve seen. Isn’t that good enough?” 

“Junghwan…”  For a brief moment, the stranger looks unsettled by the suggestion. However, he takes a deep breath and continues, “But I was never one of the Hwarang. I just happened to be around when the newer group was established.”

“Then why did you paint them as Furies?” Junghwan frowns, “If they didn’t matter to you anymore, then you wouldn’t go through the trouble of drawing that? It’s not like it’d make you any money.”

“Well…” The other stops.

“So, are you absolutely sure there’s nothing you’d want to say to the Commander, Colonel or Soonyoung? You’re positive?” Junghwan lists off the names of the Hwarang, only making you question the stranger yourself. Is he a friend of theirs? Perhaps Junghwan had met with him to bring him to your side?

Whatever the case, the stranger’s countenance gives the impression that he’s reluctant to be involved at all. 

As you’re thinking of this person, a voice speaks up behind you, “You should go and talk to Seungkwan while you can.” 

Jihoon. You hadn’t heard the door open, much less his footsteps approach.

“S- Sure,” you say quickly, spinning on your heels and walking into the house from the darkness. 

After making smalltalk for a while, Jihoon rejoins you and begins to say his farewell to him, “We’ll see you later, Boo. Don’t trouble Namekawa too much.”

“I never do,” Seungkwan shakes his head, “The man just worries too much.”

“Forever the smartass,” Jihoon rolls his eyes jokingly, “Whatever the case, we’ll be on our way soon.”

“Leaving already?” Seungkwan asks, eyebrows raised. 

“Goodnight, Seungkwan. Please take care of yourself.” You say with a small smile and begin to turn to leave.

“Hey,” Seungkwan calls out to you, “Can I have a word?” He beckons you over with a gentle gesture so you walk to him. 

“Is something the matter?” 

“I know he won’t admit it, but Jihoon looks like shit. Are things at the front going bad?” 

If you speak too carelessly you can give away information– information that can easily hurt Seungkwan, so you fall silent. 

“Here’s the thing: I don’t like that man at all, and quite frankly, I can’t give a rat’s ass what happens to him. But… I want you to be by his side. If he goes down, then the Hwarang go down with him.”

“I understand…” you murmur out before Jihoon butts in.

“Are we done here? Time to get going.” 

He doesn’t ask a thing about your conversation as he begins walking briskly ahead of you on the darkened streets. Watching him make that promise of bringing Youngmin the next time he’d see Seungkwan… it seems as though that burden of promise, and the potential of it being left unfulfilled, weighs heavily on him.

Suddenly, he stops in his tracks.

“You should go on ahead and go home.”

“Huh?” You pause yourself, “What do you mean? What do you plan on doing?”

“I’m going to speak to the Goguryeo forces in Hanseong,” he turns to face you, “And I’m going to personally ask them to release Youngmin.”

“You’re going now?!” You sputter, “I thought you said they can’t be reasoned with?”

“If we can’t get results, then I can’t say we’ve done everything we could.”

“It’s not safe for you to go there! They could capture you at any moment!” Frantic energy runs in your voice, “If they take you like they did Youngmin…” 

Yesterday this idea would have been preposterous to Jihoon, what happened to make him change his mind?

“So you’re telling me to my face that this decision is a mistake?” 

“No… No I’m not saying that.”

“Then what is it?” He snaps, “If you have something to say, just say it.” 

“Stay strong.” You raise your voice, nearly shocking yourself,  “You of all people know what needs to be done.”

“I decide on what I do. It’s not your place to say.” 

“I understand, but what will you do if you’re arrested by the Goguryeo army?”

“So what if I am?” He frowns, crossing his arms, “Sitting here and talking about ‘what-ifs’ isn’t any better than taking action.  

“So you’re going to let Chan and Eunseok’s sacrifices go in vain?!”

“What do you know?!” He explodes, and you have to stop yourself from taking a step back.

“E- Even I can understand a little!” You refuse to let your convictions amount to nothing. With a heavy heart you continue, “I was there when they gave their lives for… I saw it with my own eyes. Both of them loved the Hwarang. And they trusted their commander! If either of them saw what I am now, it would crush them.” 

“Crush them, huh?” At last, he seems to let go of a bit of the tension in his shoulders. They relax slightly as he looks off into the distance. “Do you believe it to be the survivor’s duty to carry on the will of the deceased?”

“I think so.”At least that’s what it feels as if you’re doing now. The reason you can’t back down, even if Jihoon feels compelled to yell at you, is because you know Eunseok and Chan would have done the same. 

“Damn, guess this means all I have to look forward to in life is shouldering more burdens until I die.”

“Jihoon…”

He shakes his head and gives you a short, melancholic smile, “Sorry for yelling at you. You were right. You did know. There’s no point in me being irrational when our situation is already grim, huh? It wouldn;t look too great if there’s nowhere for the Chief to go when he gets out eventually.”

With that last statement, you see that he’s finally regained his composure, and you respond in kind by calming down, “I know I told you to stay strong, but please, don’t push yourself too hard. I noticed you’ve been running around during both day and night time.”

“Where do you have all this time to show concern for every person you meet?” Jihoon sighs out, “Once we leave here, if you so much as collapse on the way out, I’m leaving your ass behind. Brace yourself.” 

“Okay!”

You’re happy to have gotten through to him, even if it was just a courteous gesture. He begins walking again and you run right behind him, doing your best to keep up with the swiftness of his pace.  

At the entrance of the city, you regroup with Junghwan and Wonwoo, the two greeting you quickly. 

“Commander, I need to speak with you urgently,” Junghwan says, looking frigid as he approaches Jihoon. “Please let me petition for the clemency of both the Chief and Dohoon! Surely the Goguryeo forces understand what killing Kwak would detail. If we work hard, I’m sure we can find people to cooperate with us. So please–”

 Jihoon stares at Junghwan, who’s bowed over in a sign of respect, and seems to take his suggestion into consideration. 

“...You beat me to it. I was going to say the same thing.”

“Commander! Then–”

“Jeon, I have a favor to ask you. Take her and head to Kyeju first.”

“What?!” You gasp out.

“We’re going to continue our fight for Youngmin’s freedom. Your presence here is only a burden for us right now.” Earlier he’d given you the same instruction, albeit with a far more aggressive tone. But this time you can tell thoughtful consideration went into it. 

You’re worried, of course. But there isn’t anything more you can argue. 

“This is an order from your commander. We’ll meet up again soon so get out of here and stay sharp.” 

It felt strange to part from them, as if some piece of yourself is now missing– but you don’t have much time to harp on it as you meet up with other troops in Kyeju. 

You’re worried about what’s to become of Youngmin, but perhaps because the situation seems grim, no one has brought it up.

𝔐𝔞𝔶 1𝔰𝔱, 666 – 𝔒𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔎𝔶𝔢𝔧𝔲, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Jihoon soon rejoined Wonwoo and you as you resided in Kyeju, only after he’d settled his affairs for Youngmin’s freedom in Ungjin first. Hansol had taken the main body of Hwarang soldiers to Koksan and then onto Bakjak to keep an eye on the Fury Corps. You have just left the small town with Wong Kunhang’s men to hop onto the route to follow after him. 

After a while, you manage to meet up with some allied soldiers, but many of them look at you with a strange mixture of curiosity and fear. It’s unpleasant, to say the least.

“Those are the Hwarang, right? The murderers?”

“Yeah, noble dogs that  kill men for no reason– even their comrades! Best not to look at them for too long. You never know what might set them off.”

It isn’t difficult to hear the gossip that floats through the ranks. 

“They sound like a bunch of old wives spinning those stories!” Wonwoo scoffs, turning to look at Jihoon, “Want me to keep them quiet for you?”

“No.” Jihoon shakes his head, sounding more irritated than usual, “They want to talk, let them talk.” 

“Are you alright?” You ask as you walk along, “You don’t look too well.”

“I’m fine.” He says but he clearly seems otherwise. His skin is a pale color, almost blue, and he looks exhausted. Marching during the day is hardly a pleasant walk for a Fury. 

Youngmin is clearly at the forefront of his mind. And although you hate to admit it, he has a good reason to be on edge. 

“Excuse me, could you let me pass? Ah– apologies, oops…” Someone moves towards you from the back of the column of men, pushing his way through the rest of the marching soldiers. 

“Hello,” a man, no older than Jihoon, steps forward and offers a bow, “Are you Lee Jihoon? I’ve heard a great deal about you and the Hwarang.” 

“Who the hell are you?” Jihoon asks, puzzled.

“Pardon my rudeness, I’m still not fully functional with the language– my name is Wong Kunhang, one of the commanders of the Tang forces. I’m sure I’ll be talking with the Hwarang a great deal in the future. It’s nice to meet you.” 

It’s strange, for the man who claimed to command the infantry of men, he looks more like the son of a wealthy merchant than a soldier. 

Jihoon snorts under his breath and turns away, leaving Kunhang to look on for a moment longer. 

“Do you have business with Jihoon?” Wonwoo asks.

“Ah, yes. I was hoping to hear stories about the Seorabeol attacks from the Commander of the Hwarang himself.”

“Sure you wouldn’t rather hear some ridiculous rumor from a drunk soldier?” Jihoon bites, “Seems like everybody here loves to gossip.”

“I apologize for them. We’ve been far from home for a while and they’ve only grown more undisciplined as time progressed.” Kunhang shakes his head to continue his original plan, “At any rate, I came here to give you an overview of how our forces are being deployed. We have five thousand soldiers in the advance guard, main body and rear guard. As the highest ranking officer–” 

“Wong Kunhang… The Wong Kunhang who took back Hanseong a few months back?”

“That’s me,” he smiles.

“And you lost it.” 

“Yes, well… I suppose I did. It was a misstep of my forces and I take full responsibility for it. But I assure you that we will be taking it back, and keeping it this time.”

Jihoon looks as if he’s just swallowed something rotten. He’d only just lost his Chief and it seems as if this newcomer’s trying to force himself into Youngmin’s place. No one, no matter the skill, can replace his friend. Still, Kunhang seems to have been expecting to be rebuffed, and continues, showing no sign of being put off by Jihoon's behavior. 

“The advance guard is made up mostly of men from the Silla army. The rear guard, however, is composed of men from Tang. I’m thinking of promoting you to Deputy Commander in order to lead the advance guard. What do you say?” 

“Why?”

“I have experience leading my men. And am I wrong to think that the advance guard would take more kindly to a fellow countryman than an outsider?” Kunhang speaks plainly, “Besides, there isn’t anyone on our side or theirs who hasn’t heard the name Lee Jihoon. I can’t think of anyone better suited.” His copious praise does nothing to thaw Jihoon, they just stare at each other for a few awkward moments. 

It’s painfully clear that the two of them don’t see eye to eye, and it cannot be a worse first impression. 

“Well,” Kunhang claps his hands together, “I suppose I better be on my way. We’ll talk later, and go over some more in-depth plans.” Their conversation ends as one-sided as it had begun, and the Tang general disappears into the swarm of marching soldiers. 

Later that night, your group camps a short distance away from the rest of the force. Jihoon, sitting by the fire’s edge, beckons you and Wonwoo over, “We need to talk.” The main bulk of the Hwarang forces are with Hansol heading even more northward, meaning that the only people in the camp were you, Wonwoo, Jihoon and three dozen more Hwarang. “Remember what Kunhang told us earlier?”

“About taking command of the advance guard?” Wonwoo inquires, “What of it?”

“I’ve been thinking about what I want you guys to do. You can’t be in the advance guard, so I’ll have to send you off to fight with the main body or the rear guard.”

“So this means you’re going to take his offer?” Wonwoo shifts as he speaks.

“Yes. You were in Seorabeol. You’d be a good commander for men who’ve never seen a real battle.”

“But…” A frown carves itself on his lips. Jihoon’s reasoning makes sense, but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.  It feels as if Wonwoo had grown attached to the idea of fighting in the same unit as Jihoon. Perhaps the commander is insensitive for either ignoring this sentiment, or not acknowledging it at all. 

Wonwoo sighs, resigning himself into a period of deep thought, looking up to Jihoon’s gaze, “Understood. Whatever you order me to do, I’ll do it. But first, I want you to tell me something. This doesn’t mean you’re planning to disband the Hwarang, does it? If I fight in this, it’ll be as a member of the Hwarang.”

It seems the two of you feel the same way. Jihoon’s hope may be flickering but yours isn’t.

“Fine. Whatever.” Jihoon seems disengaged.

“I should also point out that I think commanding soldiers is a little more than she can handle.” Wonwoo adds, glancing over to you, “She doesn’t belong on the front line. She’s a page, not a soldier.” He rises to his feet, dusting the dirt from his knees, “Anyways, I’ll go and tell the others what you’ve decided.”

Jihoon and you are left alone with the crackling fire as Wonwoo jogs back to the main encampment. He sighs and his shoulders drop. Suddenly he looks very, very tired.

“Why did you try to order us away?” The question leaves you before you can think it through.

He doesn’t answer, only tilts his head to look at the flecks of starlight dappling through the trees above. As the melancholy silence speaks, you nearly regret asking the question before he laments, “If I knew Youngmin was coming back, then I could go out there ready to give my life to win. Just like Chan said– Youngmin and I were the Hwarang. With him gone, there’s no way in hell I can carry all this on my own.”   

When he normally speaks to you, he is oft cruel and rude, you’ve never heard him sound so defeated before. 

“Junhui was right, wasn’t he? Remember what he said when we decided to attack Hanseong? He said there was no way in hell Kim Yong would fund us without some sort of hidden agenda.” Jihoon huffs, “He was right. So was Mingyu… You know who was the first to petition for a settlement between Goguryeo and our forces? Kim Yong.”

“...What?”

