Woozi X You - Tumblr Posts

𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐃: 𝐖𝐨𝐨𝐳𝐢 𝐚𝐭 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐲!?

Didn't anybody tell him being back in the booth will leave him singing solo?

Pairings: Lee Jihoon x Fem!reader | Slight!Kim Mingyu x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: A kink confession in couple's therapy might just save your relationship

Warnings: Established Relationship, Insecurities, Gender Roles, Slight!Toxic Relationship, Fluff, Slight Angst, Smut (+18 Minors DNI), Masturbation, Dom/Sub undertones, MeanDom!Jihoon, Sub!Reader, Innocence Kink, Slight DDLG, Ownership Kink, Hair Pulling, Spitting kink, Massive Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Slight Humiliation, Submission Kink, Dirty Talk, Grinding, Oral Sex (Male rec), Breeding Kink, Slight!Hate sex

Word Count: 3.9k

Song: Mine | Beyonce

Woops

"I'm aware that I'm on this mission to get my boyfriend to actually want to fuck me again but why does it feel like I've already failed on the very first step?" A whine so childish, and so petulant rips itself from the depths of your throat but Jihoon's running shower silences the pathetic noise.

While he showers, you're left sitting on the floor surrounded by a graveyard of designer lingerie. A too small Victoria's Secret set is immediately abandoned in its box, leaving you howling into the phone as you wriggle yourself into the complicated underwear.

Your confidence wanes as you adjust to the intricate bows and string of the set, wincing as you pull up the pink garter belt until it's clasped around your thighs. Soon enough, you're padding across the floor of your walk-in closet, hesitantly approaching a mirror.

"I mean, this says 'slut' but what if 'slut' isn't what he's attracted to?" Your hand curls tightly around the width of your phone, "Jihoon is an anomaly! What if I end up making a complete and utter fool of myself?" The mirror is nestled between Jihoon's clothing rack harbouring all his neatly pressed designer pieces. You let the sight of his intimidating fashion waver your already fragile confidence. 

"Are you hearing yourself?" Scoffs Mingyu through your phone's speakers, "What man has ever in the history of the universe not been attracted to 'slutty'? I feel like that might be a prerequisite in terms of the origins of the word." He says in a lax, calm manner, "Woozi'll just be happy to see boobs and ass becuase that's usually how a guy's brain goes. Or how mine goes at least."

Despite Mingyu's assurances, your arms are still folded over your scantily covered breasts while you cradle your phone in the air. "I don't know," your bottom lip finds its way between your teeth. "You didn't hear him today at counseling, Mingyu. I feel like our therapist might actually hate us." You continue to cradle your torso, forcing yourself not to flinch at the memory of your earlier session of couples therapy. 

How far away Jihoon had felt despite being seated right beside you, like a gleaming, stoic-faced monolith. You feel as though you have been living in nothing but a perpetual winter, forever trying to please Jihoon, your boyfriend, but always falling short in front of Woozi, the entertainer. Work, work, work, on his mind meant that you were left to entertain your own wants by your lonesome. Even more harrowig, is the excuse he had given your therapist.

"She's always in boss mode," Jihoon's tone was as cold as ice, refusing to spare you even a single glance as he faced the therapist ahead, "And that's one of things I love about her, yes. Her drive and determination makes us compatible because I know I'm the same-"

A scoff slips past your lips at that point, making Jihoon's fist clench on the arm rest as you snootily interjected, "Don't misconstrue." You said, "He works more than me," and it was the truth as far as you believed it. Yes, you would gladly admit to neglecting a few key elements of your relationship in the face of your career, but never had you ever made Jihoon feel microscopic in your pursuits. Not like how he made you feel.

"It's important to listen to each other without interjecting." The therapist calmly scolded, leaving you grumbling in your seat, "You'd be surprised at how much could truly be accomplished by simply listening to each other,"

You were truly ready to tell that old lady to go to hell but something strange happened, and Jihoon finally opened his mouth, unburdening himself with what has truly been bothering him in his relationships as of late.

"It's just," He swears lightly under his breath, which does a terrific job in garnering yout attention. You peek up from underneath your lashes and you're stunned to hear him say, "I just wish she'd understand that it wouldn't burn down the foundations of feminism if she'd just," Jihoon's jaw ticked as he displayed the very first signs of emotion, "-Just let me take that load off for a bit…"

"In what way?" The therapist asked, sensing the nearness of a eureka moment. She treaded carefully, in fear of scaring Jihoon back into his shell. Thankfully, he made himself clearer because by now, you needed to know as well.

"She's the boss in her day to day and I respect that," he says, "But all I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt to leave all that shit at work..."

The therapist nodded with grave understanding, although even you could see the trepidation easing onto her face. There is no hiding the conflicting emotions displayed on your face.

"You're asking her to become more…" The therapist cleared their throat, "Submissive?" Jihoon had not responded after that, letting the pregnant silence act as his megaphone.

"I'm submissive," you had whispered, nodding as if trying to convince yourself of your words. "I'm like… so submissive," before you could decorate your lie with even more lies, Jihoon finally turned towards you. 

"Really?" He asked, "Where?"

You let an incredulous chuckle escape from your throat as you shot back, "Where what?"

Jihoon did a show of looking around the therapist's clinical office, delving deep into his petty theatrics as he calmly, "Where are you being submissive, because it hasn't been with me?"

The session had ended with you wracking your brain at Jihoon's admittance of what you suspect to be a kink. His words haunted you on the silent drive home. They had piqued your interest considerably, filling the atmosphere with a tense warmth, as if a tempest was brewing. One that neither of you was quite aware of how to deal with yet.

It was a feeling that led you into the deepest confines of your closet, until you pulled out the Savage x Fenty lingerie box, immediately calling Mingyu in a fit of panic while Woozi was in the shower. He was, after all, your best friend way before you even knew of Lee Jihoon.  

Ripping your arms away from your torso is a mission on its own, one you succeed with immense reluctance as you finally gaze at your reflection in all her half naked glory.

You commence a hesitant twirl in front of the floor to ceiling mirror.

Very hesitant. 

The lace bralette is digging into your ribs, and the matching pink garters are cutting into the skin of your ample thighs. It is all so painfully uncomfortable that you're threatening to take it off, no matter how much of a wet dream you may look like.

But there is excitement there too, bubbling beneath the surface, awakened by Jihoon's confession. You are almost excited to try this with him. Submission, sexually, was never on your cards previously but maybe this is something you should have noticed long ago. You pride yourself on being observant so why didn't you notice it before?

The soft affirmations of "Say my name," while he was steadily bringing you to orgasm with his fingers alone. The unmistakable need to have his hand locked around your throat whenever he was on the verge of cumming.

Even the non sexual stuff.

Ordering for you. Making sure your hand was always locked inside his when you found yourselves wandering the city. Forcing you to pay with his card despite knowing you made more than enough to sustain your lifestyle. 

How didn't you know?

Keeping a hesitant grip on your satin nightgown, you tilt your head at your reflection skeptically.

"Imagine how embarrassed I'll be if he just ignores me," The insides of your mouth is bleeding non stop from the way you've been gnawing at it, "Maybe I should just accept that work is the only love in Jihoon's life."

Mingyu's voice is diabolically soothing as it bleeds through your speakers, "No, no," he says, and you can imagine him swatting away at the air in the process "Jihoon acts like a prude but he's one of the biggest sluts- if not - the biggest slut I know."

"Besides yourself of course," you murmur,

"Besides myself of course" Eventually, Mingyu comes up with what he suspects is his big master plan.

"Perhaps you should send me a pic of you in it, that way when the little guy gets out of the shower and sees you, then you'll be far more relaxed in the knowledge that someone else has already seen you in it." 

It truly was Neanderthal mathematics. 

However, there is an underlying veneer in Mingyu's tone bleeding in through the phone's speakers that makes you believe your best friend is far from joking. Despite it infuriating Woozi to no end, Mingyu might never stop flirting with you ever. In respect of your dynamic.

"Surely, I shouldn't have to tell you that I'm not sending you a pic of me in my lingerie for you but I guess I have to put that into words you would understand maybe?" You hold up your fingers and clear your throat as you monotonously say, "how dare you," 'have you no shame, Mingyu," You ask, "Need I go on?" 

In the midst of Mingyu's petulant whines urging you to just 'leave your man' Jihoon's shower silences, and you right your bad posture immediately. You suddenly have no idea what to do with the drawstring of the nightgown. Somehow, this seemed like the make it or break it moment. The moment where you would decide to dive headfirst into your plans of winning back your relationship despite the possibility of being met with Jihoon's hostility and coldness that you had grown so accustomed to.

The pool of dread and anxiety is deep, and your hands are nearly shaking as your fingers gloss over the lacy pink garment. "I have to go," you whisper into the receiver, vaguely aware that you've already clicked the button to sever the line before your sentence even ends. All while you awaited the footsteps from Jihoon. But they never came.

Courageously abandoning your fear for the sake of actually getting laid, you walk up to the door of your shared bathroom and knock hesitantly.

"Jihoon? Honey, are you okay?" But he is not okay, in fact, Jihoon might venture to believe he may never be okay because your voice is just so pretty, even when muffled by a closed door. His eyes are squeezed shut, and his forearm is leaning against the shower glass, and you just called him honey and fuck, if he didn't start tugging at his dick faster. He feels pathetic, having to get himself off when you were right there but the nuances and complexities of fighting with your partner introduced the need for such things. 

Jihoon's jaw is locked tight as he succinctly and suspiciously responds with a rumbling and groaning "Fine."  His brows are furrowed, and his teeth locked tightly together as he fights to get off easily and succinctly.

He hopes that you would take the hostility in his voice as a sign to make yourself scarce. Jihoon already fucked up when he let the 'submissive' thing slip but he cannot bear to imagine the utter humiliation he would be subjected to if you swung that door open right now, catching masturbating in the shower, as if he did not have a girlfriend able to meet those needs… It bruises him like nothing else could. He did not want you to see him like this. He did not want you to know that even in the midst of your fights, you were the only woman he ever really thought of.

His palm skates over his soaked cock as his mind is filled images of you on your knees in front of him, head tilted back and tongue sticking out like a-

"Good little slut," It was intended as a whisper to fuel the violent pool of heat bubbling in his abdomen and make him cum quicker. A whisper that you weren't supposed to hear but your ear is on the door now and you shout back, 

"Did you say anything?"

He cannot reply because his cock is aching and heavy with the weight of his fantasy. A fantasy in which you were his to hold, his to fuck, his to cum inside of until you were completely and utterly full of his load-

"Fuck-"

He rushes to squeeze the base of his dick, edging himself even though he's not quite sure why. This had been his moment to just cum all over his hands, wash off his spilt seed and be done with it, but you're knocking much more fluidly on the door, and you're becoming impatient. 

"Honey, you're scaring m-," You venture to say, despite already pushing the bathroom door open. You're both left momentarily stunned by what the other is seeing in front of them. He is left paralyzed by seeing you in so little clothing… and wearing pink. 

While you did not anticipate seeing Jihoon naked in the shower. Why had you not anticipated that? That’s so silly. Your mouth hangs open with the shock of his beauty perhaps.

Has it truly been that long? 

In the same breath, Jihoon's lungs are wiped clean as he stares at you through the glass. His breathing is heavy, ghosting over the glass while his broad chest rises and falls. He is nothing but darkened hooded eyes. Eyes that ravage the sight of you in your lacy pink underwear, underwear that he had not seen anywhere. Where did you get that? When did you get that? Myriad thoughts swirl in Jihoon's mind, each more sinister and lustful than the last because you look so completely innocent and so soft standing by the door, arms at your side while the dressing gown hangs lazily off of your shoulders.

After a moment of silence, Jihoon decides to stop this nonsense by leaning back slightly. His long black hair still dripping down the sides of his face and his tongue skates over his bottom lip as he says,

“We should not be this surprised to see each other naked,” He says, a deep voice ringing out through the acoustics of the bathroom, “We are a couple, last I checked.”

When you do not respond, he tilts his head downward, letting an even deeper shadow cast over his eyes as he scans you from head to toe. For an innumerable amount of minutes all is quiet. It feels as though the world had been rid of noise, like you had teleported back in time, to a Charlie Chaplin motion picture. A world of absolute silence. 

You begin to wonder how you might respond because surely, you cannot stand here, gawking at him for the rest of your merry life.

Before you could even think of adding to the silence with anything, anything at all, Woozi keeps his ice cold gaze on you, as he leans his head against his forearm, the one still positioned against the shower glass and he resumes his movements of languidly stroking his thick cock buried in his tight fist. 

Your mouth runs dry as your eyes betray you, finally venturing down to watch him. You seem to have forgotten just how beautiful your boyfriend truly was, taking in his damp locks kissing his shoulders. He is all solid lines with a sculpted torso and you feel as  if you never even knew him at all.

"Jihoon," Your voice quivers with immense passion but he silences you immediately. 

"Don't ruin this. Please don't-"

"I wanna help." His mouth snaps shut but he can feel himself twitch in his palm. Jihoon's breath grows hot as you step closer and closer and he squeezes his cock, as the overall scent of you forces its way through his nose and into his brain. You're so utterly addicting, Jihoon's hand strokes almost instinctively, his hips even venturing to push his cock into his palm as he follows your every movement.

"I want you to tell me what to do," You finally say, letting the silk gown fall to the floor as you step into the shower, lingerie and all. Jihoon's mind has completely descended into lechery while his hooded eyes watch you with nothing but adoration.

"Your knees." Is all he is able to force out, "I need you on your knees," He whispers an incredibly hoarse, "Please," that has you falling to his feet automatically. The movement immediately had Jihoon's reeling. 

"Fuck," He whispers, the sound of complete awe rushing straight to your core as he finally let's all his inhibitions wilt away with the rest of his manners. Jihoon is quick to bury his fingers into your hair with a roughness you're surprised to see. Surprised but far from disappointed.

"Open your mouth," He instructs, despite already prying your mouth open with his thick fingers, forcing your teeth open as if you were his plaything all while craning your head backwards. 

Once he gets your mouth open, Jihoon is insatiable. He immediately bends down and crashes his lips into yours, letting his tongue invade the inside of your mouth like his life depended on it. It's a manic, passionate and domineering kiss, neck that had you moaning into his open mouth as your tongue wrestled with his.

"I'm gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?" His tone however, lets you know that he is not asking, not really, but you nod anyway, unsure of who or what has come over you. All you're really sure of is that you want to make him feel good. The goal, the satisfaction of it is building so fantastically inside of you, pushing through your arteries, steadily soaking your panties with arousal and eliciting a slightly wayward kind of dizzying emotion inside of you all at once.

"Tell me," he says, and you're forced to crane your head back as he straightens his form. "Tell me to fuck your stupid little mouth. Tell me it's what you want." His jaw is locked tight as his hand once again encloses around his sensitive dick. He refuses to give you anything, however, unless he hears you submit to him fully and completely. He feels like he needs to hear the words. Some part deep in his monkey brain needs the confirmation from the source, as if hearing you say such nasty, horrible things would increase his already heightened arousal.

"Please, Fuck my mouth, Jihoon!" In any other instance you might have been shocked at the words flowing out of your mouth, but your cunt is absolutely dripping through the fabric and your hand immediately dives down to cup your pussy through your panties as you look up at him and say, "Please fuck my slutty little mouth, Jihoon! I fucking want you to, pleasepleaseplease-"

"Such a slut- such a pretty little slut-" you'd never heard Jihoon's voice crack the way it just did and you really wish to hear that beautiful sound again. His hand is once again in your hair while his other hand is on your jaw. He pushes a finger inside until he's flattening your tongue and craning your neck even further back. You're momentarily confused, trapped in a haze of stupid lust before Jihoon hovers above you and spits directly into your mouth. 

You're moaning, and keening and Jihoon is already forcing his cock all the way inside your mouth.

"Your mouth-" His voice is hoarse as he eases his cock inside the warmth of your mouth. He cannot take his eyes off of you, his beautiful, brilliant girl taking his cock so far into your mouth while you had taken to humping your own hand like an insatiable little slut.

"Fuck baby," He murmurs, letting the tip of cock meet the very back of your throat before inching out again, "is my little girl really getting turned on from sucking cock?" His humiliation is punctuated by a sharp and powerful thrust, one that has you seeing stars and your vision blurring as you fight to keep him inside your mouth. "You don't even have to do anything," He says through gritted teeth, "I'm doing all the work fucking this tiny little mouth of yours, aren't I?" You can feel how turned on he is. He's fucking huge inside your mouth as he slides himself to and fro like his life depended on it.

"God you're so beautiful like this," He whispers, "You're so fucking beautiful taking my cock like a good little whore."

Jihoon's gaze lowers down to where your hand has taken to pushing aside your panties and rubbing swift wet circles on your clit.

"You're not gonna cum like that," He says, almost immediately stilling his frantic hips, "when you cum, it's gonna be because of me, understand?" His grip on your forearm is solid as he pulls you up from off the shower floor. You're absolutely limp in his hands, breath heavy as he brings you close to him. There is a silent, almost tender exchange, with him breathing heavily in your face while you stare wide eyed up at him.

Soon, he's spinning you around with his hands digging into your sides as he presses your front against the fogged up glass. Letting your tits push against the cool, wet surfaces, he draws your hips to his. 

Before he sinks his cock into you, a very strange thing happens. Soft pillowy lips brush against your shoulder blade, eliciting a sharp gasp from you.

"Thank you," He whispers before sinking his cock into you with determination. He bottoms out faster than you anticipate, all while you've taken to moaning and whimpering like a mad woman. Your sounds egg him on, until he's rutting his twitching cock inside of you, desperately searching for the alleviation of a budding and aching need inside him.

"You feel so fucking good, you know that?" You hear him behind you. Feel him behind you. Your walls stretch and contract around his cock who continues to bully your insides.

"F-Fuck, Jihoona-" 

"Fuck, you're squeezing me, Princess," Your orgasm sneaks up on you pile the devil himself, stripping you of your dignity as you push your hips backwards, almost instinctively forcing his cock deeper as you fucked yourself back onto him. Jihoon's mind is absolutely deranged with lust. He sinks his nails into the softness of your sides and he pulls your hips impossibly closer. He fucks you like a madman, his cock is fluid and quick, pushing against that particular cushion of nerves that has your orgasm feeling like an absolute lifetime. Your panties that had been carelessly pushed aside creates a second later of friction that has him so dangerously close to the edge.

"I'm going to cum inside you." He states while never letting himself stop fucking you, "Fuck- I'm going to cum inside you-" It's the hardest you've ever seen him cum before. His hair is messy and a darker shade under the wetness of the shower, his eyes are hooded and glossy and his body is shuddering against you, overcome by a wave of vicious shocks as he stutters and empties his balls deep inside of you. His cock is forced deeper than it's ever been and you're made completely full of his load. Jihoon is utterly spent as he lowers his weight onto your back. Letting a sea of kisses reign down on your back as your heavy breathing fills the warm and damp air.

"You look so fucking beautiful," He says, never letting his pecks against your back stop, "so fucking gorgeous." That seems like apology enough, on both parts.

𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐬 | 𝐋.𝐉𝐡

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❝ 𝐃𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠 ❞

✧ Genre: Smut (M)

✧ Pairing: Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

✧ Summary: “Did you bring me into the studio as your engineer or your whore?” He nods his head playfully jutting his bottom lip out as if he's pondering something vastly philosophical. “It can't be both?”

✧ Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Possessiveness, Jealousy, Bratty Reader, Weaponizing!Wonwoo, Fluff, Workaholics in Love, Teasing, Producer!Jihoon, Musical Engineer!Reader, Smut (+18), Daddy Kink, Neediness, Dom/sub dynamic, Coercion, Brat tamer!Jihoon, Dom!Jihoon, Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Oral Sex (Male rec), Orgasm Denial, Breeding Kink

✧ Word Count: 3.9k

✧ Playlist when writing: Here

A/n: I love my boyfriend- I mean my bias.

Perhaps it was your fault. You should have known something was amiss the very moment Jihoon called you in the middle of your recording session with another artist. Your eyebrows furrowed when you picked up the phone, and you lifted one finger, signaling a quick recess to Wonwoo, who nodded calmly.

This was particularly uncanny because Jihoon never bothered you during work hours, and, in equal regard, you refused to bother him.

Out of respect for the craft, he refused to break you out of that very delicate mindset that he, as a creative, understood the significance of. Washington could be burning, and he still wouldn't dare interrupt you during work time. This somewhat sacred convenant was forged as a means to protect your relationship from your work personas. You did not particularly enjoy who Jihoon was when he assumed the sacremental identity of 'Woozi' and heavens knows you were equally as intolerable when you were stationed in front of a soundboard. You were both tyrants in your everyday lives, and even now, Wonwoo seems marginally relieved to have caught some semblance of a break as you huddle into the short corridor outside the studio.

So with a very perturbed but slightly worried voice, you swiped on the answer button and enquired, “Is everything okay?”

“No,” comes his instant reply. The knot between your brows have yet to unweave as you rest your back against a wall. Jihoon was by no means the most cheerful individual you had ever met, in fact, you prided yourself greatly on being the very few sources of genuine cacophony and laughter in his life. Seungkwan, of course, was your most fierce competitor.

Still, there is something grave in Jihoon's voice. It is a veneer of seriousness that is strange even for him. You had been able to gauge this sense of wabing patience in his tone just from one fickle like little word. 5 years in a vaguely conjugal relationship with a person would do that to you.

“I think I finally got the entire verse written.” Jihoon is surprised to find the lie tumbling so smoothly past the gates of his teeth, especially because he's normally so shit at lying. What was the point? When the person you were lying to had all your mannerisms memorized as if they were living in your body with you.

He taps his finger idly along the yellow notepad seated on his bouncing, restless knee. "We should record it now,”

You shake your head in complete discombobulation as you brought a finger to your lips in contemplation, "Why would you need my help? I thought you were working with another engineer."

His teeth grate irritably against each other, and he rolls his eyes in a flamboyant display of vexation as he exclaims, "Are you really in the mood to fish for compliments right now?" He asks tersely, "I should not need to tell you that you're my most trusted engineer,"

No matter how stoic your work persona was, she was not immune to flattery. The smile cracks the crevices of confusion along your visage, and Jihoon can almost feel the pleasure at his praise oozing through the phone.

"Now, if you'll please join me-"

“Can't." You respond. No matter how vulnerable you were to Jihoon's praises, you still remained fiercely loyal to your job. "I've got 20 more minutes in this session and after that I have to be at a meeting with the label, and I still have to go pick up that bouquet of flowers for our neighbor- you remember her cat passed on?"

"Just tell Wonwoo you have an emergency," Jihoon's reply has your eyes narrowing in skepticism. Not only was Jihoon fiercely independent, but he very rarely indulged you in his clingy side. Up until this very moment, you even doubted whether that side existed at all. "Cancel the meeting," he nods slowly, "And fuck the flowers, we hated that vermin anyway. Remember when her cat pissed in your peonies?" Jihoon ran his hand through his hair as he nodded with finality, "Fuck the flowers."

A sort of realization dawned within you, and you fought valiantly to keep the tone of self-righteousness out of your voice as you responded, “You're hijacking me from another artist.”

His hiss is instant and laced with venom, “Be glad I even allow you to work with another artist,”

Jihoon did not mean to slip up so badly, but he was also a man that would very rarely say anything that he did not actually mean.

“I don't like sharing,” he croons quietly over the line, “You know this.”

And so he let his words hang stagnantly in the air between you two, drying like wet, white linen in the wind. He pauses as if guaging your response to his raw words. Jihoon enjoyed doing this. He enjoyed giving you vague tidbits of what state of mind he found himself in without actually divulging his every thought. The ball was figuratively in your court, and he wished to see how you might respond.

Your throat clears your throat momentarily, letting your brain run rampant with myriad schemes. It was not very often that you would have the upper hand in your relationship. Dating someone like Jihoon, someone so comfortable being in control meant you constantly forfeited whatever power you had in your work life. Jihoon teased you. It was never the other way around.

"How badly do you want me there?"

"How badly do you want me to let you cum the next time I eat you out?" His voice is dripping with the weight of his threat and normally, you would find yourself quickly pushing yourself back into submission, but not this time. This time he needed you.

You are very secured in the realization that whatever reason Jihoon wanted you in the studio for - it was certainly not to record. There is a dangerous pool of excitement rushing through the conduit of your veins. He swears he can hear the titillating smile that blossomed across your face while you play idly with the Swarovski rock resting along your sternum. A gift from Jihoon. One of many.

“I don't know, Jihoon... What're you going to do for me in return? It's only fair that I'm adequately compensated for leaving a session."

"I'll let you cum tonight, I've already told you."

Jihoon is sitting reclined on his leather couch, his narrowed eyes piercing the wide soundboard directly in front of him. An egregious amount's worth of equipment sitting idly and completely untouched while his notepad sits on his lap, teasing him with its blankness.

Before he made the uncharacteristic choice to call you, Jihoon had been scrolling idly through his phone, in search of some bit of inspiration. He found himself opening his photos app, scrolling through his pictures that were filled mostly of you. Selfies you took with your face pressed against his unimpressed one. Mirror selfies showcasing what outfit you decided to wear, per his request and something else. Something he had forgotten he even had saved in his camera roll until the video was already rolling. At first glance, the scene was borderline animalistic. Jihoon's pale hand pressed down your arched back, while a steady hand recordinb you from above.

"That's a good girl-" he heard his own voice resonate through the speakers. It was like he was forced to meet his alter ego. A completey uncomfortable and fucking meta experience, especially because he was in the quiet of his studio.

Jihoon looked around his quiet studio, sensing no other infiltrating presence before he let his gaze fall back down onto the video. A deep shade of read crawled up his neck as he watched himself fuck you absolutely stupid from behind. You were both caught in a throws of your pleasure and incoherent words were thrown out in stuttering intervals.

"Fuck-Hoonie, I'm so close-"

"You're gonna cum for me, baby? You gonna let daddy cum in that pretty fucking pussy? You gonna let me breed you-"

"F-Fuck, Daddy- I'm," Jihoon heard himself swear in the speakers, and the video went wobbly before it came to a cataclysmic end. It was taken a week ago, when you both sat down to watch a movie. Needless to say, no movie had been watched because you were abundantly touchy, and Woozi decided to let you be.

Even though the video came to an end, he could not peel his eyes away from the screen. He watched it one final time before he searched for your name in the call logs and dialed.

His mind was empty, but his capacity for lust was never-ending.

Now not only was he combatting brutal inspirational drought, but he was nursing a semi erect cock that made him so fucking uncomfortable.

He did not need this shit from you right now.

"Are you sure threatening me with an orgasm denial is the way you wanna go right now, Hoonie?" He hated the self-interested smirk in your voice.

“This is not the time to be a fucking brat,” he hisses, perhaps unintentionally on the line. “Just get here,”

But the teasing lilt has yet to disappear as you chide, “Not a particularly ethical way to address your one and only trusted engineer, is it?” You asked sweetly, voice dripping with the amount of honey it would take to fill a honey farm, “At least Wonwoo respects my work,”

He laughs humorlessly before rolling his eyes. “You talk a lot of shit for someone already making their way over here.” And unfortunately, you were. You had shot Wonwoo a very heartfelt apology during your sparring verbiage with Jihoon while still gathering your belongings to make a break for his studio. You became so unnaturally predictable in his presence, like a lonely mould of clay, glistening and ready to be shaped into anything of his choosing.

Right now, his biggest obstacle is the very vexing fact that once you made it into his studio, you drifted in with your nose stuck in the air and the expectation that he is to actually put in work. Woozi greets you at the door, eyes shamelessly taking you in from head to toe while you refuse to do the same. A pastel baby tee clings to your chest like a second skin while the ends of a small mini skirt combat the summer heat.

“It's freezing in here,” you remarked while Woozi ogled you unashamedly.

“Don't fuck with my thermostat,” he says dismissively before pulling you into an indulgent hug. “I like it cold,” and his arms travel under yours, pressing your softness flush against his front. His face buries itself in between your neck and shoulder, feeling his restless limbs finally be coaxed into some sense of satisfaction. His nose brushes against your cheek, essentially nuzzling himself against you in a vaguely primal gesture and he sighs.

“Fuck, you're so soft.” His hand rubs slow circles on your lower back. Circles that gradually increase in size. Woozi snickers quietly against your skin. Big mistake.

He definitely thought he was slick.

Before the palm of his hand could skim over the soft mound of your ass you break away quickly. Your smile is professional, almost vexingly robotic as you swing past him. Your braided ponytail swinging behind you as you make your way to bring a second leather chair beside his own at the soundboard.

“I'm here,” you said, “Time to work,”

Jihoon stands idly for a while. With his hands on his hips, his tongue stabs at the corner of his mouth, “You really are on a mission to piss me off today, aren't you?”

You ignore him, choosing instead to let your bewildered eyes fall on the empty notepad discarded on the soundboard. In your periphery, Jihoon rolls up the sleeves of his black button up, flexing his arms lightly as if he was battling demons not to pin you against that very soundboard.

Expensive equipment be damned.

“Let's get to work,” You huff, prompting Jihoon to run a frustrated hand through his mid length, black locks. Effectively making the wolfcut appear even more messy and unkempt.

You looked away, agitated, with your blood pressure shot to hell. This would be a very long session.

・✧・

And a very long session, it was.

Noon had faded to dusk and dusk had bled into starlight while you and Jihoon sat stagnant in the studio, surrounded by creative frustration and a different kind of frustration you refused to give the adequate amount of time to.

Woozi murmurs distractedly, peering down at the guitar sitting atop his lap. He toys with strings while you attempt to mix and master the wet bar on the computer screen, toying with the beat until you find something that stuck.

That is what you and Jihoon have resorted to during the course of this evening.

Your Gucci sneakers are kicked off underneath the desk and the bra you had initially walked in wearing, is now sitting discarded on Jihoon's couch. The both of you are accommodating to the stifling studio air. You find yourself grateful Woozi had kept the temperature cool as you were losing a dire war with under-boob sweat.

“Hit record,” he suddenly says, “I think I've got something,”

The tone that feeds from the guitar into the amplifier, is angelic, damn near perfect, but the look on his face once he pulls the final string is troubled. He quickly jots something down onto the notepad that had been filled considerably since this session began.

“You've got to be kidding me,” You say, releasing a wistful sigh as you peer at Jihoon sitting beside you. “That was fucking gold! Don't tell me you're not satisfied.” Jihoon is only able to shake his head before placing the guitar gently against the soundboard. “I know… but-”

“But?!” You're leaning over your seat, invading his bubble with your eyes blown to saucers.

“But…” He says teasingly before leaning closer to you, letting his eyes scan over your face as he slyly says, “I'd rather be fingering something else.”

His exposed forearms flex when he brings a hand up to toy with the Swarovski necklace that hangs from your collarbone. His voice is as smooth as the sap running steadily from tree bark in a fairytale forest. It's completely and utterly enchanting and you find yourself unable to pull back and sit back in your own seat.

“You look so pretty, you know that?” he whispers lowly, and you're fully convinced that he must know of the effect his voice has on you.

Fortunately for you, self control is something you take great pride in, and your voice is steady when you speak, but your torso is still leaning over onto his seat as you ask, “Jihoon, what is this?” You are completely spellbound when Woozi brings his fingers up to your chin. He examines your face like an art critic coasting the archaic halls of the most ancient museum. He knew exactly how to get you to melt and concede. “You know I had somewhere else to be,” you scold yourself for letting the words tumble out of your mouth in a desperate whisper.

He only snickers quietly, his eyes still roaming over your visage as he says, “You know his album isn't going to be better than mine.”

You find yourself completely mystified as Jihoon coaxes you over the barrier, until you're begrudgingly straddling him on his seat. Your breath falters as your skirt begins to ride high on your hips and Woozi's callused hands immediately hug the curves of your wide hips. He's staring up at you, and you're significantly elevated from your position on his lap. Height is completely on your side but you'd be stupid to discount the fact that he's in complete control here.

His hands rub dizzying circles on your thigh as he says, “Or don't you agree?”

“With what?”

“That my album will be better than Wonwoo's,” he states his petulance so casually it has you reeling. The blood coursing through your veins only has your mind doing somersaults trying to grapple onto your steadily declining sensibilities.

“Your album is not going to be much of anything if you keep bringing me here just to get your dick wet,”

“Oh! That's what I was doing?” He gasps in faux surprise before shaking his head, “I had no idea!”

You roll your eyes to the back of your head, although you're not quite sure if that's out of vexation or the wave of lust that hits you when Woozi brings your core down flush against his lap.

“Seriously Jihoon,” you say, unable to keep the gasp from rolling out of your mouth, “Did you bring me into the studio as your engineer or your whore?”

He nods his head playfully jutting his bottom lip out as if he's pondering something vastly philosophical.

“It can't be both?”

The whine you release from your throat is downright lascivious as Jihoon buries his face in between your neck and shoulder. This time, however, you're unable to break apart. His iron grip keeps you firmly pressed against his lap, guiding your hips back and forth. A sharp shiver wracks through your spine when Jihoon slips out the tip of his tongue to lick small innocent kitten licks at the skin underneath your ear. You're positively buzzing with untapped energy that he only seems pleased to continue to build upon. Until you are coming undone at the seams.

You're not even sure whether your hips are grinding down on his bulge out of your own accord or his hands gripping the skin of your thighs.

“Jihoon, we should be finishing the track-”

“We've done enough,” he says before reattaching his lips to your neck, this time sucking and kissing violently at your sensitive skin. You're grinding down further, eyes fluttering shut as your fingers weave into the roots of Woozi’s long hair. “What if someone walks in?” you whisper, although, now Woozi is starkly aware that your words are carrying the weight of your own fantasy, “I really think we should get back to work,”

“Fuck me, you smell so good,” He breathes out, pulling back to reveal a flush face. Woozi’s cheeks are ruddy and his wolfcut is in complete disarray under the oppression of your tight grip.

You're moving your hips much more hurriedly against his lap and he never stops you. In fact, Jihoon slyly pushes his hand up underneath your shirt, his palm immediately making direct contact with your pert nipples.

“F-Fuck, Woozi.”

“I know baby, I know,” he murmurs, rolling your nipple between his fingers as your wetness seeps out through your underwear, right onto his lap.

“Shit, baby. You're such a messy fucking girl….” He's absolutely fargone under the gaze of lust. Murmuring incoherence as he pushes his hips up to meet your swollen clit. “My little girl is so fucking messy-”

“Jihoon- I'm gonna cum-”

“No you're not,” he says, immediately stilling your movements, bringing your restless hips to a crashing halt.

“Jesus- what the fuck?!” You're absolutely livid. Your limbs tremble not only, under the weight of your anger but by the strength of the orgasm that was going to wash over you.

“Earlier,” Jihoon says, “You asked me to finish this track but I don't know if I'm in the right headspace to finish it.” Your brows furrow in confusion and your voice resounds throughout the studio as you ask, “What!?”

“I said,” Woozi's hand slyly moves from your thigh, up your torso until he's resting it on the top of your head, as if he were petting you, “I don't think I'm in the right head… space,” he removes the hair tie from your hair, letting the braids scatter down your shoulders.

You immediately catch his drift.

“I've lost so many hair ties around here,” You say, “I'm sure you have a collection somewhere,”

Jihoon's tone is nonchalant as he applies a certain pressure on your head, “Mantle on the east wall, top drawer on the right. I keep them all.” he says before pushing you down, off his lap, until you were kneeling in front of him.

“Now, I need to fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, Baby.” He whispers, letting his thumb sink inside your mouth while his other hand unbuttons his slacks.

He is only able to lower his slacks enough to uncover his gardener cock, red and aching before he's pushing your head down onto it. Your lips fall open around Jihoon's cock and he immediately throws his head back. Cursing wildly before fisting your hair in a deathly grip that has you whining around his cock.

“Fuck I love the pathetic noises you make. It's so fucking hot.” His chest rises and falls feverishly as he forces you to take even more of him into your hollowed out mouth. You clench your toes and fight to take him in, until the tip of his cock is hitting the back of your throat.

“Fuck!” He hisses, keeping his other hand locked in his own hair as if he's utterly in awe of the sight of you. “You're such a good slut, you know that?” His words of affirmation does a terrific job at motivating you to allow him to steadily fuck your throat. His hips rise and fall from the couch, hitting that spot at the back of your throat that has his cock twitching in warning of his load fast approaching.

You ready yourself to swallow every single bit but it never comes, and Jihoon is forcing your head off his cock. A string of saliva breaking from your lips to the tip of his glistening cock.

“Sit on my cock-” He's already pulling you back onto your lap as if you are nothing more than his plaything. .

“fuck- n-need to cum inside you.” He doesn't take your panties off, only pushing the material to the side before he's spearing you onto his dick with reckless abandon. The tempo that he immediately sets is animalistic and hurried and absolutely sloppy. You fight to catch up.

“Fuck-Jihoon-” Once you adjust to the stretch, you're trapped in a state of interminable lust.

“Move this,” he breathes out, roughly pushing your shirt over your chest, “Need to see your pretty fucking tits,” his hands immediately latch onto your breasts and the sensation of being so utterly consumed by him as you riding his dick faster and harder.

“Fuck, just like that, baby. Just like that, pretty girl.” His head rolls backwards and you shudder as you orgasm sneaks up on you like a thief in the night. Your walls close tightly around his dick and Jihoon's cock twitches inside you.

“Shit- you're fucking clenching around me, baby,” He says, bringing his head back to gaze lovingly up at you-

“Please cum for me Jihoon-”

He's nodding non stop as he fucks up into you before burying his face between your breasts. You never stop riding him, not even when he brokenly exclaims, “Fuck- oh shit- baby I'm cumming- I'm cumming inside you-” and he's spilling his seed before he is able to finish his incoherent string of a sentence. You shudder as he paints your inner walls with his cum holding you tightly and pressing you down on his stuttering hips as if terrified that you might move away.

You have no energy to tell him you wouldn't dare. Instead, you let him hug you tightly, his face pressed into your breasts as he emptied himself inside of you.

“Shit!” He hisses when his orgasm subsides and his load begins to leak out of your puffy, used cunt.

“Thank you for helping me, baby,” He whispers sweetly. The traces of the old Jihoon steadily return and your heart clenches in warm adoration.

“That was all you.” You whispered.

Perfection! I loved it 100%. It was amazing. It had a great storyline. The ending was 🫠. I recommend anyone who enjoys Woozi and Pacific Rim to read this. Heck, even if you don’t still read it. It’s worth your time. 💜💜💜

Storm Breaker | (l.jh)

❀ Pairing: Jaeger Pilot!Lee Jihoon x Jaeger Pilot! f.reader  

❀ Summary: It’s a known fact Lee Jihoon is one of the best pilots the jaeger Program has. The only problem? He can’t keep a co-pilot to save his life. He thinks you’ll just be another Ranger in the rotation, but you are an unpleasant surprise. 

❀ Word Count: 23,373

❀ Genre: Pacific Rim AU, Forced Proximity, Annoyed to Lovers

❀ Type: Smut, Angst

❀ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

❀ Warnings: Jihoon is a bit of an asshole, action/fighting scenes, brief descriptions of blood, mentions of offscreen deaths, brief mentions of sick parents, brief mention of having no family, sexual tension, explicit language, A Lot of Pacific Rim Techincal Terms But They’re Explained, terrible humor, a hint of angst, brief depictions of Jihoon being insecure about his childhood, sexually explicit content including nipple play, biting, a total of one (1) spank, oral (f. receiving), the slightest hint of voyeurism mentioned, unprotected sex (don’t do this), multiple orgasms, a lot of spit and cum, cum eating, vaginal fingering, a lot of biting, Jihoon is emotionally constipated and then lets it all out lmfaoooo

❀ A/N: HERE SHE IS. This story takes place in the Pacific Rim universe but you definitely do not have to watch the movie to enjoy it - I’m pretty sure I explain everything in terms of how it works but if something is confusing, please tell me and I will adjust! I hope you enjoy this Jihoon who has been the apple of my eye for like almost three months now. 

❀ A/N 2: SPECIAL THANKS TO @daechwitatamic for not only collaborating with me on our little corner of the internet, but beta reading this giant piece and constantly motivating me while writing it. I could not be anywhere without you I love u 

❀ Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

❀ Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All members of Seventeen are faces and name claims for stories. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios. Moreover, none of my works accurately reflect, represent or take a stance on the nuances of Korean culture, cities, people etc. Seventeen members are not Seventeen culturally, intellectually, physically, or representationally in my stories, and should be considered name and face stand-ins for made up characters.

Main Masterlist ❀ Tag List Request Form ❀ Ask ❀

Jihoon doesn’t flinch when Xander throws his helmet against the wall. The crash is loud, but the reinforced material doesn’t crack under the force of the concrete. It clatters to the floor while Jihoon tucks his helmet under his right arm. Sweat drips down the side of his neck and down his back, but he can’t get to it while in his Drivesuit. 

Just add it to his list of inconveniences.  

Everyone in the room freezes as Xander storms toward the command center and right for the Marshall in charge, his steps thunderous against the metal floor. Instead of following him, Jihoon leans against the doorframe, watching the way his co-pilot rages, imagining steam coming out of his ears. 

“I can’t fucking pilot with him,” Xander screams, stabbing an accusatory finger in Jihoon’s direction. “I refuse to do it. Reassign me.” 

Eyes drift toward Jihoon. He ignores them, watching as Xander stops at the command post where both the Marshall and the LOCCENT Mission Controller who just walked them through their kaiju fight stand. Both of them stare at Xander, who is red in the face, chest heaving. 

It’s a bit of an overreaction, especially for a team who just dispatched a Category Four kaiju. But it doesn’t matter. Xander isn’t Jihoon’s first co-pilot and he won’t be his last. They rarely last long, a cycle of Rangers who cannot stand to work with him for more than a few fights. Jihoon examines the scratches on his suit, thinking that he needs to get it buffed while the Marshall deliberates how to answer Xander’s demands. 

“Ranger-” 

Xander cuts off the Marshall. Bold, if you ask Jihoon. “I’ll leave the fucking program if that’s what I have to do. I won’t pilot with him anymore, I don’t care that we can drift. He won’t trust me, he won’t give up the reins and he refuses to let me in. He’s arrogant and pig headed!”

“Pig headed,” Jihoon mutters to himself. “That’s new.” 

The Marshall sighs heavily, eyes drifting toward Jihoon, who is still leaning against the doorframe. He lifts a single shoulder in a shrug, unsure what the Marshall expected. Pinching the bridge of his nose, the Marshall asks Xander to follow him, gesturing toward the door at the back of the command center that leads into offices. 

Silence blankets the room at their departure. At least, as silent as it can get in the jaeger hub. The beeping of machinery and radar is a constant sound under the hum of machinery and the awkward cough of one of the workers in the room. Jihoon raises his brows as if to ask someone to say something. No one does and he nods, dismissing himself. 

Laughter trails up the stairs followed by loud steps. He looks down to see Chan and Wylie coming up the stairwell, cheeks flushed and hairlines sweaty from their battle with Dreadfury only minutes earlier. Their team had the assist on the kill, and though they hadn’t landed the final blow, their constant offense had given Jihoon and his partner the time they needed to figure out how to move in. 

Chan sees Jihoon and raises a questioning brow, pausing in the stairs. “Lose your co-pilot?” he asks, looking Jihoon up and down. 

“How’d you guess?” 

“Standard,” Chan and Wylie say at the same time. 

They do that a lot, so in sync that despite the fact that they’re two different people, sometimes Jihoon feels like he’s talking to one. Wylie is a little shorter than Chan, but just as furious in personality and attitude. She leans against Chan, cocking her head to the side. It’s not a conscious movement but an instinct, her body naturally attaching to her co-pilot’s. Jihoon knows that level of closeness well. 

“Think they’ll just finally get rid of you?”

“Nope.” 

“Standard,” they both say in unison again. It’s Chan who says, “Must be nice to get away with murder, Woozi.” He continues up the stairs, clapping Jihoon on the shoulder as he goes. Wylie trails behind him, shooting Jihoon a grin. “One day you’re gonna end up on your ass.” 

“That’s fine. You’ll both take me in, right?” 

Both of their voices meld as they howl in laughter, passing him and going into the command center, yelling “Nope!” 

Despite their teasing, Jihoon smiles. He’s known the pair for years and despite their ability to get under his skin, he’s fond of them. They’re good jaeger pilots, scrappy as they come and vicious in the field. Unlike Jihoon, they’ve piloted their jaeger together from the start, syncing like twin flames and sticking to one another. 

It helps that they grew up together, of course. And that they’re in a relationship, one heart, one soul. 

Sighing, Jihoon jogs down the rest of the stairs, tired and sore. He needs a shower, food and a fucking nap. He and Xander had been pulling extra shifts, the kaiju activity having increased with the bad weather. He suspects it was also in an attempt to get Jihoon to bond with Xander more and get him to open up, but that hadn’t happened.

That’s the problem with piloting with Jihoon. The more time people spend with him, the less they can stomach the way he resists them in the mental bridge that connects co-pilots. It isn’t that he’s afraid for them to see what’s in his head - they haven’t earned a right to his privacy.

Privacy is important to him. 

Murmurs ripple through the cafeteria as he enters, rolling his head to the side to try and workout the kink that is formed there. He glances around and fights the urge to roll his eyes. Word spreads fast when you’re secluded in the Shatterdome with nothing but fucking ocean and giant monsters around you. 

As usual, he ignores the stares and whispering. He catches Soonyoung’s eye from afar and shrugs when his friend gives him a questioning glance, earning an eye roll. Not for the first time, Jihoon finds himself wondering why someone like Soonyoung or Wonwoo can’t be his partner. 

Drift compatibility. 

He knows that’s the answer, but he’ll never stop wishing that pairing jaeger pilots together was a little easier. So many factors go into making people drift compatible and yet he’s yet to find a partner he can tolerate - or tolerate him in return. If it were as easy as picking his friends, he’d have settled with someone long ago. 

Brushing away the thought, he heads to his room. It doesn’t matter what he wants. If wishes were horses, everyone would be a rider. He’s pretty sure that one of his former co-pilots had said that - in regard to Jihoon being impossible to work with, of course. 

The dark and quiet of his room brings the peace Jihoon craves. He feels the tension melt from his shoulders. He suddenly realizes how tired he is, feeling like parchment stretched too thin over a rough surface. He peels himself out of his clothes methodically, welcoming the chill of the room against his sweaty skin. 

He trails to the shower, tossing his clothes in the hamper as he does. Leaving the lights on so it’s only the dull orange glow over his bed, he turns on the shower as hot as it will go. It takes a second, but soon steam is filling the room, choking him as he slides under the stream of water, sighing as the heat of it burns away any lingering frustration for the day. 

Tomorrow, he’ll have a new partner. It’s a simple fact and a routine he is familiar with. That’s fine with him - they can keep assigning people to him until they find someone competent. Jihoon isn’t going anywhere. 

He has nowhere else to go anyway. 

-

“I need you to do me a favor,” Kira says before you can finish stepping out of the jaeger. The Marshall of the Sydney Shatterdome looks deadly serious. You scoff under the helmet, reaching up to unclasp it and shuck it off. Fresh air fills your lungs. It’s hot and tastes like metal in the jaeger bay, but it’s familiar. “And I need an answer quickly.”

“Ever heard of foreplay?” you grunt, helping Maya out of the giant mech behind you. She shoots you a thankful grin, taking off her helmet. Her face is flushed pink, hairline sweaty. “You really just dive in dry, huh?” 

“You know my cousin is a Marshall of a Shatterdome overseas?” 

You pause. “Yeah.” 

“They’re asking for a skilled pilot to pair with one of their Rangers. They sent over the drift profile and you’re the only pilot we have that’s a match.” You frown and she holds out a hand to stop your protest, a crease in her mouth. “Just look over the report and the profile I sent you, alright?” 

“I mean, my answer is no. I’m fine here.”

“You are. You’re one of our best teams,” Kira says earnestly, her dark eyes flicking between you and Maya. “But respectfully, your value is needed elsewhere. There isn’t enough activity here to keep a veteran of your status on shift, Blue.”

You feel a flicker of uncertainty. Rarely does Kira use your nickname. It’s too familiar for a military commander of her status, and though you’ve considered her a friend for years, she never uses your nickname on shift. Unless she really needs something from you.  

Licking your lips, you hesitate to answer. You don’t want to say she’s right about your skillset and risk insulting your coworkers and other pilots in the jaeger Program, but it’s an accurate statement. The Shatterdome you report to is old - one of the first built in the beginning. But kaiju activity is mostly unpredictable, shifting with the tides. You barely get them once a month anymore, and there are too many pilots who need the practice.

You don’t. 

You glance at Maya and she offers a soft smile. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d be my co-pilot forever. Hoped, maybe. But I didn't expect it.”

“Oh come on, I’m with you for life, Maya.” 

“Romantic.” Maya’s gaze softens. “Marshall has a point, though. We’re a little… slow here.” 

It makes a pang go through your heart. Maya has been your co-pilot since your mother passed away, and though you didn’t go through the Ranger training program with her, she’s the perfect balance to you. You like having her around, and the thought of changing pilots just because someone wants your experience is… unideal. 

Sensing your unease, Maya reaches out and touches your forearm, squeezing over the metal of your Drivesuit. Her smile is soft. Knowing. Like she knew that being in the drift with you wasn’t forever, and she’s already saying bye. 

“Look,” Kira sighs, bringing your attention back to her. “My cousin really needs a skilled pilot and someone who is a leader and isn’t afraid of working with veteran pilots. They get more activity, and they need someone sharp. Skilled. Strong.” 

“I mean, I’ll look over the papers.” 

“Thank you.” She steps away. “I need to know by the end of the day, though.”

“Jesus Christ, Marshall. End of the day is in like two hours.”

Her smile is firm. “I know.” 

Waving her off, you leave your jaeger behind, Maya trailing after you. She peppers you with encouragement as you walk, steps heavy on the metal catwalk. You don’t respond right away, thoughts trying to catch up with being thrown an offer immediately after slamming a monster back into the depth of the ocean just minutes ago. 

You don’t have to ask why you. Drift compatibility alone is important enough to move jaeger pilots around the world from Shatterdome to Shatterdome in order to make the best pairs possible. There aren’t a ton of pilots - especially among the younger ones - at your base that are compatible with you.

Stubborn, Kira had always said. Finding an equally dominant co-pilot that meshes with you is difficult. You suspect that if you were not extremely talented at what you do and a veteran at your base, they might have moved you to an advisory position a long time ago.

Advising is not for you, though. The grind of metal and the heat of the fight is where you thrive, letting your mind go empty, entirely driven by instinct. Instinct was the reason you were so good at fighting kaiju. Your mom had always said you had the instinct of a warrior, and after putting down as many monsters to protect humanity’s coasts, you had to agree. 

Maya immediately goes to the shower once you reach your shared room. You dive onto the bottom bunk, snatching the tablet sitting on your night stand. Your eyes squint from the brightness, sensitive in the dim room. Clicking through your emails, you find the reporting and profile from Kira and open it, information unfurling before you. 

“Huh,” You muse, raising your brows as Lee Jihoon appears on your screen. “I know your name.” 

His profile is impeccable - and so is his skill. Chewing on your lip, you throw yourself onto your cot and flip through all of the materials provided on your potential co-pilot. Veteran Ranger. Highly skilled in combat. Top of his class in the academy. 

Clicking on the attachments, you watch the attached videos. There’s clips from his fights in and out of the suit. You find yourself hypnotized by his fighting style. There is a beauty to it, but it’s absolutely lethal. Efficient. There are no extra flourishes, no showmanship. Lee Jihoon fights to kill. 

“So why do you need me?” you mutter to yourself, pulling up his past partners. The list is extensive, stretching back to multiple co-pilots over weeks at a time. “Jesus christ. You do not play nice.”

He must not, at least. Half of the pilots assigned to him are only barely compatible. You know it takes more than just matching fight styles, but based on the history glowing at you from the screen, Jihoon’s Marshall was doing anything they could to keep him, even if it meant pairing him with someone who was scoring as low as 54% compatible. 

Pulling up your side-by-side analysis, you whistle. 98% was a good fucking number. You’d only ever had 90% with your mom, and she was genetically linked to you. Still, with as many partners as Jihoon has had in the past year alone, you don’t know that it’s worth it, even if his base has more kaiju activity and looks to be in need of veteran fighters.

Sighing, you close the tablet and throw it on the pillow. Resting your head against the metal wall, you close your eyes, thinking. You’re happy where you’re at. You’re a leader here, and you like Maya as your partner. She’s young and eager to learn - and you like your jaeger. Shadow Stalker is a good suit, though a little older. 

Biting your lip, you grab the tablet again, opening the jaeger details on Jihoon’s profile. Newer model. Built for endurance. Equipped with multiple blades, suited for pilots who prefer sword-style fighting. She’s painted gray-blue like the deepest part of a storm - blue like your mother’s first jaeger, which makes you grin. 

Storm Breaker. It’s a good name for a jaeger and it matches the profile. She’s built to withstand the brutal waves of the deep ocean and the onslaught of a high-category kaiju. Your interest is piqued, curious about Storm Breaker and her brutal pilot. 

Closing the tablet again, you stare into the distance, thinking. “What’s your deal, Lee Jihoon?” 

-

Jihoon hates sparring with Chan almost as much as he hates sparring with Wylie. Chan doesn’t scratch at Jihoon like a feral cat like Wylie might, but he does bite, which is exactly what he does when he can’t get out of Jihoon’s hold. 

“You fucker,” Jihoon hisses, letting him go. Chan slips out of Jihoon’s grasp and rolls to his feet a few feet away, crouched low and ready to go again. Despite years of being a jaeger pilot, Chan nor his co-pilot have fallen out of their scrapy upbringings, fighting like two street orphans. “What, are you going to bite a kaiju if you can?” 

“Of course not. I just don’t like losing to you.”

“Too bad.” Jihoon straightens and lifts his fists, planting his feet firmly. Sweat slicks the back of his neck, wispy pieces of hair escaping his hair tie and sticking to damp skin. “No more biting.” 

“No promises.” 

Somewhere behind him, Jihoon hears Minghao shriek. “She bit me!”

Scratch that. Maybe Wylie does bite. 

Chan comes at Jihoon again. He’s a good fighter and he’s ruthless. It’s one of Jihoon’s favorite things about him. But there’s always an opening, always a moment between fluid movements that reveals itself that Jihoon can take advantage of. 

He does exactly that, going on the defense, watching and waiting for the moment. When it reveals itself, Jihoon strikes lightning fast, catching Chan in the chest hard and taking him down to the ground. Jihoon feels the wind leave Chan’s lungs as he coughs hard, head smacking the mat. 

Behind them, Jihoon hears the collective wince. Chan is dazed for a second, groaning underneath Jihoon’s hand pressed to his chest. He can feel the hammering of Chan’s heart, a little faster than his own. When it’s clear Chan isn’t going to claw at him, Jihoon stands and offers him a hand.

With a heaving sigh, Chan takes it. Jihoon claps him on the back, grinning as Chan tries to catch his breath, rubbing the back of his head. “That hurt.”

“Oops.” Chan looks over Jihoon’s shoulder and grins, causing him to turn around and follow the younger’s gaze. Wylie sweeps her feet under Mingho’s, knocking him to the mat. She pounces like a creature from hell before he can react, pinning him down. “Well, at least one of us didn’t get our ass beat today.” 

“Stop biting, Dino,” Jihoon says as they trail off the mat, a warning. Chan has the decency to look chagrined, bowing slightly to his superior. Jihoon adores the kid, but he will not serve as a chew toy. 

Grabbing a water, Jihoon sits down on the floor with Seungkwan, Soonyoung and Seokmin as Junhui and Minghao trade places. Minghao is nursing a scratch on his neck from Wylie’s nails, muttering about her being a demon straight from hell as he sits. Wylie gives her new opponent a wicked grin, taking her place on the mat and beckoning Junhui toward her. Jihoon shakes his head, gulping down water and leaning back on his hands. 

“Fresh blood,” Soonyoung notes, gesturing toward the training room entrance as the Marshall leads a group of people in. “They’re holding trials for the two new mark fives tomorrow. Wanna go?” 

“No.” 

Soonyoung laughs. “Come on, they might be looking for another partner for you too.”

“Don’t care.” 

“You can’t keep going through partners, man.”

Jihoon doesn’t react, eyes scanning the group of cadets. They all look fresh-faced and in awe as they’re led around the mats, wide eyes glued to the sparring pilots as they go. His eyes settle on you, though, pausing. 

You don’t have the same awestruck wonder as the other cadets, trailing behind them as your eyes scan the structure, the fighters and the equipment around you. Calculating. Critical. You’re a little older than the other cadets too - not in looks but in aura, chin lifted, gaze sharp. Experienced. 

Soonyoung follows Jihoon’s line of sight and straightens. “Woah. Who is that?” 

“My new drift partner,” Seokmin sighs dreamily. Soonyoung and Seungkwan smack him at the same time, offended. They’re one of the few triple pilot groups, operating a massive piece of machinery made for slaughtering and hammering down on high-grade kaiju. “What? Look at her!” 

“You shouldn’t fuck your co-pilot,” Seungkwan mutters. “Look what happened to Seungcheol and Cherry. She’s still at that training facility in Alaska. Didn’t come back after their drift glitched.” 

A collective hum goes through them. All of them recall that situation, but no one says a thing. The weight of Cherry’s absence sits heavy on them - even Jihoon misses her a little. 

“I don’t know,” Soonyoung notes cryptically, eyeing Wylie. She’s managed to get Junhui off his feet, slamming him down with a rattle of mat and springs, pinning him with a savage growl. Wylie Coyote indeed, Jihoon thinks, smirking. “Seems to work for Wylie just fine. God, look at Chan, he literally has heart eyes. Disgusting.” 

It’s true. The pilot in question sits at the edge of the mat, elbows resting on top of his knees as he watches his girlfriend with his mouth open, lips upturned a little. His eyes are dazed, focused on Wylie as she holds onto a thrashing Junhui. There’s so much love in his gaze that Jihoon averts his eyes, worried he’s observing something sacred and private.  

“Not everyone is like them,” Seungkwan shoots back. “They share a brain cell.” 

“We’re literally drift partners. We basically do the same thing.” 

“And yet I don’t want to fuck you, Hoshi.” 

Soonyoung cocks his head to the side. “You know, that brings up a valid question-”

“No,” the other three say at the same time, cutting him off before he can get going. 

Still, Seungkwan’s point is valid. The drift is something that is so intimate that it isn’t uncommon for copilots to have a romance or some sort of tension. The neural handshake makes you become one, unable to hide anything. It is inviting someone else into your head to see everything you see, everything you have seen. Memories, feelings, thoughts - nothing is yours anymore. 

Jihoon hides it all from his co-pilots. He knows he’s not supposed to - openness and being honest and true with your partner makes for a better drift. But the intimacy of the connection makes him uncomfortable, and he’s not ready for anyone to see him - really see him. 

So he hides in the drift. Knows how to bring nothing to it, to give only the parts of himself he has to in order for his partner to fight alongside him. Jihoon gives nothing more. And they don’t need it, frankly. 

The Marshall leads the new recruits back out of the room. He watches you go, wondering what your deal is. As though you sense his eyes on you, your eyes flicker over to his, catching his gaze. He’s unsure why, but he pauses, the room stilling for a split second. Then you’re grinning wickedly, vanishing from the room. 

He brushes it off and turns his eyes back to his friends. 

-

Lee Jihoon is prettier in person. You don’t know why it’s the first thing you notice as you watch him walk across the training center. He’s dressed in fitted cargo pants and a racing jacket over a t-shirt, emphasizing his broad shoulders. His hair is bleached and pinned into a low bun, some of his bangs hanging in his dark eyes. He doesn't notice you watching him as he nears an empty mat, shedding the jacket. 

He’s compact. Small, but toned, muscles rippling as he begins to go through a series of stretches. You know he’s a good fighter from your observations the day before. Everything about him screams efficiency. You can’t put your thumb on it, but the way he carries himself is methodical.

Lee Jihoon is the perfect jaeger pilot on paper. 

It’s the partners that he has a problem with. He’s had eight co-pilots in the last year alone, which is more than anyone has the right to. Before that, he managed to keep someone for six months before they requested a transfer to a different location. 

You sense Jihoon’s gaze, realizing he’s picked up on your staring. His expression is as neutral as it was yesterday, as though he has zero interest in whoever you are. He must not - he turns away and gets back to what he was doing, the moment passing without fanfare. 

Everyone in the room is paired with their pilots, going through fight sequences. You watch the different pairs, noting those who exhibit high-drift compatibility and others who are still learning. You note how many talented pilots this base has, likely due to the high activity. 

As though the thought summons the very creatures from the depths of the ocean, an alarm goes off. You don’t flinch, used to the kaiju alert system. It had gone off the day before, though. You look up at the screen as it flashes the names of the pilots on duty, calling them to report to the drop bridge. 

A few shouts of good luck draw your attention to the center of the room where two of the younger pilots head out. You’d seen them sparring earlier, so in time with one another that you weren’t sure where one began and one ended. The man looks at the girl and gives her a smile so full of love that you look away, startled at its intensity. 

While romantic connections between pilots aren’t totally uncommon, you’re not used to it. Most of the Rangers at your old base were family members and childhood friends, connection deep and intimate but not like that. You wonder what it must be like, if it makes love any easier to be that deeply connected. 

“So are you my new co-pilot?” a soft voice startles you and you turn to see that Jihoon has snuck up on you. His eyes are darker in person, entirely consuming as he looks down at you with a cocked head. His blonde hair sticks to his forehead, pale skin covered in a sheen of sweat. “You must be, right?”

“What makes you think that?”

“You’re not a cadet. And you’ve been watching me for the better part of two hours.” 

You shrug. “You can learn a lot from watching veterans.” 

“You could at least offer to spar to see if we’re any good together.”

“You mean to see if I’m good enough for you.” He lifts a shoulder, not disagreeing with you. Wiping your palms on your knees, you stand up. Even though he’s small, you’re still a little shorter than him, nearly eye level. You stick your hand out, giving him your name. “But you can call me Blue.”

Instead of taking your hand, he nods and turns on his heel, striding back to the mat he occupied earlier. You stand and stare at the newly vacated spot, hand held out in the air. “Alright,” you mutter to yourself, dropping your hand and going after him. 

Eyes follow you. You can feel them as you trail after him, watching his smooth, even gait. Everything about Jihoon is refined and controlled, even down to the minute expressions as he steps onto the mat and turns to face you. Sliding your shoes off, you join him, feeling the spring beneath your step and the softness of the floor.

Jihoon heads to a rack of bo staffs, picking one up and tossing it to you. You snatch it, spinning it lightly to test the weight. The balance is near perfect, a slight weight to the left side. You adjust accordingly, grip firm. Jihoon does the same, spinning his staff and rolling his shoulders.

“Who were those pilots called to make the drop?” you ask, conversational. 

“Dino and Wylie.” 

“Good pilots?” 

He takes his stance. “Excellent. They’re terrors. It won’t be a problem for them. Are you right handed or left handed?”

“Ambidextrous.”

“Good.” 

You don’t know why, but his assessing gaze bothers you suddenly. Like you know that even though you know you’re an excellent fighter, it still won’t be enough for him. The thought that you’ve lost before you even begun pricks a nerve and you strike first. 

It’s immediately obvious why you’re compatible. Jihoon knows your next move before you know what it is. You feel him move like an instinct, imagining his attack and defense before it happens. It isn’t a fight, but a dialogue, two skilled fighters communicating in a pattern only familiar to them. 

Sweat slicks the back of your neck and back. You barely register it, losing yourself in the rhythm of Jihoon’s movements. The sound of the training gym fades to the background and you barely hear the crack of your staffs as they meet over and over again. You hardly see him, vision fading to a narrow point of instinct.

This is how you fight. Muscle memory, driven by intuition.

Your intuition tells you that you’re perfectly matched, fighting style so similar that it’s hard to get a hit in - you won’t get a hit in, too in sync with him to out maneuver him. 

So you deviate. 

Instead of dodging a smack to the ribs, you let him hit you. His surprise is so apparent that he breaks his concentration and you strike, foot sweeping behind his ankle and pulling, knocking him from his feet. Jihoon goes down hard, breath leaving his lungs as you pounce, pinning him.

For a second, it’s just the two of you. His heart pounds, chest heaving in time with yours. Even your breaths are evenly matched, a tempo that is deeper than most human understanding. Drift compatible. You feel it the same way you feel the spark of his skin even through the fabric of his shirt. You’re so aware of it that you don’t hear what he says at first, his mouth moving but no sounds coming out.

“What?” 

“That doesn’t count,” he asserts. “I hit you first. The fight is over after that.”

You frown. “The fight doesn’t end until there’s a killing blow. A swipe to the ribs wouldn’t do it.”

“That isn’t how that works.” 

“There are no rules of engagement in the ocean.” 

He scowls. “There are basic principles to fighting. You lose when you get hit first.”

“Do you lose when a kaiju hits you first? Or do you keep fighting?” 

Jihoon huffs underneath you, shaking his head. You’ve still got him pinned, your palm pressed to his chest and your knee planted in his stomach. He glances away from you and you become aware that everyone has stopped to watch the two of you spar.

And you’re still on top of him. 

Clearing your throat, you climb off of him smoothly. You offer a hand to help him up but he doesn’t take it, getting up on his own. He’s flushed, cheeks tinged peak and mouth twisted in frustration. You watch him as he gives the room around you a cutting glance, making everyone immediately turn back to what they were doing. 

Jihoon puts his staff back and you watch him. He looks minorly irritated on the surface, but you can see it rippling deeper than that. He’s unsettled and it makes you grin. 

“This won’t work,” Jihoon says as he turns back to you, crossing his arms over his chest. You ignore the way his biceps flex and blink at him in confusion. “You can’t be my partner.”

“What? We’re compatible. That was one of the best fighting flows I’ve ever had.”

“We’re too different in principle.” 

That gets a frown from you. “I don’t think so at all. You let your instinct guide you. So do I.” 

“You deviate.” 

“I let the natural dialogue of the fight lead me.”

You let silence fall between you. You can see why so many other pilots had issues with him. Jihoon approaches every statement as though it is the absolute truth, a fact that cannot be disproven. He speaks with the authority of someone who knows he’s right often, and frequently goes unchallenged.

Instead of letting him get a rise out of you, you switch topics. “Are you hungry?”

He pauses. “What?” 

“What part of the question didn’t you understand? Are you hungry?”

Jihoon is perplexed. You’re sure that by now, mostly people have visibly grown upset with the combative dialogue. You don’t mind much, watching as he thinks on your question. You take the opportunity to appreciate the gentle slope of his nose up close, the delicate curve of his mouth, the contrast of feminine and masculine features that make an exquisite face. 

Then Jihoon unfolds his arms and walks past you. You turn to follow him but he says over his shoulder, “I don’t want to have lunch with you. We’re not friends.” 

There’s no room for argument in the way that he says it. You watch him as he leaves, never once turning back. 

-

You are vexing. 

There isn’t another word to describe you. Jihoon hasn’t the slightest idea how you’ve managed to so thoroughly irritate him at your first encounter, but he can’t stop thinking about how frustrated he is when he slams his tray down on the table. 

It’s a little early for lunch, mostly engineers and staff going on shift soon filling the room to eat quickly. The giant clock above the entryway to the cafeteria resets and Jihoon relaxes a little, confirming that Chan and Wylie are fine. He knew they would be - a Category Two kaiju is nothing for a pair like them.

Jihoon finds himself thinking of you. Of what you must be able to do in a jaeger.

Curious, Jihoon looks up your name. It rings a bell - you were pretty renowned at your homebase. Clicking through videos, he sets his phone on the table as he eats, eyes glued to the screen. Your drops are easily accessible to him, clicking through them as he eats. 

There is something hypnotizing the way you and your old co-pilot Maya Veliz fight. You’re efficient and without flashy moves, which he can appreciate. But there’s a speed at which you make decisions and take risks that has him shaking his head. 

Yet, there is something vaguely familiar. He pauses his meal to watch closer, realizing what it is. There is a brutality to your fighting that he recognizes in himself, a need to kill. You fight to win, willing to take a little damage if it means you can deal the final blow.

The thought unsettles him. Your fighting style is so similar to his that he would be lying if he tried to say otherwise. There is logic and calculation to your moves, but then there’s always that deviation. That random blip in your pattern that is unexpected and dangerous. 

“Will watching my drop footage make you like me more?”

Your voice startles him. He drops his fork and it clatters against the table, loud in the soft din of the cafeteria. You’re leaning over him, a smirk on your face and a devilish glint dancing in your eyes as you look at his phone screen where you successfully put down a kaiju. 

“Deathclaw wasn’t very impressive. It was pretty small. My mom and I took out Umbraxis my first year, though.”

Jihoon snatches his phone and locks the screen, putting it face down. He scowls down, feeling his heart flip a little. Your scent drifts over to him at your proximity, a mix of amber and jasmine. It’s already familiar to him, having caught the scent when you pinned him down earlier, hand pressed to his heart-

You sit across from him and he looks up at you. His mind goes blank, staring as you unwrap your silverware picking up a fork to stab a piece of chicken and pop it into your mouth. You hum happily, totally unaware - or maybe unbothered - at his increasing irritation. 

“Tell me about your jaeger,” you demand - not ask. Your eyes find his, two pools of curiosity that have his tongue heavy, words sticky. “I want to know all about her.”

“You’re not going to make the drop with me.”

The curve of your mouth is wicked. “Tell me anyway.”

For a few minutes, Jihoon doesn’t answer. He waits to see if the silence will push you away or make you anxious. It doesn’t seem to. You keep eating without saying anything else, occasionally glancing at him with a cocked brow as if to suggest you have all the time in the world. 

“She was re-outfitted two years ago,” Jihoon says slowly. He doesn’t know why he’s answering you at all, but he continues, “Mark-5 now with the new outfitted tech - she’s still nuclear-driven to avoid any EMP attacks. Outfitted with GD6 steel-obsidian chain swords on each arm, but there are also smaller, detachable blades for hand-to-hand fighting, along with some projectiles. She’s also got a lightning strike powered by the nuclear-core but it can only be used once, and only as a last resort. It obliterates local wildlife in the water.”

“What’s the suspension look like?”

“Gyro-stabilizers to stay fluid when fighting and L-10 locks on all of the joints to strap in and withstand damage. She’s built to take a lot of blunt-force and melee attacks, but she’s top heavy if she loses footing.”

“Have you only been in Storm Breaker?”

He nods. “Since my first drop.”

“She’s beautifully built.” 

Jihoon doesn’t respond. It does bring him a small sense of pride to know that you admire the jaeger he fights in, but he doesn’t thank you. He suspects you notice but doesn't say anything, which surprises him. You seem like the stubborn type who doesn't like to back down from a fight, and yet multiple times this morning you’ve conceded to him, refusing to get upset. 

It bothers him. He can’t tell if it’s because you’re a people pleaser or if you think you're gentle-parenting him, and he doesn’t like it either way. 

So he doesn’t talk to you. He lets the conversation die there, despite sensing your amusement from across the table. He feels the grip on his fork increase, metal biting into his palms as he tries to ignore you. He can smell the jasmine and amber of your perfume, which makes him feel more insane, and he can’t help but steal glances at you and dart his eyes away.

You’re pretty. He’s had attractive co-pilots before. That’s not new, nor has it ever bothered him. Something about you draws the eye, though. He thinks it’s the aura of confidence you give off, effortlessly comfortable in your skin and your situation, despite Jihoon not making it any easier on you.

“Hi,” The raspy voice interrupts Jihoon’s thoughts and he looks up as Wylie slams her tray down on the table. She’s sweaty, freshly peeled from her Drivesuite and offering a hand to you as she gives her full name. “You can call me Wylie, though. Everyone does. Are you Woozi’s new co-pilot?”

“Yes,” you answer at the same time Jihoon says no. “Though I didn’t know that was the name he preferred.” 

Wylie shoots him a sly grin and sits down next to him. He curses and scoots over, the younger girl nearly on top of him as she leans her elbows on the table. “He doesn’t prefer it, which is why it stuck. He's a very cranky cat, but he’s nice once you get to know him.” 

Jihoon scowls, turning to her. “Did I invite you to sit down with us?”

“No.” 

That’s it. That’s the end of her statement. Jihoon watches as she settles happily, opening chocolate milk and chugging it back like it’s water. Jihoon cringes and readies to lob an insult her way when he’s interrupted again, another tray slamming down next to hers. 

Closing his eyes, Jihoon summons all the gods he doesn’t believe in to give him the god damn patience. Chan is wearing a shit-eating grin as he leans across the table, offering his hand in the same, chipper manner his partner had moments before. 

“I’m Chan. But you can call me Dino.”

“Why Dino?” 

“I step on everyone.” 

You raise your brows, amused, eyes flickering to Wylie. Sensing your question, Wylie says around a mouthful of mac and cheese, “Like Wylie Coyote because I’m a menace who doesn’t stop attacking.” 

“How was your drop?” 

“Easy,” they say in unison. 

Jihoon focuses on his plate, feeling grouchy. They start to talk like he’s not even there, and though that is typically how conversations go around him, he’s suddenly bothered by it. Especially when you seem so smug that at least someone likes you. 

He wants to tell you they don’t count. Chan is one of the nicest people in the Shatterdome and will talk to anyone, if they give him the time of day. Wylie isn’t exactly nice but she’s in love with Chan and is happy to be nice to anyone who is being nice to him. The pair are relatively easy to win over. 

It only gets worse for him when Soonyoung and the others start sitting down. Everyone seems eager to ask you questions, a new shiny toy for his friends to play with. He chews on the corner of his lip, feeling stormy in the corner of the table as Seokmin peppers you with questions and exclamations at your answers. 

A shift in tension makes Jihoon look up. Seungcheol sits down at the table slowly, as though trying not to be a distraction or catch any attention. He’s three seats away from Wylie and out of her eyeshot, but Wylie is a born predator, sensing him like a hunter. Her eyes cut over to Seungcheol and she bristles, shooting up to her feet to grab her tray and storm off. 

Chan sighs, muttering a brief apology before grabbing his things and going after her. Jihoon glances at Seungcheol, watching the way his jaw ticks at the interaction. Surprisingly, you don’t ask any questions. You lean over to Soonyoung and ask him about some of their earlier fights, shifting the energy at the table from tense to light in a second.

Seungcheol relaxes, and though he doesn’t introduce himself, he’s not unkind to you. Jihoon feels a pang for the pilot, knowing that the last year has been difficult for him. Cherry left Seungcheol adrift without a partner, and he’s been unable to find someone to replace her. 

He thinks about offering you to Seungcheol as an alternative. 

Jihoon does learn a little bit about you while listening to everyone talk, though. You've only had two co-pilots in your life where Jihoon has lost count. He wonders what growing up piloting with a parent feels like, and though you smile as you talk about growing up working with your mom, there’s a tightness to your mouth, a look in your eye that he can’t place.

Feeling his gaze, your eyes shift to him. Jihoon realizes he’s been staring at you. He stands and leaves the table abruptly, Seokmin’s voice apologizing on his behalf drifting after him. 

Thankfully, you don’t follow him. He dumps his tray and leaves it in the discarded pile for the cafeteria staff and immediately begins the climb to the command bridge where the Marshall’s office is. His thoughts race but go nowhere at the same time, an echochamber that he can’t untangle. 

Before Jihoon can knock on the entrance to the Marshall’s office, the military commander looks up and waves Jihoon in. “I was about to call for you. Shut the door, please.”

Jihoon does so without comment and sits down. He glances around the office, distracting himself as the Marshall finishes what he was working on. The office is orderly and tidy, every ounce the professional and uptight officer that sits in front of Jihoon, leaning back in the seat to sigh heavily and level Jihoon with a stare. 

Before Jihoon can open his mouth to list all of the reasons you shouldn’t be his pilot, the Marshall speaks. “You’re on probation.” 

“I - what?” 

“For the next three months, if you lose your co-pilot, you will be reassigned to administrative work or to a new Shatterdome.”

Jihoon opens his mouth. Closes it. The weight of the Marshall’s words don’t quite sink in, though Jihoon can tell they’re heavy. Real. “We’ve given you plenty of chances to effectively remain a pilot for Storm Breaker, but the board feels as though the trade off has become an issue.”

“The trade off?”

“You’re costing us money. And cadets. People want to train where they can potentially see themselves become a pilot. When we have open spots and jaegers coming up on retirement, it bolsters recruitment.” The Marshall levels him with a tired stare. “But when we have a pilot who no one can partner with, it puts us in a bind to send cadets where they will fit elsewhere.” 

“Look - “

“No you look, Lee. You’ve been a pilot here for six years. That’s considered a veteran in this field. But the higher ups grow tired of even veterans when they’ve been unmanageable for the last two of those six years.”

Heat flashes up the side of Jihoon’s neck, equal parts embarrassed and angry. He’d been the first in his class to suit up, selected as Haneul’s co-pilot to fill in for their partner that had retired. Jihoon remembers how proud - and nervous - he was and how easy it had been to partner with Haneul.

He didn’t have that anymore, the safety net of the only parental figure he’d ever known gone. 

“The pilots you’ve paired me with have no business being in a jaeger,” Jihoon says matter of factly. “I don’t respect them.”

“Well good thing we’ve given you someone to respect.”

Jihoon shakes his head. “I can’t fight with her.”

“You can and you will. Your drift compatibility is 98% and you have similar fighting style and come from similar machines. You’ll start Conn-pod training tomorrow.”

“Don’t make me partner with her. I don’t like her.”

The Marshall stands. “One day you might learn that if you give people a chance, you’d like what you find.” 

“Marshall-” 

“That’s all, Ranger.” 

The air feels heavy as Jihoon leaves the Marshall’s office. He stops on the command deck, his eyes flickering over to the windows. The glass is floor to ceiling all the way around, giving the tower a 360-degree view of the pacific ocean. Blue stretches out as far as the eye can see, backdropped by the shining silver of the city. 

Boats bob on the water, shifting back and forth on the dark surface. Air teams go back and forth, working in the aftermath of Chan and Wylie’s successful kaiju destruction. Jihoon can see the toxicity on the surface of the water, an oil slick that he knows the exact pungent smell of. 

Trailing to an observation window, he stares with unseeing eyes. How many times had he stood up here and provided commentary to his friends during a fight? He didn’t frequent the command deck, but sometimes it gave him perspective. Or he was a little worried about his friends, especially when they were taking on higher category kaiju. 

Jihoon chews on the side of his lip. He’s talked Wylie and Chan through plenty of bouts before. He remembers sharply the terror of the fight that had changed all of their lives over a year ago, watching as the hull of Fang Striker was breached, the screams of terror as Wylie took a talon to the stomach, nearly killing her. The aftermath of Chan’s grief.

A chill breaks out over his arms. Jihoon knows he isn’t cut out to sit through something like that again, to try and get a panicking pilot to focus and get to safety. He’s not made for an advisory role. Not built to watch pilots come and go, completely operating out of his control. 

Death is easier to process in the heat of battle. It gives him an excuse to be distracted, to hide from the immediate pain of losing a pilot during a fight because he’s too busy protecting himself, protecting the city. He’s not made to watch it from afar and take the full weight of it.

Turning away from the window, Jihoon descends back down to the ground floor. 

Probation period. Three months of having to stomach you or he’s out. Flexing his fingers, he heads to his room, needing the silence. If Jihoon is going to do this, he knows he needs to keep himself in line. Can’t push you away like he has the others. 

And he hates you for it.

-

Music bleeds through the metal door out into the hall. You wonder how any of the neighboring rooms let him get away with it. Then again, Lee Jihoon seems like someone most jaeger pilots don’t go toe-to-toe with often, if they can help it. At least it’s classical music, the swelling sound of Mozart sweeping into the hallway as you open the door, propping it with your hip to haul the box in your arms through. 

Jihoon’s eyes snap open immediately. He’s lounging on the bottom bunk of the bed in the far corner of the room, face lit by the glow of the muted screen in the corner showing the rain and ocean spray beating against the Shatterdome. Nothing disturbs the seas at the moment, though you wonder in a hotspot like this how long that will last. 

A scowl twists his mouth. You let the door shut behind you, setting the box down on the media table by the doorway. “Mozart?” you ask, arching a brow. He glares at you, sitting up from where he had been lounging with his hands tucked behind his head. “A bit cliche, don’t you think?” 

“What do you know about music?”

“Enough to know that someone with balanced compositions that orchestrate total control and logic in its make is… not surprising for you.” He blinks in surprise. “I like Tchaikovsky. There’s something more mercurial to his compositions.” 

“Tchaikovsky was inspired by Mozart.”

“I didn’t say one was better than the other.” You smirk. “You don’t like differences of opinion, do you?”

“I always value opinions. Some more than others.”

“Mhmm. Where can I put my things?”

Jihoon closes his eyes and lays back on the bed. His blonde hair is undone, fanning around him in a silvery-white halo. “The trash chute, preferably.” 

“Wherever I want, got it.” 

He ignores you. You suppress a laugh and move into the room proper. It’s small, filled with only the essentials to house two people to eat, sleep, and shower. A small kitchenette sits to your left, hidden in darkness with all of the lights off. You spot a shelf filled with dry goods - mostly protein bars - and coffee. There is a sad excuse for a sitting area with a tiny table and two chairs next to the TV screen, a bunk bed with a wardrobe next to it, and a tiny bathroom.

Cozy. 

Pulling open the wardrobe, you see that there’s room for your things. You shoot Jihoon a sidelong glance. He certainly hadn’t moved his things over to take over the full wardrobe after his last pilot left. You wonder if he’s just used to being unable to use the full space or if he had made room for you.

You doubt it’s the latter. 

Ave Verum Corpus plays in the background as you unpack the tiny box that is your life. You hum along, shutting the wardrobe and padding over to the bathroom. Jihoon could be asleep for all you know, but you suspect he’s not. When you glance over at him after shutting the medicine cabinet, you see his foot tapping to the beat of the music.

“What other kind of music do you like?” His foot stops tapping at your question.

Turning off the bathroom light, you move to the door to break down the cardboard box you brought your things in. Jihoon doesn’t answer at first, his frame rigid with tension, as though he had forgotten you were there until you spoke. You suppose that’s entirely possible, if not a little unlikely. 

Just when you think he’s not going to answer, he mutters, “I like ballads.”

“Romantic.” He frowns but doesn’t say anything further. “What’s your favorite one? Or artist?”

“Go play twenty questions with someone else. I’m not interested.”

“I’m going to find out anyway.” He opens his eyes then. They’re dark, pupils blown as his face twitches in an almost snarl. “It is an inevitable fact that we will have to drift. I recommend making peace with that now.” 

“I’m going to bed,” he announces, flopping over on his side and crossing his arms.

You let Jihoon be mean. It does you no good to fight with him when you eventually need him on your side, and you can sympathize with him to a degree. He didn’t choose you as his pilot and he’s backed into a corner, a do or die situation that he can’t back out of. The only way is forward and it’s against his will. 

As he pretends to sleep, you occupy yourself on the top bunk with your tablet, sliding headphones over your ears so he doesn’t bitch you out. Flicking through online channels, you familiarize yourself with your fellow jaeger pilots at the Shatterdome, watching fight footage and interviews. 

You come across a set of popular pilots, only one of them familiar to you. You recognize the man from dinner earlier - he had sat down and the tension around the table had increased tenfold. Wylie had immediately clocked his presence and stormed off, Chan trailing behind her with an apologetic look.

Tapping on their information, you hum in interest to yourself. Seungcheol. You recognize the name, vaguely. He piloted Duellona Fury with his copilot, a woman you don’t recognize but that has a bright smile. They make a good team, totally in sync and feeding off each other’s energy. You wonder where she is now, assuming she’s the source of the tension between Wylie and Seungcheol.

You wonder what you and Jihoon will be like as drift partners. So far he seems to hate you, but he does tolerate you. It’s a start, if not ideal. You won’t start drifting right away - not for real anyway. Practicing combat drills and learning more about one another is the first step to any partnership, followed by practice drifts.

In the drift, there’s no room for hatred or enmity. Trust is paramount, but almost as important is respect. Respect for what you see in the thoughts and feelings of your partner, respect that they’re good at what they do and that they’re the best person for the job, respect that they are your equal. Too many partners get lost in trying to save the other, losing sight of being equally capable or feeling like they know better. 

Jihoon doesn’t seem capable of that. Not right now, anyway. It doesn’t matter, though. You’re his only option to stay in the jaeger program, and though he hasn’t said anything about it, you’re pretty sure he knows. 

“Can you shut the tablet off?” Jihoon grunts from below. You sigh heavily, tucking it to your chest. “The glow is fucking bright.”

“The TV is also glowing, Jihoon.” 

“Yeah, so your tablet adds to the general light in the room.”

“Close your eyes.”

“It isn’t helping. Go under your covers.”

Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath in, you lock the tablet and shove it under your pillow. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Weather the storm, you think to yourself. Jihoon is angry and capricious, but it’s more to do with his situation than it is to do with you. And despite his snappy nature, there are flashes of him willing to work with you by answering questions, albeit with attitude. 

You can do this. You can make Lee Jihoon like you. Maybe even respect you.

-

You are not a morning person. Lee Jihoon, however, is a morning person. Which is why it takes everything inside of you not to launch your pillow at him when you hear the classical music wake you from sleep in the morning, making you lift your heavy head to look around the room, vision blurry.

Heat from a fresh shower drifts from the bathroom only a short distance away. You stare in confusion, blinking rapidly as Jihoon walks out of the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth furiously with one hand, looking at his phone with the other, blue light making him look like a phantom in the dim light. 

And he’s dressed in nothing but a towel slung low on his waist, making you nearly go catatonic. 

It’s not like you haven’t seen a body before - it’s just a body, and soon enough, you’ll be in his head. It’s important to get any weirdness out of the way because in the drift, you’ll bare everything. But for some reason the image of his small, compact body scrambles your brain this early in the morning.

Jihoon is built like a weapon, all sleek lines and hard muscles. He stands in the kitchen, setting down his phone as he opens cabinets and starts to make coffee, toothbrush still in his mouth. The muscles in his back flex as he moves, skin pale and smooth as the moon. 

“Are you a coffee person?” he asks, because he knows you’re awake. Of course he does. You don’t answer for a moment, stuck between eyeing the narrow taper of his hips and the question that implies he’s willing to make you coffee. He turns, arching a brow at you. “Now you shut up?” 

That brings a scowl to your face. “Yes, I drink coffee.” 

“Great.” 

He goes back to what he was doing, ignoring you entirely. Dragging your eyes away from him, feeling flushed and overwarm, you throw the covers back, scrambling from the top bunk. You land with a soft huff, feeling the chill of the concrete floor as you dart to the wardrobe to pull out clothes. 

“What time is it?”

“You have eyes, look at the TV.”

Got it, you think. He’ll make coffee for you but not do something as simple as answer what time it is. You do look at the TV, seeing the darkened feed of the churning ocean breaking against the walls of the Shatterdome. There are multiple camera angles, weather radar and Dome messages that break up the screen into sections. The time is in the top corner, flashing 5:13 am. 

“Ji, it is five in the morning.”

“Five-thirteen. And don’t call me Ji. I’m not your buddy.” 

Taking a deep breath, you mutter curses under your breath. “I’m going to shower.”

As expected, you get no response. 

The great thing about living in a billion dollar buildinding with hundreds of people is that there’s no shortage of hot water. You’re grateful as the steam fills the room, hot water making your coiled muscles melt the second you step under the shower. You let the frustration from the morning fade away, the rush of the water and the feel of it sluicing down your back-

A loud knock on the door breaks your reverie. You hear it open. Jihoon grunts, “I wasn’t done brushing my teeth. I need the sink.”

“Then use the sink.”

Jihoon shuffles into the bathroom. You hear the faucet turn on and you go back to tilting your head backward under the stream of water, ignoring the sound of him going about his morning routine. In a way, it’s sort of peaceful, the sounds of him softly opening and closing cabinets and the clinking of jars against the counter soft in the background. 

He’s back in the kitchen by the time you’re out of the shower and wrapped in a towel. You venture out into the main room in kind, deciding that if he is going to walk around in nothing but a towel, so will you. He barely gives you a glance from his bottom bunk, lounging around in low-slung sweats with no shirt, blonde hair splayed on his pillow. You ignore him in favor of the lone mug of coffee sitting in the kitchen steaming.

Gripping it and bringing it up, you let the ceramic warm you from your palms upward, inhaling before taking a tentative sip. It’s bitter but it helps you wake up. You glance at Jihoon from over the lip of the cup. He scrolls on a tablet mindlessly, as though he’s forgotten you’re there.

Neither one of you speaks as you finish your coffee. Turning to the sink, you start washing the cup out. You notice his used mug sitting in the bottom of the sink and pick it up, wash it and put it in the drying rack next to yours without thinking about it before returning to the bathroom to dress fully.

Once dressed and out of the bathroom, it’s almost six. Jihoon is bent over by the door, his boot on the coffee table as he laces it. Now fully dressed, his long hair is pulled back in a bun, a few silver whisps escaping and falling across his face. Again, you’re struck by how beautiful he is for a moment. 

He straightens and looks at you, raising his brows. Instead of answering him, you hurry to the wardrobe, pulling out your boots to slide them on and head to breakfast. You half expect him to leave you behind, but to your surprise, he lingers with the door open, dark eyes clocking your every movement. As soon as you’re done tying laces, he’s out the door and charging again, leaving you to scramble behind him.

Silence follows you into the cafeteria, which has the quiet atmosphere of an early morning. Workers and pilots ending their shifts sit at the table, scarfing down breakfast for dinner. Early shift workers hurry to grab a bite before heading off to the different parts of the Shatterdome. It’s not nearly as loud as lunch or dinner, but the soft din is inviting as you go through the line, following your new co-pilot wordlessly. 

None of the friendly faces from yesterday are in the cafeteria, so the two of you sit alone. Jihoon is methodical as he sets up his breakfast, each move calculated and precise. He eats the same way, finishing something entirely before moving on to the next time. 

His obsession with organization and control is almost fascinating, if not a little worrying. Instead of asking about it, you eat in silence, humming delightedly at the cheesy hashbrowns made available that morning. He casts you a single annoyed glance when he notices you enjoying your meal. 

Breakfast goes without a fight, though. Glancing at the large clock above the entrance to the cafeteria, you realize you only have a few minutes left before your day of training starts. Jihoon seems to be on the same wavelength, pulling out his phone to scroll through your schedule. 

“Meditation first,” he murmurs. He shoves his phone in his pocket and stands without preamble. “Do you think you can manage meditation?”

“Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but we haven’t spoken for over an hour.”

Confusion crosses his face, quickly followed by astonishment. He hadn’t realized that most of your morning has been spent in silence. His brows pull together, mouth turning slightly as he works over your words. It seems to make him unhappy. He narrows his eyes and his mouth twists before he turns and marches away from the table, leaving you behind. 

Mouth quirking, you follow quickly, not wanting to lose your way to wherever it is you’re supposed to report to. He walks faster this time, determined to keep you moving and on your toes. Wherever the studio designated to you for the morning feels like it’s halfway around the world. Jihoon leads you down a series of halls and stairs, never slowing his pace once.

By the time you get to a small, soundproof room, your calves are burning. 

“You need conditioning,” he mutters, noticing the way you’re a little out of breath.

“You basically just took me on a light jog,” you protest. “I think it’s fair to be a little winded this early in the morning.”

“It doesn’t matter what time it is. What will you do if we make the drop at four in the morning?” 

Jihoon doesn’t wait for you to answer. Instead, he goes to the middle of the room and sits down on the floor, and crosses his legs. Instead of taking his bait and picking a fight with him, you sigh and stride into the room. He positions himself, ready for you to sit in front of him. Instead, you circle around him, sitting down behind him. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, twisting toward you.

“Meditating. Turn back around so we can be back-to-back.”

“What? Why?”

“Just trust me.”

“I don’t.”

“Well, try. It’s easier to feel your breaths and your heartbeat this way. Plus, there's less pressure if you don’t have to look directly at me.”

“Thank god for that,” he mutters.

You roll your eyes at the barb but grin when Jihoon listens, twisting back around to face the front. He lets you settle against him, the warmth from his back melting into yours. He is rigid, his spine solid as it digs into yours for a second. You lick your lips, feeling electricity shiver down you at the contact, like there’s a spark. 

The hum of the air condition is the only sound in the room. You close your eyes, leaning into Jihoon so that you fit flush together. You match your breaths with his, feeling your breathing slow down. Your heart slows to, like it’s trying to let him catch up, both of you melting into the same rhythm. 

Behind you, Jihoon relaxes. The back of his head rests against yours, both of you leaning into the touch, becoming the equal opposing force holding the other up. 

Balance is imperative in co-pilots. Jihoon needed to bring to the fight what you lacked and vice versa, the two of you making something whole, something complete. It’s a balance that’s not easily achieved, and though you’d always been a good pair with your mother and then maya, you know instinctively that it’s nothing compared to Jihoon’s counterbalance. 

A timer goes off in the room, startling you with how quickly time has passed. You blink your eyes rapidly, letting the room swim back into focus. For a second, neither one of you moves, content to lean against the other until Jihoon seems to realize he’s still pressed against you. He scrambles to his feet unexpectedly and you fall backward, losing his counterweight immediately. 

Thunking against the floor, you glare up at him. He smirks, looking down at you as he wipes dust from the back of his pants. “You should never let a co-pilot fall,” you huff, hauling yourself to your feet. 

“Good thing we’re not really co-pilots.”

“Yet,” you supply. You get up, stretching and feeling your joints pop. “Even you can’t deny that it was a great first meditation session.”

“Let’s go. We have sparring.” 

-

Jihoon doesn’t like you. 

He doesn’t like you, but he has to admit you are a perfect fit for him. You are loud where he is quiet, you make light when he remains serious, and you deviate when he’s planned. Yet somehow, you manage to mesh with him in your training, the perfect opposite force to him.

For the most part, you leave him alone. He can tell you’ve figured out when to bite back and when to eat your words. It’s become a game to him, throwing insults your way to watch whether you’ll riposte back or swallow your pride. 

The amount of times you swallow your pride impresses him, unfortunately. His original assessment that you are unpredictable and uncontrolled was wrong. He can see the way you actively meet his cold winter with warm summer, trying to melt him. 

He doesn't like giving you credit for your control, but he does so begrudgingly. 

Worst of all, he realizes that it’s not you he dislikes. It’s his situation, it’s knowing that you’re his lifeline and he has to accept you, and it’s knowing that despite his initial dislike, you’re a mirror that he can’t look away from. It doesn’t help that you live two feet away from him at all times, occupying every moment of his life just a reach-of-a-hand away. 

Training is tiring. It feels like he’s a rookie all over again, going through the exercises as the two of you learn to fight together, moving through meditation sessions, sparring, talking sessions - which don't really involve a lot of talking on his part as much as yours - and drop simulations. 

Drop simulations are the most exhausting for him. You bring everything to the drift. It’s nearly overwhelming at first how much you’re willing to show him. From the moment the mental bridge connects the two of you through the simulation software, Jihoon is shocked at the way you lay yourself bare. You hide nothing from him, letting him roam around your thoughts at his leisure. 

He feels everything you’ve ever felt. Elation when you make your first real drop with your first co-pilot, your mom. Sore ribs after a particularly difficult sparring match when you were a teeager in the training program. Pride when you finish the top of your training program. Terror when a fight goes awry and your mother overwhelms you in the drift, taking the full neural load of the jaeger to protect you. Rage at her doing so. 

“What happened here?” he finds himself asking, sticking near the memory. 

He thinks you won’t answer him, but of course you do. Unlike him, you’re open for the taking. “The hull was breached in my first year of fighting. My mother panicked because it was on my side of the jaeger and she tried to take on the neural load.” 

Jihoon says nothing. Piloting a jaeger alone overwhelms the nervous system and the brain, which is why each jaeger has two pilots in the first place. It can be done, but the risk for damage is always present. He senses where your conversation is going.

“We only piloted together for three more years after that. She was starting to struggle to make the drift, so we paused to get her examined. They discovered lesions on her brain and linked it to the damage from that day she tried to pilot alone.”

“She wanted to protect you.”

“She did, but it doesn’t make up for what she did. I was her equal, not someone she was supposed to protect.” You look at him and he looks at you, surrounded by your memories in the drift. “I am deserving of treated like an equal.” 

He understands what you’re really saying, that he should treat you like an equal too. Instead of responding, he busies himself with studying other parts of you that you let him have. 

There is a melody to your mind that he enjoys, though he’ll never tell you so. The more you drift together, the more Jihoon realizes that you are exactly like a Tchaikovsky piece. There is an organized chaos to you, a mathematical formula that is logical and measurable, but that deviates from the norm once in a while. 

Every drift, you remain open to him, your thoughts for the taking. You don’t even hide the moments you’ve thought of him - both in occasional attraction and irritation. Irritation at him bringing nothing to drift, opening no part of himself to you. Irritation when he’s mean to you. Hesitant fondness when he does something nice. Confused attraction when he walks around in just a towel. 

Water sluices down his back. Jihoon’s thoughts are still foggy from three weeks of nothing but practice and drills. He also finds it harder to sleep sometimes in the room, his dreams filled with the scent of your amber and jasmine and the lively sound of Tchaikovsky acting as the soundtrack to his dreams.

You’re still asleep when he exits the bathroom. He’s made sure to turn the light off before opening the door, steam billowing out after him. He scoops headphones from the nightstand as he heads to the kitchen, towel snug around his waist. He pops the earbuds in, the sound of Mozart starting his morning as he begins to make coffee. 

Jihoon has quickly learned that the longer he lets you sleep in the morning, the less whiny you are when you wake up. Instead of playing his music out loud, he lets you sleep until he’s made two cups of coffee, adding a spoonful of brown sugar and milk to yours. He sets it on the table and walks back to the bathroom, one of the requiem pieces carrying him through his routine. 

On the way to the bathroom, he stops by your bunk. He hesitates for a second, drinking you in as you sleep. Nestled in that top bunk is the only place you’re as peaceful as you are in the drift. Your features are smoothed out as you slumber, mouth open a little, drool sticky on the corner of your mouth. Jihoon’s lips twitch a little and he shakes his head before reaching out to tap the ankle hanging off your bed. You mumble in response. 

“Get up,” he says gruffly. “You’ve slept long enough.”

He returns to the bathroom and shuts the door to get fully dressed. He knows you’ll be standing in the kitchen looking dazed and confused sipping coffee until he comes out and frees the bathroom for you to shower. 

The alarm for a kaiju alert goes off. He hears it blaring over his music and he pulls the earbuds out, opening the door half dressed in just pants as he looks at the screen flashing red. A Category Four kaiju has been sighted in the bay. His heart skips, knowing that Cat-4 kaiju are dangerous even for the most skilled pilots at the Dome. 

Assignments flash across the screen. Solar Saber and Fang Striker have been summoned to drop. Nervousness flutters in Jihoon’s stomach. He snatches a shirt and yanks it over his head, moving quickly around the room to grab boots. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, leaning off the counter. 

“Heading to the command deck. Come or don’t.”

“I’ll come.” 

You dump your coffee in the sink, jumping to action as you peel off your pajama pants, searching for cargos. Jihoon hardly realizes you’re changing in front of him - he’s seen it all in your head anyway - as he laces his boots. He doesn’t know why, but he starts to explain himself, “Dino and Wylie have a… history with Cat-4 kaiju.” 

“You want to be an extra set of eyes and ears.” He nods at the accurate assessment. “Got it. Run me through Solar Saber drop stats if you know them.”

Jihoon does. He fires off what he knows about the team. Their stats are fine, but a Category Four kaiju is new for them. They have a good jaeger. It’s on the newer side, nuclear powered with plasma cannons and a massive plasma sword that burns brighter than the sun, earning the machine its name. It’s piloted by a set of twins, which produce some of the best drifts in the jaeger program.

But there’s a nervousness in Jihoon’s stomach that he can’t place. Everytime his friends drop, he knows they’ll be okay - but he also knows the level of danger. Perhaps it’s because of Chan and Wylie’s accident last year or because they’re dropping with a team Jihoon doesn’t trust, but he suddenly wants to tell the Marshall to let Storm Breaker do the drop.

A hand brings him out of his thoughts. Your gaze is as calm as the surface of a lake, piercing. “We’re ready, if we need to be.” 

Of course you know what he’s thinking. Despite his best efforts, you seem particularly good at stitching the tiny threads that escape through Jihoon’s wall of ice.  

You drop your hand and grab the room keys, heading toward the door with top speed. His arm is warm where your fingers were a moment ago, burning like a brand. He shakes it off as he follows you out, both of you jogging up to the top level of the Shatterdome to observe. 

Crew races around the dome. Jihoon sees Seungkwan and Vernon rushing up the stairs to the command deck. He follows suit, you quick on his heels. People fill the room, talking over one another as they shout into headsets and screens flash different camera angles. 

The Marshall stands in the center of it all behind the LOCCENT Mission Controller who will walk the pilots through the fight. Jihoon doesn’t recognize the man giving them instructions, but he joins the wall of people standing behind him to observe the screens, taking a place next to Vernon and Seungkwan. 

You glance at Vernon and back to Jihoon, a question in your gaze. “This is Vernon,” Jihoon says in response. “He’s currently a jumphawk pilot. Could be a jaeger pilot if he could figure out the drift but he’s too screwy up top.” 

“Thanks, man.”

“You can call me Blue,” you offer. Your eyes drift to the screens. “Friends of the pilots out there?”

“Wylie is one of my best friends.” 

Instead of telling him something like they’ll be alright or offering words of comfort, all you do is nod. Jihoon respects that. Anything comforting would be a potential lie and useless in a world of blood and metal, salt and fire. 

The entire room falls into a steady cadence. Jihoon crosses his arms as he focuses on the screen. He’s mutely aware that you’re standing so close to him he can feel the heat of your arm, hands shoved in your pockets as you watch the screens, brows furrowed in concentration. 

On screen, Solar Saber churns the water toward a towering kaiju in the bay. The creature is straight out of a nightmare, a barbed tail whipping across the surface of the ocean, misting water as it does. From what Jihoon can tell, it’s got four legs, each equipped with long talons. Rows and rows of teeth reveal itself as the kaiju opens its mouth and roars, the vibration from the sound so deep that it vibrates underneath his feet. 

“I don’t like that tail,” Vernon mutters next to Jihoon. 

“It’s like a manticore.” Jihoon glances at you. You’re not looking at them, but your head is tilted in curiosity as you point to the screen. “Four legs, a curved tail with a barb. The webbing around its neck suggests it might have a frill.”

“Strike teams, confirm positions,” the LOCCENT controller says into the mic. 

“Fang Striker in position two miles north of kaiju and Solar Saber.” It’s Wylie’s raspy voice that crackles over the shared radiowave with the jaeger teams. “Perimeter is set.”

“Solar Saber ready to engage,” a female voice comes over the speaker. Jihoon recognizes it as one of the twin co-pilots, Jezzi. 

“Permission to engage.” 

As Solar Saber engages with the kaiju, the command deck goes quiet. People guiding the helicopters and ground teams speak softly into their mics, a level of tense calm washing over as everyone watches the fight ensue.

Solar Saber is beautiful to watch fight. The armor is painted radiant gold and the glow of the sword is magnificent against the stormy waters as it slashes at the kaiju. Jezzi and her sister Yaz are calm throughout their bout, their voices clear and communicative as the kaiju batters them. 

“Cut off the tail,” you mutter under your breath. “It’s going to-”

Jihoon sees what you do as soon as you say it. While trying to kill the kaiju with a direct blow, Solar Saber has forgotten about the tail. The tip of the tail shivers, reminding Jihoon of a cat ready to strike, and it does. One moment, Solar Saber and the kaiju are locked in a wrestling match. Next, the tail is hammering the hull of the jaeger, striking over and over again like a scorpion.

Chaos explodes on the screens. Jihoon holds his breath as red flashes across the screens as the tail breaches the hull of Solar Saber. A tingle settles over him, the buzz of nerves as he watches Solar Saber take a knee, ocean water surging around the jaeger as the kaiju’s tail continues to hammer the jaeger’s head open. 

Jihoon grabs the LOCCENT Controller’s chair and yanks him backward out of the way, jamming his finger against the button to speak. “Don’t let it force you under the waterline,” he barks. “Cut off that tail, Solar Saber. If it forces you down, you’re going to take on water and drown.” 

“The right panel is damaged from acid from the tail,” Jezzi yells over the comes. “Sword arm cannot engage.” 

“Then disengage, Solar Saber. Do not let it force you down another knee.” 

Yaz screams back something incomprehensible over the comms. The left arm of Solar Saber lurches, reaching for the kaiju’s tail. It catches, yanking at the appendage hard. The kaiju screams as the tail breaks where Solar Saber has it gripped. The kaiju frenzies, screaming wildly as frills - just like you’d predicted - shake to life by its head, vibrating back and forth in a threat display as its dismembered tail whips back and forth, spraying ichor. 

“Fang Striker engaging,” Chan’s voice comes over the comms.

It’s the Marshall who answers. “Fang Striker, hold the perimeter.” 

“Fuck the peremiter,” Wylie seethes. 

The Marshall turns to you and Jihoon. “We’re ready,” Jihoon says at the same time as you.

A string of curses leaves Marshall’s mouth. “Fang Striker, assist Solar Saber with the intent to disengage. Storm Breaker dropping in ten.” 

Heart hammering, Jihoon turns to follow you out of the command center, footsteps like thunder as you sprint to the jaeger bay. He doesn’t even think twice about dropping with you, any reservations about you vanishing as the fighting instinct takes over. 

You’re an entirely different person when you step onto the catwalk, your team already scrambling with pieces of your Drivesuit. There is an eerie calm about you. You meet his gaze head on as your team fits armored pieces of Drivesuit onto your arms. Jihoon sees himself reflected so clearly that he’s startled. 

“What?” you ask, sensing the bewilderment. 

“Show me what you’re made of,” he says simply. 

Your mouth curves in a wicked grin and you nod once, understanding. 

Storm Breaker is beautiful. The fondness for her sweeps over him as he steps into the cockpit. The screens come to life, casting blue and red glow all over as he steps into the Conn-pod. He sheds any reservations he has as the team helps him connect. You’re only a few feet away, stepping into the left side of the Conn-pod. 

Jihoon’s world shifts to screens and canned voices in his headset as the shield of his helmet closes. It’s Seungkwan he hears over comms saying, “Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence.” 

“Do the pilots always take over the LOCCENT Controller’s here?” you muse, just to Jihoon. 

His lips twitch. “What can I say? Seungkwan knows I’m a control freak.” 

“Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…” 

The world around him goes mute for a moment. Jihoon’s vision flashes white for a second. He feels you then, your thoughts and feelings becoming his. They’re not overwhelming though. He feels focus and determination from you with an undercurrent of ferocity. All of your memories and other feelings are there too, but they exist in the background. You’re a seasoned pilot, Jihoon doesn’t have to worry about you chasing the rabbit and falling down a hole of memories. 

“Neural handshake holding and strong,” Seungkwan calls. “Initiating drop in three… two… one…”

Jihoon’s stomach flies into his throat as he falls away from the world. The world is nothing but freefall for a few seconds. He feels the thrill that shoots through you and smiles - he can’t help it. Bending at the knee, he braces for impact. You do the same, and the cockpit lands on the jaeger’s mainframe with a metallic clang.

“Calibrating right hemisphere,” Jihoon announces, feeling the machine start to power to life. “Calibrated.” 

You repeat on the left side, the full machine powered on and ready with both hemispheres locked in.

“Storm Breaker ready to pursue,” Jihoon says. He looks up at the screen where Fang Striker is engaging the kaiju. Outside of Storm Breaker, he might feel his heart race with panic. Solar Saber is overturned and he has no idea if the pilots are inside of it as it takes on water. “Two miles out from contact.” 

“Pursue.” 

Your first step as a team is perfect. Fluid. Jihoon knew it would be. He hates to admit that he was wrong, but he knows it is. There is a thread of satisfaction bleeding over from you as Storm Breaker charges into the ocean, water rising rapidly around the waist. 

Ocean water slams against Storm Breaker’s chest as you charge toward the fighting. Fang Striker’s comms are patched in, but Wylie and Chan are silent as they rip at the kaiju, pulling at one of its wings that it unfolded from its back. Fang Striker looks tiny against the hulking mass of the monster, but its team is doing what it does best, savaging the creature a little at a time.

“Storm Breaker half a mile out,” you announce, voice like steel. “Ready to engage.” 

“Engage at your discretion.”

“Storm Breaker,” Chan says over comms. “Try and restrain this motherfucker. We’ve got a loose plate in its armor to exploit but it keeps shaking us off.”

“Heard.” 

As if hearing Chan, the kaiju flings Fang Striker off. Fang Striker’s red body crashes into the ocean, Wylie cursing the kaiju straight to hell and about fifty other foul places. 

Storm Breaker engages, both you and Jihoon plunging into the fight. The kaiju swipes at you but you both duck together, dodging the swing as you punch hard from the left in tandem. You knock it hard, it’s head snapping to the side. As a team, you use the opening to wrap the right arm around the kaiju’s neck, squeezing it toward Storm Breaker’s chest in a headlock. 

Stabilizers and locks click into place. He grits his teeth, as though feeling the actual strength it takes as the kaiju roars and claws at Storm Breaker, trying to free itself from the headlock. Together, you put the left arm around it, adding to the force to keep the kaiju from slipping from your grip. 

Clawed blows hammer down on Storm Breaker. Neither of you gives way, tightening your grip on the creature and ignoring the way the talons scratch against the hull. Storm Breaker is built to withstand, and neither one of you flinches as furious blows rain down on you, fists hammering. 

“It looks like that kaiju is playing you like a bongo,” Wylie’s voice comes over comms. “Hey Woozi, do you feel like it’s composing one of those songs you like?”

“Oh sure,” he shoots back. “Take your time, Wylie. It’s not like it’s trying to crack us like an egg.” 

“Ugh,” you sigh. “Don’t talk about food. I didn’t eat breakfast. Hey Seungkwan, can you ask Joshua to save me some hash browns? He’s always at the cafeteria first.” 

Jihoon rolls his eyes. “You’re all insane. Any day now, Fang Striker.” 

Fang Striker appears from the sky like a creature from hell, a red streak of death as it falls. They land on the kaiju’s back, the force of the landing vibrating through Storm Breaker’s frame. The kaiju tries to twist in Storm Breaker’s arms, but you and Jihoon tighten even further. Fang Striker’s sword glints in the sunlight as it unsheathes. 

“Don’t stab us,” you say at the same exact time that Jihoon has the thought.

They almost do. Fang Striker buries the sword through the back of the kaiju, the tip of the blade peaking through its chest, almost scraping against Storm Breaker’s stomach. The monster thrashes wildly for a few minutes, clawing at Storm Breaker’s hull. Fang Striker hits the release on their sword, leaving it embedded in the kaiju’s back to stand and fire into the kaiju with plasma cannons. 

Jihoon feels the tremor of the shots land. There’s a final kick from the kaiju before it slumps, putting all of its deadweight on Storm Breaker. In unison, you and Jihoon throw the creature off of you. It lands with a crash, water surging around the creature as its weight drags it down before buoyancy pulls it back up.

Storm Breaker straightens, standing in the open water with a battered Fang Striker a couple of yards away. Panting, Jihoon looks across the Conn-pod where you’re already looking at him, shield on your helmet up as you grin at him. There is unguarded happiness there, nearly as bright as the sun that glints off Storm Breaker’s helm. 

“So,” you ask the group. “Can we get hashbrowns now?”

Jihoon realizes at that moment he doesn’t dislike you at all. 

-

“Would you slow down?” Jihoon asks, setting his tray down next to you roughly. He plops in the seat next to you, giving you a severe side eye. “You’re going to throw up the second you hit the treadmill eating that fast.”

“I want to get more bacon before they run out,” you whine. “They won’t make more once it’s gone.”

Uncovering the top of his tray, Jihoon reveals a heap of bacon slices. You oggle as he sets it between the two of you, shaking his head and scoffing. “Yeah,” he huffs. “I know. I brought more, so slow down.”

Affection for your co-pilot warms you. The affection is certainly one-sided, but you don’t mind. In the four months you’ve been co-piloting with Jihoon, he still hasn’t opened up to you.

Despite having made the drop five times together, Jihoon still brings almost nothing to the drift. You catch pieces of him, tiny snippets of memories or emotions or thoughts as you become one. You slowly use them to fit together the pieces of the Jihoon puzzle you’ve been working on every day. 

It helps that you live in such close proximity, too. Jihoon’s habits speak far more for them than his words ever could. Like the way he wakes up at the same exact time every day and tries to be asleep at the same time every night, or the way he meticulously cleans your shared living space every Sunday, or the way he starts every sparring session with the same eight-stretch sequence.

He still doesn’t talk about him in your time slotted for getting to know one another. It’s not therapy exactly, but every pilot team has designated time daily to talk things out. To work through things that are bothering them, or to talk about themselves. The more pilots know one another, the better they fight.

You know virtually nothing about Jihoon. He doesn’t talk about himself during sessions, so you talk for him. You tell him about your childhood, about piloting with your mom, about how much you miss Maya. He eventually starts asking questions. Provides responses.

“We’re on the drop schedule tomorrow,” Jihoon notes, flicking through his tablet on the table next to him. “It’s graveyard shift. Do you want me to ask Mingyu and Wonwoo to switch to the day shift?” 

“Nah, I’ll be fine.”

He gives you a critical look. “You’re awful in the mornings.” 

“Not when I’m fighting.” You snatch more bacon. “Would you rather me or Mingyu in a jaeger at two in the morning?”

“Point taken.” Both of you know the only person more miserable than you in the morning is Kim Mingyu. Jihoon nudges you with your elbow and gestures to the bacon. “Finish up. We have to workout soon.” 

“Ugh.”

He smirks. “Cardio day.”

“Ji, no.”

He ignores the nickname. “So much running.”

Now you know he’s doing it on purpose. There are few things in your training schedule that bring Jihoon joy like torturing you during scheduled workouts. He had started slating them each day, determined to harden your conditioning despite the fact that you’re already in decent shape.

Decent is a word in his vocabulary. He only expects perfection and even then, you’re pretty sure it’s unattainable. Still, you finish your breakfast and let him lead you to the gym, peppering him with whining and protests the entire way. He ignores them with a placid smile, hands linked behind his back as he walks. 

When you get to the gym, there are other pilots and workers using their free time to exercise. There’s only a single treadmill open, which Jihoon gets on easily. You start to edge your way toward yoga mats with the intention of not working out at all when he leans over to look at the time on the treadmill next to him. 

“You’ve been on it for an hour,” he grunts at some boy who looks like a cadet. “Off you go.”

The cadet scrambles off, almost forgetting to turn the treadmill off before he does. He bows in respect before shooting off like a frightened school of fish. Jihoon turns to you, grinning as he pats the machine. “For you.” 

“Thanks,” you deadpan. “Just what I’ve always wanted.” 

Jihoon’s grin only grows when you step onto the treadmill as he leans over the rail and turns it on, pressing the incline and speed buttons until you’re walking at a warm up pace. Which, for Jihoon, is a solid jog. 

As you jog, you fish out headphones from your pocket. You pop them in your ears, careful not to trip as the sound of classical fills your ears. You’ve taken to using Jihoon’s playlists, despite originally making fun of him for it. You find that it distracts you more than you thought it would, and it helps that you feel like a character in a fantasy movie running to an epic soundtrack.

You’ve adopted a lot of things that Jihoon does. It happens naturally, especially the more you drift. You find yourself putting on Mozart instead of Tchaikovsky or taking your coffee black on accident or scolding others in the training room for not being precise and perfect. 

Ghost Drifting is what some call it. You don’t think you’re quite there yet, being that Jihoon still hides half of himself away. But sometimes, even outside of the drift, you feel him in your mind like a phantom presence. 

After your workout, you go through the same day you have everyday: meditate back to back, sparring, and your talking session, which mostly consists of you both sitting next to one another looking over your drop footage and noting areas for improvement. 

Jihoon’s shoulder is pressed against yours, his eyes focused on the tablet in your hands, tracking the slowed down movement of the video. He taps the screen, pointing to the right side of the jaeger that he pilots. “I was a bit slow here.” 

“It’s not your reaction time, you’d never punch that slow. That’s the arm that took damage two fights ago against Razorbill. Let’s talk to the J-Tech team and see if there’s a delay in the receptor. It might be a split second off.” He snorts and you glance sidelong at him. “What?”

“You don’t think I’d punch slow?”

“No.” 

Jihoon raises his brows. You can feel his surprise at your seriousness to his question. He obviously expected you to turn it into a harmless jab, but you mean it when you say, “Your reaction time has been perfect for the last sixteen drops you’ve made. If there’s a delay, it’s the machinery. Not you.”

He looks away from you, nodding once. The tips of his ears are red and he mutters, “Thanks.” 

Instead of pressing the matter like you want to, you smile and hit play again, both of you focusing on the screen once more to talk through the remainder of your allotted bonding time. 

In your room, Jihoon turns on the speakers, the sound of Pas de Deux from the Nutcracker floods the room. You pause by the wardrobe where you’re shucking your boots off, gazing at Jihoon as he moves into the kitchen silently, taking out two mugs, a box of peppermint tea and a kettle. 

He doesn’t feel your eyes on him, going about making tea for the both of you. He hums along to the song - you don’t know when he became so familiar with it, his movements comfortable. Practiced. Relaxed. A swell of affection overtakes you, realizing you don’t know when he started making you tea. Or putting on Tchaikovsky for you. Or not biting at you every two seconds. 

Sensing your gaze, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. You turn away from him, busying yourself with your boots to spare him from making an excuse as to why he’s making you tea. Because you’ll know he’ll give one, provide you with some sort of excuse that it isn’t a favor or because you’re friends, but rather something like the tea bags are too large for one or I have to boil the water anyway. 

When you’re done changing for bed, he’s standing next to you, mug extended. He doesn’t look at you, instead finding interest in the cameras outside the Shatterdome. You take the mug from him and say nothing, knowing he’d rather you not thank him. 

Mug in hand, you climb carefully into the top bunk, crossing your legs as you nestle the mug next to you, pulling out your tablet to read. He gets into bed without a word, both of you existing in comfortable silence, just like Jihoon prefers. 

-

Alarms wrench you from sleep. You’re thrown forward in your bed, red flashing on the TV as the kaiju alert system wails. You wipe sleep from your face as you haul yourself over the edge of the bunk, landing next to Jihoon who is pulling off his sweats in favor of cargo pants as quickly as he can. You feel dizzy and off balance as you do the same, shoving one foot in your pants and hopping on one leg as your foot catches while trying to shove in the other.

Jihoon grabs you by the elbow, holding you steady as you shove your foot through the leg of your pants and shoot him a grateful look. He nods, letting you go to finish zipping his pants and digging around for a shirt. He can’t seem to find one, cursing under his breath as he roots around. You toss him one of yours instead, grabbing a pair of socks and throwing yourself onto his bunk to yank them on, quickly followed by shoes. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon mutters as he looks up at the screen, the red painting him in hellish light. “We’ve got a Cat-4. They’re dropping Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker with us.” 

“Dino and Wylie weren’t even on rotation.” 

“They’re not making the same mistake they did with Solar Saber.” He pulls out a tablet, squinting against the glow. “We're the last line of defense. Hao and Jun will take point with Fang Striker.” 

“Got it. Let’s go.”

You take off at a jog, easily keeping pace with one another as you go. There are jaeger teams moving about the building getting ready, the alarms still sounding as you navigate to the jaeger bay. Your team is already there and ready to fit you into Drivesuits, sliding each piece of armor on with practiced care. 

Jihoon catches your eyes from where he stands across from you, letting a team member slide his hand into a metal glove. His eyes are dark as the stormy sea outside, a bottomless well that you can’t seem to dive down into, but want to. His lips twitch a little and he gives you a nod, which you’ve come to understand is Jihoon for I trust you. 

Screens blink to life as you enter the Conn-Pod. Closing the front shield of your helmet, you immediately turn on open comms, listening as the Marshall and LOCCENT Controller on duty - you think it’s Nainsi - talking Minghao and Junhui through their neural handshake. 

The spine of your Drivesuit connects to the Conn-pod, your heads up display coming to life. You feel the metal whirring and clicking into place, rotating your shoulders and flexing your fingers as your jaeger team finishes connecting Jihoon to the Conn-pod before exciting and shutting the door firmly.

“Storm Breaker ready to drop,” Jihoon announces. 

“Engaging pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence,” Nainsi answers. “Engaging neural handshake in three… two… one…”

It’s like jumping off a cliff into freezing cold water. You feel the flash of cold, vision going white for a split second before you feel Jihoon’s calm flow through you. He’s steady like an icy river, his thoughts, feelings and emotions hidden down in their dark depth where they can’t bother either of you.

You’re like rapids, rushing thoughts and feelings, pouring everything through the drift at him. He takes it in stride, used to the white-capped rush of information he gets from you each time you connect. Jihoon adjusts easily, already hitting buttons on his screen as images from your day flash through your mind - including you watching him make you tea in the kitchen.

Jihoon says nothing about that. He says nothing about the gentle wave of your embarrassment either as Nainsi says, “Neural handshake strong and holding.”

Chan’s voice crackles through comms. “Fang Striker on standby for neural handshake.”

“Copy. Storm Breaker prepare for drop in three… two… one.”

Dropping feels like falling through the core of the earth. For a few moments, it’s a flightless feeling as you fall through the Shatterdome. Then you land, knees absorbing impact as the head of the jaeger falls into the neck socket, locking in.

“Calibrating right side,” Jihoon announces. “Calibrated.”

“Calibrating left side. Calibrated. Ready to engage.” 

Nainsi confirms calibration and directs, “Storm Breaker, take north point defense two miles from the shoreline. Hold that line. Fang Striker, engaging in pilot to pilot connection protocol sequence in three… two… one.” 

You tune out the rest of Fang Striker’s drop as you and Jihoon behind to charge into the bay. The windshield in front of you immediately froths with sea salt and wind, battering down on the jaeger as the night sea surges against Storm Breaker’s legs. You cut through the water like a knife, carving your way toward the defense line as the jumphawk team flies into place. 

“Five minutes until surface breach.” 

“Oh! Hi, Vernon,” you chirp. 

“Sup?”

“Would kill for a coffee right now. And like, a bagel. Or hashbrowns?” 

Vernon groans. “Mood.” 

Jihoon snorts but says nothing. Minghao’s voice comes over the comms, soft and cool. “Blue, everytime I drop with you you’re talking about food.” 

“Have you considered that Ji doesn't feed me?” 

“So it’s Ji now, huh?”

“Don’t get her started,” Jihoon grunts at Minghao’s teasing. “One mile out from the line of defense.”

Chan joins the conversation, voice chipper. “Fang Striker ready to pursue. Also, good morning everyone!” 

Everyone groans in misery collectively instead of greeting him back. Wylie’s voice cracks like a whip as she spits out, “Be nice to him.” 

Everyone greets Chan after that. Jihoon shakes his head, amused. “Fang Striker, escort Emperor’s Mandate to engage. Four minutes until surface breach.” 

Black ocean ripples outward in front of Storm Breaker as you move. You near the defense line, the city lights like a sea of stars at Storm Breaker’s back. Air support circles overhead, monitoring kaiju activity and helping with positioning. You see the spotlights glinting on the surface, waiting for a kaiju to surface. 

To the east of your position, Fang Striker and Emperor’s Mandate cut through the water. Fang Striker’s red paint is violent against the night, but her build is small next to the towering white fury of Minghao and Junhui’s jaeger. 

“Storm Breaker in position,” Jihoon calls. You both stop moving, your jaeger coming to a standstill as the water sloshes around your waist. 

“Standby, Storm Breaker. Kaiju breach in one minute.” 

“Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker in position. Ready to engage.” 

“Engage at your discretion.” 

Comms go silent as the strike team waits for the kaiju to appear. It’s the calm before the storm, the silence pregnant with tension. You feel a tentative brush of Jihoon’s thoughts against you. You turn and glance at him, surprised. 

Jihoon is watching you with a stormy expression, thoughtful. “You thinking about letting me in that big ass head of yours?” You tease, just in your personal comms. 

He smirks and shakes his head, breaking eye contact to look out the front of Storm Breakers cockpit. “Not a chance.” 

It’s a lie. You know it's a lie because you feel it is as sure as you feel your own glittering satisfaction that he’s thinking about it. That Jihoon is considering opening the door for you, even a fraction. 

Your satisfaction only lasts a second as the kaiju breaches the surface in front of Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker. You watch in strained silence as the jumphawk team begins reporting what they can about the makeup of the kaiju.

Emperor’s Mandate engages immediately, their metal saber chain shooting from the right arm and punching through the shoulder of the kaiju. An electromagnetic pulse goes down the chain and it goes taught like a sword as Junhui slices upward, attempting to sever the kaiju’s arm. 

The kaiju lands a hard punch to Emperor’s Mandate in the middle, sending them backward into the ocean as the chain-turned-sword pulls out as they fall. Fang Striker is there before the kaiju can attack again, charging and tackling the kaiju at the waist. She’s not built for heavy fighting, but Chan and Wylie are vicious, clawing at the kaiju with their metal claws. 

“Fang Striker, roll!” Minghao orders. Fang Stricker does, using the kaiju as weight to rock themselves over and under the creature, vanishing beneath the water’s surface as Emperor’s Mandate lands a punch to the kaiju’s back with a plasmacaster, turning the night blue as the sparks flare. “Push and we’ll pull.”

Salt spray mists the windshield as you and Jihoon watch in silence. The kaiju is a massive, hulking beast with spikes down its spine and a nasty club tail that catches Fang Striker in the knees, taking her down. The two jaeger teams work in flawless tandem, punching when the other ducks, tackling with the other falls. 

In a way, it’s beautiful to watch the fury of what a jaeger can do. Your lips twitch upward as the fight starts to go their way, Emperor’s Mandate severing the leg of the monster as Fang Striker pounces on it, sinking both clawed hands into its shoulder blades and tearing through its hide. 

“Storm Breaker-” Vernon’s panicked voice gets cut off as your world turns upside down. 

You feel yourself slam against the restraints of the Conn-pod connecting you to the jaeger. A surprised shriek escapes you as you flip head-over-feet in Storm Breaker, crashing into the ocean with a violent slam. A kaiju raises itself from the water, rearing its head like a cobra as it shrieks, the sound shaking the entire hull. 

“What the fuck?” Jihoon screams over comms. Storm Breaker rolls as the kaiju strikes like a snake, barely missing you as it hits empty water. “Where the fuck did that come from?”

“There was no reading!” Vernon yells back. “The signature appeared a half second before it attacked like it had some sort of stealth mode!” 

“Kaiju don’t have fucking stealth mode, Vernon!”

“Maybe it got an iOS update man, I don’t know!” 

There’s no time to care about why or how a kaiju isn’t appearing on the reporting team’s screen. Whatever level it is, it’s fast. You and Jihoon get to your feet just as it strikes again, fangs striking at the windshield. It doesn’t crack, but the sound of kaiju bone against the glass isn’t promising.

Storm Breaker stumbles back a few steps before regaining footing. You both strike with your right fist, slamming into the neck area of the beast as it winds up to strike again. It looks like a massive cobra, coils and coils of kaiju body gathering each time it tries. 

A shudder vibrates through the jaeger as the punch lands, sending the kaiju back several hundred yards. You don’t give it a moment to recover, both of you charging as you equip short swords perfect for close-combat fighting and slicing. 

“I think it’s too fast to pick up a reading,” you shout over comms. “It moves so quickly!”

Fighting is a careful rhythm. You and Jihoon find it immediately, tuning out the sound of the other fight as you zero in on your target. It doesn’t matter that the kaiju took you by surprise, it doesn’t matter that Jihoon still hasn’t let you in, it doesn’t matter that somewhere, you have other friends in just as much danger.

What matters is this. The feeling of rage that flows from Jihoon - or maybe it’s you - as you both savagely plunge a sword in the serpent body of your enemy. What matters is the way you and Jihoon flow, two rivers with the same curves and dips, sliding around the kaiju as you strike again, spraying ichor into the sea. 

Storm Breaker’s sword extends from the right arm, reflecting the city lights briefly before you cut sideways. The blade slides clean through like a knife through paper. You and Jihoon both scream savagely in unison as the head flies separate from the body, sailing in the air for a moment before crashing into the surface as blood spurts from the main body. 

It flails for a moment longer before crashing under ocean froth and water. Victory surges through you and you look across the Conn-pod where Jihoon is grinning at you, stars in his eyes. You feel a moment of elation, laughter bubbling to your lips as Nainsi recalls you to the Dome, Emperor’s Mandate and Fang Striker standing victorious.

“That’s kill number six?” Jihoon asks, voice delighted. “We’re on a fucking roll.” 

“I guess I’m not so bad a co-pilot after all, right?” He rolls his eyes but you get the feeling the tips of his ears have turned red. “Come on, Ji. Tell me I’m a good co-pilot.”

“No way.”

“Come onnnn.”

He levels a look at you, dark eyes churning. He licks his lips, opening and closing his mouth before he finally murmurs, “Can I show you instead?” 

The left foot of Storm Breaker is yanked from under you. You go down screaming, feeling the impact of the seafloor as you go down in the shallows hard. Pain shoots up your left arm as you slam against the restraints keeping you attached to the Conn-pod. Lights flash in your heads up display and a sensor starts going off, the left arm of the jaeger going dead as it loses connection. 

Jihoon is screaming your name over comms as you grit your teeth, and gather your bearings. You suck in a sharp breath as you both scramble to get Storm Breaker on her feet. “Left arms gone cold,” Jihoon yells over comms. You manage to get Storm Breaker to her feet as you both throw out your right arm, bracing for impact as the kaiju’s head strikes again. “It grew back two fucking heads!” 

“Fang Striker pursuing!” It’s Chan voice over the comms. “Three miles out from contact.” 

One of the heads strikes at the helm again, knocking into Storm Breaker hard. Your world rocks as you shove with the full force of the right side of the jaeger, thrusters turning on as you launch the kaiju and its twin heads backward. 

“How the fuck do we kill this thing?” you screech, charging toward the creature as it slides through the water, coiling to strike again. “If we cut off its head again, it’s just going to grow another.”

“Stab it through the head? I don’t fucking know!”

Snatches of panic and anger and concern seize you for a split second, it feels like your own but you realize it’s not, Jihoon’s feelings bleeding into you like a fresh wound as you strike at the kaiju again. Its tail loops around the left leg again and Jihoon’s worry spikes, so raw and unfamiliar that when he lifts his foot, you don’t lift yours. 

Storm Breaker stalls, filled with mechanic screeching as the two of you clash in the drift in a moment of indecision. A storm of emotions batters down on you. Your lungs squeeze as you feel yourself torn away from the fight and into Jihoon’s memories, each one flitting by so fast you can barely resonate with them. 

A little boy bullied by bigger kids. A woman being torn out of a home screaming in the hand of a kaiju. The sound of Mozart drowning out the screams of destruction. Young Jihoon crying in his room alone, nursing bruised ribs and knees. Teenage Jihoon fighting back. A man named Haneul that has seen all of Jihoon’s scars. 

“... out of alignment!” 

Words crash through you as you feel a tremor go through Storm Breaker. Jihoon’s thoughts are like a hurricane tearing at your foundation. 

Hatred when he meets you for the first time. Pride when he makes his first successful drop. Grief when Haneul retired. Resentment when he’s reassigned to a new pilot. 

Jihoon screams your name but you are drowning in him. Jihoon’s emotional dam has broken and years worth of who he is comes out in a torrent.

Jihoon joins the pilot program because he wants to get away from the home. The smell of books and oil lanterns. Greasy fingers and fumes. A blue mat rushing up to meet him as he falls. 

“Emperor’s Mandate two miles out. Preparing to engage!” 

Bitter coffee. Celebrating Haneul’s birthday. The sting of Chan biting him mid spar. Pretending he didn’t hate his childhood. Hiding the scared little boy behind a controlled exterior. 

“She’s chasing the rabbit!” 

Chasing the rabbit. You hear the word and vaguely realize you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole of Jihoon’s memories and emotions, completely unused to them in a space where you’re connected intimately. You try to gather your bearings, shutting down the images flashing across your mind that don’t belong to you as Storm Breaker gets rocked again. 

“Shit,” Jihoon swears. “Blue, come on. Come back to me. I’m sorry. Don’t chase my memories!”

A kite against a blue sky. Two paper boats on a lake. Your smile as you hang upside down off the bunk bed. Soonyoung giving Jihoon a birthday cake. Wylie in a hospital bed. Jeonghan and Joshua accepting pilots of the year. 

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon whispers, both in your mind and outloud. “Come back.”

You can do this. You can withstand the storm of Jihoon’s consciousness. You shake him out of your head, sorting out your thoughts and his. It’s nearly impossible to understand where you end and he begins, but you manage to hold back the wake of his uncontrolled consciousness.

Blinking, you come back to the present. There are lights and warnings going off as Storm Breaker takes another strike from the kaiju. Fang Striker is taking on its other head, the kaiju splitting focus between two jaeger teams as it tries to split open the top of your jaeger. Wylie and Chan are yelling in comms and Emperor’s Mandate is in pursuit to help you disengage. 

The left arm of your jaeger is still cold, totally disconnected from the rest of the machinery. You run through a list of fighting options with one arm down. The right side of the jaeger is fitted with a sword, explosive and a plasma caster in the first of the hand. But the jaeger overall- 

“Light it up,” you tell Jihoon. His relief crashing into you like a tidal wave. He understands what you want to do immediately. You feel his agreement rather than see it as you both start to tap controls on your control panels. “Fang Striker, prepare for lighting strike!” 

“Fry this motherfucker!” Wylie screams. “I fucking hate snakes!”

The nuclear reactor at the core of your jaeger starts to charge. From the top down, your jaeger begins to power down, lights flickering out and screens going dead. Your heart hammers as the kaiju slams into the head of the jaeger over and over again, trying to crack the helm wide open. Storm Breaker takes the savage blows as all but the nuclear core shuts off.

A low hum begins to sound at the heart of the machine. You feel the vibration tingle in your spine as all of the energy flow focuses in the center of the jaeger, slowly charging and pulling electricity from everywhere else. It’s a slow process, the kaiju beating down on you as the core winds up. 

“Fuck,” Jihoon swears at a particularly harsh strike. “This fucking bitch!”

“We’ve got it,” you tell him. You look across the Conn-pod at him, his face pale behind the shield of his helmet. “She’s not going to break, Ji.” 

You feel your words resonate in him. His affection is startling. He hides nothing from you now, every thought he’s ever had of you, every moment his eyes lingered on you too, every second he realized he didn’t dislike you at all - it’s all there for you to see. His soul laid bare. 

“She’s ready!” Your smile is like the sun. “Light her up!” 

Jihoon hits a button on his panel and the air turns to static. A ripple of energy passes through you, only lasting a split second before a bolt of white lightning explodes from the center of the jaeger. The world turns white, forcing you to shield your eyes as you hear the crack of deafening thunder. 

Ears ringing, you lower your hand as the light fades, blue sparks of electricity zapping across the ocean in a mile-wide radius. Smoking, the kaiju falls backwards, ocean spraying up on either side as it hits the surface of the sea. You can barely hear Fang Striker over the sound of the high-pitched whine in your ears.

You wait, but the kaiju doesn’t rise again. The jumphawk team circles above, waiting for another kaiju signature, but none comes. 

Sagging in your Conn-pod, you glance over at Jihoon. “Does that count as one or two kills? I’m so fucking over monster fighting today. I want a goddamn grilled cheese.”

-

Jihoon is a wreck. Not only does he visibly hover near your medical bed as the attending medic tends to your arm, ensuring it’s not broken, but you can still feel him like he’s attached to you in the drift. His concern is touching, but there’s also anger there. Not at you but at himself, boiling under the surface of his newfound worry. 

“So she’ll be okay?” he clarifies again, looking at the doctor with a hard stare. The man tending to your arm looks nervous under the sharp gaze of a jaeger pilot. “You’re sure it’s not broken? It better not be broken.”

“Jihoon,” you say gently. He crosses his arms over his chest, not taking his eyes off the doctor as he stares him down. “I’m fine. It’s just some bruising.”

“Just some bruising. Your arm practically fell off.”

“It did not. Let the doctor finish, Ji.”

He softens, turning to sit on an empty cot as he sulks. You watch him with muted amusement. His bottom lip juts out slightly, put out by you not letting him baby you. Cute, you think. 

Thankfully, the arm isn’t damaged. You’d bruised it pretty severely when Storm Breaker went down and you slammed against your restraints, but otherwise you’re unharmed. Some pain meds, ice and rest should do the trick, so you and Jihoon leave the medical bay with the doctor’s advice in hand and Jihoon muttering under his breath.

Back in your room, Jihoon sits you on his bottom bunk to examine the arm himself, holding you carefully as though he can break you at any moment. You let him have this, watching as his eyebrows crease and mouth twists while he rotates your arm delicately.

He has pretty hands. You’ve always thought so, but now you watch his slender fingers brush over your sore arm with care, feeling a shiver threaten the base of your spine. 

“You should ask for a reassignment.” Jihoon’s words land like a brick. You look up at him, eyes flashing with confusion. “I nearly killed you today. It was unprofessional and shameful as your co-pilot to knock you out of alignment like that. You don’t deserve that.”

“It happens, Jihoon. Fighting in a jaeger isn’t always perfect.”

“Well I am. And today I wasn’t. Request a new pilot, the Marshall will understand. People don’t last with me, it’ll be no risk to you.”

“I’m not requesting a new pilot. You’re who I want to drift with.”

He starts to pace. “Why? I’m obviously still that scared little boy who used to hide in his room alone.” 

Even without having felt his emotions in the drift, Jihoon makes so much more sense to you now. You reach out to him, taking him by the arms to stop his pacing. He won’t look at you, averting his eyes elsewhere. Your heart squeezes knowing that the reason Jihoon kept you out is because he didn’t want you to see who he was before he was the controlled, perfect jaeger pilot. 

“You’re not, Jihoon.” You squeeze his arm to emphasize your words. “But even if you were, I trust that little boy too. He was empathetic and kind.” Jihoon glances at you, unsure. “Don’t run away from me now that you’ve let me in. I’ve seen you and I still want you. Unless you don’t want me.”

“Of course I do.”

“It’s hard to tell with you, you know?”

His gaze drops down to your mouth. “I’ll show you, then.” 

Without another word, Jihoon grabs you by the waist and pulls you to him fully. Your arms slip around his neck, holding onto him for balance as he crashes his mouth to yours. His lips are warm and soft in contrast to the ferocity he kisses you with, fingers digging into your hips, mouth hungry. 

You meet him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in the long hair at the nape of his neck. He grunts when your nails scratch against his scalp, biting into your lower lip. He presses his tongue to the seam of your mouth and you let him in, sighing as his tongue brushes against yours, eager to taste you.

Kissing Jihoon is like standing in the eye of a storm. He’s brutal and calm, sharp and soft. His heart beats against yours, his chest heaving when he pulls away from your mouth to press wet kisses to the shape of your jaw and down your throat.

One of Jihoon’s hands slides up your back, fingers dancing along your spine until he reaches the base of your neck. He grabs you firmly, pulling your head back to give him better access to the softness of your throat. You let out a breathy sound and he groans low in his throat. 

“Don’t make that sound,” he whispers, biting your neck gently and chasing the sting with his tongue. “I’ll fucking crumble.” 

“So crumble.” 

“Fuck.”

Jihoon starts pushing you backward, your steps a tangle of feet. It might be the most uncoordinated the two of you have ever been, caught up in the heat of each other’s mouths as he kisses you feverishly again. It’s messy and spit-slicked, making you light headed. Your knees hit his bottom bunk and you crash backward, Jihoon on top of you. 

Your hands seek the warmth of his skin, sliding under the hem of his shirt over his flexing stomach to his firm chest. He lets you rake your nails across him as he settles on top of you, his hands planted on either side of your head and a knee slotted between your legs. 

Having him this close is everything. Months of not being able to have him entirely or the way you want has made you ravenous for him. You pull at his shirt, nipping at his lip and whining. He laughs darkly, leaning up from you to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up over his head. 

He lets you do what you want, content to let you run your fingers over the ridges of his stomach, the narrow shape of his waist, the firmness of his chest. He dives back down to attach his mouth to your collarbone, pulling the neckline of your shirt out of the way for access.

“Just take it off,” you complain, shivering as he continues his assault.

“Mmmf - difficult.”

This is not the composed Jihoon you’re used to. This is the raw, unedited version of him you’ve been begging to see. This is the storm letting loose because he knows you can take it - want to take it.

Jihoon does get tired of your shirt, growling as he grabs it firmly and tears it up and over your head. You laugh as he does, loving the way he scowls and presses you back down, biting your jaw as he does. He palms your tits over your bra, pinching your nipples through the fabric. You squeal and arch into him, head pressing into the mattress.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he huffs, mouth trailing butterfly-soft kisses toward your chest. 

“Sensitive?” you jest, dropping a hand between your bodies to press against the front of his pants. He hisses, hips twitching as you press against his cock. You grin wickedly as he pants raggedly against your skin, letting you squeeze him. “Yeah, you are.” 

Jihoon drags his knee up the bed, pressing between your legs. A bolt of pleasure surges through you and you whimper, making him smirk against your chest. “What was that?” 

“Nothing.”

He drops a hand down to your waist, squeezing. “Didn’t sound like nothing. Come on,” he urges. “You know you want to.” 

So you do. You roll your hips forward, pressing your clothed cunt against his thigh. The layers of clothes block too much of the sensation and you press harder, desperate for stimulation. A whine drips from your mouth as you grow frustrated. You feel the curve of Jihoon’s smile against the curve of your left breast as he places a wet kiss there. 

“Having a hard time?”

“Jihoon.”

One hand stays fixed on your hips, urging you to continue to grind into him despite it not being enough. The other slides up your front, his fingers light as feathers. He hooks a finger in the cup of your bra and pulls downward. He drags his mouth downward, giving your nipple a playful flick with his tongue. 

“Jihoon.” 

He hums thoughtfully, circling your pert bud with his tongue. A tremor goes through you and you squeeze your eyes shut. He closes his mouth on you and sucks gently, making you gasp. You continue to roll your hips into him as he scrapes his teeth against you gently. 

Cool air hits your spit-slicked chest as he kisses sloppily over to your other breast, repeating his ministrations. It feels so good you feel like you’re going to lose your mind. His skin is hot against yours and you’re desperate to feel more of him, hands pulling at his shoulders as he sucks wet marks into your chest. 

“More,” you whisper. “God, please more.” 

He knows what you mean when you say more because of course he does. He rids you of your bra entirely, throwing it somewhere else in the room. He works the buttons on your pants next, deft fingers moving quickly before tugging them down your thighs. He lets you pull his cargos down and throw them, but it’s as far as you get before he’s lavishing attention to your tits again. 

“Try now,” he pants. 

His knee is pressed right against the apex of your thighs. You don’t care that he can feel the damp cloth against his skin. You slow grind on his knee, feeling the pressure infinitely better with just a thin layer of underwear between you. A sigh of relief escapes you and he grunts, pleased as you keep going, thighs shaking. 

You could drown in him and not care. He smells like spearmint and soap, his hair soft as silk as it slides between your fingers. He gives a sound of approval everytime you card your hands through his hair, especially when he gives you a sharp bite and you tug. 

A tingle settles in the depth of your stomach. You feel like you could almost come this way, getting off with just his leg between your thighs and his mouth sucking greedily at your tits. You feel yourself tighten, hips pressing further but it’s not quite enough.

He reads you like a book. Jihoon slides his knee back and replaces it with his hand, fingers delicately pressing against your clit. It makes you see stars, going rigid in his grasp as he gently circles it a few times before dragging his fingers back down to press at your core through your underwear. 

“So god damn wet,” he lets go of your nipple with a pop. He hooks a finger through your underwear and pulls them to the side, his knuckles brushing your sticky folds. “So pretty for me.” 

His compliment makes you shy. You hide your face behind your hands and he laughs darkly, letting you. He’s already seen all of you in the drift, but this is different. More personal. Real. 

The press of a finger into your cunt is slow and maddening. You immediately want more, desperate for it. He doesn’t give it to you right away, taking his time as he busies his mouth with your chest and neck, content to finger fuck you at a leisurely pace. 

When he hooks his finger and presses right into that soft spot, you seize up. He grins, finding exactly what he was looking for. His mouth catches yours again, a tangle of tongue and teeth as he presses another finger in. You squirm against the mattresses, pinned under his weight. The heel of his hand presses into your clit, adding pressure as he strokes your front walls rhythmically. 

You’re greedy for him. You suck his tongue into your mouth and he moans, letting you do what you want. The wet squelch of his hand between your legs only spurs you on, his name dripping from your lips in a whine as you cling to him, feeling the start of your orgasm.

Jihoon knows it’s coming. His pace is more intent and he shuffles up the bed to get a better angle. Your toes curl and you writhe against the sheets, feeling the way they stick to your balmy skin as he works you closer and closer to an orgasm. 

He presses a soft kiss under your ear, chaste compared to the mess he makes of your cunt. “Come on,” his voice is husky and gentle. “Let go for me.”

It’s his for me that sends you over the edge. Your legs squeeze around his hand but he keeps at it, pressing tender kisses to your collarbones as you twitch under his touch. Your orgasm starts to wane and turn into overstimulation, your panting turning into whimpering, nails digging into the back of his neck, unsure if you’re trying to push him away or keep him there.

Jihoon retracts his hand slowly. You feel the way you drip down the curve of your ass as you pant, staring up at the bottom of your bunk trying to gulp down air. He nudges his nose against your jaw, bringing your attention back to the present as his dark eyes look up at you.

Your voice comes out rough from use. “Want you.”

The corner of his mouth lifts and he nods, lifting himself off you to let you peel your underwear the rest of the way down as he works his briefs down his thighs. You let out a squeak when you look up to see him using the cum on his fingers to stroke himself, head tilted back a little, eyes heavy. 

“What?” he murmurs, dropping his gaze down to you. His eyes are fucked out just from getting you off and it drives you insane, this visual of him blotchy with warmth, hair sticking to his forehead.

“You’re so hot,” you blurt and he pauses, raising a brow at you. “Don’t stop.” 

“You like when I touch myself in front of you?” You nod, chewing on your lip as you stare. He grins and starts stroking himself slowly again, squeezing his flushed tip as he does, beads of precum dripping over the edge. “I’ll give you a show later. If I don’t fuck you in the next five minutes I will nut in my hand.” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t hate it.” 

“Oh? You want me to cum in my hand instead of that pretty pussy?” You purse your lips, staring back at him with a pout. “Didn’t think so.” He laughs and shuffles on his knees toward you, shaking his head and groaning when your legs fall open automatically for him, revealing the mess he’s made. “Can’t believe I made myself wait for this.” 

“How stupid of you.”

Your stomach flutters when Jihoon lowers himself, cockhead pressing at your entrance. You ache for him - in more ways than one. Jihoon feels it too, hanging his head and letting his hair cascade around his face like a silvery halo as he slowly presses in. 

His name falls from your mouth as you gasp, feeling the pressure of him as he sinks into your cunt slowly. You feel full and overwhelmed and perfect all at once, a myriad of feelings peppering your senses until he’s fully sheathed to the hilt. 

Jihoon’s breathing is ragged for a moment as you clench around him, throbbing. He sucks in air sharply between his teeth, one hand going to your hip to press you into the mattress while the other lands next to your head, bearing his weight. 

“Thank you for waiting for me.” You almost don’t hear him when he says it, his voice so soft. “When you didn’t have to.”

Your arms loop around his neck, pulling him closer. His nose brushes against yours and you feel your adoration for him grow. “Of course I did. You were meant for me.” 

Prompted by your words, he nods and pulls his hips back slowly. The glide is easy with how wet you are. He thrusts back in with a hard snap, stealing your breath. The ability to string together coherent words vanishes as Jihoon sets a punctuated space. 

“Fuck,” you whisper. 

Fuck is right. Jihoon angles his hips perfectly, kissing your spot with each thrust with a deadly precision you’ve only seen in battle. Of course he fucks like he fights with absolute accuracy, driving you right toward an orgasm within a few minutes. Your fingers tangle in your hair, mouth pressed against his forehead where it rests against you. 

His hand slides from your hips to your thigh, slipping under it and hiking it upward. It deepens the angle and you let out a loud sound, unable to catch your breath as sparks fly behind your eyelids.

“Holy shit, like that.” You’re a mess under him and he knows it, driving his hips faster as you continue to fall apart. “Fuck fuck fuck fuck.”

“Yeah?” he asks, almost taunting. “Gonna come like this?”

“Yes, please don’t stop.”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going, driving you to the edge until you’re coming around him with enough force to knock heads with him. He mumbles something that sound like ouch but you’re too far gone, squeezing the fucking life out of him as you come before going boneless. 

Jihoon pulls out and flips you, your world spinning as you land face first in his pillows. They smell like him and you love it, sliding your hands up to grip at the pillows as he drags your knees up, ass toward him. Sweat slicks your back and you try to take in a few ragged breaths, turning your head to the side to watch him sidelong. 

His dark eyes dip to your ass and he curses, shifting backward so that he can lean down, hands prying your thighs apart to make way for his tongue as it slides up your pussy. 

“Oh shit,” you wheeze. 

He practically purrs against you, tongue licking slowly back and forth. The grip on his pillows tightens, one of your hands shooting back to grab his hair, holding him to you. He laughs, the vibration going straight through you as he sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over it. 

“I love when you pull my hair,” he admits, panting as he takes a breath. 

His tongue dives back in, pressing against your clenching hole. It is maddening the way he works you with his mouth. You feel like you’re coasting to another high. He knows exactly what to do, knows when to slow down, knows when to speed up. Jihoon has had access to you for months and it shows, navigating your body like it’s second nature to him.

“I’m gonna come again.” It comes out as a whine, fingers twisting in his locks. “Shit.”

“So come again.” 

You do. It’s not as hard as the first one but it’s just as good, your orgasm shivering through you. Warmth floods you and you bite into his pillow, muting the loud sound that spills from your lips. 

Jihoon doesn’t give you a second to recover before he’s up on his knees and pushing back into you. His hand cracks across your ass and you let out a startled yelp, earning laughter from both of you. Spent and delirious, your hand finds purchase on his wrist, holding on to him as he fucks you fast and hard. 

He lets go of where he holds your hip to lace your fingers instead, pressing your linked fingers against the curve of your ass as he drills his hips forward. Somehow the hand holding is more intimate, your throat screwing shut as Jihoon chases after his own high.

With a muted murmur of your name, he comes. His thrusts turn messy, each press of his hips against your ass met with a wet sound. You don’t even care about the slick running down your legs, absolutely spent and sweaty and tired and a little in love with the man behind you.

Slowly, he lets go of your hand. You drop your arm to the mattress, suddenly aware of the ache in your shoulder at the angle. Instead of pulling out, Jihoon leans forward, pressing his sweaty chest to your back, mouth brushing softly against your shoulders. 

“Thank you.” 

You’re so close to sleep that you barely register what he’s saying. “For what?”

“Withstanding the storm,” he laughs. “Withstanding me and waiting me out.”

“You’re worth it.”

“I hope so. I want to be.” 

With care, he detangles himself from you. You make a pitiful sound and he tuts at you, rolling you over on your back so that he can see your face. His eyes swim with more affection than you’ve ever seen, kick starting your heart. You lift a hand and tuck his bangs behind his ear, fingers lingering to brush across his cheek.

“So I’m kind of like your Storm Breaker, right?” 

He groans. “Don’t start.”

“What? You literally just said I withstood the storm or whatever.” 

“Come on, we’re showering.” 

“No way, I am not moving right now.”

“You are not sleeping covered in cum.”

“Ji,” you whine. 

He grins and kisses your head, getting out of bed. “Come on then, storm breaker. Withstand me a little more.” 

-

Also in this Universe: Cherry Bomb by @daechwitatamic

-

TAG LIST:

@ourkivee @tie-nn @cookiearmy @thesunsfullmoon @stray-bi-kids

@ldysmfrst @thepoopdokyeomtouched @avochele @kwonshiho

*If you requested a tag but don't see it here, it did not let me tag you!

《Looks innocent but actually ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)》

[Svt Woozi, R18 oneshot]

Pairing: Switch!Woozi x Fem!reader

Note: Image(s) is not mine and credit goes to its original owner.

Summary: Ever heard of the saying, "Don't judge a book by its cover"? Your seemingly innocent friend paid a visit to your house to hang out, just the two of you alone. Nothing will happen...after all, he's so innocent. At least, that's what you thought.

"Wow-your room is quite big, y/n." Woozi followed after you into your room. You had invited your friend, Woozi, to hang out at your house. Initially, you hesitated to let a man into your home, but...

"Your bed looks so soft. Can I lie down?" Woozi asked you with big doe eyes. (Though he is a man, but look at him, he's more like a innocent child. OF course, nothing will happen.) You sat down on your bed and patted the space next to you.

"Hooray!" He cheered. "Your bed is so soft and it feels good." He sighed in contention and rolled around your bed.

"I wish I have a bed like yours." He pouted. You chuckled at his childish act. How can he look so adorable? Indeed, how can someone look so sweet, cute and little? You just want to spoil him and...mess him up. (Woah, woah, woah, what am I doing?! Did I just think that about my friend?)

"Oh-I'm sorry! I shouldn't mess up your bed-um...y/n?" He stopped his sentence mid-air and looked at you with concern. (Look at him being so worried. Isn't he the sweetest little guy?)

You pictured in your mind his silky black hair, big smile, quiet personality yet he's always helpful when others need it. "...y/n?" He asked again. Your eyes scrutinized him from the top of his head to his toes, then moved up again, only to stop at his plump lips. Your face inched closer to his, catching him off guard. You put your palm on his cheek and rubbed your other hand on his stomach.

"Y/n! W-wait!" Your hand got dangerously low at one point. "This is no good!"

You puled him towards you where your front was against his. "Please stop!" You bit his lip and he gasped a little as you snuck in your tongue. You had one hair in his hair then the other one snaked down and grabbed his butt. "W-wait... stop-stop!" He moaned into the kiss, went forward a bit and his cock kept poking at the zipper of his trousers. You put your legs around his waist, grinding him, harshly.

"Y/n!" At this point, Woozi was painfully hard. You 'accidentally' palmed him and he let out an aggressive moan. You palmed him until he reached his climax. You were about to give him a blowjob but he stopped you.

"I already said stop, y/n." The innocent look was wiped off his face and replaced with a playful one instead. "Are you that horny?"

"Don't blame me for whatever happens, y/n." Was all he said before all clothes were off and you knew you're in for big trouble. He kissed you as his cock rubbed against your pussy. He dangled two fingers in your face. You knew what you needed to do, you sucked on them in the most seductive way possible. You're guessing it turned him on as you felt his cock get even harder.

He kissed you again and stuck a finger in you. His fingers were long and thick, the finger drawing circles inside your core causing you to whine a bit.

"Feels good...put in more." Woozi grunted at your request and put in more. You weren't expecting the extra finger, making your legs give out a little. He started spreading his fingers and eventually hit the deepest part of you. You moaned into the kiss as you were melting into his warm touch.

Suddenly, he took his fingers out and you whined at the lost pleasure. He then made you face the wall as you put your hands against the wall. He sucked on your shoulders while pumping his cock quickly, getting ready to go inside of you. You whimpered as he teased a bit at your entrance before pushing all the way in.

"Such a good pussy you have." You internally smiled at the compliment. He gave you hickeys on your neck to distract you from the temporary pain. Soon, it was pleasure. He started moving and rubbing circles on your clit with his finger. He then slowed down his pace to tease you and prevent you from reaching your high. You pouted, "stop teasing me, Woozi!"

"Looks like someone can't wait any longer." He began slamming his cock into your pussy, you got shivers down your spine and you moaned extremely loud. He kept going for a while, his eyes half-opened, you screaming his name out loud. Then we came twice and he laid down on the bed as he was exhausted. However, you had a high sex drive. So you sat back on his cock, taking a few seconds to adjust to his size.

Before long, you bounced up and down on his cock, hitting just the right spot. He was gripping your hips for stability and helped you keep going after we came multiple times. After trying 4 more positions and coming multiple times, both of you decided to call it a day. We both were breathing heavily and could barely stand up. Specially you.

Woozi looked at you and chuckled, "not so innocent anymore, am I?"

You hit him in the shoulder, "stop bringing that up! I didn't know you had this side to you."

"Don't judge a book by its cover, y/n." He winked.

~The end~

Ridiculous - Woozi

fluff - wc, 1017 idol!woozi x gn!reader NOT PROOFREAD

"Jihoon-a~" you call out in a sickeningly sweet voice as you drape yourself unceremoniously across the white couch in the studio.

Woozi scoffs at the nickname and tone before turning around in his chair to look at you, hands stilling but remaining on the keyboard. "Yes?"

"I just have a question...BUT I need you to entertain it! Don't just tell me I'm being ridiculous or something."

"Depends on what-"

"Jihoon."

"Okay okay, fine" he drags out the word in exasperation but his smile tells you a different story. His ears are all yours and a smile spreads across his face, ready to "entertain" whatever you want.

His eyes follow you as you traipse slowly around the room, avoiding his tracking gaze. "Hoon, why don't you ever write any songs about me?", you fiddle with the hem of your shirt not daring to look up at him as you finish your query.

His face scrunches up in bewilderment that YOU would even "entertain" this thought. You look up due to the initial silence and can't help but giggle. Woozi gets up and goes through what might've been the 5 stages of grief, getting ready to say something in retaliation with his hands raised in the air but biting his tongue. If Bumzu walked in right now it might've looked like an argument honestly.

Finally, after minutes of Jihoon daring to let something spill, he calms himself with a deep breath and returns to his computer chair resting his hands behind his head. He's trying his best to keep composure but he can't help but scoff at the mere thought of what you just said, a smirk evident on his face.

"What do you mean y/n?" he postures a very fake smile on himself.

"Stop it~" you whine as you curl up on the couch, looking towards him with puppy-dog eyes.

"No, I'm genuinely asking, what do you mean?" his attitude quickly changes from baffled to curious.

"I know what you're thinking Jihoon! You think it's-"

"-Ridiculous? Well, yes!"

"I told you to entertain me in my thought!"

"And I am, I just want to know what you mean, babe." he's up again and making his way towards you. Arms wrapping around you in your balled-up state.

You look at him with these eyes that just make him completely melt. "You've just never dedicated a song to me...not that you have to! Especially, not publicly. But I don't know...it was just a passing question I had."

Grabbing you by the shoulders to look at him, he takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully.

"Y/n, there is no other way to say this...but all my songs are for you." you think he's mocking you, head immediately slumping and eyes rolling before he's shaking you back to reality; Forcing you to look at him again.

"I mean it! And now I might sound ridiculous in saying this but every single song that even mentions love has been for you. And yeah, maybe I didn't know you when initially writing all those songs but that doesn't matter. I've loved you since before I even knew you and my songs are a testament to that." the forwardness comes as a surprise and you're about to tell him that he doesn't need to continue but he goes on, his voice full of a confidence you can't stop.

"Seriously, it's all for you. It always has been. The moment I met you it was decided, y/n. And I know that I don't express it often but it's true and I need you to know that you mean as much to me as all the songs I've written." he's starting to get aggravated over the subject now, getting up and making large gestures with his arms.

"If you ever have any doubts, ESPECIALLY OVER SONGS, tell me! Because, oh-ho-boy, I would write like a million to show you just-"

"Jihoon..."

"-how much you mean to me. Love literally overflows from me because of you-"

"Ji."

"-you could run me over with a car and I would still have several songs to write about how you looked in the driver's seat-"

"Jihoon!" it's your turn to look at him with bewilderment. He stares at you, ready to continue his rant and rather upset that you wouldn't let him continue. "I think I get it hoon-a." a coy smile comes from you from all the compliments (?). He's shaking his head as his arms open up to embrace you once again.

"Please, y/n, never ever question my dedication to you. Makes me feel like a bad boyfriend or something..." you can feel the pout in his tone and although he doesn't often initiate kisses he leaves a chaste peck on the corner of your lips.

"Oh no Jihoon, I never thought you were a bad boyfriend!" You cup his face in your palms. "It was just a question-"

"I know but still!" you just have to chuckle at the fact that he's still a bit upset over it. "It never even crossed my mind that you would feel some type of way over that stuff." he's burying himself in your neck now; Instinctually you're patting his head.

"Hey, it's okay, hoon! You've explained to me, in all but too much detail, how it's all for me~" you tease.

His expression drops to deadpan within a second and he's retreating back to his computer. You catch him by the sleeve and pull him back into another hug while laughing loudly.

He sighs into you, allowing whatever took over him to wash off as your laughter reminds him that this isn't an argument.

"Y'know I can dedicate-"

"It's okay baby, it's fine." you reassure him.

Weeks go by and every now and again, whenever you're in the studio, Woozi lets you listen to some of the stuff he's working on. You don't notice it but he makes an effort to tell you that he thought of you while making some of them. His little acts of devotion and dedication to you.

{If you're interested in being on the Taglist for my Seventeen works please let me know!! Requests are open!}

{A/N: A little something to tide over until Saturday and I thought it was well past time to write something about my ult-bias. It was tougher than I expected ngl. Been a carat for, what, like 8 years now and I've stuck by Uji's side the entire ride. Crazy to see the growth tbh. He's so expressive and I don't think my man gets the credit he deserves when it comes to being a talkative member. Bro's always up in the mix. Anyway, please like, reblog, and comment if you enjoyed!! It encourages me so much tbh. Love ya!}

❖ i am all of you // lee jihoon

woozi x gn!reader, 1.7k+ words

tags: requested by @mirxzii, established relationship, producer!woozi, scriptwriter!yn, hurt/comfort

warnings: pet names (babe, darling), food mention

summary: on the days you feel exhausted, lost to the clouds of fear and fatigue, you wonder whether anything in the world will ever be fine again. not to worry, though. because jihoon always finds you, and he brings you home.

Jihoon kind of misses you. 

Okay, that's a lie, because he actually misses you a lot, because even though you're right here and you say hello to him in the morning and you eat your meals together and you say “I love you” to him at night, you're still not… here. 

You get like this, sometimes, where you're all stuck in your head and he can't get you out. Anything he says doesn't seem to register, not really, because you'll hum in response before drifting away again to somewhere he can't reach. 

“Y/N?”

Jihoon knocks on your door, gentle. You emerged from your room to have breakfast, but you've been stuck inside ever since, and, well. It's like he said. 

He kind of misses you a lot. 

“Jihoon?”

“Are you okay in there?” he asks. “Just checking up on you, babe. I haven't heard from you in a while.”

“I'm okay,” you say back, and even though you're only on the other side of the door, you sound distant. “I'm just tired, that's all.”

He hums, sceptical. “Are you sure? Can I come in?”

“I don't see why not,” you say, and he opens the door and cautiously peers inside. 

You’re lying in bed, pillows propped up behind your head, quite literally doing nothing other than staring emptily up at the ceiling. When Jihoon enters the room, you look over in response to the sound and wave at him from the bed looking confused but also very, very exhausted, and something in his heart twists sadly.

He walks over to you, leans over, and presses a hand to your forehead. You look up in confusion, going a little cross-eyed as you try to see his hand on your head. 

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for a fever,” Jihoon responds matter-of-factly. He takes his hand away, presses it against his own forehead before feeling yours once again. 

“Hey, hey, I'm fine,” you say, waving his hand away. “I'm not sick.”

“Then why are you in bed?” he says. “It's so sunny today, Y/N. Normally, you'd be the one pestering me to get out of bed so we can go on those walks that you love so much. What's wrong, Y/N? Can you please tell me what's wrong?”

You fall silent, looking away. 

See, he thinks he kind of knows what's wrong. 

Not the exact reason, of course, but he knows that you're getting this tired and withdrawn from him because there's something in your life that's making you overwhelmed. Whether it's a situation that's happened or something you fear will happen in the future, if it scares you enough then you'll end up retreating in this way. 

Jihoon knows it's your way of coping when things get too much, but it frustrates him, because all he wants to do is take care of you but you won't let him in. 

“Please,” he says. Gently, simply. “Can you tell me what's wrong so that I can help?”

So he asks. He asks, and waits so, so patiently, silently begging you to please let him in. 

You slowly shake your head. 

“Nothing's wrong,” you say, and then shrug, like everything's fine. “I just need to take a nap.”

“I had to wake you up at noon for breakfast, today,” Jihoon points out, frowning. “And it's four in the afternoon. Why do you need a nap?”

You just shake your head again. “I just do.”

He opens his mouth, ready to refute, but you abruptly pull the covers over yourself and bury your head into your pillow again. A clear sign you want to end the conversation. 

“Goodbye, Jihoon,” you say, voice muffled by the sheets, and Jihoon sighs. 

“I'll let you know when dinner is ready, okay?” he says, and you make a soft noise in reply. He looks over at you again, before walking out of your room and closing the door. 

───────────── ⛅

It’s only thirty minutes later that he knocks on your door again.

He can’t help it. You two aren’t exactly the clingiest couple in the world: what with Jihoon’s work and your busy life, you can’t really afford to be so codependent. There have been days where you barely speak to each other, both absorbed in projects that take up all your time and leave you unable to indulge in the typical cuddly affection that other couples take part in.

This is what happens, he supposes, when a music producer and scriptwriter decide to date. Not that he minds, because he loves you, and he knows you love him too, and neither of you mind the lack of physical touch because often, the knowledge of that love is enough.

Just because you’re not the clingiest doesn’t mean that he likes not spending time with you, though.

Especially when you’re right there.

“Y/N? I’m coming in,” he says, and opens the door before you can answer. You’re lying in exactly the same position that he’d left you in, and you look over as the door opens again with a mildly annoyed expression on your face, as if Jihoon was interrupting your very precious time of doing absolutely nothing.

The mild irritation melts into confusion as you spot the things he’s holding. “Why did you bring your laptop with you?”

“Laptop and chocolate,” Jihoon emphasises, holding up the bag of chocolate coins in his other hand as he pushes the door shut with his elbow. “I’m here to do my work. And give you chocolate. Move over, will you?”

You give him a curious look, but still obediently shuffle over in bed so that he can climb in and sit there beside you, back against the headboard, opening up his laptop and immediately clicking on his emails. He doesn’t look at you, seemingly absorbed in answering whatever is sitting in his inbox, the bag of chocolate plopped onto the covers between you two.

“Jihoon?”

Jihoon hums in response.

“What are you doing?”

He glances at you briefly, and pats your head. “Don’t worry. I’m not here to drag you into doing anything. Just pretend I’m not here, okay?” He goes back to his work, and then adds, “Oh, and eat the chocolate.”

You furrow your brow, mystified by his behaviour. This is… weird. You’ve had episodes like this before, where the foreboding lump in your throat joins forces with the anxiety that sits, ice-cold, in your chest, and you end up with a bone-deep exhaustion that leaves you terrified to do anything at all. Every time, Jihoon seems to understand, leaving you to your own devices to work through the fatigue until you feel better. He might bring you soup, or remind you to brush your teeth, but never anything like this.

The soft click-clacking of his keyboard is quite soothing, you’ll admit, but it’s still not quite enough for you to stop teetering on the edge of this crushing exhaustion and finally sleep.

“Jihoon,” you murmur, looking up at him again. “Jihoon, seriously, what are you doing?”

His fingers stop moving, and he looks over at you once more, before looking at the untouched bag of chocolate coins. Wordlessly, he opens it, unwraps one, and presses it against your lips. 

“I’m feeding you chocolate coins,” he says, and something about the deadpan way he says it makes you smile, allowing him to push the chocolate into your mouth. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

“No, I can see that,” you say around a mouthful of sticky, warm sweetness. Hm. Eating it makes the weight in your chest feel a little lighter, actually. “I just…”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow at you, but there’s no unkindness in his expression. He unwraps another chocolate for you, and you dutifully eat it, letting the overwhelming sweetness coat your teeth as you melt it down in your mouth, making the most of the taste.

“What are you doing here, though?” you ask, as your boyfriend deposits the metal wrappers on the bedside table next to him. “Babe, if you’re here to take care of me… it’s okay. I’m fine.”

He looks at you again, and smiles. “Silly. I’m not here to look after you.”

Wait, what?

“You can do whatever you need to do,” Jihoon continues, as he goes back to his laptop and starts click-clacking away again. “Rest, sleep, try to turn yourself invisible, whatever. You do you, darling. I’m just here because I want to spend time with you.”

“Jihoon,” you breathe out, touched. You are certain that there are stars in your eyes. “Jihoon, I love you.”

He chuckles, and finishes sending off the email. He jostles you around in bed for a moment, pulling you close until you’re resting against him, and though the position is uncomfortable, you don’t protest.

“I love you too,” he says, patting your head affectionately. “Now, don’t worry about what I’m doing, alright? Just let me spend time with you.”

Jihoon may pretend otherwise, but he really is soft. He gives and he gives and he gives, always, and that’s what he’s doing right now. He’s giving you all of him, under the pretence that he’s doing this for himself but you know him, know him like the other half of your heart, and your chest squeezes at how gentle he is with you, especially now. When you’re at your most vulnerable.

And instead of getting frustrated at your distance, at how far away you were floating from him, he brings your back down to Earth, pretending it’s all for him but you know, you know that he’s bringing you back to safety for you.

Pressed up against him, leaning into his side, you finally let yourself cry, the hot, stinging tears tracing paths down your cheeks. Jihoon doesn’t say anything, and instead pulls you closer, fingers threading through your hair as you cry quietly against him until you tire yourself out fully and there are no tears left for you to cry anymore. 

It’s kind of cathartic—freeing, the way you let yourself succumb to the exhaustion, comforted by the knowledge that Jihoon is there beside you as your tears die down, and you lie there beside him, taking deep, shaky breaths, heartbeat finally slowing down.

And at last, you close your eyes and sleep.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @bunnyiix @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @sakufilms @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @melodicrabbit

❁ pictures you've taken of your boyfriend, jihoon

More of the boyfriend pictures series

Lee Jihoon  ✶ 𓂃   She got the Ruby

w.c : 3.0 k ┊ synopsis : Lee jihoon accidentally rizzed up a rich woman and successfully gets pegged by her┊ content warning : smut , sub jihoon, pegging , face sitting/oral sex , lowkey sugar mommy dynamic , uji and his ruby red kink (red lips + red heels + red strap)

a/n : thank you for 1k followers !! Also please remember reblogs are more helpful for the blog than just likes so please reblog! Add tags and comments to lemme know how you liked the fic!

The first time Jihoon meets you it's at a bar. He doesn’t drink often, much less goes to a bar, but he’d been having a creative block in his studio for too long and it had got him feeling weary of his own studio and his shitty studio was that last place he wanted to be.

You were sitting alone, and he’d thought he could flirt with you. Not that he really thought he had a chance at all, you looked so gorgeous, dressed up a little too formally for a bar, but gorgeous nonetheless, and all while he was wearing an old stretched tee over ripped jeans, his impulsively bleached hair long and messy. But his pockets were light and a whiskey hit harder than local beer and he wouldn't mind using a stranger to vent.

“Hey, buy me a drink?” He tried, sliding by you. In all honesty Jihoon doesn't know a thing about flirting and picking up (only if he had listened to a bit of Mingyu's bizarre flirting lessons). He was stiff and awkward, his smile tight.

“No, why would I?” You were colder on the inside than what appeared on the surface. 

Jihoon held his hand up, “shit, sorry. I just had to try flirting once, y'know,” he said awkwardly, trying to retreat back.

“Oh,” you say, stopping him in his steps, “I didn't realise you were flirting.”

“You didn’t?” jihoon chuckles, “doesn’t it happen a lot to you? I'd find it hard to believe it if doesn't.”

“It doesn't,” you say, pulling the chair beside you to make space for him to sit. He raises his eyebrows at his own luck and slides into the seat, “what will you drink, then?”

“A whiskey sounds good,” Jihoon smiles, feeling a bit more confident now that you set the bar so low for him. You simply nod at the bartender who pours a neat glass of some expensive looking whiskey. He glances between you and the bartender, and feels the urge to stop you, “hey, that looks expensive, you don’t really have to-”

“Don’t bother the price,” you say, passing the glass to him, “you can continue flirting with me now.”

Jihoon doesn’t, infact, flirt. After just one glass of whiskey, he’s tipsy enough to spill every detail of his miserable life, from his sloppy job as a music artist and producer, to his shitty apartment at the outskirts of the city to his music block and absolute need for new inspiration. 

When Jihoon got a little too drunk, you ordered a cab for him to drop him home. 

He wasn't much of a talker usually, but alcohol in his system always made him a little weird. You had ended up knowing everything about your life. And he knew nothing but your name and the phone number you gave him.

The next morning he woke up with a hangover, still remembering last night. He tried to look up for you, in hopes of finding some social media so he knew a little more of you before he could think of contacting you.

Of everything else, he didn't expect the first thing to pop up would be a Wikipedia of your name. Oh.

Holy shit, did he just flirt with one of the richest business women in all of Korea!

He doesn't contact you after that knowledge, having read everything about you (especially your net worth). The number you gave him was probably fake too. Ugh, he'd probably embarrassed himself in front of you.

He met you again. And again. And again.

He'd learnt that you didn't go to bars often, you were just waiting for a business partner who was supposed to meet you there, only to have cancelled last minute due to his sick wife. 

“I'm glad I waited to finish my drink.” You'd told him, making his ears and neck heat up.

You two were at a musical exhibit, where Jihoon had performed a few of his songs as the opening guest, dressed in the expensive tailored suit you bought him as you yourself dressed in a black bodycon formal dress finished with a blazer, your sleeves rolled up. 

You'd bought him a rare expensive vinyl CD of his favourite Bruno Mars album. 

“I can't take that, it's too costly,” he said. He didn't want you to think that he was friends with you just for your money, because he really wasn't. “Besides, I don't have a vinyl player.”

“I do,” You say nonchalantly, “you can come over and listen to it whenever you like.”

That isn't the only thing you buy for him. Every time he tries to nod you off for it being too expensive or too big for his place, you'd take it to yours. So he had naturally ended up spending a lot of time at your penthouse. It was big and spacious and you'd told him there was enough space to fit in all his musical accessories that he couldn't keep at his own apartment.

He'd come there often after finishing his work at studio. He'd been inspired lately, writing different songs and making new beats every now and then. He'd even send you a few samples for you to review. 

“It sounds amazing,” you'd said as you pulled off his headphones, “what's the title?”

“Haven't thought of it yet. The chorus is still kinda funky. Once I get it the lyrics right, I'll have a title,” he said. 

He often thought his hoodies and electric guitars and the drum set and all the vinyls and vintage albums you bought him didn't fit your house aesthetic. But you never said anything about it.

He's eating dinner with you now at yet another expensive and fancy restaurant you took him to. He thinks you look gorgeous. Really gorgeous. Just out-of-his-league gorgeous. Your silky slip red dress and red lipstick and matching red heals did things to his heart (and dick) he couldn't explain. 

He just wants to bed you so bad. He wants you to fuck him so bad. 

He watches as you order another bottle of champagne for the two of you. He should feel more guilty, he thinks, for taking so much from you. Instead, he feels comfortable and pleased. He's always been the provider and the protector in any of his previous relationships – not that he minded to be the same with you, but it felt good to be taken care of once instead. He feels safe around you, and happy as well, and he's not an easy talk, but you hear him talk whenever he talks too. And he doesn't know what he must have done to get someone as perfect as you in his life.

“Hey, why do you like me,” he'd said impulsively, “why me?”

You could have had anyone you want in this world. Jihoon firmly believed that, with not only your wealth but for how beautiful you were, inside and out. He thinks you don't realise that, but he knows it.

You look up at him, lips opening and closing slightly, before speaking, “would you… like to come home with me tonight?”

Jihoon's back hit the wall as soon as you two reached the bedroom of your penthouse, his lips feverishly kissing yours. You were strong – not stronger than him, but you also made him feel weak. You pinned him against the wall, your one hand holding two of his above his head as the other reached to hold a handful of his hair. 

He'd moan in your mouth every time you'd tug a little too hard. He loved it. He loves how you tower over him in your 4-inches red high heels. He's usually very dominant in bed, but you make him feel so submissive. 

He feels dumbbed out by the kiss when you pull away, panting as you place butterfly kisses over his jaw and neck. “Shit, y/n, I want you so bad,” he whispered against your hair.

“Will you strip for me, baby?”

Jihoon would do anything for you if you call him baby in your sweet, seductive voice. You leave his hands so he can help himself, unbuttoning the silk black shirt (that you bought for him), carelessly pulling them off his shoulders and yanking them off to the floor. He undid his trousers and pulled them down to his thighs, letting gravity do the rest of the work, all while you nibbled over the skin of his neck.

“These too, baby boy,” you said, tapping on his black CK boxer briefs. Shyly, but surely, Jihoon let go of those too, now completely bare in front of you. You looked down at him, your hand ghosting over the curves of his body, making Jihoon shiver. He could feels your stare over his dick, which had gotten half hard already. You rest your hand over his abs, meeting his eyes again, “Shit, you're so pretty, hoon.”

He wanted to say you were prettier, but his voice was stuck in his throat. You pressed another kiss on his lips before taking his hand and bringing him to your bed, making him sit on the edge. You stripped for him next, giving him a full show as you slipped off your dress, your matching black lace lingerie a sight to his eyes. He immediately put his hand to the back of your knee to pull you on the bed on top of him, but you pullled back, chuckling at him.

“Patience, my baby boy.”

Jihoon let out a shaky breath, pulling his hand back to himself as he watched you undo your bra and let it slip down your shoulders and onto the floor. His mouth watered at sight of your breasts, soft and heavy and perfectly shaped. He held himself back from touching you, even as his cock was completely hard against his torso by now. Your panties came down next, and when you bent down to take off your heels, he stopped you by your wrists, “c-can you not take them off yet?” he asked you, then added in a sweeter voice, “please?”

There was a smile on your face. “Of course, anything for my baby.”

Jihoon’s cheeks grew red a little again, and he looked up at you expectantly.

“What do you want, hoonie?” you cooed softly, cupping his cheek in your right hand, brushing a thumb on it slowly.

“I-i want you,” jihoon said shyly, embarrassed at stuttering the way he did. 

You laugh at him. “You want me? You are gonna have to earn it baby.”

You gently guided his face to your crotch, lifting your one leg up on the bed to give him access. For jihoon, it was nothing short of a dream come true, to have his face smushed over the paradise of your pussy. He held your juicy thighs for support, as he licked a stripe between your folds. In return, he felt your grip on his hair tightening, pulling against his scalp. He was lapping you up like a dog after that. You were wet. So wet. And he wanted to drink all of your juices.

You were moaning softly above him as pushed you by your thighs closer to his face, sliding a tongue into your heat as his nose pressed against your clit. He couldnt help but want more. It wasn’t his fault, you had conditioned him to want the best of everything by spoiling him like that. 

“Baby, can you sit on my face?” he asked, looking up at you with hooded eyes, and you nodded in a yes immediately. He let his body fall back on the bed and you scooted over to his head. You were still holding yourself up, trying not to squish his face. But jihoon wanted exactly for you to squish his face down, to be pressed against your pussy till he couldn’t breathe. So he pulled your thighs down so you were sitting on his face like it was a fucking stool.

He heard you gasp a little when his tongue was right back at action. He suckled on your clit a little, not enough to drive you over the edge, but just enough to make you moan above him. He put his tongue back in its place inside your vagina and he suddenly wished he had two tongues so he could simultaneously fuck you with one and play with your clit with the other. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that choice, so he simply settled on performing the best oral he ever has eith only one tongue.

His pace wasn’t too fast, so to make your experience last longer and better, but not so slow it would be annoying for you. It was the perfect pace to get you moaning. When he felt your thighs start to shake a little, he knew you were close. He put his mouth over your clit once again, sucking harder to ride you to your high, until you were wetting his face with your cum. Fuck, he couldn’t believe he made you squirt for his first time.

You scooted back to sit on his chest now, stabilizing yourself after the amazing orgasm jihoon gave you. He rubbed comforting small and warm circles on your thighs, until you were down from you high, looking down at him with a satisfied smile. 

“was I good?”

“So good, baby,” you say, leaning down to kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips. “Gon’ make you feel s’good,” you say against his lips. 

You both reposistion so that jihoon was lying down straight on the bed,his head supported by your pillows as you hovered on top of him, your knees encaging either sides of his hips. You kissed him again, your tongue finding it's way in his mouth, making him gasp, his hands gripping your shoulders with need. 

“Are you sure you want me to fuck you?” You ask gently.

“Yes.” 

“Have you ever done this before?”

“Mh,” Jihoon nods. He usually dominates his way in bed. He's good at it, doing all the work add giving his partners complete pleasure. But he's taken it before, and he can take it now too. He wants to take it. He wants to take you. “I want you so bad, y/n.” 

He doesn't know how you do it, make him feel all weak and submissive for you. He waits patiently as you climb off him to get your strap-on. His palms are sweating and his cock is as hard as it can be as he watched you put on the harness. He didn't think someone could look as elegant and beautiful as you did while putting on a strap on.

The silicon end of the strap was a hot angry red, and matched with the red heels you still wore and your red lips intact from the smudge-proof lipstick makes Jihoon want to moan just looking at you. It's impossible for any being to look as sexy as you did at that moment. When you climbed back on the bed, pulling a lube bottle from the night table, his mouth almost watered at the sight of you.

You got between his legs, pulling his knees to either side of your hips so his ass was raised just enough for you to slip a hand under. You coated your fingers with an adequate amount of lube before circling his puckering hole, slipping in a digit. It made Jihoon arch his back with a moan muffled by his arm covering his mouth. 

He'd cleaned himself before meeting you, but he was still tight. Your fingers were gentle, easing him at a comfortable pace. You leaned back down to his neck, nipping over the skin to mark your territory. You pushed his arm from his mouth, “let me hear you, beautiful.” 

Jihoon was very vocal in bed, more so when he was submissive. Your fingers felt amazing on him. When he eased around one, you pushed another finger in, your hand caressing his thighs comfortingly. 

Your fingers curled inside him, close enough to his prostate, making him whimper your name. You move up again, hungry for his lips, kissing him messily and sloppily as he moans against your mouth. 

“Baby, do you think you're ready yet?” You ask him and he nods positively. Your silicone cock is big, bigger than him probably, but he thinks he could take you now. Besides, he'd like a little stretch of it too.

You smile against his lips, taking out your fingers and coating your cock with more lube. You enter the tip first, watching the man under you press his face into the pillow beside him, his drool sticking out as he moaned, taking the rest of it too. He relaxed around it, giving you a go to move.

You slam your hips against his, earning another loud sound from him. You couldn't care less about making noise, you lived in a penthouse with thick walls. You wanted to hear Jihoon moan and whimper your name, drink in his sweet noises. 

As you accelerated the pace, Jihoon arched his back, whimpering little ah-ah-ah’s, clutching the bedsheets under him you held his thighs up, hosting his right knee on your shoulder to get the perfect angle to get to his prostate every time. 

You loved the way Jihoon fell apart under you. You could tell he was close already, so you take hold of his leaking cock, giving it attention it needed finally. Not long after Jihoon is shooting white ropes all over his stomach, breathing heavily. 

You bend down and kiss the satisfied smile on his lips, slowly exiting him as he relaxed down there. You took a few tissues from the night table and cleaned up Jihoon and yourself lazily before taking off your strap and heels. You lied down beside him, pulling a blanket over the two of you. You didn't need to be told that Jihoon wanted to cuddle, so you slipped on top of him yourself, resting your cheek against his shoulder and wrapping a hand around his waist.

“Felt good, baby?”

“Mm, s’good,” Jihoon sighed, hugging you tighter. Tonight was indeed productive. Not only did Jihoon get fucked up so good after so long, but he was also inspired by you(r red cock) and finally had a name for the track he'd been working on lately: Ruby.

I love you - lee jihoon

(drabble - fluff + slightly suggestive)

Jihoon and you aren't one of the couples who can say I-love-you's easily. You rarely say it in those words in fact. But there are little I-love-you's in the small things you do for each other.

Jihoon knows there is an i-love-you when you stay back at his studio all night long so he doesn't sit alone to complete his work, even when you are really tired.

Jihoon knows there is an i-love-you when you bring him meals so his studio and practices and sometimes even shoot sets to make sure he is eating enough and healthy.

Jihoon knows there is an i-love-you when you hug him comfortingly after he comes home from a long and tiring day, cuddling him and staying in comfortable silence just how he prefers on some nights.

You know there is i-love-you when Jihoon doesn't go to his studio one particular day because you were sleeping soundly on top of him in the morning

You know there is an i-love-you when Jihoon thanks you for every meal you make for him, even when it tastes awful sometimes

You know there is an i-love-you when Jihoon stares at you like you are the prettiest thing in the world, even if you are in messed up hair, bare face and unwashed pajamas.

Sure there are verbal I-love-you's too here and there. Sometimes you exchange wooahae's while texting. It started with you teasing him at first, and then he did it back because he had to, until it became a habit to always say wooahae before ending any text conversation.

You know you always hear Jihoon mumble a small love-you right before he ends calls with you. He always says that, but he's so shy about it. You'd tease him about it, but you're afraid he'll stop saying them, and it's too cute to be stopped like that.

He softly whispers an I love you while getting down from his orgasmic high, slumping on the bed beside you. It's always when he takes you properly and romantically in bed instead of studio quickies. There are more feelings to it when he's fucking you in bed, the way he holds your hand, mumbles soft praises for you. And then ends with a small confession of his love in your ear. You kiss him, usually, mumbling an i-love-you-too into his lips.

But other than that, it's rare for you two to actually say I love you to each other, just like that.

When you say though, it's more magical between you two. Maybe that's what makes it special, and both of you still blush about it years into your relationship.

It happens on your anniversary, when Jihoon takes hold of your hand gently and kisses your knuckles, telling you how much he loves you.

It happens when you were coming back from a trip to the ice cream parlour late night, stopping in the street to gaze up ah the beautiful stars. You look at his pretty face, and tell him how much you love him, and even when you can't see so well in dark, you know his neck is reddening.

He tells you that he loves you ever so softly when you sleep beside him, in your barest and trust form, only gently wrapping your arm over his torso. He hugs you closer and kisses your forehead and mumbles it again, and cherished the moment when you cuddles back to him, asleep and unaware of his confession.

Whether in words or action, you two always let the other know of how much love you have.

lee jihoon ✶ 𓂃   hotboxed sweet chick

w.c : 1.2 k ┊ synopsis : you and jihoon ride jihoon after getting stoned in your car. that's it, that's the fic.┊ content warning : smut , no implied relationship, , unprotected sex (wrap the willy guys), coming untouched (f), slight oral (m), use of substance (weed), hotboxing car, stoned sex a/n : mdni !! i have never touched weed so thnx to @junkissed and @yoonguurt for describing some of it to me so I can write it more accurately hehe.

The night had started innocently enough. You and Jihoon had been at a party with friends, celebrating someone’s promotion. The energy was high, the music loud, and everyone was having a great time. But as the night wore on, you found yourselves gravitating towards each other, your conversations growing more intimate, your glances more lingering. Eventually, you both decided to step away from the crowd for a bit of quiet and privacy.

“Want to go chill in the car for a while?” Jihoon had asked, his voice barely audible over the music.

You’d nodded eagerly, a playful smile on your lips. “Sounds perfect.”

You had slipped away together, finding your car parked a little way from the party. The inside of the car was cool and dark, a welcome contrast to the chaos of the party. Jihoon had pulled out a joint he’d been saving for a moment like this. The two of you settled into the backseat, the music from the party a distant thrum as you lit up, the smoke curling lazily around you.

As the weed took effect, the atmosphere in the car shifted. The scent of marijuana filled the air, mixing with the faint, sweet aroma of your body spray. The haze of the smoke made everything feel dreamlike and intimate. Jihoon’s eyes were half-lidded, his usually sharp gaze softened by the high. His hand slid slowly over your thigh, his touch light but electrifying.

You took a drag from the joint, holding it in your mouth for a moment before leaning over and blowing the smoke into Jihoon’s face. He inhaled deeply, a satisfied sigh escaping his lips. “This is nice,” he murmured, his voice thick with the effects of both the drug and the arousal simmering between you.

“You know what would make it better?” you asked, your voice low and sultry as you placed the joint in the ashtray and shifted closer to him.

Jihoon raised an eyebrow, his interest clearly piqued. “What’s that?”

You slid your hand down to his lap, feeling the hardness of his cock pressing against his jeans. A mischievous smile played on your lips as you started to unbutton his pants. “A little private celebration.”

Jihoon’s breath caught as you freed his cock from the confines of his jeans. It sprang free, already hard and throbbing, the sight of it making your own arousal intensify. You reached for his cock, wrapping your hand around it and giving it a slow, teasing stroke. Jihoon’s eyes closed, a groan escaping him as he leaned back against the seat, his hands gripping the edges of the seat.

“Fuck, that feels good,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire.

You grinned, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “Glad you think so.” his hands reached to grab ahold of your hair as you leaned down to lick a strip of his cock, tasting the already leaking precum.

With a playful glint in your eye, you took another drag from the joint, then leaned forward into his lap, your short skirt pooling up at your hips as you blowed the smoke into Jihoon’s mouth. He inhaled deeply, his eyes locking onto yours as he took in the hazy cloud. The act was intensely intimate, a connection that was both playful and deeply arousing. You pulled your panties to the side, hovering above him as he teased your clit from the head of his dick, making you make gutterial sounds.

“Ready?” you asked, your voice a sultry whisper.

Jihoon’s eyes fluttered closed as you lined him up with your entrance. You could feel the heat of his arousal, the promise of pleasure making your pulse quicken. Slowly, you sank down onto him, feeling the stretch as he filled you, his protruding veins slowly disappearing in your cunt. The sensation of him inside you was almost overwhelming, and you gasped, your breath catching in your throat.

Jihoon’s hands gripped your hips tightly. His fingers slid under the hem of your dress and beneath the seams of your panties, digging into the flesh of your ass as he tried to steady himself. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groaned, his voice barely more than a rasp.

You began to move, your hips rolling slowly as you adjusted to the fullness of him. The friction was delicious, each movement sending waves of pleasure through both of you. The car rocked slightly with your movements, the fog of the smoke making everything feel even more surreal. You placed your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders for support, riding him with increasing urgency.

Jihoon’s eyes were dark with lust, his gaze never leaving your face as you rode him. His hands guided your movements, helping you find a rhythm that made both of you moan. The joint lay forgotten in the ashtray as the heat between you became too intense for anything else to matter. His one hand reached up to pull your strapless dress down along with your bra, freeing your tits to his eyes. He groped the meat of your boobs as he hungrily lapped over your nipples.

“Fuck, Jihoon,” you moaned, your voice breaking as you felt him thrust up to meet your movements. “This feels so fucking good.”

“Yeah? You like riding my cock?” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “You look so fucking hot like this.”

You responded by riding him harder, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the car. The weed made every sensation more intense, amplifying the pleasure to a level that was almost unbearable. You could feel the knot of desire tightening in your core, the impending climax making you gasp and moan.

“I’m gonna come,” you cried out, your movements becoming erratic as you chased your release.

“Untouched too?,” Jihoon chuckled, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrust up into you harder, faster. “Go on, come for me baby. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

His words were the final push you needed. Your orgasm hit you with a force that left you trembling, your body convulsing as you cried out. The sensation of you coming around him pushed Jihoon to his own climax, his groans mingling with yours as he spilled inside you, his grip on your hips almost bruising.

You both stayed like that for a moment, catching your breath as the car filled with the combined scents of sex and weed. The fog in the car was even thicker now, making it feel like you were in your own little world. Finally, you pulled away, settling beside him in the cramped backseat, a string of sticky semen from your cunt still connected to his cock.

Jihoon looked over at you, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he caught his breath. “That was fucking amazing,” he said, his voice still rough with satisfaction.

You smiled, feeling a warm glow of contentment. “Yeah, it was,” you agreed, reaching for the joint to take another hit. “We should definitely do this more often.”

Jihoon chuckled, taking the joint from you and taking a long drag. “Absolutely,” he said, blowing the smoke out in a long, slow exhale. “Absolutely.”

photograph #26

tonight

— Wednesday 10:13 pm

YEARNING

─────

synopsis: for yn it was love at first sight, but for jihoon it was annoyed at first sight..

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a/n: part 1 of "wednesday" and # SHOCKED.. i look forward to everyone's comments :]

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𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 ||𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔳

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 warnings: crass humor and language, blood, violence, mentions of suicide, alcohol, minor character death, 660's sexism, crossdressing, medical procedures, political upset, historical innacuarcies for the sake of plot progression word count: 27.7k taglist: @hipsdofangirl, @reiofsuns2001

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔦𝔦 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳

𝔐𝔞𝔯𝔠𝔥 22𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 A thin line of perspiration coats your brow as you juggle carrying a tray stacked with dishes and teacups towards the main hall. The captains were having their weekly meeting now that everyone had a moment to gather, and you had been tasked with plying the food and tea. Excusing yourself softly, you step inside, gently setting the tray down onto the nearest tabletop and begin distributing the plates and cups.

Once done, you go about pouring tea for the captains, quickly moving from one to another so as to not disrupt the flow of the meeting. Glancing at the floor, you notice a few wayward petals that must have been swept in here as the captains congregated. With spring finally beginning to spur into motion you mentally note that you’ll have to be more vigilant in your sweeping and dusting away of the blooms and pollen to come.

“Thank you,” Youngmin says quietly after you’ve begun pouring his cup. 

You give him a small nod and then move to Gongmyung, “Here you are.”

“Thanks,” he says quickly, turning his attention back to Jihoon.

The air of the room is somewhat electric, perhaps because Gongmyung had brought along his followers to the meeting. 

“That’s all there is to report,” Jihoon states once he’s finished his spiel. “Anyone have anything else to add?”

“Not worried or anything, but have you noticed how lively the city’s been recently?” Mingyu notes. “It’s got me excited.”

“I noticed that too,” Hansol adds with a curt nod. 

“Don’t tease him, Hansol.” Seungkwan laughs, “Festival or not, Jun finds the city entertaining all year round.”

“I didn’t mean Junhui was lively– I was talking about the city.” Hansol frowns.

“One in the same, really,” Seungkwan huffs.

“Aw, you guys are going to make me blush,” Junhui says playfully. 

A snort from Mingyu, “No one here’s complimenting you. We’re just talking about the atmosphere.”

“Poor Junhui,” Seungkwan laments with a shake of his head. He then perks up, “Is there a festival coming up soon? Do you know, Gyu? I’m sure they talk about it at your drinking halls.”

“No idea,” Mingyu shakes his head.

“It’s probably for the spring festival at Bomun Lake,” Youngmin interjects himself into the conversation. “We may have people staying in the capital from Samjinnal as well. The King reinstated it to boost morale this year.”

“That would make sense,” Hansol says, looking at Junhui who looks ready to burst.

“Does that mean we can have permission to go?” He buzzes, “It’s been forever since I’ve been to a festival!”

“Festivals have nothing to do with our jobs,” Jihoon barks out with a frown. “We need to be more alert than usual. Our enemies might take advantage and use the commotion to cause more issues.”

“I agree with the commander,” Kangjoon adds. 

“Ah,” Soonyoung sighs out with disappointment, “Way to be a buzzkill.”

“Are you sure?” Gongmyung asks Jihoon, “It’s a special festival, the King himself reimplemented it. Should we not celebrate too?”

The moment the words leave him, tension makes the air thicker in the room.

“You’re suggesting that we slack off and go–?” Kangjoon prods.

“Right.” Gongmyung smirks, “We aren’t just warriors. It’s a good opportunity for the men to reflect and celebrate, and get out of their Hwarang robes for a while.”

Dongyoung laughs, “I don’t think they can do that, especially those three idiots over there.” His eyes flash to Mingyu, Soonyoung and Junhui.

“What the fuck did you call us?” Mingyu raises his voice.

“I didn’t say any names,” a smirk dances on his lips, “Or maybe you’re aware that you’re an idiot?”

“Dongyoung,” Gongmyung’s stern voice rips at him, “That’s enough.” 

“My bad,” Dongyoung chuckles, “I’m so honest my mouth sometimes says what I think before I can stop it.” 

Mingyu grumbles something while Kangjoon begins to talk once more, “It would be a good opportunity to better our relationship with your men, Gongmyung. Since we’ve been more and more noticed by the Crown, wouldn’t it be best to show off how cultured and mannered we are?”

“I don’t think that’s our current priority.” Jihoon states sharply. 

“I–” Kangjoon clears his throat, “I suppose maybe we don’t need to participate in our current… situation.”

“It’s precisely because of our situation that we should participate.” Gongmyung insists. “With the increased vigilance, the men deserve some sort of distraction, right Gukseon Kwak?”

“Ah? Oh, um… Yes…” It seems difficult for Youngmin to choose a side. “It is well deserved…”

A small ‘tch’ from Gongmyung before he laves compliments, “That’s right. I expected that answer from someone as qualified as you.”

Mingyu lets out a long sigh of relief, “I can already smell the gokaju and hwajeon.”

“Is that all that has your interest?” Seungkwan rolls his eyes. 

“If it’s drinking sanctioned by the Hwarang, I’m all in,” Mingyu nods. 

There’s some more chatter about the festival before the sound of several pairs feet treading down the hallway draws everyone to look at the doorway as Lee Chan peers in. “Are Gukseon Kwan and Commander Lee here?”

“What is it, Chan?” Jihoon beckons him inside, peering behind him to see a few other faces, “Dohoon, Junghwan, Wonwoo… What happened?” The tension that had been building in the room prior heightens as you see the stern faces Chan and the others are making. 

“The warriors sent to receive our monthly stipend from the palace were attacked and robbed of their money on the way back,” Chan reports, straightening himself. 

“What?!” Jihoon rises to his feet, a look of incredulity on his face.

“They tried to apprehend the culprits but they lost sight of them in the crowd,” Dohoon frowns. 

“Attacking a Hwarang warrior in the streets of Seorabeol and stealing our money…” Youngmin also rises to his feet. With how angry he looks, it’s almost as if he’s another person. 

“This is personal. If we let it pass, we’re going to lose face.” Jihoon looks at Youngmin. He then glances around at the captains, “You all, catch that criminal at all cost!” The captains agree with varying degrees of yeses before the commander continues, “But do not let the other men and the wang-do know it’s stolen. Only the ones in this room can handle the situation, is that clear?”

“Understood,” Hansol nods as he stands. 

“Then let’s devise a plan immediately.” Youngmin states calmly, the angered look still playing on his face as they discuss their roles and area of search.

“With that much money, the culprit won’t stay in Seorabeol for long.” Chan notes. “He may be on the move as we speak.

“He could already be out of the city,” Hansol adds.

“Maybe we should focus on swordsmen trying to leave Seorabeol,” Jihoon muses.

“What use could a swordsman have with that much money?” Junhui huffs.

“Alcohol, women,” Mingyu lists, “Nothing too erudite.” 

“Then we should monitor Noseo-dong, there would be a chance he’s there, right?” Soonyoung questions.

“If he’s walking around with a lot of money, he’s going to stand out.” Hansol states. “Isn’t it better to assume he bought something with it that he could easily turn back into money later?”

“A sword or something made of gold, maybe,” Jihoon mutters.

“I wonder why the swordsman picked today specifically,” Gongmyung ponders, his hand resting under his chin, “Perhaps they knew we were getting paid.”

“So you think it was one of our men?” Kangjoon looks over to him. 

“It’s possible. With the new shortages, we’ve gained more green warriors without checking their backgrounds as strictly,” Dongyoung smirks, aiming to poke.

“Criticizing us isn’t going to solve the problem,” Soonyoung retorts. 

You look to Jihoon, who seems to be taking all of it in quietly. His brow furrows before he begins speaking once more, “Okay. We don’t have much time. I’m going to decide who’s doing what…”

He goes on to explain the role of each captain in great detail, once received, they all begin preparing to leave. It just leaves you and Jihoon alone, you hadn’t been a part of the discussion in the first place, only stopping in to deliver tea and snacks. Yet now that you've heard everything, perhaps you can help.

“Commander Lee…” You speak out, your voice cracking after not having used it the entirety of the last half-hour or so.

“Ah,” he seems almost surprised as he turns to you. “You’re still here. Can you clean up the dishes?”

“Of course,” you nod quickly, “Is there anything else I can do? About the stolen money… Can I help?”

“You?” His eyebrow quirks upward, “What can you do about it?”

“I’d like to help speak with the swordsmen that are leaving the capital,” you answer and immediately his shoulders slump downward.

“Not so fast– You can’t go out by yourself. Do you really think you can pry into roaming swordsmen’s affairs?”

It does sound a bit bold coming from you. But you can’t resist the urge to help, “I can’t be as efficient as the rest of you, I’m very aware of that… But that doesn’t make me any less than you. I want to know who did it too. That’s why I want to help.”

Jihoon looks at you intently, almost as if he’s testing your resolve and you stare right back at him. After a moment of silence, he relents, “You’ve got the wit of a Hwarang, that’s for sure.” A small smile plays on his lips as he continues, “We are shorthanded, so you’re going to have to work with us for the time being.”

You try hard to hide the smile threatening to break free, “... Thank you so much.”

A moment later he calls out for Eunseok, asking if he could take you to where the negotiations with the officials are happening. It isn’t what you had in mind, but if you’re helping you’ll gratefully follow the Hwarang.

As the two of you near the edge of the city, Eunseok sighs, “I didn’t think it would be this difficult.”

“Me either,” you frown as a bead of sweat trails down your neck. Your job is to look for any suspicious swordsmen trying to quickly leave the city from the southern gate. The two of you had gone to the magistrate’s office and the Watch to ask for information but neither of the two entities were of any help.

“If we were honest, perhaps they would have cooperated more,” Eunseok wonders aloud.

“That’s true,” you nod in agreement, “but we need to be careful about who knows…”

“You’re right,” he taps his foot on the ground. “Many of the men from the Guard have been incensed since Jihoon stopped them from directly interfering with Wonweol.”

Being more successful meant more opportunities to be envied and hated. The jealousy seems to always be pitted in the Watch and Guard’s stomachs. “What should we do next?”

“I think our best course of action is to return to Jihoon, at least for now,” Eunseok says and begins walking back in the direction of the compound. “Perhaps another captain was more successful than we were.”

As you begin to join him, you see several swordsmen chatting together on the other side of the street. 

“–expected it to go smoothly!” One of them laughs.

“It was so easy,” the one next to him chortles. “Ever since Ongsan they’ve been lacking men, it’s laughable.”

“Eunseok are you hearing–” you begin but notice that he’s already listening intently to the men.

“Shit, you’re talking too loudly,” the first man says, “We need to get out of this city as fast as possible, not let everyone know we’re here.”

The two men begin to walk away, bantering with one another.

“They must be who we’re looking for,” Eunseok frowns, watching the men. His hand flexes over the hilt of his sword as you begin to turn on your heels.

“I’ll let Commander Lee know!” You’re already beginning to run off when he calls out after you.

“It’s a ways back to Bulguksa–! Be careful!”

“I will!” You shout back, “Please don’t lose sight of them!”

With as much strength as you can muster, you race back to the compounds. By the time you reach them, the sun is sinking, dyeing the sky a vibrant red.

“A– Are you alright?!” You hear Junghwan clamor as you approach, your breaths running ragged and your chest heaving trying to collect enough air. “What’s wrong?!”

“I need to speak with the Commander… Immediately…” Your voice comes out in strained pants.

“He’s in his study– I’ll go and get him.” Jungwan says, letting you recuperate while he runs off to find Jihoon. A few moments later Junghwan returns with the commander in tow and you relay what you had seen and heard. 

“We ought to have made you a messenger rather than my page,” Jihoon lauds you with a small smirk. His face begins to harden as he thinks of a plan to retrieve the stipend safely from the thieves, “I’ll let the others know and send them to support Eunseok.”

“Then I’ll go back to Eunseok first,” you say, knowing that leaving him alone while trying to track those men could get him in trouble.

“Don’t be an idiot– Are you planning on retrieving the money yourself?” Jihoon questions you with a frown. “Even if you get there first, what help are you going to offer him?”

You mirror his frown, knowing that he’s speaking the truth: what could you do? You wield no authority in the city and certainly aren’t as adept in swordsmanship or negotiating to get through to the thieves.

“I’ll get to Eunseok,” Jihoon states, “You find the others and join us when you’re done… And good job, by the way. If we can resolve this thanks to you, you’ll get the credit.” Without another word he leaves, heading towards the front gate hurriedly. 

All of the credit…? You hadn’t found the culprits by yourself, you’d only told Jihoon that you had come upon them with Eunseok. It still warms you that Jihoon had praised you, but it wasn’t just your doing. 

With Jihoon now on the way to the city proper, you go to find the other Hwarang. It takes you some time, with night falling as you lead them to where you’d last seen Eunseok. 

“You say that you saw the men here earlier today?” Youngmin asks, his face illuminated by lanterns adorning one of the nearby shop’s entrances.

“Yes,” you nod, “They were here.” Glancing around, you don’t see Eunseok or the swordsmen anywhere nearby.

“Ah, I thought I heard you two,” a voice calls out as they round the corner, “There you are.” Wonwoo walks in tandem with Junghwan as they approach.

“The captains are hiding out in the forest a little ways away from Bomun, we’re to tell anyone showing up to go and join them,” Junghwan nods.

“Then let’s get to it,” Youngmin says quickly and begins to walk.

After a short distance along a heavily forested road on the outskirts of Seorabeol you finally find them. Wonwoo glances at you, raising a finger to his lips to tell you not to make a sound. All of you continue to walk a bit more.

“Commander,” Wonwoo whispers into the quiet night, “Everyone should be here now.”

“Thanks for showing them the way,” Jihoon says quietly. 

“Are the culprits nearby?” Youngmin asks and Jihoon motions his chin to a path parallel to the one that you’re on. Even squinting, you can’t see anything in the density of the trees and the opaqueness of night. Yet you can hear voices rising over the crickets and cicadas crying out.

“A third!?” A voice, one you recognize as a man from earlier, shouts out angrily. “I’m the one who risked my neck for the damned operation!”

“What?! I’m the one who went undercover!” The second man from earlier shouts. “Investigated the Hwarang while you sat on your ass!”

Another voice that wasn’t with them prior now shouts, “Calm down you idiots! You’ve got a ton of money, why’re you fighting over nothing?!”

Jihoon’s expression grows more disgusted the longer he listens, a snarl of anger ripping across his face, “Can’t agree on their share, huh? Well it isn’t as if they’ll need it in their next life.”

“I’ve been scouting around and I believe it to be just those three,” Dohoon reports. You nearly jump at how quiet he’d been on his approach. 

“Let’s get this over with then,” Jihoon huffs and then motions forward, addressing his men, “Surround them!”

As soon as he gives the command, the Hwarang start running, surrounding the swordsmen. 

“W-What!” One of the men shouts as he eyes the blue robes, “There’s no way you could have gotten here so fast!”

“You shouldn’t have tried to swindle the Hwarang!” Jihoon barks back at him, unsheathing his sword and pointing it towards the three men. “Did you truly think you wouldn’t face any repercussions?!”

“Bastard,” one of the men clenches his teeth and draws his own blade, “I guess we’ll just have to fight our way out!”

“You’re stupid if you think you can win while outnumbered,” Dohoon snickers, a glint of moonlight reflecting off of his blade.

“Do not cut them down,” Jihoon orders, “Capture them and we’ll let the King’s justice sentence them.”

And with that, the Hwarang rush the thieves.

The men, who put up a small fight, are eventually captured and taken to a prison somewhere near the palace. After that, the Hwarang filter back to the compound after retrieving the stipend and not much is said about the excitement of the evening until the next morning. Kwak Youngmin calls all of those who aided in rounding up the thieves into the main hall, beaming at them as they enter, you included.

“Thanks to everyone’s cooperation, we were able to get our money back!” He grins, clapping his hands together. “To celebrate, we decided to allow an evening to celebrate the spring festival!”

“Yesss!” