Darling

Darling

Summary: Rhysand has been overworking himself lately and reader offers to help him out

Warnings: none

__________________________________________

In the middle of the night on a Friday, normally people are out at clubs, out on dates, or even sleeping, but not you and Rhys. No, you both sat in his study at midnight working through the massive piles of paperwork on his desk that never seem to get smaller.

Rhys sat in the big, leather desk chair, scribbling away at the pages, then passed them on to you. You sat opposite him in a recliner, proofreading the text, then filed them in their respective folders. Every once in a while, you'd sneak a glance at your mate, frowning at his dishevelled state. His hair was messy from the times he ran his hands through it, his shirt was untucked and crumpled with the top few buttons open, and his eyes that are normally sparkling with mischief were cloudy with fatigue which was emphasized by the tired bags under his eyes.

he had been working more than usual lately, spending his nights in the study, trying to work through all the papers. When you found him earlier in the evening, Rhys looked about ready to rip his hair out of his scalp. You'd suggested he take a break for the night and come to bed, but he had adamantly refused. Still, you didn't want to leave him in there, miserable, drowning in piles of paperwork, so you'd offered to help him out a bit, and he'd reluctantly agreed.

So, for the past three hours, the two of you had been working in silence, falling into a comfortable rhythm. The only sounds in the room were the crackling of the fire in the hearth, Rhys scribbling on paper and the occasional sounds of you opening and closing drawers.

That was until you heard loud scratching of pen against paper, and glanced up at Rhysand to see him frustratedly scribble out something he wrote.

You set down the sheets of paper you'd been reading through and rested your hand on top of his to stop his movements. "Stop," you commanded gently. Rhys looked up at you with the same frustration, but you knew it wasn't directed at you.

"Drop the pen."

Rhys set the pen down and huffed in irritation. You put your other hand out on the table, next to the first, and gestured to Rhys. He brought his other hand to yours and you took it, running your thumbs over his knuckles.

He stared down at his hands in yours, a tired expression on his face, shoulders drooping.

"I'm sorry," he muttered.

You shook your head. "Don't be. There's no need to get frustrated," you said in a soothing voice. "Breathe with me, baby," you instructed and took a deep breath in.

Rhys followed suit, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply.

"And out."

Both of you exhaled at the same time. Rhys opened his eyes and looked at you, some of that frustration gone from his face now.

"Now, how about we take a little break?" you suggested with a small smile, giving his hands a squeeze of persuasion.

Rhysand sighed and nodded.

"Thanks," he said, meeting your eyes again.

"No problem." You smiled. You moved to sit back in your chair, but Rhysand tugged on your hands. You got up as he pulled you to him, and sat you down on his lap. You put your arms around his neck and allowed him to rest his head on your shoulder.

He breathed you in, the tension further releasing from his body. You rested your cheek against his forehead and ran your hand along his spine. Rhys melted more into you, holding you a little tighter, and burying his nose in your neck.

"I'm tired," he muttered.

You looked at the watch on your wrist and turned to him. "Maybe it's time to call it a night?" you suggested. "We've been working for four hours and we got through quite a lot of the papers, didn't we?" You turned to the significantly smaller stack of papers on his desk.

Rhys looked at the papers and then smiled up at you. "Wouldn't have been possible without you, darling," he said with a sleepy smile.

You smiled too, leaning down to peck his lips. You stood up then holding his hands, and tugged him up from his seat. His body cracked loudly, making you both laugh.

"Guess we have been working for quite a while, huh?" Rhys laughed.

You nodded in agreement, then wound your arms around his torso and rested your head on his chest. "Yeah, but I had fun working with you."

Rhys held you tight, humming in acknowledgement. "Perhaps enough fun that you'd be willing to do it tomorrow again?" he suggested.

You let out a sound of fake grumbling to which Rhys squeezed you tighter, then looked up at him and smiled. "Anything for you, darling."

Rhysand grinned, kissing your lips. "Sounds way better when you say it."

im a sucker for lockwood x reader angst and i mean angry confessions, miscommunication and the “go ahead and leave then. everyone does, it wouldnt be a surprise if u did too” 😩😩😩

a/n: AHHHHH yes!! i'm so sorry this has taken so long to be written, and the fact I've been inactive for a week or two - it's been assignment week so i needed to focus on that unfortunately, but i hope you enjoy this! angst is my favourite thing to write lol. unfortunately, there's not much miscommunication in this, but i hope I've ticked the other boxes :)

warnings: angst, language gn reader

"Will you say something?"

You keep your head turned, staring out of the night cab's rain-covered window. Your heart is pounding, filled with rage, and you're worried that if you open your mouth, it'll come spilling out and you'll say something you'll either regret or get fired for.

Lockwood was an idiot during your case. He was reckless and impulsive, and it meant that the two of you narrowly finished it with your lives and all of your limbs in good health. You would've forgiven him if it had been a one-off, but he does this almost every single time, and it's becoming a big issue.

So here you sit, arms crossed over your chest as the cab speeds along, biting your tongue. Lockwood sits across from you, watching you with those dark eyes of his while a cut oozes blood on his forehead. Any other day, you would've patched it up immediately, but tonight he'll have to cope. You've had enough.

It doesn't take long to reach Portland Row and the taxi has barely stopped when you jump out and storm off towards the house. Lockwood is delayed a few seconds, having to pay the cabbie, but he catches up easily.

"(name), come on. Talk to me."

Wordlessly, you unlock the front door, half tempted to slam it shut in his face, but this is his house. He's got more right to be here than you.

You make to angrily climb the stairs and hide out in the attic to await Lucy's return and rant to her about Lockwood, but his hand wraps around your wrist as you reach the second step, stopping you.

"Please, (name). I can't stand it."

For a minute, you just stare at him. The blood from his cut has been smeared across his forehead, and the bags under his eyes have become a little more pronounced, but your usual sympathy has disappeared, eaten away by fury.

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? Oh, it's okay that you almost killed yourself being so reckless tonight. You're my knight in shining armour. Or, how about: I know you promised to be reasonable tonight to make amends for all the other times you've almost killed yourself, and you didn't end up being reasonable, but I forgive you."

He looks at you, his gaze soft. His eyes are desperate, but he's got you talking which was his goal. It seems that the context of the conversation doesn't matter all that much to him.

But you don't care.

"Every single case," you say, trying to keep yourself from raising your voice, "has ended the same. We almost die or get seriously injured because you get reckless. I get it. You're trying to save us, and, believe me, Lockwood, I'm grateful for that, but what would happen if you died? Who would protect us then? Because all of this - you throwing yourself in the face of danger for us - will mean nothing if you die."

"I'm not going to let you guys get hurt," Lockwood says, and there's an undertone in his voice that gives you a clue to how he's feeling. He's getting irritated.

Good.

"And I thank you for that," you say. "But this is constant. Do you ever stop to think what we'd feel if you died? We'd be lost, Lockwood. Not to mention jobless."

"What am I meant to do? Let you get hurt? Not a chance!"

His rising anger is feeding into yours, and soon it'll be a raging fire, ready to burn everything in its wake. You have half a mind to let it loose, to tell him exactly how you feel about his stupidity, but you reign it in for now.