“He wanted to showcase our defeat as costly and an expenditure of life and resources. Make it abysmally clear that the war is funded on blood, and to keep his own money in his coiffers.” He laughs despondently and kicks at a rock by his foot, “Damn it, how couldn’t I see that coming? If I thought about it, that would’ve never slipped past me. I was desperate for Youngmin to be off fighting big important battles, winning all sorts of glory…  But I let it all blind me, we were played and Youngmin lost his spirit…” 

The Hwarang had put their lives on the line for the Kingdom. How could the King just let them be pawned around? 

“Noble or commoner– we all busted our asses to get where we are. Aren’t warriors meant to be the masters of the battlefield? What the hell have we been fighting for this entire time? Is anything I believed in still true? We believed that we were fighting for something, so no matter the shit we had to crawl through, we did it.  Turns out it was just a trench that just circles itself. What are we supposed to do now? What the hell am I supposed to believe in?”

Every word of his punctures you with pain. But the kingdom had betrayed them, their trust. The war had changed and it feels as if the Hwarang had been tossed aside. All that the Hwarang had done is fade away, what could Jihoon do to fix it? 

“You lost what you believed in,” you say quietly, “They think as long as you’re there to lead, they’ll be fine and refuse to show fear in front of you. They want you to see the kind of men they are, which means they’ll fight to the death if you tell them to.” If anything, you want to soothe his wounded soul a bit. “But if someone were to ask why I’m here… I’d say it’s because I believe in you.”

Perhaps that’s the wrong thing to say, all you’ve done is give him something more to worry about. 

Jihoon looks at you, but for once the light in his eyes is soft, “You’re right. If you lose sight of something the only person who can find it again is you. Besides, we’ve got a big fight coming up. Guess I should be thinking about how we’re going to win that, not whining about my problems.” With a small smile, he turns back to the stars.

You fall silent again, cicadas fluttering and chirping through the night being the only cacophony of sounds around you.  

“Are you really going to stick around?” He asks. You know he wants to go alone, but you can’t go with Wonwoo, you both know that.

“Yes, I am.” Perhaps you don’t know how you can help him just yet, but you can hardly leave him alone. 

“Fine. Just stay out of my way.” 

“I know.” You sit there in the silence of night, you’re just about to return to your tent when he groans out in pain. Almost immediately you know what’s happening, your fears confirmed when his hair begins to turn white at the roots. Quickly you scramble to your feet, urging him to his and leading him to the shadow of a large tree where the nearby soldiers won’t be able to see him.  

“Damn it,” he curses through clenched teeth, “Why now?!”

With shaking hands you reach for your collar, and as he grasps your intent he grimaces. Jihoon takes a hold of your shoulders and roughly pulls you toward him, seconds later you feel a dull sting on the back of your neck and then the hot trickle of blood. 

His warm breath comes in pants across your bare skin, but after a time his ragged gasps for deliverance begin to steady. And slowly, his grip loosens. Then, without a word, he pulls away from you. 

“How long do you plan to keep letting me do this?” He mutters, as you turn to him, worry in his eyes.

“Forever,” you say simply, “As long as you need me, I’ll be here.” 

“You’re a stupid woman,” he sighs, “And I’m a man who’s lost sight of what makes him human. How can you just let me cut you open like that and drink your blood? What the hell are you thinking?”

“It’s alright, Jihoon. I really don’t mind.”

There’s nothing for him to say to that.

The next day, along the route to Hanseong, the news breaks.

“So, Goguryeo forces are pulling out of Hanseong?” Wong Kunhang frowns, “That’s… unexpected.” He and Jihoon stop to talk over the news and their next move. 

“Unexpected? They’re cocky bastards that think we won’t try to retake the city.” Jihoon scoffs, “It’s the most opportune moment to take it back.” 

“I’m not against going into battle,” Kunhang states, “We are leading an army, after all. But the main body and the rear guard are still on their way. All I’m asking is that you wait until they catch up with us. Attempting to lay siege to the city with the men we have is folly beyond folly. We should–”

Jihoon sighs, “This isn’t a theoretical scenario from one of your war manuals.”

“Sun Tzu isn’t just a war manual. The highest form of generalship is balking enemy plans; the next best in preventing enemy junctions,” Kunhang argues, standing his ground, “After that, it’s attacking armies in the field, and the worst of all is besieging walled cities. Therefore, we should only lay siege as a last resort. Attacking head-on is foolish. If you’re determined to be foolish, the best you can do is make sure your army is in the best condition possible and–”

“Though we have heard of stupid haste in war, cleverness has never been seen associated with long delays! No kingdom benefits from prolonged warfare!” Jihoon offers his rebuttal, “Remember that one? He’s saying that it might get messy, but it’s better to end your battles quickly. Taking your sweet time just comes back to bite you in the ass.”

“Lee… Don’t do that.” Wong Kunhang’s brow furrows, “I’m not asking you to wait long. They should be here in just a few days.”

“And we’re just meant to sit here twiddling our thumbs until the Goguryeo army shows up?” Jihoon frowns, “If they catch us unaware then we’re screwed, no two ways about it.” He must sense that he caught a nerve in the other as he pushes ahead, “You want to miss this opportunity, fine. I’ll just take the advance guard and capture Hanseong myself.”

“That’s suicide!” Kunhang shouts as Jihoon snorts derisively. He clearly has no intention of taking his opinion. 

“I guess we’ll see. I’ll take Hanseong by tomorrow.” His lips pull back from his teeth in a feral grin, and he looks off in the distance toward Hanseong.

He isn’t being belligerent. He’s being reckless. With Jihoon like this, can you really win?

𝔐𝔞𝔶 13𝔱𝔥 666 - ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔊𝔬𝔤𝔲𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔬 Hanseong is in turmoil. Your forces neared three thousand, while Hanseong’s barely had a thousand. And although the Silla forces easily outnumber your opponents, the guards are able to use their fortifications to great effect, fighting you to a standstill. Arrows fly, swords clash, and men scream in pain.

“We can’t keep this up,” Jihoon sighs out with crossed arms, “This is as good a time as any to attack the enemy lines.”   

“Attack?” You look toward him in disbelief, as a nearby soldier cries out, “Their fortifications–” 

“Can fall.” Jihoon says flatly, “An arrow or two won’t kill you.” The men around him are stunned into silence, never having imagined they would receive orders like this. Their commander, however, just stares back coldly. “What the hell did you come here to do? You’re here to fight a war. If you’re prepared to fight, you should be prepared to die. Am I wrong? So, when I give the word, you’re going to charge that line!”

The men before him pale, and many tremble. Eventually, one of them snaps, “I can’t do it! I don’t want to die here.”

No sooner had he turned to run, does Jihoon’s sword flash in the daylight, striking the soldier dead. The men watching swallow thickly. For a few moments they stay utterly silent. Commotion breaks out shortly afterward. 

“What is this?!”

“Is he crazy?!”

Jihoon lets his cold eyes slide slowly across their ranks, and slowly the mumbling ceases, “Anyone else want to run? If you’re too scared to fight, go ahead. Be my guest. But anyone who runs will die by my hand. So either I kill you… Or you take your chance out there. Up to you.” With one final scowl, he turns back to the battlefield, taking off across it.

He runs through the throng of bodies and hail of arrows, falling upon the men defending the main gate like a vengeful god. His sword drips with fresh blood, you stay in the shadows of the treeline waiting for him to return.  

Wonwoo runs to the commander, grime and blood smeared across his face, “With another push we should be able to take the gate!”

“Great!” Jihoon shouts, “I believe in you Jeon!” 

As Jihoon effortlessly slices through the enemy, the mood among his men begins to change. A ripple goes through them, a surge of newfound energy to fight. You can’t hear him from the distance, but he shouts something over his shoulder and his soldiers fight with intense vigor. 

And soon after the sun passes its zenith, the city gates open, the news of it spreading like wildfire. 

The Silla forces sweep into the city soon after, finding relative ease when liberating the streets. Jihoon glances at you with a grin as Wonwoo runs up to him.

“Commander! The men we sent to the town head’s home ran into trouble!”

“What?” Jihoon almost sounds confused, “We haven’t seen any real resistance so far.”

Wonwoo shakes his head, “I’m unaware of the details. Should I go see…?”

“No. I’ll go.” Jihoon stops him, “I’m leaving you in charge here.”

“What would you like me to do?” You ask.

“Come with me,” he says simply, “Don’t want you wandering around. Might get hit by a stray arrow or something.  

And thus it was decided. You quickly follow after Jihoon, and even upon approaching the building, you can tell something is wrong. Inside, your men are dead on the floor, their bodies laid out like the spokes of a wheel, and at its hub… Hong Jisoo.

“What are you doing here?” Jihoon asks, more nonchalant than you’d have thought. “Decided you’d take a vacation? You do know there’s a war out there, right? Or maybe you’re just hiding out here, hoping you won’t get hurt.”

“We were acting under orders from the King.” Hwan Minhyun, whom you hadn’t seen upon your arrival, speaks out, “We are here to deliver a secret message. We did not expect to be drawn into battle and we certainly did not expect to encounter you here.”

“Huh,” Jihoon scoffs, “Gaesomun yells jamp and you leap. You sure are dedicated.” 

“Well, I didn’t think I’d see you again so soon, Lee…” Jisoo leers with a snide grin.

“And I didn’t think you were so anxious to get your ass beat again. Don’t worry though, I’m happy to oblige.”

Jisoo grinds his teeth and draws his sword at his hip, “Killing you will erase the humiliation I suffered at your hands. You and your dogs have been a thorn in my side since Wonweol. Today, I will have my revenge.”

“... Sounds as if you’ve got this covered,” Minhyun sighs, stepping back once more, “He’s all yours.” 

Jihoon just as easily draws his sword, “Guess the face wasn’t enough, maybe if I take an arm you’ll get the message.” He soars across the room at Jisoo, their blades rattling against one another as Jisoo block’s the commander’s strike. Then, the demon pushes back and Jihoon is thrown across the hall. 

“You’re not getting away,” Jisoo says coolly, his hair turning stark white, just as Jihoon’s had done at the beginning of the battle. In the blink of an eye, he leaps after his opponent, whipping his sword in a quick slash. Jihoon brings up his blade at the last second before the strike could wound him. 

“You’re slow,” Jisoo taunts, “Your movements lack finesse. Don’t tell me that killing humans has tired you out? Last time you said you were a Demon…” Their blades locked together, Jihoon’s begins to shake under the pressure of the other’s force. 

Jisoo’s right, though, Even with his Fury abilities, Jihoon is slower than before, too unfocused. 

“Ah, I see,” the Demon’s eyes flicker to the open door for a moment, “The sun’s still out. You don’t like it much, do you?” He chuckles, “Don’t worry, I won’t go easy on you just because you’re weak. After all, a warrior always gives all he can, no matter the situation. That is your code, isn’t it?” 

“Damn you!” Jihoon jumps backwards, but not fast enough to escape Jisoo’s blade. It arcs down across the Hwarang’s chest, blood erupting from the gash and splattering to the floor. Jihoon drops to his knees, skidding across the hard wooden panels panting heavily as blood blooms across his robes and pools on the floor below him. 

Agonizing seconds pass as both you and he wait for the blood to stop, yet it continues to fall through his fingers clenched to the robes hanging from the wound. “What the hell is this?!” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth as he stares daggers at Jisoo standing before him. 

Jisoo laughs, almost as if Jihoon had told him a joke, “What’s the matter? Not healing like you should? This,” his wrist flicks upward to show off his blade, which almost looks to be faintly glowing, “is Hwangun’s Blade. It’s been passed down through my family for generations, but… no one had ever thought to test it on a Demon. This is an excellent chance to see what it can do. And you know what? I can use it to put down a fake Demon.”

He smirks, giving the impression that he’s figured this victory is a foregone conclusion. 

“You must be pretty desperate if you’re willing to grab your family’s magic sword. Really need something like that to take on a fake Demon?” Jihoon gives his own taunting laugh, but Jisoo’s grin doesn’t falter. 

“You humiliated me for the first time in my life. Nothing is too much if it will send you to hell.” With another flick of his wrist, Jisoo sends droplets of gore spraying down onto the floor, “Your abilities can’t heal any wounds from this blade. You became a Fury to defeat me, but now that sacrifice means nothing.” 

“So, tell me if I’ve got this right. All I have to do is avoid getting cut by that thing? Hell, before I became a Fury, all I did was dodge swords. This’ll be easy.”

“Does your impudence know no bounds?” The Demon scoffs, “Fine. I’ll put your short lived defiance to the test.” His blade shimmers a blue-white and seems to shiver with his murderous intent. The air is thick, feeling like a struggle to just breathe. 

Jisoo slashes downwards toward Jihoon, who’s able to dodge out of the way in time, bringing up his own sword to strike back. But when it arcs upward, instead of hitting flesh, Jihoon’s sword cuts through air. In tandem with the strikes, Jisoo moves too fast for the bare eye to see, Jihoon’s margin for error becoming slimmer and slimmer. With another dodge, the Demon slams his riposte into the Hwarang’s shoulder. Jihoon’s robe is torn away, displaying a fresh wound. 

“Good… You’re overthinking on how you might kill me,” Jisoo smirks, “But I want to see more. I want to see your face when you realize that you can’t kill me and that I will win!”

Blood pours from him, but Jihoon brings up his sword to catch Hwangun. Teeth clenched, you know that he’s lost far too much blood to carry on for much longer. Jisoo kicks Jihoon back and as he does, the commander’s hair returns to its natural hue.   

“What the hell?!” Jihoon cries out, still in a defensive stance.

“Reached your limit, I see,” the Demon chortles, inching closer, “Even a false Demon is better than this pathetic existence! You might as well be an insect.” His laugh echoes through the hall, gloating over the near unconscious Jihoon, “I want to hear you cry! Scream! Beg me for your life! You and your filth have stood in my way for too long. I’ll kill you and the Hwarang!”

Jihoon’s head twitches, “Kill…the Hwarang? You?” It’s almost as if he’s keeping himself upright with sheer force of will at this point. “After we left Youngmin and the Hwarang fell to me, I felt like there was no way I could do all that by myself. I was just about ready to give it up.” Suddenly, the hair on his head shifts back to its demonic white, “...But now, when you say you want to erase everything we did… I’ll be goddamned if I let you destroy the Hwarang!” 

Ichor continues to fall from him and you know that if he’s to continue like this he’ll most certainly die.

“Jihoon, no!” You cry out, “If you don’t stop you’re going to die!”

His eyes flick to you and you can already see the resolution in his gaze, then he gives you a grin before looking back to Jisoo, “You really think I care about how much of my future I’ve gotta burn to get this bastard? I can’t let him kill me here. I can’t let this bastard and his damn sword get the best of me now!” 

Relaxed now, Jisoo speaks once more, “You’re practically dead already. What do you intend to do? This charade is pathetic.” Almost lazily, he swings his sword again. 

Jihoon cries out in pain, not having the strength to lift his sword entirely to block the blow. Then Jisoo’s sword slams into his right shoulder. Jihoon’s clothes are soaked in blood, his skin the color of parchment. 

“I hoped you might be entertaining, but I suppose it’s time for me to say goodbye now. Shame you don’t have enough energy to talk. I miss that dry wit,” Jisoo sighs, “What’s the matter? Can’t hold your sword anymore? Where’s that warrior spirit?”

Even though he struggles to draw breath, Jihoon musters what little strength he has left to reach for his sword. The point of the blade tips and weaves in the air as blood pours from his body, but he stands. Jisoo lifts his sword slick with the commander’s blood, and smiles. 

“At last! I can kill you with my own hands and erase the humiliation you gave me!” 

Before he can land another blow, the building shakes as an ear splitting crash barrels through somewhere on the estate. Smoke rapidly fills the room, making it hard to see.

“What is this?!” Jisoo spits, distractedly turning from Jihoon to find the root of the interruption. 

“Fire! Fire!” Cries scream out from deep in the building, and you can ascertain that one of the trebuchets aligning the fortified walls had been turned against the city for some reason or another in a last act of defense. 

The fire from the lit fodder spreads quickly, roaring around the room and licking at the sides of the hall. Black smoke pours into the room, irritating your eyes and throat. Even as the room plunges into a near unbearable heat, the two men don’t lower their swords. 

It’s only when the ceiling begins to give way does Jisoo remark, “Damn it, this place is falling apart.” Not wanting to endanger himself, he shoves his sword back into its scabbard angrily, glaring across the smoldering wreckage at Jihoon. “I’ll let you go this time. We’ll finish this duel another day. And you will die.”

He disappears shortly thereafter and you run to Jihoon, “Are you alright?!” 

Waxen skin and face writhing in pain, he doesn’t respond as he drops to the floor. And as he does, the near forgotten Minhyun walks toward you from his corner, unbothered by the flames around him. 

“The Demon clans no longer intend to involve themselves in your governmental squabbles.”

“Why?” Jihoon asks, sweat beading on his forehead. 

“We owed favors to Goguryeo. We feel those have now been repaid.” Minhyun shrugs, “Besides, even you must know that they will soon fall, regardless of the efforts of my kin.” 

You spot a bitter smile creeping along Jihoon’s lips, “... Yeah.” 

“And I suppose you intend to watch that ship sink?” Minhyun asks, “Silla never gave your Hwarang the recognition it so desired, and pawned you off when they had nothing to lose. Why do you still fight?” The truth of his words drive a knife into Jihoon’s heart, and you see his face fall. 

“We’re knights of the Crown, we fight for them no matter what, right?” Jihoon says with ragged breaths, “What I’m fighting for now isn’t Hanseong or Pyongyang, or any of those bastards that call themselves ministers. What I– no– What we’re fighting for is the bond in our hearts. The bond that we joined the Hwarang with.”

His hand clenches to his chest and he lets out a small ‘fuck’ before continuing, “It’s not easy, not by a long shot, but… I’d feel like a real asshole if I died before Youngmin came back.” 

Minhyun closed his eyes while Jihoon spoke, he now stands silent, “If Jisoo chooses to involve himself with either of you again, he will have betrayed the moral code that binds all of our kind. He will no longer have the support of the clans. He will be on his own.” He looks to the building around him, “I imagine this will be of little concern to him, but I ask you to hear his mind when he next tries you, he is not doing so at the behest of the Demon clans. He is, I fear, your problem now.”

Then, he turns and disappears. As you look to where he once stood, you hear Jihoon thud to the floor, collapsing from relief or exhaustion, you cannot tell. But, he’s fallen unconscious, and if you cannot escape soon, you’ll burn to death. 

“Hello?! Are you here?!” A figure bursts into the hall, shrouded in smoke but with a voice you recognize.

Wonwoo had come to the rescue in your most dire hour. He quickly helps you lift Jihoon so you can shoulder the weight of his body together as you leave the estate.  

Hanseong, the town Jihoon had fought tooth and nail to overtake, only remained in Silla custody for a few days. As an army of Goguryeo soldiers came within the following week to recapture the city, leaving your commander’s mission for naught. After the battle, Wong Kunhang’s army, along with the remaining Hwarang, set off to Koksan. Jihoon had somehow miraculously survived, but by no means has he recovered. For days he drifts in and out of consciousness, settling in at a small residence in Kyeju for him to recover. 

𝔐𝔞𝔶 20𝔱𝔥, 666 - 𝔎𝔶𝔢𝔧𝔲, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Since you’d arrived in Kyeju, you’d buisied yourself with taking care of Jihoon. As a Fury, most normal means of healing and medicine have little to no effect on him. So, most of your nursing consists of fervently hoping that his natural strength and tenacity would bring him through. Fortunately, your prayers begin to pay off and in time his wounds begin to heal. 

Although those made by Jisoo’s blade did not do so easily, or quickly. You find yourself thinking of the battle of Hanseong. After watching Jihoon, many of the reluctant soldiers came around to clash swords with the enemy. They had told him it was an honor to fight alongside the Hwarang, for they were true warriors. 

You replay that fated battle several times over the course of your day, you’re just about to do it again as you open the door to Jihoon’s room, set to change his bandages. Yet, you don’t have the chance, as when you peer in, you see him sitting at his desk. He’s healed enough to move and speak without pain, but he’s still meant to be confined to his bed. 

“You shouldn’t be up,” you say quickly, walking inside and shutting the door behind you, “When I said you were healthy enough to get up, I didn’t mean you were healthy enough to work!”

“It’ll be only a minute,” he murmurs, looking over a few papers before him, “I’m going back to bed as soon as I finish this.”

“You nearly died! You need rest!” You rush to him, setting the bandages down on the tabletop. 

“Died?” He laughs once, dryly, “Me? Hah. That was nothing. Barely a scratch.” 

“Barely a– Do you know how long I’ve been taking care of you?!”

“Fine, fine,” he relents with a sigh. “Just a bit more reading, that's all I ask.”

You sigh too, reaching for his blanket he’d strewn aside when he awoke. Moving to stand behind him, you drape it over his shoulders, “At least let me put this on you. You’re going to catch a chill.”  

“Hm, I’m sure even if I said I don’t want it, you wouldn’t listen to me.” 

“I’m glad you see how this works,” you say with a smile, “Now, as soon as that’s done, it’s straight back to bed.” 

At last he turns to look at you, his face quirked in a small, bitter smile, “Alright, fine. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Huh?” You stare back at him intently.

“Guess I should be thanking you and Wonwoo, huh? Well… I appreciate what you did. Thanks.” His thanks are rarely unaccompanied by cynicism, sarcasm or outright derision but this is different. Noticing your baffled expression he speaks again. “Something wrong? Did I say something funny?”

“Oh! No no no,” you quickly assure him, “It’s not that.” It’s more you’ve never seen him act so nice. 

After that, you leave him to his work, checking back an hour later to make sure that he’s asleep and not working himself to the bone. Once doing so, you return to your quarters for another few, quiet hours, before a visitor arrives in the night.

“I thought I’d come and pay him a visit…” You hear the voice of Wong Kunhang speak out as you approach the common area, you also note Wonwoo standing next to him.

“He’s resting at the moment–” You begin, but stop when you hear movement behind you. 

“Commander–!” Wonwoo says, rushing to Jihoon’s side, “I’m glad to see you standing! For a while, I really wasn’t sure what was going to happen.” His eyes begin to tear up and he blinks rapidly to clear them. 

“C’mon, don’t give me that,” Jihoon gives a short laugh, “You really think I’d die so easily?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right,” he rubs his hand across his face awkwardly, trying to brush away the tears that refuse to stop forming. 

“Jihoon,” Kunhang says solemnly, “I’m going to be honest with you. You fought like a Demon back in Hanseong, I’ll give you that. Morale is through the roof. The whole army won’t stop talking about you. But your actions were dangerous and idiotic,” the once calm demeanor of the general turns angered. “You are a commanding officer, not a soldier! You don’t belong on the front line!” 

“General Wong, he’s only just recovered… Don’t you think you’re being a bit too harsh–” Wonwoo tries to quell the other’s discontent. 

“No! I’m going to give my piece, I won’t let him slide out of this one!” Kunhang shouts, “Listen to me, Lee Jihoon. Combining our men isn’t just about new clothes and new titles, we have to change about how we think about war. We have to learn new tactics. The commander charging at the front of the army does not show that we are improving our strategy!”

Flustered at this point, Kunhang struggles hard to keep his composure, “If the soldiers are the hands and feet, then their commanding officer is the head. Without a head, the body is a useless mess! This war will be lost if we succumb to our own pride!”

Jihoon’s eyes go wide. The words similarly mirror one of the last things that Chan had said to him. Keeping his head on so that the body can move forward… 

“Chan’s ghost back to haunt me,” Jihoon sighs out with a weighted smile, a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Is something funny?” Kunhang frowns, “This is serious! Don’t you understand how worried I was about you? Hell, how worried the whole army was about you?!”

For a few moments, Jihoon simply stares at him. 

“Say what you want!” Kunhang stands his ground, albeit a bit taken aback at the commander’s attitude, “It won’t change my mind!”

“You’re right, Wong. Sorry for worrying you.” He follows his surprisingly genuine apology with a similarly surprising bow.  

Kunhang has clearly prepared himself for a variety of reactions from Jihoon, but this had been none of them. For several moments he stands there, too flabbergasted to speak. 

“My apologies to you too, Wonwoo. I hear you helped carry me all the way here.”

“Oh no!” Wonwoo shakes his head, “No, it was nothing. Anything for you, sir.” 

𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔢 19𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔎𝔬𝔨𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Summer blooms from the remnants of spring in full fury. Rumors and news about the intense fighting floats in and out of the town, and you grow uneasy thinking about the loss of lives on each side. In the subsequent weeks following Wong Kunhang’s visit, he’s once again able to take Hanseong and keep a steady hand over keeping it in Silla's grasp. And although he hasn’t completely healed, Jihoon has decided to leave Kyeju as soon as he is well enough to march with Kunhang who’s now stationed in Koksan. 

The way there seems longer than you'd ever thought possible. At last, you’d caught up with the main body of the Hwarang. 

Hansol’s at the door to greet you the moment you arrive at the estate. 

“Commander,” Hansol says with a small smile, “I’m grateful to see you alive.”

“Glad to see you’re alright too, I hear you’ve been doing well.”  

Although Hansol looks relieved to be reunited with Jihoon, he frowns and rubs his hand to his forehead. Perhaps fatigue from the battles occurring is beginning to get to him. 

Jihoon looks past him to the people standing behind him, “Junghwan, Dohoon, nice to see you’re still around. Was starting to get worried about you two.” Despite their commander’s voiced appreciations, both wear glum expressions. 

It’s Dohoon who begins to shake before breaking down into tears, his voice quivering violently, “You entrusted me with Chief’s safety, b-but– I wasn’t strong enough! I couldn’t protect him!”

Although hearing his words, you cannot get yourself to grasp their meaning. For him to be this distraught can only mean one thing. 

“We have been told that at the end of last month that Youngmin was… beheaded in Pyongyang.” Hansol steps in after Dohoon fails to compose himself, being ushered aside and consoled by Junghwan. 

‘Beheaded.’ You swallow at the word. Youngmin had been killed like a common criminal, and you know it would have been pure humiliation for him. 

“Hm, didn’t even let him kill himself,” it almost seems as if Jihoon had expected this. His voice is controlled and unsurprised, but within his eyes you can see a bottomless, yawning despair. 

“It’s my fault he died!” Dohoon exclaims, “Please commander, I deserve to die as well!”

“I as well!” Junghwan adds, “I begged you to let me fight for his freedom, but I– I wasn’t successful! I’m a failure!”  

“You idiots! Look around you,” Jihoon frowns, “There’s no goodman way we have a single Hwarang left to spare! If you’re so prepared for death, then don’t give me your cheap words. Prove yourselves on the battlefield!”

The two fall silent after a quick, “Yes sir.”

Later that night, both Seungcheol and Soonyoung come to visit Jihoon.

As members of the Fury Corp, they had been resting when you’d arrived earlier in the day. 

“Your arrival has the men in something of an uproar,” Seungcheol muses, “It woke me somewhat earlier than usual.” 

“I heard you got hurt pretty bad, Commander. Didn’t think we’d see you again so soon,” Soonyoung says, almost scanning for wounds on the elder.

“Well, I couldn’t just sit on my ass once I heard there were battles happening all over the place,” Jihoon says, sounding calm and relaxed. You know that isn’t how he’s feeling on the inside though. If you have been feeling depressed since learning of Youngmin’s passing, you cannot begin to comprehend how he must be feeling. 

“We should be on our way then, our work begins at night, after all,” Seungcheol notes and begins to head for the door. Soonyoung nods and heads after him before Jihoon speaks up. 

“Soonyoung, do you think you can tell Hansol to come by?”

“Huh?” Soonyoung looks back, “Uh, sure… I’ll go and get him now.” Before he leaves he says one more thing to Jihoon, “I know you only just got here. But you should really rest tonight.”   

With both of them gone, the room falls into an awkward silence. Jihoon hasn’t told you to leave, but it seems unlikely that he’ll start talking to you either. Just as you’re about to break the quiet, Hansol opens the door and steps inside.

“I heard you had business with me. Can I help you?”

Without even waiting for him to settle in, Jihoon says, “From now on, I’ll be commanding from the front line.”

A strangled gulp treks down your throat as he says this out of almost nowhere. If he were to fight on the front line, the violence would be intense and he still hadn’t fully healed. 

“Do you intend to die in battle?” Hansol asks simply.

“No,” Jihoon shakes his head, “I won’t go out that easily. You’ve been out there. Only right for me to take that burden off you, right?” 

His presence would raise morale among the men but if he died, the Hwarang dies with him. 

“You raise an excellent point, sir. If you mean to take my place, however,” the air grows thick as Hansol’s hand falls to his sword, “I must ask you to defeat me first. If you cannot best me, then only death awaits you on the front lines.”  

“Getting a little full of yourself without me, huh?” Jihoon’s lips turn upward into a grin as his sword slides from its scabbard. 

“You shouldn’t be doing this!” You cry out as Hansol’s blade is also released, the blade glinting in the glow of the lanterns.

“Stay out of this!” Jihoon says and locks eyes with Hansol. Seconds linger as they remain unmoving, just then they leap towards one another, swords struggling against one another. After a bit, Jihoon is thrown backwards to sprawl across the floorboards. 

“What?!” He looks surprised. Even only partially healed, he still has far greater strength than a human, and he isn’t the type to go easy on a friend. 

“This war is not so easy that you might rush to the front line without your full strength,” Hansol says and as you look back at him your eyes grow wide.

“Hansol…” With his now reddened eyes and white hair, there’s no doubt that he’s a Fury. “You drank the pimul?”

“Don’t worry about me, I made my own decision.” The simple fact that he’s decided this path says more about the battles he’s been fighting than words ever can. Hansol looks to Jihoon, who’s rising to his feet, “I understand why you wish to fight, that is why I cannot allow you to.” He straightens himself and sheaths his sword, his hair returning to normal. “Perhaps you might be able to forget your pain in the midst of battle, but I cannot afford to let you do that. You cannot be permitted to turn a blind eye to our problems.”

Jihoon slowly puts his sword away, “Because I’m the Chief now?”

“Because you’re the only one who can unify the Hwarang.” After hearing that, Jihoon sighs, only allowing Hansol to continue. “Leave the front line to us. You, Jihoon, should remain here and plan our strategies.” 

“Fine. The front line’s yours until my wounds heal.” 

An honest, “Thank you” leaves Hansol, and then he turns to you. “I’m leaving him in your care. Don’t let him out of your sight until he’s healthy again.”  

You nod and give him what you hope to be a reassuring smile. He inclines his head to you, turns to Jihoon to give a short bow, then leaves. As soon as the door closes, Jihoon’s face darkens and his brows draw together. 

“Damn it… He’s gotten to the point where he doesn’t trust me and thinks I need you as a babysitter.”

“He’s just worried about you, that’s all,” you try to justify Hansol’s actions. 

Jihoon gives a bitter laugh, then stops suddenly. He gulps out a noise and clutches his stomach in pain, his body and hands shaking as his hair and eyes begin to change color.  With the bloodlust taking hold, he begins to groan out in pain. 

“This way,” you quickly take his arm and lead him to a room off of the main hall. In the open, anyone is privy to catch him. 

As he settles in the room, you set out towards him, and he has a look in his eyes as if he already knows what your next move is. You tug at your collar, loosening it like you’d done before. He leans toward you and you feel a sharp prick on your neck, you stay as still as you can as he bites down onto you. His hot breath panting along your neck, drinking slowly as he begins to calm. 

Eventually, he pulls back. There’s pain on his face but not from the bloodlust. 

“This can’t go on forever…” His face turns upward into a half sour smile, “You. Me. This war. Everything…”

“Jihoon?” His eyes are distant and he doesn’t seem to hear you. You can’t describe it but something feels strange, wrong, even. 

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 6𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔎𝔬𝔨𝔰𝔞𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 By the time Jihoon’s injuries heal, it’s early autumn. Battles still rage along the fronts, and Silla inches nearer and nearer towards its goal. Jihoon hasn’t received any orders of late, but you feel that that’s about to change when you hear Wonwoo storming down the hallway.

You’re settled in the main room with Jihoon, Seungcheol, Soonyoung, Junghwan and Dohoon when the doors burst open, Wonwoo shouting, “I have news from Wong Kunhang! He says were to launch an offensive against Pyongyang.”

“Pyongyang? That’s the capital….” Junghwan says seriously, glancing towards Jihoon.

In other words, this may be the push to finally close in on Goguryeo. 

“What now then?” Dohoon looks to Jihoon as well.

“We’ll need to get there as soon as possible. No doubt Kunhang has some elaborate plan to route out their forces.” You haven’t seen Jihoon this excited in a while, and the others in the room pick up on his energy.  

“Our ships have already been sent to Ongjin, they will be able to converge on Pyongyang once the situation up north has settled.” 

“Then I should go to Ongjin first,” Seungcheol says, “We should establish a stronghold for when the main body of men arrives.” 

“Isn’t it a bit dangerous to have our representative be someone from the Fury Corps?” You postulate to the group.

“My father’s family is from Ongjin, you know.” Seungcheol says quietly, “I have a few connections there. I feel I am most suited to lead the advance guard. There’s… Something else that’s been bothering me as well.”

“Bothering you?” You question but all he does in response is nod and smile. 

“Seungcheol… you’re supposed to be dead, aren’t you?” Soonyoung interrupts, “Seems like that might be an issue.”

“A minor detail,” he waves it off, “easily dealt with.”

“In that case, he’s probably the best choice,” Wonwoo murmurs. 

“No,” Jihoon disagrees, “The Fury Corps isn’t cut out for that. You still can’t stand up during the day.” 

“It’s difficult, certainly, but not impossible.” Seungcheol argues, “I don’t see any reason to just follow behind the rest of the army, and I’d be glad to push myself for this.”

You don’t doubt his ability to do that, but you do question the validity of his motives. 

“There’s… a bit more to his message,” Wonwoo says after Jihoon and Seungcheol have been staring at each other for a moment. “Kunhang will be leading his men to Tagok Pass in hopes of stalling the Goguryeo reinforcements. I believe he means to buy time so that our allies can sack the city without interference. But…”

“The pass is on the front line right now,” Soonyoung drums his fingers along the hilt of his sword. “I understand what he’s trying to do, but I don’t think it’s going to be as easy as he thinks it’ll be.” 

“That’s a good point,” Junghwan sighs, “The enemy’s getting desperate, and we don’t know what else they’ve got up their sleeves.”

“If we want Kunhang to come back alive, we need to send some reinforcements to go along with him,” Jihoon ascertains. 

“I disagree.” Seungcheol frowns. “If we are to win in Pyongyang, we must arrive there at full strength.” 

“Are you saying we should abandon Kunhang then?” Hansol asks.

“Well, if both of our forces are wiped out by Goguryeo, there is hardly any point at all.” 

The men all shoot glances at one another, formulating their own thoughts and responses before Hansol speaks once more, “I will remain with Wong. Without their aid in previous battles none of us would be here. I will go to Tagok Pass. Jihoon, please take the rest of the men to Ongjin.” 

“Hansol, you–” Jihoon’s eyes grow wide.

“Then I’ll go and prepare to depart.” Before giving Jihoon a chance to respond, Seungcheol stands quickly and leaves the room.

Soonyoung doesn’t seem particularly happy about the way things have gone either, and after a moment of furious thought, he stands as well, “I guess I’ll go with him. Don’t really want to let him out of my sight, you know.”

 “Yeah,” Jihoon nods, “That’s probably smart.” 

“Be careful, Soonyoung,” you say as he walks past you. He gives you a small smile and a wink, then dashes out the door after Seungcheol. 

“Jeon,” Jihoon looks at the man still at the door, “I need you to go and tell Kunhang what we’ve decided.” 

“Understood,” Wonwoo says quickly, “I’ll be off as soon as I can.” 

Once he leaves, Hansol turns to Jihoon. Whether or not he was waiting for the room to be cleared, you’re unsure. 

“Please survive. No matter what happens.”

“What’s the matter?” His brow furrows as he looks to the other, “That came from nowhere.” 

“In the Hwarang, you and Youngmin upheld the path of a true warrior.” Even when slanted by their own kingdom, they had never compromised what they stand for. “Our standard of truth is a banner for everyone who fights. We lead the way.”

Hansol and Jihoon look at one another silently, before Hansol continues. “As the man who made the Hwarang into what it has become, it must be your duty to carry that standard. Every Hwarang before you and after is relying on that.”

“You make it sound so easy.” Jihoon replies with his thin lipped grin. “I’ll promise you this though, I’ll stick around until the Hwarang’s dead, or I am.”

“Thank you, Chief.” Hansol smiles, eventually turning to you, “I leave Jihoon in your care.”

The words are few but hold great emotion behind them, “We’ll be fine. I’m sure of it… After all, I don’t think he could die even if someone killed him. I’ve seen him on the verge of death many times, but he always pulls through. So,” your jaw locks and you look directly into Hansol’s eyes, “Please don’t die, Hansol.”

The battle at Tagok Pass is sure to be an intense one. Many lives, you’re sure, are going to be lost.  

“I won’t die even if I get killed?” Jihoon’s eyebrow piques, “That’s quite a statement. If you’ve got time to worry about me, maybe you oughta be worrying about yourself too, Hansol.” He’d said it as a joke but there’s no mistaking his underlying sincerity. 

“I won’t die easily either. After all, I will be fighting in the name of the Hwarang.” Hansol says calmly and then addresses you, “Thank you for your kind gesture.” 

And so, you accompany Jihoon to Ongjin. He’s still gravely concerned about Hansol, thus he’d ordered Wonwoo to remain alongside him at Tagok Pass. Leaving them both turns out to be much more difficult than you’d imagined. All you can do is pray that they survive, and that you will meet again someday.  

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 1𝔰𝔱, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 As winter takes hold, the cold wind blows down on the main body of the Hwarang as they arrive in Ongjin. The trip had been impeded by several small snowstorms, but now upon your arrival a new problem is encountered: Seungcheol and the Fury Corps were nowhere to be found. Soonyoung, too, had been unheard from.  

From the townspeople in Ongjin, you hear disturbing rumors that murder has been on the rise in recent weeks. 

Upon reaching the regional minister’s house, you’re met with a man who splits a grin as soon as he sees Jihoon. “Long time no see, Lee. How are you?”

“I’m glad to see you’re doing well, Qian.”

Later on, you learn that this man is Qian Kun, the Tang navy’s second-in-command. When the Yamoto forces had fired upon Sabi some years earlier, Kun had been in command of the Tang ships that aided the Silla forces on land. While Jihoon hadn’t been at the battle, he was able to speak with and befriend the man when he visited Seorabeol some weeks later. 

“Have you already heard about Youngmin?” Kun frowns,as Jihoon nods. “I apologize for having been unable to help. Your kingdom has truly lost a great man.”  

“He would’ve been happy to hear you say that,” Jihoon says with a bitter smile, “But he wouldn’t want us to stand around crying about him. He’d want us to get to work. Can you give me a rundown of what we’re working with?”

“Unfortunately I don’t have the greatest news,” Kun says, “While we’ve secured the city, there is something… wrong occurring. I have requested a meeting with the newly implemented officials but I haven’t received any form of response. To top it off, there’s a suspicious group of men running around Ongjin. Well, there are rumors, at least.”

“Suspicious how?”

“Well murders have increased, and a few rumors report the assailiants running back to the minister’s home.” 

Suspicious men running around, possibly murdering civilians… Seungcheol and the Fury Corps unreachable… It isn’t hard to put two and two together. 

Jihoon and you lock eyes, no doubt thinking the same thing. 

“If this continues we may become sidetracked here from our main goal,” Qian states, “Perhaps if we could arrest these murders and restore peace in this area…”

“Kun, think you could leave the murders to me?” The other man opens his mouth to protest, but something in Jihoon’s gaze makes him change his mind and he nods. 

“Alright, I’ll leave this one to you. No more questions from me.” 

Once Kun returns to his men, you turn to Jihoon, “Do you think it’s Seungcheol…?”

“Can’t say,” Jihoon sighs out breathily, “You heard the same things I did. No way to know for sure but if it is… I’ll have to kill him.”

“Jihoon…”

“He got pretty freaked out when he heard about where a Fury's power comes from. Might be he’s pretty depressed right now. Maybe crazy.” He shakes his head and looks to the minister’s house, “Strange things are afoot in Ongjin. We can’t be careless.” 

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 2𝔫𝔡, 666 - 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The next day, Jihoon begins his investigation. Despite your attempts to convince him that he still needs rest, not the stress of a murder investigation, he presses on. And so, that is how you find yourself lounging around the rooms the Hwarang are occupying while Jihoon goes off on rounds with the rest of the men.

You’re engrossed in reading over some medical papers Namekawa had left you with when you receive an unexpected visitor. 

“Where were you this whole time?!” The papers drop from your grasp as Kwon Soonyoung steps into the room, “We couldn’t contact you, we were all so worried…”

“Do you know where Jihoon is?” He doesn’t answer your question, but rather jumps straight to the chase. 

“He’s off doing rounds at the minister’s estate…” 

“Ah,” Soonyoung looks a bit crestfallen, “Can you give him a message for me? I can tell you everything since we got here. Just make sure you pass it on to him.”

You gulp, waiting for him to open up. “The minister isn’t being cooperative. Chances are they're being pressured by the enemy somehow. At least that's what Seungcheol thinks. So, we looked around a little more and while we were doing that we found out that Heo is actually here.”

“What?!” You cry out at the unexpected revelation. Your father had been forced to do research on the Furies by the revivalists before the war broke out, or at least that's what you thought. 

“Yeah… and… he seems to be leading a unit of Furies for the Goguryeo forces.” Soonyoung frowns, “Well we figured we could just let that slide so we started watching their Furies, you know, where they go and stuff and well… I saw Seungcheol meeting with Heo.”

Soonyoung explains that Seungcheol told him they'd be more likely to get spotted if they moved together and went off on his own. This is pretty peculiar on its own but sometime after they split up Soonyoung witnessed Seungcheol meeting with your father. 

“I don’t know anymore… I don’t know what Seungcheol is thinking.”

“It doesn’t mean that Seungcheol is connected with Goguryeo, does it?” Your brow furrows. 

“If that were the case then there wouldn't be a need for him to lie to me though, right?” Soonyoung says frustratedly, “Doesn't act like he's got any plans to contact the rest of the Hwarang. I just didn't know what to do…” 

You’re not sure what else to say and just before you open your mouth you hear a commotion happening at the entrance of the building. The door to your room is kicked open and several strange men suddenly leap inside. 

“Who the hell are they–?! Shit!” Soonyoung shouts as they unsheathe their swords and lunge after him. He dodges the attack easily drawing his own sword as he moves. He strikes out at one of the men before he has a chance to recover. The man laughs and the spot where Soonyoung had struck him is beginning to heal immediately. Suddenly, the man's eyes begin to grow a deep crimson you understand what you're up against.

“Furies…!” 

“Get behind me!” Soonyoung reaches out and grabs your wrist, pulling you backwards.

“Now, there’s no need for that,” a new voice says from the entrance. You feel your eyelids footer incredulously after hearing a man's voice.  It's familiar… nostalgically so. 

“Father?!” You’re frozen in place as Soonyoung continues to fight the Furies. 

“What the hell!? Who are these guys! It's broad daylight! How are they moving swiftly?!”Although he's Clearly they're superior regards to swordsmanship, he's outnumbered and the daylight had weakened him. He's slow and his strikes are unsure. 

Your father maintains his cool composure, and he mutters under his breath as he observes the events, “Aren't they wonderful? Furies no longer restrained by the cycles of day and night.”

“You…” You stare at him, mouth agape, “You did this?”

“Of course, my child. I am unsure if the news has reached you yet but I was captured by the Goguryeo Army, and in this captivity I continued to research the pimul.”

“Father– you need to stop them!” You look to your friend fighting, “At this rate he’ll–” 

Heo Jinsang’s eyes widen as if he’s only just remembered and he looks over to Soonyoung with a smile. “Ah, yes. I don’t know how to thank you. Without you, it would have taken much longer to find my daughter.”

“You followed me?!” Soonyoung spits through grit teeth. 

Ignoring him, your father looks back to you and speaks with a soft voice, “I’ve come to get you. At last, we’ll be able to restore our clan.” 

“Clan…? You mean the Heo family?”

“With these superior Furies, restoring the glory of our clan will be child’s play.” Heo laughs, “Once the kingdoms bear witness to the potential of these breakthroughs, they cannot ignore us! We can even wipe out the Demon clans who rejected our plea for help, avenging our kin!”

“You’re planning on using Furies to restore the Heo lineage to power?” 

“Yes, I am. Everything I have done was for you.” His voice evokes the same tone he had used to speak to you when you were a child. You shake your head to combat it and his eyes narrow. With a few swift footfalls, he closes in, “You’ve been with the Hwarang for too long. They’ve corrupted you.”

No… It isn’t you who’s changed, it’s your father. 

“Goddamn it! Get off me you bastards!” Despite being out of breath, Soonyoung manages to swipe at the Furies with his sword, giving himself space. However, no matter the amount of wounds he’s able to inflict on them, they heal immediately.  

“Father…” 

“If we just sit down and talk this through, I’m sure you’d understand.” Your father’s face lies in a stony demeanor. 

“I–!” Before you can say anything else, he drives his fist into your stomach. Stars leap before your eyes, the world grows dark and you slip into unconsciousness.  

When you awake, you’re in an unfamiliar room. 

“Where…” Your hands gripping your head as you sit up, “Where am I?”

“You’re at the minister’s estate.” A voice says before you and you widen your eyes.

“Seungcheol?!” You cry out before noticing the figure next to him. Beside him stands your father. 

“What’s going on here?” You say as you scramble to your feet. “Why are you two together?!”

“I met with Heo secretly here in Ongjin, and we’ve agreed to work together in order to do Fury research.” Seungcheol explains, resting his arm on the hilt of his sword. 

“Then… You’re working with Goguryeo? You’ve betrayed Silla… Betrayed the Hwarang…”

“Is that what you think?” Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, “Interesting…” Explaining himself had never been one of Seungcheol’s strong points.

“How are you feeling, my child?” Heo asks sympathetically, “I apologize for the rough treatment. I hope you aren’t too hurt.” His tone is intimate and caring, you feel yourself wavering towards the father you used to know. 

“I suggest you make no attempts to escape…” Seungcheol says calmly but with more intimidation than you’d seen from him before, “We could make that difficult. In any event, it was reckless of you to bring her here, Heo.” He glances at you before continuing, “Jihoon is no fool. Her disappearance will surely mean that he will be onto our plans. I expect him at any moment.” 

“You told me that if I wanted to know where my daughter was, I just had to follow Kwon to the Hwarang.”

“Yes. I did.” Seungcheol’s lips curve into a frown, “But I never suggested to kidnap her. Alas, what’s done is done. No point arguing about it. We need to be thinking about what this could mean, and plan for it.”

 “I’m sure the Furies I left to deal with Kwon will return to the estate soon, you needn’t worry about the future.” Heo shrugs.

“What did you do to Soonyoung?” Your voice nearly breaks.

“I doubt he survived. After all, I did bring quite a few of them.” 

Your whole body shakes. You want wholeheartedly to not believe it, but the Furies that your father had brought were unlike any you’d ever seen before. Soonyoung had already looked pale and weak even before he’d started fighting…

“You just have to assume I’m dead?” A voice says from the open doorway, “C’mon, that hurts my feelings…” He’s leaning against the frame and someone brushes past him, glaring at Seungcheol and your father.

“You alright?” Jihoon asks as he looks at you. 

“I am!” You nod vigorously and he lets out a snort of laughter. 

“How did you find us?!” Heo asks incredulously, “I’ve made so many improvements on my Furies. How could you have destroyed them all?”

“Improvements? If you say so, but if you want to take out the Hwarang, you’ll need about ten times what you sent.” Jihoon smirks.

“I figured you’d be here soon,” Seungcheol murmurs, “You didn’t bring any of the men, though… Well, I suspected you wouldn’t. Still, doesn’t it seem rather reckless for the two of you to charge headfirst into unknown enemy territory?” 

“Explain.” Jihoon’s eyes narrow at Seungcheol, “Why didn’t you contact us?”

“There’s nothing for you in Ongjin.” Seungcheol says simply.

“I was given orders by Yeon Gaesomun to come here. They told me to take my Furies and kill the traitors who reside here. However, I found such a plan unagreeable when so many test subjects reside here…” Heo sighs out.  

“We found common ground in our distaste for Goguryeo,” Seungcheol explains, “and thusly decided to seize Ongjin for ourselves.”

“So you’re not fighting with our enemy…?” You struggle to piece together everything.

“I’m on your side, child. I have no intention of taking part in mankind’s disputes.” Your father says as he crosses his arms, “Let us bring retribution to the humans who destroyed our clan and the Demons who betrayed us. It is in our destiny to forge a new Demon kingdom with our own hands– no, we will be the only Demon clan!”

You recall Sooyoung explaining how the Heo village had been destroyed by humans. Even then, you can’t get yourself to agree with your father.

Just then, the sound of footsteps loudly resound out from the hallway. Furies pour into the room as Seungcheol smiles, “Ah, they seem to have noticed our intruders.”

“Hey–!” Jihoon’s eyes widen as he notices their faces, “They’re the Hwarang’s–!”

“Not only does this castle hold the remnants of Goguryeo’s Fury army, but also of the Hwarang’s Fury Corps.” Seungcheol crosses his arms, “All of the Furies that exist in both Kingdoms are gathered here.” 

Red eyes surround Soonyoung, Jihoon and you. No humanity resides in their gazes. 

“Please give us your help,” Your father calls out to you, “We need you to lead us. You must command the Furies and restore the Heo clan.” 

But you don’t care about restoring the clan. You don’t want to create more Furies so that blood can drive them mad. You don’t want to see more suffering. 

“Father… you’re wrong.” Heo’s eyes go wide when you speak. “Building a kingdom on the corpses of others isn’t right! I can’t agree to it!”

Human or Demon, every life is precious. Just because your home village was destroyed doesn’t mean you can oppress humans. 

“I believe Heo was saying that he’d be willing to assist the Hwarang.” Seungcheol interjects, looking at Jihoon. “What do you think, Lee? Would you like to lead this army of Furies against Goguryeo?” 

“You know the answer.” With Jihoon having been against Furies from the very beginning, you doubt he’s changed his mind about them.

“So I suppose that ends our negotiation.” Seungcheol sighs, slowly drawing his sword from its scabbard. “Very well…”

You stiffen, yet Jihoon doesn’t move towards his own blade. He remains still, cooly contemplating Seungcheol. Almost as if someone’s dumping white ink on it, Seungcheol’s hair slowly changes to white and he raises his sword.

Instead of swiping at Jihoon though, he cuts down a Fury standing nearby him. 

“All a Fury exists for is battle, and now we’ve taken that away from them…” Seungcheol shakes his head with a sigh, “The least I can do for them is let them die here, in battle.”

The room falls silent. Then it explodes in noise– the enraged cries of the Furies and the rattle of swords being drawn. 

“Soonyoung–” Jihoon says quickly.

“I know!” The younger shouts and drops into a fighting stance, slipping his hand around the hilt of his sword. A grin splits on his lips as his hair turns white, “Seungcheol, this is way too badass for an old guy like you! Why didn’t you tell us?!”

“Well,” Seungcheol chuckles, “as they say, to fool your enemies, you must first fool your friends.” Their swords whistle and spark through the air, Fury after Fury falling before them. “Besides, doesn’t the hero’s right-hand man make the best villain?”

Jihoon responds with a bark of wry laughter and draws his own sword in a flash of silver light as his hair turns white as well. The men get into their stances and face the Furies as Furies themselves.

“The hell are you talking about?” Jihoon says with a grin, “Still means the hero gets stuck cleaning up the damn mess.” 

As their three swords spin and hiss through the air, blood gushes and spatters, painting the walls of the estate a deep red. Wave after wave conquered, they drown their foes in a sea of blood. You notice that your mouth has gone dry, your hands beginning to shake. In the corner, you spot your father sitting down.

“Everything you told me was a lie?” Heo asks Seungcheol. “You said you wanted to do more research on the Furies in the kingdom of Demons… Why?”

“I saw the end.” Seungcheol answers, “I was trying to discover a way for Furies to live past their… limits. Our short lifespans made me impatient. To continue my research I even dirtied my hands.” Every suspicious thing he had done had been in the service of a single goal: saving his fellow Furies. “We have no future as Furies. You know this as well as I do, Heo.”

“No matter how resistant you make them to sunlight, they will push themselves too hard, and their lifespans will shrink and the bloodlust will drive them mad.” Seungcheol confirms the truth you’d all suspected: there is no way to save the Furies. “We are a mistake: a failed experiment. Furies are not something that should exist in this world. Let’s end this.”

Seungcheol’s true intentions leave you surprised, as does his admission that the Furies are a failure. Is he right? Can they not be saved? Has all hope been lost? You let your mind drift for a moment, and then you see a shadow move in the corner of your eye– A Fury only feet from you, his eyes red and mad with bloodlust. You reach for your sword but it’s too late.

Before your hand even touches the hilt, you see the Fury’s blade sweeping toward you. Blood splashes down onto the floor before you, but it isn’t yours. A figure standing before you had taken the blow in your stead.

“Father?!” 

The Fury pulls back for another swing but then it freezes, gurgles oddly and slides neatly in half, a blade glistening in the center.

“Turn your back on us in a fight, will you?” Jihoon spits as he looks down to the halved Fury, “Idiot.” He shifts his eyes up to your father’s wound, and you see his face twitch. Immediately, he moves closer and turns his back to the two of you, sword held at the ready.

“Are you… alright? Are you hurt anywhere?” Your father asks as he turns to look at you. There’s blood splattered all over his chest. The wound, now that you can see it, is undoubtedly a fatal one. 

“Yes, yes. I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all,” you say quickly. His hand reaches out and grasps your shoulder, he falls to his knees and you follow after him. Quickly you lay him on his back, clutching at his hand. 

“Our research was a… failure. I knew there was no future for the Furies…” He murmurs out as tears begin to well in your eyes, “But I couldn’t give it up… I wanted to bring back your clan, your family.” Ever since you were young he’d always tried to do what was best for you. “It seems my fate is to die with the Furies… I have committed terrible sins. This is for the best, please, don’t cry.” 

You nod your head knowing that if you’re to open your mouth the tears would never stop. He gives you one last smile, sighs a calm breath and is gone.

After what seems like an eternity, you look up. The battle is over. The Furies that came to fruition by the Hwarang and your father lie dead, scattered around the room. 

“Kind of a waste, isn’t it?” Seungcheol says as he looks at the bodies, “That many Furies could have been awfully useful… The Hwarang could have used these men.”

“You don’t win battles by thinking you’ll lose them.” Jihoon says.

“Well, you don’t win by thinking you’ll win either,” Soonyoung snorts with laughter, then coughs to cover it up.

It’s true, the Hwarang had lost a lot of Furies but their unity had grown stronger.

“Ack–!” A sudden burst of pain wipes the grin from Soonyoung’s face. Seungcheol, too, has doubled over in agony. Their hair which had returned to normal goes back to stark white. 

“Looks like we’ve reached our limit,” Seungcheol says through grit teeth.

Minhyun’s words suddenly flash to you. The Fury’s power isn’t a gift from the gods. You’re only borrowing life that you would spend decades on. 

Soonyoung sees your eyes go wide and gives you an awkward sort of laugh, “We were some of the first Furies.” They’d been in more battles as Furies than anyone else, and all of the strength and healing they’d enjoyed ate away at their futures until there was nothing left. 

“Did you know…?” The question leaves Jihoon as a whisper. 

Seungcheol smiles and then gives a slow nod, “What warrior doesn’t know his own body?” His legs suddenly shake violently and he falls to the floor, Soonyoung soon following. 

Jihoon drops to his knees and takes both of their hands in his own.

“Jihoon… Do you remember?” Seungcheol remineces weakly, “Back when we were at Kwak Hall, we would spend all night talking.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods, “We would say that Youngmin would never be content with being just the heir of a small school. We promised to do what we could for him…”

“Who would’ve thought he would leave this world before us?” Seungcheol frowns and his voice grows quiet, “I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but without you, we couldn’t have built up the Hwarang.”

“Same goes for you too…” Jihoon says with a small smile, “You were the one that always calmed me down whenever I’d start a fight with Yixing.” He’s doing his best to act tough so that Soonyoung and Seungcheol won’t worry. 

“Looks like we’re taking the lead this time… Don’t be in too much of a hurry to catch up though, alright?” Soonyoung adds in a bright and kind tone, “I mean, you barely had any time to rest since you joined the Hwarang.”

Jihoon just nods.

“I’m having a hard time buying that ‘yes’. You’re a little too short-tempered to keep a promise like that…”

“Shut it, you little brat. You really think I’m gonna take that crap from you?”

Soonyoung’s face relaxes as Jihoon snarls back at him. Even in this moment, Jamein’s tender and kind for the benefit of his Chief. 

“You must go south.” Seungcheol suddenly says. “Heo said he used water from Tamna when he was refining the pimul.”

Your eyes widen– perhaps there still is hope. Maybe, just maybe, there’s a chance something south can repair the curse of the Fury to these men. Seungcheol’s last words are the fait muster of hope for the fate of the Furies. 

“Jihoon… Don’t… don’t lose sight of what matters, alright? Being reckless doesn’t work out so well.” Soonyoung’s voice has grown rough and raspy. Jihoon’s knuckles whiten as they tighten around his comerade’s hands. But with a sound like sand pouring over a stone, their hands crumble into ash. In moments, they are no more. 

“Jihoon…” You call out but he doesn’t answer. He only stares, silent, at the twin piles of ash that sit where his friends were only moments before. There aren’t any tears in his eyes, but even so he’s somehow crying. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there before he stands up. The room that includes only you two is devastatingly quiet.

“Let’s go.” He says quietly, his voice curt and clipped. Yet, when he turns to you, his eyes suddenly go wide. “Hey, no crying.”

You nod, trying to stop, but it’s no good. The tears don’t pause, regardless of how much you wipe them away. In one day– an hour– you’ve been forced to say goodbye to Soonyoung, to Seungcheol… and the father you haven’t seen in over a year.

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 17𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The events of the magistrate’s house resonate with you for a while, and after some time has passed you find yourself alone again, standing in front of the estate. Wisps of snowflakes fall around you, wind hitting your cheeks and chapping your lips.

“They sure took their sweet-ass time,” Jihoon quips as he exits the front gates of the building. His worn expression indicates a worried tiredness. 

“Hello,” you greet him, “How was the meeting?”

“How? Hmph.” He shakes his head, “Those idiots north of Pyongyang don’t like any of the plans we’ve proposed, even with Kunhang and I poking around as often as we are. Apparently with the incident here and continuing at Tagok, Munmu doesn’t trust us yet to act. That’s the bullshit they relayed! Can you believe that?”

Jihoon paces the front gate, arms crossed and breath puffing in the air, “They act all high and mighty on their capital in the north, but pussy out when it’s time for the final push. It’s pathetic, Munmu hasn’t done shit and is relying on the Tang for everything.” He frowns, “Whatever. Let’s head back to the inn, the sun’s really beating down today.”

“Okay…” A cloud of frustration seems to follow you as you return to the inn, most notably in Jihoon. “We’ll be there soon enough, hang in there.” His skin looks pale and watching him in silent agony makes your heart ache.

“Don’t worry about me,” he sighs, “How about you? Are you holding up alright?”

“I’m… fine. I mean, I’m pretty resilient.”

“How can you say that?” He lets out a dry laugh, “You stay up all night just to tend to me…”

“I’m tough.” You smile back, “When you finally fall asleep, it gives me the peace of mind so that I can rest easily too.” 

Jihoon’s lips curl and he doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. Instead, he just stares at you. He turns his head gradually to the hues of red and orange covering the winter sky in the distance. You follow his lead and look towards the horizon. 

“Huh…?” Your vision suddenly blurs. 

“Hey, what’s the matter?” Jihoon’s right next to you, but yet his voice sounds so distant. 

Before you know it, your body collapses to the ground. 

“Hey!” Jihoon shouts out, “You alright?! Hang in there!”

When you regain consciousness, you discover yourself tucked snugly in bed. 

“About time you woke up,” Jihoon says as you look around the room. “Do you know where you are right now?”

“Ah! Jihoon…” Once you  realize that it’s him, you snap out of your daze. “I’m sorry, I–” 

“You idiot!” He shouts, causing you to jump. “If you weren’t feeling well, you shouldn’t have gone outside. You should’ve rested!”

“I’m sorry…” It feels as if a stone has dropped into the pit of your stomach as he scolds you, and you can only look down at your hands. 

“Uhm, well… I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on you,” Jihoon sighs. “You’ve barely had any chance to rest, especially after what happened with your father’s passing… I can’t really be surprised that you would push yourself to act like everything’s normal.”

But he’s lost people too, and if you’re suppressing how you’ve been feeling you can’t imagine the turmoil happening within him,

“Until further notice, you don’t have to join me when I meet with members of the war council. You’re going to stay here to rest.”

“What?” You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. Today was just a lot to handle. So, please… I’ll be careful. I won’t let this become a problem again in the future.”

“Why? Because Youngmin, Chan and Eunseok asked you to watch after me or something?” His head tilts, “None of the men who died for us would have wanted you to look after me at the expense of your own health.”

He does have a point. But that isn’t the only reason you’re still here.

“I… I want to be by your side, Jihoon.”

“Yeah?” His brow furrows, “Why’s that?”

“What do you mean ‘why’?” I, um…” You can’t continue. Of course, you know the true answer but to admit that is a bit too much. There’s no way you can tell him your feelings. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Well, fine. Whatever,” he waves it off, flashing his usual sense of detachment, muttering to himself,  “If you don’t want to tell me, I don’t care.” Caught up in his own thoughts, he mutters something shortly, “You were close with Namekawa, right?”

“I wasn’t close with him… My father was, though.” You admit, “However, he did watch after me frequently.” 

“I see. He’s a good man, but I just can’t seem to put my full trust in him.” 

“Okay…?” You can’t quite grasp the point Jihoon is trying to make. 

“If anything happens while we’re out here, I want you to find him and stay with him.” Jihoon states, “Even if Goguryeo catches you, they won’t touch you as long as you’re with him.”

“What? Why would they–”

“Look. When you’re at war, you can’t just prepare for victory. Gotta consider your defeat as well.” Jihoon crosses his arms, “I’m sure Doctor Namekawa will show up here any day, so when that happens…” He falls silent. After a while, he shakes his head tenderly, “Nothing. Forget it. I’m just rambling.”

In the empty space of your conversation, you try to sift through what Jihoon’s trying to say. All you can do is pray that this brief, peaceful reprieve will prolong itself for a bit longer. 

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 21𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 In the following days Kun and Jihoon make another trip to the war council stationed in the minister’s home. Although they hope their audience with the officials will be fruitful, it turns out to be less than eventful. 

“Yeah,” Kun sighs, “It’s no use. The water’s going to be frozen over soon enough, I get that. But waiting until it thaws in the spring…” 

“It’s idiotic,” Jihoon agrees. “Guess we should kick back and relax until then, huh?”

“Even if you’re joking it’s not funny.” Kun frowns, “We’re only giving them more time to reinforce Pyongyang.”

“Sure,” Jihoon says, “But it’s not like they’ve got anyone else to come in and save them. They’ll be holed up in the city, waiting for a reprieve. If they’re smart they’d have surrendered by now.”

“Knowing Gaesomun, it’s not like he’ll have a shortage of ideas of how to turn this around. For fuck’s sake he killed their last king to wrest power from him. I suppose we’ll refrain from making any rash decisions until we reunite with Boo.”

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 26𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 You find Jihoon in his apartments when you approach him, “I hear our forces are gathering in the north of the city… Are we leaving?”

“The Hwarang serves two things:” he sighs, “the King and the Kingdom. That hasn’t changed.”

“The Hwarang show the way, right?” You point out.

“It’s funny, isn’t it? All this time, we had those lords and ministers looking down and judging our actions. Now look at us.” You can almost recall Youngmin’s grin as Jihoon smiles. 

“Well, that’s one more reason not to die, then.” 

It’s a burden on him, undoubtedly, but Jihoon has seen many of his friends lay down their lives for the Hwarang and what it represents. Knowing what it had meant to them, he can’t allow himself to die.

“As long as the men believe in what we stand for, I can’t let the Hwarang die.” The doubt you’d seen in him weeks before is gone. He’s accepted his place at the head of the Hwarang. “I have to protect them.”

He looks over to you, his gaze warm, it makes you feel better than you have in a while. Just being next to him is enough to make you feel like everything is right in the world. 

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 30𝔱𝔥, 666 – 𝔒𝔫𝔤𝔧𝔦𝔫, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 A few more days pass and the men you’d left to go to Tagok Pass finally reach Onjin. Unfortunately, bad news comes with their victory over the pass.

“Hansol has fallen in battle,” Wonwoo reports, his head bowed, “His last words were ‘Leave the rest to Jihoon’...” 

Ever since this war started, you’re unsure of how many times you’ve seen this expression on a warrior’s face. You bite your lip until it almost bleeds.

Jihoon puts his hands on Wonwoo’s shoulders, giving him some words of encouragement, “I’m sorry I put you through that, Jeon. I’m just glad you made it back alive.”

Wonwoo’s eyes grow wide and he looks overcome with emotion, “Th–Thank you sir!”

Soonyoung and Seungcheol lost their lives in Ongjin, and Hansol at Tagok… This means that Jihoon is the only Fury left among the Hwarang.

“It’s been hard already, but I’m pretty sure things are going to get worse,” Jihoon crosses his arms, “You’ve all fought enough, so…” 

Wonwoo sets his jaw and looks back at Jihoon, “I’ve given my life to the Hwarang, it just hasn’t been lost yet. We’ll follow you to the end of the world and back, sir.”

“Me too!” Junghwan says firmly, “I’ll follow you all the way!”

“Let me accompany you, no matter where it takes us!” Dohoon adds.

“You guys…”  Jihoon’s almost at a loss for words.

“We want to fight as the Hwarang, not as foot soldiers of Silla. We want to fight for the justice we believe in.” Wonwoo smiles at him reassuringly. 

You’re sure that if Youngmin were alive, he’d be crying. The Hwarang united in body and mind. A great happiness wells within you and suddenly you can’t hold it in any longer. Tears spill forth from your eyes.

“... Idiots.” Jihoon’s face twists into a sneer, but there isn’t any hiding the warmth in his eyes as he looks out over the men. They know the coming battle will not be an easy one, but there is no doubt in their mind: their place is with Jihoon and the Hwarang.

---

office hours — bsk

♡ pairing: boo seungkwan x afab!reader ♡ theme: college au, nonidol!au ♡ wc: ~6.2k ♡ warnings: swearing, smut, reader is gender neutral but wears a skirt, fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex (stay safe y’all), creampie, petnames (f. receiving - baby), fluff at the end if you squint ♡ a/n: this whole thing is a highly self-indulgent fic so if reader is down horrendous for bsk… u know why

‧₊˚✩彡 moodboard by @myhimbomingi ‧₊˚✩彡

You fucking hate Tuesdays. 

There’s nothing actually wrong with your Tuesday schedule - on the contrary it’s probably the best day of the week in terms of lectures and extracurriculars. Your first class of the day, Developmental Psychology, doesn’t start til 11am, so you get to sleep in - always a win in your book. Afterwards you have an hour and a half break, usually spent by eating lunch in the student center and then a visit to the campus library to get some studying done. Then your 2pm Discussion for your Intro to Fiction class, followed by yoga at the gym - and since your work-study job at the Cognitive Research Lab doesn’t have you scheduled for Tuesdays, you get to go home right after. All in all, a pretty laid-back day in your hectic college life.

Except for that stupid 2pm Discussion. 

As a Psychology major you didn’t anticipate having to take any Literature courses, but you needed to fill an elective and Intro to Fiction had a reputation for being a fun, low-stakes course. It also fit conveniently into your Fall Semester schedule, so you signed up. Professor Mendoza turned out to be super nice and never gives any bullshit extra homework, and the assigned books have been surprisingly enjoyable. No, none of that is the problem. 

The problem is the hot TA you’ve inadvertently fallen in love with. 

Your first encounter with Seungkwan had been a bit embarrassing - the first week of the semester you somehow went to the completely wrong building, and even with speed walking you arrived to Discussion about five minutes late. You tried to sneak in quietly but the loud, creaky door hinge had other plans. Twenty-some pairs of eyes turned to stare at the idiot latecomer, but the pair you locked onto were the soft brown ones surrounded by long dark eyelashes, belonging to the blazer-wearing grad student standing at the front of the classroom. 

You would’ve been embarrassed in this situation anyway, but the unexpected eye contact made your stomach drop and your face turn hot. You stood there for a few moments too long, before muttering a feeble “sorry” under your breath as you made your way to the only empty seat in the room - which of course was located at the very front, immediately before the TA. You quickly took your seat and pulled out a notebook (not even the right one, but you were too frazzled to notice). The TA, whose name you missed due to being late, resumed his lecture. You started writing down everything he was saying - definitely not necessary, but you were doing your best to focus without looking up. 

Your face eventually stopped burning up, but this classroom was particularly warm and stuffy. You set down your pen and took your cardigan off, hanging it over the back of the chair. Mindlessly looking up, you look at the TA for the first time since sitting down. He too had discarded his outerwear - the muted brown herringbone blazer now laying aside on the teacher’s desk upon which he was leaning. His dark brown shoes matched his dark pants - which weren’t tight but certainly hugged his thighs nicely, but you tried not to think about that - and he was currently rolling up the sleeves of his medium gray button down - and you definitely tried not to think about that. You put your head back down and focused on your note-taking, transcribing everything without actually processing any of what he said. This was all very strange for you - sure some of your past TAs had been nice looking, but why was this particular one making you this flustered? 

The clock ticked on at an unbearably slow pace. You took your notes and paid no attention, not joining in on the conversation even once. You just have to make it through the hour, you kept telling yourself. But the hour seemed to never end. 

You snap out of it as the TA finally wraps up the class. 

“Don’t forget to read through chapter 5,” he reminds everyone. You realize you don’t even know which book you’re supposed to be reading, but it’s too late to ask now - you’ve looked like enough of a fool today already. Quickly packing your bag, you try to make your escape but as you are heading toward the door the TA calls out to you. Shit.  

“I just need to get your name - for attendance,” he tells you as you turn back around. 

“Oh… yeah,” you reply. You silently curse yourself for how stupid you sound. You tell him your name and he makes note of your attendance in his notes. You try to escape again but not before he sticks his hand out to you. 

“Seungkwan,” he introduces himself. You make the mistake of looking into those big round doe eyes again. He was even more beautiful up close. SHIT. 

You shake his hand, trying to do so as quickly as possible, but he has a very strong grip. 

“Nice to have you in class,” he says warmly. 

“Nicetomeetyoutoo!” you reply, taking your hand back and turning to dart out the door before he can get another word in. 

You don’t look back, so you don’t see how his eyes are glued to you as you hurriedly exit the classroom. 

—

You thought after a few classes you’d get over your dumb little crush on your TA, but four weeks into the semester and it’s only gotten worse. Now that you know where the stupid building is, you always make sure to arrive to Discussion early so you can snag a seat in the very back - as far away from him as you can manage - but this only allows your mind to wander. Watching him from the back of the class, you’ve unintentionally memorized his subtle habits: the way he takes his glasses case out of his bag at the beginning of each class, opening it and wiping the lenses clean with a cloth before placing them on his face with two hands, delicately moving his hair off to the side as not to obscure his vision; the way he leans against the desk, resting his weight on his palms as he listens to the students engage in conversation about the current book; the way he holds his well-worn copy in his left hand when referencing the text, flipping through the dog-eared pages filled with highlights and notes written in ink in the margins, laying the book on the desk pages-down to preserve his place when he goes to write important points on the chalkboard; the way he carefully erases the board as not to create a cloud of dust, wiping his hands together away from his body as not to get chalk on his perfectly pressed clothes; the way he focuses so intently when somebody is speaking, maintaining eye contact and nodding his head slightly, giving them his full attention.

That last one is why you never say a word in that class. You’re pretty sure you would combust on the spot.

Unfortunately, your entire grade for the Discussion portion of the course is based on actually engaging in the discussion - and based on your participation thus far you were right on track for getting an entire zero. I’ll say something next week, you tell yourself - then next week rolls around and you don’t say a damn thing. And repeat. You just hope Seungkwan doesn’t say anything to you. 

But he does. 

You freeze upon hearing your name as you’re gathering your belongings at the end of session. You look up and meet his gaze, doing your best to maintain a relaxed demeanor. It’s only a little eye contact, just chill. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” you respond nonchalantly. He gives you a bit of an inquisitive look, so you add on a polite smile.

“I’ve noticed you haven’t participated at all during discussion so far - you know that’s what I have to grade you on, right?”

“Oh yeah, um- I’ve been… I’ll work on that.”

The look on his face tells you he’s not convinced. “I graded your first essay - you showed exemplary comprehension and your analysis was one of the best ones I’ve read.”

You feel your stomach do a flip. The sudden praise caught you off guard. 

“Oh uh, thank you,” you stammer, trying not to display how flustered you are but undoubtedly failing. 

You make the mistake (again) of making direct eye contact with Seungkwan. It lasts maybe two seconds, but feels like time has slowed; the world has stopped; nothing matters but you and him, standing alone in this room together. You’ve never wanted to impulsively kiss somebody this bad in your life. 

You force yourself back to reality. 

Seungkwan continues. “But, if you’re having some trouble with this particular novel,” he says as he holds up his book, “you can always stop by my office hours with any questions.”

You glance at his copy of Dracula. It’s a standard size paperback, but it looks small in his hand - a hand so strong and defined, yet elegant, fingers long and graceful…

Nope. Not gonna think about that right now. 

“I hold them every Thursday from 3-5pm - in this building, room 430. Top floor - all the way at the end of the hallway.” 

You nod - looking at him without making direct eye contact. “Cool cool. I’ll uh… Thanks, I might take you up on that.”

“Of course,” he replies matter-of-factly. He pauses, then adds with a slight smile, “It is my job after all.” 

Picking up his coat, he heads toward the door, and you follow. He holds the door open for you; as you pass by him you catch the scent of his cologne: woody but fresh, notes of patchouli and bergamot. You utter a soft “Thank you”. He nods chivalrously. 

Exiting the discussion room, he starts heading in the opposite direction as you. “See ya around!” you blurt out suddenly. He pauses - turning over his shoulder, he nods once more at you. “Have a good one,” he responds cordially. Maybe you’re seeing things, but his eyes seem to linger on you for a split second longer than one would expect. 

You watch him walk away for as long as you can get away with without being detected. 

As you make your way to the gym you ruminate over what he told you. Office hours. You didn’t really see a need to go - you weren’t actually having any trouble with the book. And of course office hours are open to all students, but the chance that you might be alone in a room with him again, having a one-on-one conversation…

You try to push the thought aside. You arrive to yoga, prepared to clear your head - but you spend the whole class thinking about Seungkwan. You head home after class, sitting on the bus with your headphones in, blasting your favorite album - but still your mind dwells on your TA. You get home and sit down to continue the novel, reading the next chapter - but you quickly give up. You’re absorbing none of the story, so you’d have to reread it anyway. 

Maybe you will go to office hours after all. 

—

Thursday. You’ve been trying not to think about Seungkwan’s office hours, but of course it’s just the white bear experiment all over again - the harder you tried, the more you ended up thinking about it. Your last class - Statistics - ends at 3:30pm, so you have all day to debate whether to go or not. Damn him for holding them so late in the day. 

Your Stats professor could not be a more uninteresting lecturer if he tried. You spend most of the class stifling your yawns as you do your best to pay attention, to no avail. Finally, the clock hits 3:30 and class is dismissed. You have to make your decision now - so naturally you end up going to the library to procrastinate said decision and mull it over some more. 

After many wasted minutes trying (and failing) to get some homework done, you check the time: 4:19pm. With a sigh you open up your book to leaf through the pages, looking for something you could make up some bullshit question about. Nothing. Mildly peeved, you open your laptop and pull up trusty sparknotes.com. All the discussion questions seem too juvenile, and you’re pretty sure you’d manage to make a fool of yourself if you tried to ask a question you already knew the answer to. 

You decide to abandon your plan to drop by with specific questions and instead just hope and pray there will be other students there so you can simply join in on their conversations. If there aren’t… you’ll just have to figure that out when you get there. 

You make your way to the Literature Studies building, realizing upon your arrival there is no elevator - and your destination is on the top floor. Cursing the building for being old, you trek up the stairs in search of room 430, which - as he mentioned - appears to be at the very end of the hallway. Nearly there, you abruptly decide to backtrack to the restroom you passed to check yourself in the mirror real quick, which turns out to be a mistake because now you’re hyperaware of how anxious (and for some reason, frumpy) you look right now. Nice going you idiot. 

Doing your best to make yourself presentable, you tussle your hair a bit and fix the collar of your shirt back to its proper position. You decide it’s good enough and go to exit the bathroom, pausing when you remember that you have a tinted lip balm you threw in your bag last minute. Rummaging through your bag for a solid 20 seconds, you find the tube at the very bottom and hastily apply it to your lips. Taking a step back, you take a final glance at your reflection - the balm is neutral-colored and fairly subtle, but makes you look slightly less dead. You’ll take the W. 

You make your way back down the hallway toward room 430. Approaching the end of the hall, you hear voices engaged in conversation. You pull out your phone to quickly check the time: 22 minutes of office hours remaining. Good enough, I guess. You’re three steps away from the doorway when you hear a familiar voice chime in - a voice soft and soothing, confident without being cocky. You proceed to enter the office before you have a chance to process how it’s making you feel. 

You find yourself in a room small yet cozy - bookshelves built into the wall that go all the way up to the ceiling, stacked with endless literature: many classics you’ve heard of, many others you haven’t. There’s no overhead lighting, but two antique-ish looking floor lamps illuminate the room with a warm-toned glow. An old, large mahogany desk fills nearly half the room, its accompanying chair vacant. Two fellow classmates are seated in the two smaller chairs facing the dark leather loveseat upon which your TA is currently sitting - reclined, one leg over the other knee, hand on the open book laying face down on the couch next to him. The three faces turn to look at you as you enter, bringing their conversation to a halt. You fucking hate being collectively perceived in any circumstance, but something about the intimacy of the room makes this particular situation even worse than usual. You feel your face start to turn warm but you quickly shove the embarrassment back down. Not today. 

Seungkwan greets you amiably, your name sounding sweet in his mellow voice. “Glad you could make it! Come on in, have a seat.” He picks up the paperback by his side and sets it on his lap, motioning for you to sit next to him. 

Right. Next. To. Him. 

Ignoring the million panic alarms going off in your head, you force a small smile and take your seat. The couch is even smaller than it seemed - there’s maybe two feet between you and him. You’re greeted with the inviting scent of his cologne. 

The two students resume their discussion. You sit there mostly in silence, nodding along, trying not to fixate on Seungkwan’s closeness. But it’s hard to focus on anything other than that - like, really hard.

The twenty-ish minutes pass rather quickly, and the conversation that you’ve contributed nothing to starts to wrap up. The two other students begin packing their bags. You pull out your phone to check the time - 4:57pm. A sense of relief washes over you as you’ll be forced to leave now - no more sitting there anxiously not knowing what to say - but you’re also feeling a little sulky about leaving so soon. You politely say goodbye back to your classmates, who are already on their way out the door. You go to put on your jacket only to discover you never took it off (no wonder it felt so warm in here). Grabbing your book and tossing it in your backpack, you hurry to leave as well before you manage to do or say something to embarrass yourself. 

“Bye! Thank you!” you say cheerily as you step out the door.

“Y/n?”

You stop in your tracks. You turn around to face Seungkwan, who is still sitting on the couch, reclined, with his arm now laying across the back where you just were. That makes you feel a lot of things, which you promptly ignore.

“Yeah?” you reply, hoping a smile will cover your nervousness.

“I believe you took my book.”

You stand there for a moment, confused, before you realize you never took your own copy out. The one you hastily threw into your bag was his. So much for not embarrassing yourself.

“Oh my god I’m SO sorry!!” you blurt out, swinging your backpack around and hurrying to retrieve it.

“It’s alright,” he says with a soft chuckle. “I did set it right next to you.”

You grab his copy out of your bag and hold it out to him sheepishly. He stands up and takes the book in his hand, his fingers brushing yours slightly. You’ve never been electrocuted, but you’re pretty sure what just jolted through your body was a similar sensation.

“Did you have any questions about the book?” he asks before you can bolt out the door. “You didn’t say much in our discussion today-” You open your mouth to apologize again, but he gently puts his hand up to stop you. “I just want to make sure I can help you if you came here with something specific in mind.” 

“Oh, um…” You hesitate, fiddling with your coat sleeve. You decide to tell the truth.  

“Honestly, not really. I kinda just came here to get an idea of how I can participate during class. Cuz, y’know. Don’t really want a zero.”

Seungkwan nods. “Your essays have been very good, I know you’re a highly capable student.” 

You try not to blush. You know he’s just talking about your coursework, but accepting compliments is not your forté. 

“I’m just… not a literature student, so I’m not used to taking classes like these. I guess I just get a little nervous that I’m gonna say something stupid.” You’re not sure why you’re telling him all this. 

“As long as you’ve read and understood the text, you won’t sound stupid - I promise.” 

You look down at the floor. Maybe these are normal things for TAs to say to students, but the fact that you’re kind of in love with him is not helping right now. 

“Besides,” he continues, “I’m the one grading you. I assure you you’ll get a good grade as long as you participate.”

“Well, that’s good news,” you say with a contented smile. You do feel reassured by his words. “Thanks again,” you say, as you turn to leave. 

“Oh, and y/n?”

You lock eyes with him, a recurring habit you seem to be unable to quit. 

“If you ever can’t make my office hours, feel free to email me. I’m sure we can find another time to meet one-on-one.”

One-on-one???

“Oh cool, I… appreciate that.” Does he say that to all his students?? He must, right? Don’t be delusional…

He nods courteously. “See you in class.”

“You too!” you add brightly as you finally head out the door. This time you do look back to see him still looking at you, with an ambiguous look on his face that you cannot decipher.

For the rest of the week, for once, you find yourself looking forward to Tuesday.

—

Tuesday. You resume your usual very-back-of-the-room spot for Discussion - but this time you finally engage in the class’ conversation. You still feel kinda dumb about it, but your TA’s promise of giving you a good grade so long as you participate sticks with you. Besides, who gives a shit what the other students think of you. There is only one person in that room whose opinion you care about, and you seem to have his approval, for reasons unclear to you. Maybe you are just a decent student. But the fact that there’s maybe something else there… You don’t let yourself develop delusions of grandeur, but there’s no crime in being cautiously optimistic. 

On Thursday you find yourself back at office hours, this time arriving a bit earlier - though much to your chagrin the two other students from last time are there again. You’re not sure exactly what you were hoping for if it was just you alone, especially considering you still don’t have any specific questions about the book, but you were kind of hoping it would happen anyway. But alas, you partake in office hours with company. You actually find yourself enjoying these literary discussions a bit, now that you (sort of) know how to engage with them properly.

And so you become a regular at Seungkwan’s office hours - Thursday afternoons quickly becoming the highlight of your week. Nothing out of the ordinary ever happens between you two - and there’s always other students there whenever you attend - but you don’t see any harm in enjoying your time spent with him. 

Per usual, though, as finals approach more and more students start attending as well. One week you show up at 3pm sharp, only to find five students already there asking questions about their essays. You acknowledge that it’s probably just wishful thinking, but he does seem genuinely pleased to see you - pausing his conversation briefly to greet you, your name spoken warmly with a smile on his face. You make a mental note that he doesn’t greet anyone else who enters by name.

Seungkwan maintains a very patient and polite composure, but you get the sense that he is rather irked at the several students who are more or less trying to get him to write part of their essays for them. You chat for a few minutes with a friendly classmate you’ve become acquainted with, but ultimately you both give up on trying to talk to the TA and decide to leave. You sneak a quick glance back as you exit, catching Seungkwan’s eye right before you’re out of his line of sight. Though perhaps you weren’t so sneaky, because once you’re in the hallway your classmate nudges you with her elbow and teases, “Ooooh you have a crush on him don’t you?”

You scoff. “Oh please.”

“No seriously, he looked like a sad puppy seeing you go. You should ask him out.”

You roll your eyes and give her a “Yeah, right,” before casually changing the subject. But her comment sticks with you, and for days your mind keeps coming back to it. You’re hesitant to jump to conclusions, but the fact that she noticed it too… Perhaps you will shoot your shot after all. 

—

Taking advantage of the fact that you didn’t get a chance to speak with him during his regular office hours, you decide to take Seungkwan up on his offer. You did rewrite the email about 15 times, erase it repeatedly, and almost give up entirely, but in the end you came up with a message you deemed solidly good enough:

Hi Seungkwan, I was wondering if you have any availability to meet to discuss the current essay. I have a few questions that I feel would be easier to convey in person. I understand finals are a very busy time though, so if you aren’t available I completely understand. Thank you.

You hit send at 11:57pm on Sunday night, so you figure you’ll get a response the next morning. Before you can even close your laptop, you get an email notification.

Hi y/n, I’d be happy to meet with you. Are you available Tuesday evening after 6pm? I apologize for the odd hours, but that would be the most ideal time for me. However, if that does not work for you I’m sure we can figure something out.  Seungkwan

You sit and stare at your screen rereading it for a good five minutes. You hit the reply button.

Sure, that works for me! Thank you - I really appreciate it.

The light ping of a notification returns within seconds.

Of course, y/n. See you then.

You shut your laptop, your hand resting on top of it as your mind races, rapidly cycling between excited and anxious. You keep telling yourself to lower your expectations: you’re simply meeting with your TA to discuss your essay - which, you don’t actually have any questions about, so now you’ll have to make some shit up. But that can be a tomorrow problem. Tonight, you go to bed, half-coherent thoughts of literature, exams, and a certain pair of soft brown eyes floating around in your mind as you drift off to sleep. 

—

You wake up on Tuesday and immediately enter into panic mode. You can’t seem to focus on anything other than your date meeting with Seungkwan later - which of course you expected, but it’s pretty inconvenient considering you have so much to do with finals rapidly drawing near. Your Discussion class is finished for the semester, so you won’t be seeing him until evening - you’re not sure if this makes things better or worse, but it is what it is. You spend the entire afternoon in the library, sitting amongst the stacks, sort of studying but mostly doing a whole fucking lot of daydreaming instead.

After several hours of minimal productivity, you check the time: 5:36pm. You feel your heart start to beat faster. Since you’re clearly not going to get anything else done, you pack up your belongings and make your way to the Literature building. Might as well get there a little early.

You climb the four flights of stairs to the top floor, the building strangely empty. Making your way down to the very end of the hallway you wonder if Seungkwan will even be there yet or if you’ve arrived early for nothing - but as you approach you notice the door is ajar, the unexpected sound of alt rock music greeting your ears. You knock lightly on the doorframe as you poke your head into the office. Seungkwan, seated behind the large mahogany desk, seemingly absorbed in something on his laptop, looks up - you’ve clearly caught him a bit off guard.

“Hi, sorry - I’m a little early,” you apologize.

His face lights up in a warm smile. “No, uh - that’s alright!” he replies cheerfully. “Go ahead, take a seat,” he says as he gestures to the couch. 

You plop your backpack down on the ground and remove your coat, carefully tucking your skirt (a rare choice of clothing for you, but you figured fuck it, why not) under yourself as you take a seat on the comfy sofa. Seungkwan turns the music down to a faintly audible volume and rises from his desk chair, making his way over to you. You expected him to sit in the armchair across from you, but he comes and joins you on the couch instead. You can practically hear the rapid thumpthumpthumpthump of your heartbeat. 

“So, tell me about your essay,” he starts. His eyes linger on yours.  “What did you have questions about?”

Nonchalantly taking a deep breath, you take out your laptop and open it, pulling up your draft file. You basically had your paper planned out already, but you made up some questions to ask so as not to give away the fact that you literally had no academic reason to be here. You begin to explain your first question, which turns out to be an extremely difficult feat with him not only sitting so close to you, but also gazing at you softly, listening intently. You decide to avoid eye contact almost entirely. 

You chat about your essay topic for what feels like an eternity (you glance at the clock on your computer - it’s been 14 minutes). You’re in the middle of discussing the second point of your thesis when he interjects.

“Y/n, why are you really here?”

You feel the blood drain from your face. He’s onto me. It’s over.

“It’s very clear that you understand the book perfectly well. I really don’t think you need my help.”

You slowly look up at him, hesitating before opening your mouth to try and bullshit some response, but nothing comes out. 

“You know, I don’t normally schedule one-on-one office hours with students outside of my usual times.”

The blood comes rushing back to your cheeks. You feel like a fucking idiot.

“I’msosorry,” you blurt out. “I really wasn’t trying to waste your time I-”

“That’s not what I mean, y/n.”

You freeze. Does he mean…

Before you can even finish that thought he kisses you.

His hand cradles your face gently, drawing you closer to him as he presses his lips onto yours, electricity pulsing through your entire body - all you can think about is the way his lips feel, the way he softly brushes your cheek with his thumb, the way you want to throw your laptop across the room and throw yourself onto him so you can kiss him even more. 

As if he read your mind, he reaches down (still kissing you) and closes your laptop, picking it up and setting it aside carefully. You lap now vacant, he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his, his soft kiss becoming more fervent. Your hand rests on his chest as you kiss him back - you feel the energy of his heart beating, at the same pace as yours, through the cozy sweater he has on. After several seconds (minutes? hours?) his lips part from yours, the sudden lack of sensation leaving you immediately longing for more; they linger mere inches from your face as your eyes meet his sensuous gaze. 

“Just one second,” he says in a voice barely above a whisper.

Seungkwan gets up and swiftly shuts the door - you hear the deep, satisfying thunk of the old door closing, followed by the subtle click of the lock. He then walks over to the desk to turn the music up to a decent volume before making his way back over to the couch. He barely resumes his seat before grasping onto you desperately, his face buried as he begins to kiss your neck. You let out a sigh at the unexpected sensation, wrapping your arms around his torso and drawing him in even tighter. His large hands caress your back as if trying to commit your shape to memory, as your hand slowly makes its way down his side - stopping when you reach his belt, resting on the waistline of his jeans which are very obviously becoming tighter by the second. 

You hesitate at first, but eventually your hand continues downward; Seungkwan sharply inhales as it lands on his growing bulge, his body tensing up against yours. He pulls his face from the crook of your neck, his lips immediately finding yours again, indulging in another kiss as he pulls you over onto his lap. You begin making out with him, your hand holding his warm, flushed cheek; your core, now exposed aside from the barrier of your underwear, presses against the hardness in his pants, causing soft moans to escape from the both of you. Before long, your hips begin to rock back and forth, grinding on his clothed cock - lightly at first, but with increasing intensity. You break away from his kiss; he looks at you, his eyelids heavy.

“Y/n…” he breathes out as he starts to kiss you again, “you don’t know how… wanted you so bad…”

“Me too,” you mutter.

He slides his hand under your skirt, finding your clit and beginning to circle it gently through your soaked underwear, causing you to whine softly.

“Oh fuck, you’re so wet,” he says in a low, husky voice, his fingertips increasing their pace against the sensitive bud. He then slips his finger under the hem of your panties, pulling them aside to expose your already-swollen cunt, the sharpness of the cool air hitting its wetness. You cry out as he slides one finger into you, followed by another, his thumb continuing to caress your clit. Your hips begin to rock again, fucking yourself against his perfectly-curled fingers that are hitting you in all the right spots, your speed quickly increasing with the overwhelming pleasure that has taken over your entire body. You feel it welling in your stomach, your orgasm growing nearer with each movement. You’re about to lose it when he slows your pace, looking at you with lust-filled eyes - you can tell what it is he wants. 

You reach down and undo his belt, unfastening his button and drawing down the zipper. His jeans out of the way, you pull the band of his underwear down, freeing his hardened cock - he lets out a groan as you begin to stroke its length. Precum has already begun to form, your fingers taking the wetness and gliding it over the head. 

“Please… wanna fuck you so bad…” He’s practically whimpering at this point.

You slide your pussy up and down his length a few times, causing him to recline his head against the couch as he breathes heavily. Finally you take his cock in your hand, placing it at your entrance and lowering yourself onto him, crying out at the sudden sensation of fullness. He groans as you slowly begin to ride him, his length hitting you in the perfect spot; you have to bite your lip to control yourself from becoming too loud - it feels even better than you’d ever imagined.

You begin to pick up the pace, bouncing on his cock as the sensation in your stomach begins to build again, even stronger now with him inside you. Your cries involuntarily become louder, prompting him to place his other hand over your mouth.

“Shhh, baby - don’t want anyone to hear us.”

You nod, tears welling in your eyes.

His soft grunts become more frequent - you can tell he’s getting close. Your walls squeeze around him tightly as you’re also nearing orgasm. He drops his hand from your mouth so he can grab onto your hips with both hands, holding you tight as he thrusts into you, full of vigor. 

“Fuck, I’m so close,” he says, his voice low and gruff.

“Want you to cum in me,” you reply breathily. He nods eagerly. You’re nearly there yourself. You cling to his face, giving him one more kiss before you can’t hold it in any longer.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum,” you manage to get out before the white-hot sensation takes over your whole body. You cry out, your walls clenching around him, immediately sending him over the edge - his cock pulses as you feel his cum release inside you. 

As you come down from your high your body melts into his as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in. He plants a few soft kisses on your cheek as you sink into him, his cock still inside you. You lay there peacefully for an unknown amount of minutes, the rock music still playing in the background as he rubs your back gently. Eventually you sit up, pressing your nose against his.

“Does this mean I get an A?” you ask jokingly.

He laughs, his nose crinkling as he smiles. “You were going to get one anyway, I assure you the fact that I just had the best sex of my life will have no impact on your grade.”

You break out into laughter. You pause, then ask hesitantly, “Soooo, what does this mean?”

His brown eyes rest on yours. “Well, I suppose we’ll have to figure that out later,” he says pragmatically. A slight tinge of sadness comes across your face, but before you can say anything he continues.

“How does tonight over dinner sound?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“I think that sounds perfect.”

[end]

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Same Girl 😇

Heartbreak Hotel | svt series

“Every single day is dreadfully boring when working at a hotel in the middle of nowhere. That is until an enigmatic guest arrives, seeking not a room nor directions, but to hear stories about your past relationships.”

Genre: anthology, romance, smut Status: on-going Pairing: SEVENTEEN Hip-hop Unit x Reader Warnings: mature themes Notes: 4 parts. Listening to Heartbreak Hotel by Tiffany Young. This is a work of fiction. I do not know them personally and do not claim they would ever behave like they were portrayed in this story.

1. Prologue 2k words.

2. Backburner (Kim Mingyu)

There is a rule of thumb for casual relationships: do not fall in love with the other. Yet with Mingyu, it felt easier to watch the world burn than to stop yourself from falling for him.

3. Take a Chance with Me (Jeon Wonwoo)

You could not believe that no one ever told you how frustrating (and beautiful) it was to be hopelessly captivated by a boy who thinks love is overrated.

Did You Like Her in the Morning? (Chwe Vernon)

How do you move on from the man you thought you'd marry? You can't. As you navigate the bittersweet memories of your shared dreams, you are forced to grapple with the harsh reality that Vernon has found someone new.

Plot Twist (Choi Seungcheol)

A chance encounter blossoms into a whirlwind connection when you become enchanted by the enigmatic stranger—Choi Seungcheol. As the evening unfolds, one question lingers: could he be the unexpected plot twist that changes your story forever?

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