"Don't you hear me? I said I'm grateful that you try to keep us safe, but not at the cost of your own life!" You tear your wrist out of his grasp, breathing heavily. "Just take a minute to imagine this: you die on a case, and we have to deal with the body. We have to watch you die, and then we have to ignore the grief to not only finish the case but also make sure your body is taken away safely, that you're given a funeral. After that, a lifetime of grief and regret and denial, hoping you step through that fucking door one more time! Of all people, I thought you'd know what that kind of thinking does to a person."

His gaze hardens. "Watch yourself."

The laugh that escapes your lips is humourless. "Right, okay. I forgot. We don't talk about that topic because you're not ready, and that's fine. But it'll be me that has the burden when you die. Then George and Lucy will have to figure out how to cope, too. But we don't have a room to hide your memories away in, Lockwood. We live in a house surrounded by you."

You climb up a few stairs and point at a photo on the wall. "These pictures? They can be stashed away, but the feeling of you can't. Your soul has practically been embedded into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Nowhere we go in this house will allow us to escape the memory of you."

His face is a little red as he watches you. He's angrier than you've ever seen him.

"So leave then."

The words feel like a punch to the stomach. "What?"

"If you're so sick of it, if the thought of my possible death is too much, then leave. Everyone does. It wouldn't surprise me if you did."

It takes all of your willpower not to scream at him. Instead, chest filled with the pressure of your fury, you make your way back down the stairs until you're eye to eye with Lockwood. He's breathing heavily now, too, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you, eyes blazing with anger but also something else... Guilt?

"You don't get to say that," you growl. "I have been here for you since the beginning. I helped you set this company up. I helped you get it licenced, and I was the one who sweet-talked our way into getting full DEPRAC insurance. I have supported every stupid decision you've made. I've questioned you, but I never pushed. And yet, you still have the gall to say that you wouldn't be surprised by me leaving?"

The anger is so strong that tears threaten to cloud your eyes, but you push them down. You will not cry.

"I've tried my hardest to make sure you stay alive." The waver in your voice is embarrassing, but something in Lockwood cracks at the sound of it. "All I do is make sure you stay alive because you're all I've had for years. I've always cared for you. I've sat and patched you up night after night because I care about you - shit, I love you, Lockwood! I always have! So, don't you even dare suggest that I would ever leave. It's as good as insulting my parents' graves."

At that, you turn on your heel and storm up the stairs, leaving Lockwood standing at the bottom.

It takes a while for you to calm down.

After cleaning yourself of all specks of blood and dirt, you change into clean clothes and sink down onto your bed, closing your eyes and trying to slow the thrumming of your heart. Your hands are shaking from a mix of rage and sadness, but they lie on your chest, easing as your heart rate slows.

It takes all of your willpower to try and not think about one of the last things you said to Lockwood - that you love him - but it proves to be harder than it should be. You didn't lie. In your years of knowing Lockwood, you've grown close to him, something that had been hard originally because of your lack of trust in people, but he charmed his way right into your life. Every smile, every touch of your fingers left your heart racing and your mind hoping, begging, that he felt the same.

Now, though, after that argument, you're almost entirely convinced that he doesn't.

When George and Lucy arrive back at the house, you trudge downstairs to the kitchen where everyone awaits to discuss the cases. Lucy's already made you a cup of tea that you accept gratefully as you sit down at the far end of the table.

Away from Lockwood.

The change in your seating is noted by everyone, your usual chair left empty beside Lockwood's at the head of the table. George frowns, glancing between you and Lockwood, and Lucy gives you a look that you ignore.

"It was a phantasm where we were," you say, scribbling away at the thinking cloth. "Well, there was that, and then there was a very angry Wraith as well. Murder victims. We dealt with them quickly."

George's eyes find the plaster on Lockwood's head, much less neatly applied than it would've been had you patched him up.

"Rawbones for us," Lucy says, sipping her tea. There's a patch on the sleeve of her jacket that smokes slightly, burned by plasm. "George found the source - a manky old mug. Made no sense. Skull was no use, either. I think he's mad at me."

"Again?" Lockwood asks. His voice isn't entirely there. "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything. He's just a little prick."

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from making a snide comment. The others are watching you carefully, easily picking up on your mood, but they don't bring it up.

Lockwood's eyes haven't left you this entire time. He's trying to communicate in that silent way you both developed after years of friendship, but you tear your gaze away from his, pushing down the re-emerging fury in your chest.

"Well, we're all alive," Lockwood says, laying emphasis on the final word. "Let's get a good night's sleep. We've got a meeting tomorrow with another client."

Lucy and George get up immediately as if they were waiting for a cue to leave. They're gone in seconds, closing the kitchen door behind them. It makes no difference. You silently sip your tea, still scribbling away. Your little mess of lines has turned into an angry face.

"(name) -"

You stand, making to leave the kitchen with your mug in hand, but Lockwood blocks the door.

Staring up at him, you scowl. "Excuse me, Anthony."

There's a little smirk playing on his lips. "Using my first name? I suppose I am in trouble."

"It's nice that you think this is funny, but I certainly don't. Now, let me get past so I can go to bed. I've had enough of today."

"Please, wait." He looks down at you, his eyes soft. He doesn't seem angry anymore - that makes one of you. "Can we just... talk?"

Against your better judgement, you turn and sit back in your seat, placing one of your feet on the seat and resting your head on your knee. You're tired. Not just from the case, but from being angry.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Lockwood says, and you know he's genuine. "I saw that Wraith coming for you, and I couldn't just stand there and let you get hurt."

You sigh, more exhausted than mad now. "That's not the problem, Lockwood. You do this in every single case, even when there's no need to. Half the time, I'm not sure whether it's because you want to protect us or if it's because you want an excuse to die." Your voice catches a little.

He falters, not expecting that. Part of you wants to feel good about catching him off guard, but the topic quenches any of it. You've spent countless nights worrying that you would get up in the morning only to find Lockwood not there or scared that you'd end a case leaning over his dead body.

No one should ever have to think like that.

"I care about you a lot," you say, running a hand over your face. "You know that. But I don't think it has ever occurred to you how badly it'd affect me if you died. And, I know, I'm being selfish, but I don't want to have to live in a world without you in it."

He's silent for a moment. "I'm sorry - about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it."

You barely have the willpower to shrug. "We were both angry. People say stuff they don't mean when they'd angry."

"So, you don't mean what you said? About loving me?"

It's hard to not look at him, but you focus your gaze on the thinking cloth, tracing the messy writing and doodles with your fingers. There are a few coffee and tea stains covering it.

"I meant it." Your mouth feels dry, so you take another sip of your tea. "I meant everything."

The only sound is of both of your breathing and Lockwood's foot tapping rhythmically on the tiled floor. He's nervous.

"I don't expect you to feel the same," you clarify. "To be honest, I hadn't meant to say it right then. If I had my way, I wouldn't have said it at all unless I was sure you felt the same. But, it's out there now."

Lockwood's chair screeches against the floor and, suddenly, he's kneeling beside you, moving so that he can catch your eyes. That stupid grin of his has parted his lips. His hand grasps yours softly, and you can feel his pulse faintly. It's faster than it should be.

"Don't look so smug," you grumble. "I don't forgive you, so I don't see what you have to be cocky about."

His grin only widens. "I'll show you what."

And then his lips have captured yours.

It's a short kiss, no longer than a few seconds, but it's enough to have your stomach performing a whole gymnastics routine. The anger in your chest slowly fades away until it's nothing but a small prickle, still there but nowhere near as powerful as it was.

His lips are startlingly soft, but, really, you wouldn't put it past him to be applying chapstick every waking second. He always wants to be camera-ready. Your eyes have fluttered shut, and, by the feeling of his lashes brushing your cheeks, it seems his have also. You wonder if his brain is throwing a party, too.

When he pulls away, you find yourself wanting more. Instead, you press your forehead against his, shutting your eyes tightly for a moment.

"If that wasn't enough to convince you to stop being so self-sacrificing on cases, I honestly don't know what will."

He laughs, and the sound has your heart soaring. "I'll try my best, but if you need saving, I'll most definitely come to save you. I am your 'knight in shining armour' after all."

His gaze is already locked on yours when you open your eyes again. The darkness of his eyes entraps you, and it's impossible to look away.

"Will you forgive me?"

A sly smile curves your lips. "Maybe if you kiss me more."

Hi! (^3^)/ I really liked the way you wrote "Mornings With You" and I wanted to request if you can make a version with Seungcheol if you want to. Thankies in advance (●•^-^•●) 💜💜💜

fren u r in luck :D

lucky in love | choi seungcheol

fluff | 730 words | no warnings

an: tbh that wonu fic was actually a cheol fic but then i realised… i have way too many… (i need help)

Choi Seungcheol knows that he’s loved. He’s loved by his fans, who greet him with resounding cheers every time he comes on stage. He’s loved by his members, whom he has gone through multiple trials and tribulations by each others’ sides. He’s loved by his family, who have given and will continue to give their unwavering support for everything he wishes to pursue. Most of all, he knows that he’s loved by you.

It’s evident in the way you know his coffee order by heart. In the way your pinkies stay connected even while you’re talking to someone else. He sees it when you unknowingly lean into him in crowded spaces. How you nag at him to take better care of himself and eat his meals on time. How your eyes seem to sparkle a billion times more when you see him walking into the room.

He knows just how much he’s loved by you when he arrives home and spots you knocked out on the living room couch. Seungcheol smiles quietly to himself, removing his shoes aside before carefully walking up to you. The television in front of you is still running, but you’re cross-legged with Kkuma snoozing away in your lap. No doubt you were doing some work before Kkuma deemed herself more important – your laptop is tossed to the other side of the couch, screen dark.

He sinks into the couch next to you, hand outstretched as he leans over to tuck a stray hair behind your ear when Kkuma stirs awake in your lap. The little white dog yaps when she realises her father has returned, bounding over to him instead. He giggles as she attempts to lick his face all over. The sudden noise and movement wake you, sleepily turning over only to be greeted by the sight of your lover doused in dog saliva.

“Hey,” a sleepy smile graces your features, greeted by Seungcheol trying to calm the excited puppy down. He turns to you, a fond smile and an eyebrow raised. Understanding his silent question, you stretch your arms up, leaning into his shoulder as you scrunch your nose. “I wanted to wait for you to come home,” a cheeky grin appears. “Welcome home!”

Oh, he feels his heartstrings being pulled, and suddenly he’s overcome with a wave of love and adoration so strong that his eyes start to water. Kkuma jumps off, her little paws padding off elsewhere as Seungcheol pulls you into his arms.

“I’m home,” he murmurs into your hair. His hand engulfs your own, grip tightening with the sudden proclamation. His brows furrow deeper as he inhales deeply, taking in your familiar comforting scent. “Practice was so hard today – missed you a bit more than usual.”

“Aww, my big baby…” You can’t help but coo. Using your free hand, you smooth the wrinkles between his brows with your thumb. “You did well today, do you wanna talk about it?”

He shakes his head, choosing instead to bury his slumping figure in the crook of your neck.

“Have you eaten?” He nods, fluffy hair tickling you. “Do you want to take a shower first then? I’ll make some chamomile tea for you.”

You gently guide Seungcheol into the bathroom, leaving him to clean himself up while you prepare his promised tea.

Fresh out of the shower and nighttime routine completed, Seungcheol finds you already tucked into bed and follows suit. He wraps himself around you, arms and legs tangling under the sheets. Seungcheol can feel his entire body relax under your soothing touch as you card gentle fingers through his hair.

He’s fighting sleep, especially with you patting his head like a child, when he remembers something he’d been meaning to say.

“I don’t have to go to the company tomorrow.”

“Hmm?” You squint through the darkness, barely making out the twinkle hidden behind his tired eyes.

He smiles, pressing soft kisses by your collarbone. “I’m all yours tomorrow, do you want to do anything?”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

You ponder a little bit more before resting your head back down on his chest. “Eh, it’s tomorrow’s problem. ‘m sleepy now.”

Seungcheol lets out a light chuckle. He pulls the covers higher over your bodies, pressing you impossibly closer to him. He knows he’ll spoil you senseless tomorrow anyway.

“Sounds good. Good night, baby.”

“Good night, Cheollie.”

He hopes you know how much he loves you too.

love, guaranteed | kth

summary: with the celestial ball quickly approaching, kim taehyung is horrified to find out that you, his best friend, are dateless. to remedy this, he initiates The Match Project, a matchmaking service designed to find the most optimal date. to you, it’s an opportunity to meet someone else so you can stop pining after your clueless best friend. to him, it’s an opportunity to finally, once and for all, tell you how he feels.

{hogwarts!au, friends to lovers!au}

pairing: kim taehyung x reader word count: 11k genre: fluff + light, slow angst warnings: this is an idiots to lovers fic a/n: [distant screaming] [police sirens] oh god what is this !!! it couldn’t be…. a … a fic ?????? just kidding, it is! just a reminder that i am still on hiatus and will be for another month, so inactivity should be expected. other than that, i am on break this week so i figured that while the inspo was rolling i’d write something !!! only jungkook’s au left and then we’re done .. my god…..

Keep reading

i’m seeking revenge, what about you?

synopsis : after the great war of decline, the republic of andromeda made a way for the holy empire of montefeltro. after distinguishing yourself on the battlefield, you became a marshal of the empire, known to be the hero who put an end to the war. despite all the glory and fame, you seemed to be unable to get over your brother’s death. but one day, you discover that his death was a smokescreen. as you’re going into further investigations to put lights on his murder, you’re followed by the most infamous assassin of the empire. when he tells you he only wishes for its downfall, you both realise you’re seeking the same goal : revenge. but will you be able to work with him?

pairing : assassin!jeonghan x marshal!reader

genre : e2l, your family name is jeon but none physical description, wonwoo is your brother, you-want-to-kiss-me-so-bad energy, some suggestive jokes, very inaccurate military setting im only here for the vibes, tw : blood, death, swearing, war

word count : 8k w

a/n : i was so so excited to write this fic so i hope you’ll like it!! i had the purple hyacinth as inspo which is probably one of my fav webtoon. this is the longer version of this post

jeon y/n. 

all over the holy empire, this name resonated as the one of a hero, even a goddess for some. the strongest sword fighter of the country and the brightest mind among the armed forces. the youngest soldier of all time appointed as a marshal who prevented thousands of death. the scariest military whose strategies never failed and managed to kill the leader of the opposing country, taking down an important part of the army by herself. the current leader of the district of orpheus, the biggest of the whole empire, dubbed by the emperor himself. 

but the truth was, you were far from a goddess.

as you wandered into the city, you wondered how you could be so surrounded and so lonely in the same time. yes you managed to save hundreds of civilians, yes you killed the leader of the empire of lupus all by yourself, yes your chest was now covered with golden medals and bows, but you also hadn’t been strong enough to save your brother, the most important person in your life. and now, as his death dated back to the beginning of the war, you couldn’t help but ponder if this hadn’t been staged.

you weren’t being delusional nor naively hopeful : all the techniques you learnt as a soldier came from wonwoo. he used to be a major general, if you had survived, he should have done the same. but he died in a blaze provoked by an explosion while protecting civilians. if you didn’t doubt his altruism nor his abilities, you doubt that he would have been careless enough to be trapped by the flames. but you didn’t have any evidence of your theory nor any support to rely on. 

and, as you finally reached his former shared apartment, you started to remember how lonely you were. 

hypnotised by the smoke from your hot chocolate, you looked away awkwardly, trying to find an interesting topic of conversation, in vain. before you, mingyu cleared his throat, stirring his coffee mindlessly. after giving a glance at the cardboard box between you, he murmured :

"i think you won’t need to come by, this was the last box with his things."

nodding slowly, you noticed a picture of your brother and you when you were younger. stretching your arm, you grabbed it and skimmed your brother’s face softly. 

"it feels like yesterday," you sighed.

"you were so young by then," mingyu added fondly.

the photography had been taken by your former instructor at the high court of the republic when wonwoo had been nominated major general. you remembered this day clearly : you went to the florist in order to buy him the prettiest bouquet ever and bragged about his promotion all day long to your colleagues. but how could you not? when he was the youngest major general of the republic? wonwoo had raised you since his tenth birthday and worked harder than anyone else. he became your role model the moment your parents left this side of the world and you knew this nomination was only the proof of all his resilience. he was twenty four and you were twenty one. today, you were twenty five but he was still twenty four. and today, you were the one being praised as the youngest marshal of the empire.

shaking your head to erase those memories from your mind, you locked your gaze into your brother’s former roommate and right hand-man before starting carefully :

"do you… do you remember anything he said before…"

"i know what you’re about to say and the answer is still the same, mingyu cut, visibly trying to keep his composure, wonwoo didn’t say anything."

"but-"

"there is no but y/n, the young man insisted, wonwoo’s death was an accident. he was a soldier y/n, a fucking soldier. you need to understand that and stop clinging desperately to his death. you won’t find anything."

clenching your fists, you retorted coldly :

"he wasn’t an ordinary soldier, he was a major general! he was better than any of us, a simple fire wouldn’t have been enough. i can’t believe that and i can’t believe you accept it so easily!"  

"i’m accepting it because it’s the truth!"

"this- this can’t be the truth, i refuse to believe it."

standing up abruptly, you gathered your belongings and grabbed the box vehemently, mingyu on your heels. 

"y/n listen," mingyu started, trying to reach your wrist.

getting your wrist out of his grip, you asked him with a dirty look :

"listen to what? i’ve heard enough and i don’t think we have anything to say to each other anymore."

"but wonwoo said-"

"wonwoo asked you to take care of me i know, you cut sharply, but i am the marshal here, i don’t need your help to prove that his death is everything but normal."

storming out without a single glance behind, you left, the picture held close to your heart.

swiping a tear away, you murmured softly :

"hi wonwoo, how are you today?"

placing a crown of flowers on the stone, you started to remove diligently the old one and change the water of the vase.

"i finally got all your belongings back. i even found the picture from your nomination which was allegedly lost, you little rascal."

sitting down, your back against his grave, you played with your pendant -a simple medallion minted with a sun, wonwoo’s gift when you entered into the republican military school- instinctively before grabbing a case from your bag, the one about your brother’s death.

cause yes, if the name jeon y/n resonated as the one of a hero in the whole empire, it also resonated with the one of the girl who couldn’t accept her brother’s death, the major general jeon wonwoo. out of pity, when the procedure had been closed despite all your testimonies and pleads for advanced examinations, your colleagues in charge of his case had given you his folder, hoping it’d help you to get over it. 

but you didn’t. instead, you looked at the different records and papers daily, looking for something, anything, that would prove that your reticence wasn’t irrational. but, after a whole year of incomplete and fruitless researches, you had to admit you were as lost as day one. 

when you opened your eyes, you felt a pain near the back of the neck. studying little by little each of your senses, you finally noticed that you were still in the graveyard and had fallen asleep against wonwoo’s stone. slowly massaging your neck, you saw around you the different elements of the case. letting your eyes linger on each pictures seen and seen again to make sure none of them flew with the wind, your blood froze when one of them went past your field of vision. it was wonwoo’s lungs. the shot wasn’t clear but you were absolutely sure : there wasn’t any soot. yet, you had read it in a book Costagliola R, Telmon N, Duguet AM, Rougé D. Ann Burns Fire Disasters. the absence of soot means that the person didn’t breath the gas generated by the flames and the forensic expert has to conclude that the person wasn’t alone when their body had been burnt to ashes. but if there wasn’t soot in wonwoo’s lungs… it necessarily meant that he didn’t inhale the smoke. and, if he didn’t inhale the smoke from the fire, the only reason that could explain this was that wonwoo was dead before he could even inhale them. but it wasn’t possible, right? he had been devoured but the flames and struggled. he had necessarily breathed the smoke. there should be soot, even a infinitesimal quantity, unless… unless the report about his death was wrong. unless the persons in charge of the dossier lied. unless the persons behind his death changed it.

the following week, you presented yourself at the imperial palace. today was the last day of the month and, like each and every month, a meeting was held, gathering the emperor and the heads of the five districts of the empire. to you, this kind of conference was a hassle but you couldn’t deny that the population liked it, seeing it as a way to feel close to the army and to gossip about the famous figures of the government, making them forget in the same time about the astronomical amount of money spent on a single day. plus, it came along at just the right time to help you in your progress. even if you had managed to prove that wonwoo’s death wasn’t an accident, it was far from being enough. you had to find culprits and make them suffer.

arriving near the golden gate, the immense railings were already wide opened for you. sometimes, popularity wasn’t all that bad. you didn’t even have to introduce yourself that two guards were already welcoming you, in order to accompany you to the hall where the meeting was held. 

sat in the middle of the marble table, your gaze embraced the little assembly composed of the five leaders of the districts. thus, by your left side was positioned kwon soonyoung from atalanta’s district, a marshal well known for his overwhelming strength. next to him was sat hong jisoo odysseus’ districts, a sly major general with angelic features. by your right side and already bickering with soonyoung was seated boo seungkwan from otrera’s district, a major general who wore his heart on his sleeves. and finally, sitting down at the other side of the table was chwe hansol from perseus’ district, the most phlegmatic general you ever met. 

after ten minutes, the emperor finally appeared : choi seungcheol, the son of the former emperor who had taken the power when the republic fell because of the war. his father had been assassinated and seungcheol had replaced him, receiving in the same time all the golden laurels of victory. the young man greeted the five of you before sitting down right in front of you. ultimately, his closest advisor, lee jihoon, arrived in the hall and seungcheol invited him to open the session. the advisor executed himself, the most unreadable expression on his features. 

everything went under jihoon’s expert gaze, from the crime levels to the economy of each district as well as the popularity level. if you didn’t see this usefulness of such a huge gathering when you could simply send a written report to jihoon, you liked to analyse his point of view and the criticisms he gave were admirable : short, effective and objective. you always wondered why the young man never enrolled in the army because of his skills and knowledges. wonwoo used to be his friend during high school before they went on their way, one alongside the future emperor, the other in the army. but, despite jihoon’s precious work, this meeting was, admittedly, a waste of time but it also gave you a huge opportunity to find clues linked to wonwoo’s murder. indeed, old informations and archives were all stored in the imperial archives. hence, if your enemies weren’t high ranked soldiers, they wouldn’t have been able to reach this room to falsify their names. you felt that, after a whole year during which people looked at you with nothing but pity when you talked about your brother, you finally got closer to the truth, therefore, you couldn’t help but shake your leg under the table, excitement and pressure fighting inside you.

at the end of the meeting, orpheus’ district ranked first for the fifth consecutive time and, as usual, you received praises from your colleagues which you swept away with a swing of the hand.

"i’m only doing my job," you assured. 

usually, this announce would bring you pride and a little bit of vanity, especially when you knew how exceptional your colleagues were. but right now, despite your competitive nature, your mind was far from caring about some race between districts. instead, you were already planning on running to the next step of your investigation. 

when midday rang, everyone started to stand up in order to join the big banquet usually held for the day. speeding yourself, you caught the emperor up and excused yourself :

"i’m sorry my emperor but i’m awaited at my district, i won’t be able to attempt the meal although i am truly grateful for this event."

"it’s okay, marshal jeon, the young man assured, thank you for your presence and your amazing results, up to your reputation as always."

after a final bow, you left the huge reception not without noticing the weird look jihoon addressed you and the strange feeling inside you. 

slowly walking to prevent any sound of your presence in the huge corridors, you finally reached the next step of your journey : the imperial archives. the impressive door of polished oak tree was crowned with the latin expression acta, non verba written in gold, the motto of the holy empire. you found it kinda funny to put such an adage at the entrance of a place like archives. shaking your head to erase those thoughts, you started to walk through the different aisles.

with a groan, you finally managed to reach the top of the shelf. the archives were stored a huge room and, despite the irreproachable tidying of the place, finding a five years old record was harder than what you predicted. hence, after finding the right aisle and the right shelving, you had discovered that, because he died in january, wonwoo’s file was on the twelfth level.

"why didn’t you die in december woo? or better, why didn’t you die at all?" you had mumbled before looking around for a ladder.

but now, as you heart started to beat faster, you knew you weren’t far from your goal. sitting down in a corner of the room, you opened the folder, a hand on your pendant, when your hopeful smile dropped : despite the death certificate and the witnesses’s testimonies, the file was empty. you were back to square one. sighing deeply, you reasoned yourself. if your brother’s register was empty, it only meant that his murderer was way more influential than what you anticipated and probably more powerful than your brother. 

while you were replacing the different boxes that helped you to reach his record, you heard an almost inaudible sound. your entire body froze on the spot and, after five long seconds, you walked toward the doors of the archives. suddenly, a shadow appeared in front of you. pulling your sword out swiftly, you got out of room.

"oh my god y/n don’t scare me like that!" the stranger screamed. 

lowering your blade, you found a frightened soonyoung and an unfazed hansol.

"oh, sorry soonyoung, i got scared," you joked sheepishly.

"it’s okay y/n, i kinda deserved it," the major general added.

"note to myself, never scaring you ever," hansol teased.

"what are you still doing here anyway? weren’t you supposed to go back to your brigade? did you have something to look at in the archives?" the older man asked, overwhelming you with questions.

"well, i was but… something came up, you quickly answered before retorting, but what about you? you should be enjoying the astronomical buffet, shouldn’t you?"

"we were, but jihoon asked us to go get him his planner."

preventing yourself from raising your eyebrows in surprise at hansol’s dubious explaining, you content yourself with a single nod, perfectly aware that the advisor would rather die than letting someone getting their hands on his planner. with a laugh, you cut the conversation short :

"great, then i’ll leave you there. see you next month!"

"yeah, see you and again, congrats for the first place," hansol complimented.

"yes, you really are the greatest! soonyoung cheered, not many people could pull off first place five times in a row, but nothing new from a jeon, right?"

and, after a giggle, you turned around and walked away, your smile fading away instantly.

walking toward your apartment, you looked up in order to recover your concentration. the moment you had left the imperial palace, you had felt a presence in your back. the moment your foot was on the pavement to the moment you were sat in the chair of your office, you had felt those two piercing eyes and now, as you were finally going home, you felt them again, lying in wait and ready to attack at the slightest opportunity. 

this little game carried on for a entire week, forcing you to change your opinion on your mysterious hunter. thus, what you mistook as miscalculation was actually made on purpose. you also had to admire the abilities of the person who was following you. they certainly weren’t an amateur, being able to chase you without any interruption for so long. you easily guessed that they intentionally made their presence known, as if they wanted you to feel like a trapped animal. but they underestimated you. if they wanted a mistake, it wouldn’t come from you. you were a marshal and started like every soldier enrolled into the former republic military school. you were used to track someone and were even more used to being tracked. if you wanted this hunt to end, it’d be with a confrontation. 

hence, after checking with a quick glance that the street was empty, you stopped in your tracks. 

"don’t you think this little game lasted long enough? come show me your face now, unless you’re too much of a coward," you whispered with a mocking tone.

you were about to think that your mocking wasn’t enough until you felt the switch in the air. the moment the blade struck, you drew your sabre to block the attack, a smirk on your lips. teasing was such an easy way. 

"do you actually realise that attacking me isn’t a classic infraction?" you asked with disdain.

following the weapon with the eyes, you responded with an offensive and managed to disarm your opponent. pushing them against the wall, you hit them in the stomach.

"tell me who you are now," you ordered, your blade against his throat.

that’s when your assailant’s hood fell from their head. your heart missed a beat when his delicate features appeared, his beautiful brown hair slightly messy. and when your eyes met, you instantly knew who it was : yoon jeonghan, the greatest assassin of the entire empire. your enemy must be really powerful to be able to afford his services.

"i am your worst nightmare," the young man introduced himself with a seductive smile.

"you are an absolute pain in the ass," you deadpanned.

this wasn’t what you expected but might be your lucky day after all : if this man was at your heels, it meant you weren’t far from the responsible persons behind wonwoo’s death. plus, being able to catch this assassin would be an amazing help for the entire empire.

"it kills me to tell you this but, as a citizen of the montefeltro empire, you are holder of the right to remain silent and have access to a lawyer. you’ll be heard by a fair trial for your act-"

"-ions and will be able to receive an adjudication from an impartial judge," jeonghan completed.

"it seems you knew your fall was near," you teased, arching an eyebrow.

"maybe, but before you’re doing anything, i’d advice you to listen to me."

"and why would i listen to the most searched assassin of the empire?"

"because i am seeking revenge, just like you. i want this whole ridiculous system to collapse and i want to attend it in the front row."

"again, why would i listen to you? you’re not a trustworthy person," you observed.

"because you have nobody else to talk to and because everyone here can have a blade behind their back," jeonghan replied with a smirk.

"so? you mumbled, what makes you think you’re any different from them?" 

"because my blade is right in front of you, sweetheart, and i swear i won’t use it on you. plus, i can provide you inestimable help," the young man retorted.

bitting your lips, your slight hesitation was enough for him to grab you tightly by the shoulders and switch your positions. your back hit the wall because of the abruptness of his movements but his hands wrapped themselves around your neck, preventing your head to do the same. widening your eyes, you couldn’t even curse you for losing your focus that you already felt his grip dropping.

"don’t you want to know who you’re truly working for, marshal jeon?" jeonghan asked.

giving him a death stare, you let go of your sabre and sighed. realistically, he wasn’t wrong. he was untrustworthy, just like everyone else in the empire for the moment. you didn’t have a single track or clue and didn’t know who was your ally or your enemy. he might represent everything you work against but he was also your best option for the time being.

"i work with you. but i’m warning you : if you ever betray me, your head will be rolling on the floor."

"you make it sounds so romantic," the brown hair man teased with a smirk.

and, as his silhouette started to fade into the darkness of the night, you didn’t know if you just started to dig your own grave.

the following day at your brigade felt like a whole nightmare. everyone became a potential enemy and you started to make a list of the persons you suspected before starting to be racked by guilt. they were your colleagues, your subordinates and, for some of them, old classmates. contemplating them as targets didn’t feel right. but, as jeonghan’s words resonated inside your head, you couldn’t even refute him. everyone can carry a blade behind their back because, as far as you went, you never trusted anyone else than your brother and your instincts, remorse shouldn’t change that. and now that he wasn’t here anymore, you could only count on your guts and a dubious assassin. 

twisting your pendant pensively, you didn’t even flinch when a shadow entered into your office. giving a death stare to the young assassin slouched into your sofa, you groaned :

"would you at least remove your dirty shoes from my sofa? velvet is a living hell to clean."

"i didn’t picture you as the inflexible type," jeonghan retorted with an arched eyebrow.

grabbing a blade on your desk, you sent it toward his face. without much effort, the young man caught it midair and you repeated :

"i said, remove your shoes from my sofa."

"no wonder you’re still single," he replied with an exaggerated roll of the eyes.

when the young man finally executed himself, you observed :

"i hope you’re not here to debate about my relationship status because i actually have a lot of work and not a lot of spare time to grant you so make it quick."

"i prefer when it lasts at least three rounds but i can make an exception for you, doll."

the moment you raised your second dagger, jeonghan chuckled, his hands up in the air as if he was surrounding :

"okay okay i get it, no more jokes about what’s going on under the blanket."

straightening his posture, the atmosphere of the room dropped when he locked his gaze in yours.

"i hope you know we’re inevitably going to kick over the traces, marshal, he started, our adversaries aren’t just some high ranked members of the armed forces but the government as a whole."

"what do you mean?" you asked, slowly swallowing. 

sure you knew you were going after the big fishes after your investigation in the imperial archives, but you didn’t except that the entire government would have been involved. 

"the great war of decline was a mere pretext for seungcheol’s father and his partisans to organise a coup d’état and overthrow the republic."

your eyes widened at his words. no… this couldn’t be true?

"you… you’re saying that they started the war just to hide their coup and cover it up as a legal take-over? they sacrificed thousands of lives for some power?" you guessed, unable to hide your anger.

"power is an inestimable thing, marshal, jeonghan retorted, even ordinary people would kill their neighbours for some more influence."

bitting your lips before moistening them, you sighed, resigned :

"okay, so be it, our whole empire is built on lies and corpses, but in what way is it linked to wonwoo?"

"i think wonwoo was involved in this total venture."

"what did you say?" you asked, tightening the grip on your guard.

the next second, the both of you were above your desk, you sabre at the base of his jaw and his dagger pointing at your heart. glaring at him, you carried on :

"are you implying that my brother is linked to the coup d’état which is responsible of the fall of an entire outsider country and the deaths of thousands of innocents? i advice you to be careful with your words, yoon."

"i’m not foolish enough to bring the wrath of the youngest marshal of the empire," the young man whispered sweetly.

acting as one, you both dropped your weapons but you insisted :

"wonwoo would never have been alongside the silent partner of this plot. my brother was a honest man inherently good. i’m sure there is another reason to explain his death." 

"maybe, but you can’t put aside the fact that he was somehow involved, even the hypothetical idea of him being a spy for another organisation is worth considering."

when your gaze darken, he hastily added grumpily :

"i’m talking to you as a fair and impartial judge, marshal, not to the little sister who idolises her brother."

"please, don’t tell me you’re jealous of my admiration for my brother," you scoffed.

"and what if i was?" jeonghan answered back.

"then i’d definitely tell you that it shouldn’t affect you this much. i’m a marshal, remember? your entire existence is what i working against."

you thought that he’d come back with another witty barb but couldn’t help but raised your eyebrows in surprise when his smirk flattened.

"you sure have a smart mouth, marshal," were his last words before he flew outside the window, as furtively as when he came in. 

you didn’t even get the time to say a word that, at the same moment, a knock on your door rang out.  

for the second time in a row, you waited eagerly for the next meeting at the imperial palace. now that you knew you had to deal with hugest problems than what you originally envisaged. you had hoped this matter would have stay within the corps of the imperial armed forces. this place was an absolute playground for you. since soonyoung and you were the only marshals of the empire, the fact that you were one of the two holder of the highest-ranking title in the military hierarchy made you practically untouchable. you wouldn’t have had any issue finding the responsible of wonwoo’s death and would have executed them on the spot. but if this mess also involved state officers, this would be way harder. 

thus, when your district ranked first for the sixth time consecutively, you received praises and compliments with a bright smile and, when people called you marshal jeon, it felt like they were applauding both your brother and you. you wanted to laugh hysterically at their hypocrisy and execute them all but you knew better than to act hastily. you couldn’t kill anyone yet as long as their guilt hadn’t been exposed. 

when the little assembly left for the traditional banquet, you sped up to catch on jihoon. he was your first suspect after seungcheol and you needed to get closer to him. you managed to be seated next to him during the whole meal. despite his cold features and stern gaze, jihoon and you used to get along well. as the most efficient soldier, jihoon had recognised your worth a long time ago and your conversations had gone past niceties. he had even invited you numerous times at chess game parties you all had rejected in the past. but now, things had changed. hence your eager response when the young advisor suggested a chess game after lunch. 

"i’d be more than grateful to share a game with you, advisor lee," you had answered.

"oh please, y/n, you can call me jihoon after all this time," the young man had assured.

"we both know each other since ages and you always refuse me calling you jihoon," soonyoung, who had been eavesdropped, had groaned.

"that is because you’re infuriating and noisy," jihoon had deadpanned before inviting you to follow him in his office.

sat face to face, you couldn’t ignore the tension in the room when you asked, as you moved the first piece :

"do you remember much about wonwoo?"

you instantly guessed than jihoon knew that your unusual consent for a chess game was led by some other kinds of motivations than the pleasure of competition and that your question was far from the one he had expected. he finally answered after moving his pawn :

"wonwoo was an exceptional soldier and a great friend during high school time. we were more similar than i thought at first and, as time passed by, i became comfortable in his presence. we only parted ways because we had different ambitions."

"wonwoo was really secretive so i’ve never heard a lot about his time in high school, you confessed, he only accepted to tell me anecdotes from the republican military school because i wanted to go there too."

"that’s funny how you both decided to take the same path. and to be as remarkable as the other," the young man praised.

"like brother like sister, i guess. i’ve always walked not so far away from wonwoo’s footsteps."

your remark hit the nail on the head and jihoon raised his cold gaze to meet your eyes.

"are you implying something else, y/n?"

"why? do you feel threatened?" you responded with a sweet smile.

"if i were you, i’d be more careful about my surroundings and start being concerned about the things i should and shouldn’t follow."

a heavy silence followed his words and, after moving your queen, you chuckled :

"i don’t know what you’re talking about, jihoon, i was only referring to chess. wonwoo used to win so many tournaments, just like i did. and now, i made a checkmate."

colours left jihoon’s already pale face and the young man giggled shakily :

"i think i got carried away, sorry y/n. this was a very interesting game, come back again when you have some time to kill, okay?"

"oh it’d be an incommensurable pleasure, you assured, but before that, i need to eliminate a bigger problem."

and just like that, you left the room, your queen and bishop surrounding jihoon’s king. 

"what the fuck is wrong with you?" 

this were the first words jeonghan addressed after three weeks without seeing each other. sometimes, you felt his gaze on your back but, as time went on, you got used to his presence, making your life less lonely. but the moments his eyes weren’t on you anymore, you had the bitter reminder that jeonghan was an assassin who had to kill for a living and that your feeling of company was just an illusion. he was -for lack of better words- your partner, nothing more, nothing less.

but right now, as your back was pressed against the wall of the dirtiest alley and jeonghan’s blade on your jaw, the overall climate wasn’t right for sentimentality. flames were burning in his piercing gaze but, despite his anger, you noticed he still placed his hands behind the back of your neck to prevent your head from hitting the wall. 

locking your gaze in his, you answered :

"i’m threatening this whole system, isn’t it what you wanted?"

"i asked for revenge, he corrected, not for you to be killed like wonwoo and m-"

"i won’t get killed, you cut, if you want things to move, you need to take actions. words won’t change a single thing."

"i know but it doesn’t mean you have to be reckless, we have plenty of time."

"probably but it’s by catching them off guard that we’ll win," you argued.

"maybe, but theoretically i’m still contractually linked to them. i don’t want them to understand that i’m involved with your little schemes."

"if you’re unhappy with my methods, you’re free to go find another marshal thirsty for revenge and the truth," you mocked, opening your arms. 

"you really are the must stubborn marshal i’ve ever met," jeonghan chuckled while brushing his hair with his hand.

lowering his gaze on your lips, you breathed shakily. you hated this silly reaction and, after striking his chest with your fist to hide the blush on your cheeks, you replied with a pout :

"i thought you knew where you were getting yourself into."

"yet, i still didn’t get to be into you."

"and for the record, i actually don’t give a damn about my safety, which shouldn’t be your personal concern," you added, struggling to ignore his remark.

"it shouldn’t but, despite everything, it is. so please, be careful."

the seriousness and the controlled anger in his tone surprised you but, you didn’t even get the time to tease him about it that he was already walking away.

"but go on, do whatever your pretty face wants. i know i won’t manage to convince you and i never fight for anyone else anyway."

rolling your eyes at the pet name, you decided to walk toward wonwoo’s apartment. 

who knows? maybe you’d be able to find more evidences. if wonwoo managed to guess that the war had been planned in order to hide a coup d’état, he might have left some evidences or clues to help you. with a sigh, you frowned at the idea that your brother was fighting on his own and didn’t tell you a single word about it. and you felt even more miserable for having been unaware of his private investigations. what you told jihoon was the truth, your brother was an evasive person. he didn’t tell you much, always going by the motto that actions speak louder than words but still, you wished he let you into the secret. and now, you were in the dark.

apparently, you were in the dark and rather rusty because, you didn’t noticed the presences behind your back until you reached wonwoo’s old apartment. waiting for mingyu to open the door, you drew your sabre when the familiar clicking of the blade echoed before striking. 

"you’re more careless than i thought, soonyoung."

in front of you were standing soonyoung, a wide grin across the face, and jihoon, his face as unreadable as ever. your blades banged into one another and you asked with a derisive tone :

"to what do i owe the honour?"

"it seems like our promising little marshal is peering her nose into something that is far from her business," the other marshal teased back.

"a matter that is way too crucial for her understanding," jihoon added with a somber look.

"sure, the death of thousands and the establishment of an illegitimate empire is indeed very crucial," you mocked.

in the same time, the door behind you opened. after a quick glance, you ordered to mingyu :

"mingyu stay inside! you aren’t safe here."

"why do you say that?"

your blood pressure dropped when he continued, his voice dramatically changed from concern to satisfaction :

"they are my friends, i have no reason to be scared. you on the other hand…"

you only got the time to turn around when you receive a brutal blow on the temple and darkness took over.

when you opened your eyes, you felt the same pain in the back of your neck you had felt a month ago at wonwoo’s grave. your head was pounding like crazy and your arms and feet were tied up to a tree. you could feel the ground underneath you and, after noticing the humid air and on your pants, you guessed they brought you far away into the woods. 

"well well well, it seems the pretty doll is finally awake," a voice cooed on your left.

slowly opening your eyes, you mumbled :

"you could at least have the decency to put a pillow under my butt, those uniforms are a living hell to clean."

"you wanna outsmart us now, you insufferable little brat?" mingyu giggled, the full height of his height crushing you. 

"what about you? you are a fucking traitor! wonwoo trusted you and you betrayed him for some power? you asked disdainfully, please, i don’t want to outsmart you, there isn’t any competition."

mingyu scoffed at your words and started to deride your brother :

"wonwoo was an idiot. brilliant, kind, strong but an idiot. he really fooled us until the end but then…"

putting a hand on his face, he scoffed haughtily and a wide grin appeared on his face when he kept going :

"i didn’t betray him, he shot himself in the foot. your brother was clever but so stupid, typical behaviour from a hero. the day he was about to ruin everything, i found him in his room. he never ever questioned my allegiance to some idealistic values and had the intention to leave me a letter, a letter." 

coming closer, he grabbed your chin between his fingers and mocked :

"he was telling me that he understood that the empire was responsible for the war and did it to hide their coup. he knew he was going to die and asked me to keep you safe, do you believe that? when i would be the one to execute him."

a raging scream escaped your lips and you tried to free yourself from the shackles, soonyoung’s laugh ringing in your ears. 

"you’re a pathetic piece of garbage, you shoot, how could you possibly betray and kill your friend? you deserve to root in hell, you fucking coward!"

instantly, you received a blow in your right cheek and another in the belly. aversion twisted your stomach when you felt his hand gentle stroking your head.

"you know, i don’t take a great deal of pleasure in this, mingyu scolded you, you were like a little sister to me, i really wanted to protect you. but you had to believe in your brother’s abilities and stick your nose into someone else’s business."

his warm smile dropped immediately to show the cruelest expression you ever saw on mingyu’s face. an expression you never thought you’d ever see at all.

"you really do look like your brother. wonwoo had the same face when i killed him."

when mingyu got up in order to grab you didn’t even know what, you started to look around desperately. panic started to spread all over your body when you realised that you couldn’t see anything but mist and trees as far as your eyes could see. when the sound of the blade against the sheath, you knew this was the end. 

you wouldn’t be able to escape. you wouldn’t be able to show the truth to the world. you wouldn’t be able to get revenge for wonwoo and bring the truth on his death. when mingyu lifted his blade, your last thought was about jeonghan and his insufferable grin. he’ll probably make fun of your recklessness when the news of your death will come out. closing your eyes, you scoffed internally, unable to believe that he was the last person in your mind before dying. 

but the pain never came. instead, a croaky scream escaped mingyu’s lips. opening your eyes, you discovered with terror a blade stabbing his heart. a single drop of blood fell on your face and, the next moment, your arms were free. 

"j- jeonghan?" you murmured incredulously.

"you can kiss me when we’ll get out of here, sweetheart, but now i need you to help me kill those two bastards," the young man answered, trowing a sword toward you.

catching it midair, you ran toward soonyoung. you were still disoriented by how things turned out but this wasn’t the time for questions. thankfully, you hadn’t been the first one to be confused by jeonghan’s arrival. soonyoung stopped your blade in extremis with the sheath of his sword before pushing you away with his foot.

"i’ve always wanted to face up the youngest marshal of the empire," the young man laughed.

"then this is your lucky day : you will face her and die from her hand."

launching yourself straight toward him, the sounds of the blades knocking together resonated in the woods. taking a deep breath, you swept away the sweat on your forehead and fought back again. soonyoung’s endurance was the no match against the five leaders of the districts but your technique was beyond his. all the times he managed to dodge your attacks occurred thanks to his strength core and his agility. but he’ll get tired quicker than you.

from the back of your head, you could hear jeonghan and jihoon’s confrontation and you had to force yourself to prevent yourself from looking at him. jeonghan was an amazing fighter but the young advisor wasn’t outdone.

finally, you managed to make soonyoung fall. sending his sword far away, you straddled his torso and blocked his arms. 

"you fucking bitch," the young man groaned while struggling.

striking the pommel of your sword to knock him down, you growled :

"this one is for my abduction."

and finally, as you hammered your sword in his heart, you added :

"and this one is for wonwoo."

still on soonyoung’s corpse, you couldn’t lift any finger. your state surprised you as much as it upset you. you had gone on the battlefield, you had killed thousands of soldiers and almost got abducted once but hadn’t been as miserable as now. a reassuring hand stroked your hair softly and jeonghan whispered :

"it’s finally over."

raising your head, your gaze was still lost when you asked :

"why did you save me? i thought you never fought for anyone else."

"’cause i don’t. but you’re not anyone else, you’re the other half of me."

a tear started to roll on your cheek at his words. and another. tears were rolling down like a river while jeonghan’s fingers rushed themselves to heal your bruises and cuts. 

"after i drop you at your apartment, i’ll kill this asshole of an emperor myself," jeonghan mumbled lugubriously.

"don’t."

a silence followed your word, jeonghan’s tense hand still up in the air. 

"why wouldn’t i? he asked, slightly on edge, i know he is extremely powerful but he has to pay for what he did to you, to your brother, to his country, to all the innocents."

"i know. but we have trials and institutions for that," you argued.

"corrupted trials, you mean," jeonghan corrected heatedly. 

"not all trials! you feuded, listen, if we act hastily another organisation could easily overpower us and we’d go back to step one."

"weren’t you the one who wanted to catch them off guard?"

"yes, but things changed!"

"i don’t see how they are any different from few hours ago."

"they changed because three men died because of this mess. and if i am the one who was begging to act faster, weren’t you the one who scolded me for my so called recklessness?"

"this is none of your business!"

"as long as we are partners, this is completely my business! why are you so eager to kill seungcheol?"

"because- because i need to get revenge for my friend. and this can’t be done unless i kill this asshole myself."

jeonghan’s breath became less steady and he confessed :

"i used to have a friend, minghao, who also died during the war. we grew up in the streets after the collapse of our orphanage. the fucking republic never did anything good to us so, when the government asked for all the eligible men to join the army, i refused but he didn’t. he joined the armed forces because he believed in freedom. because he believed in the safety of civilians’ lives. because he believed our younger-selves would have wished for this kind of help. and he got killed." 

"i- i am really sorry to hear that," you whispered sheepishly.

"when i got the order to kill you, i followed you a whole week to know your habits but you reminded me of him : he was honest, true to himself and an insufferable little shit that i’ve never been able to manipulate. just like you." 

"so you refused to kill me out in remembrance of good old days?" you asked with an arched eyebrow.

"no, i refused to kill you because i love you." 

and, the next second, his lips were on you. the kiss had a weird taste, a mixture of tears, dust and you-didn’t-know/want-to-know’s blood. yet, the kiss also held hope and warm and, for the first time since wonwoo’s death, your feeling of loneliness finally vanished. 

when your office’s door opened, you froze before laughing :

"i’m sorry but i still can’t get used to see you in the military uniform."

in front of you was standing jeonghan, dressed in the uniform from the republican military school, ready to walk you home.

"i had to, since you told me you have a soft spot for men in uniform," the young man sighed, unable to hide his smirk.

standing up, you wrapped your arms around jeonghan’s shoulder while his hands found their place on your hips. and, as his lips softly pressed themselves against yours, you felt a weird feeling of nostalgia spreading inside you.

you remembered the day you had finally managed to gather enough evidence to prove the empire’s implication in the war after searching for hours in jihoon, soonyoung and mingyu’s offices.

you remembered the day you had finally testified at seungcheol’s hearing to bring justice to wonwoo’s death.

you remembered the day you had finally announced to your brother that you had put an end to his suffering and that he could finally rest in peace.

you remembered the day you had sworn to jeonghan that you’ll wait for him after his sentencing by the criminal court.

you remembered the day you had embraced him when he had finally ended his sentence two years later.

you remembered the day you had refused the suggestion of the high court of justice to become the new ruler of the country.

you remembered the day you had become the head of the republican armed forces.

but most importantly, you remembered the day jeonghan had announced that he’ll join the armed forces. "this way, i’ll be able to work legally with you. and i think it’d make ’hao happy."

when you finally gathered all your belongings, jeonghan solemnly moved aside and, with a swing of the arm, invited you :

"after you, marshal jeon."

rolling your eyes, you moaned :

"don’t call me like this."

"okay okay, sorry. after you, sweetheart."

and, with a final kiss on your temple, you both left to your home.

a/n pt 2 : if you managed to go throughout this fic until here, thank you so so much. please tell me your opinion, it’d mean a lot to me!

taglist : @junhour @lixiel0ver @caramyisabitchforsvtandbts @islandheaven @belladaises

@/som1ig 2023 | all rights reserved | do not plagiarise

do you write yandere stuff?

Hello there,

I do not write Yandere, but you can pop in another request that you may have in mind.

Saph ❤❤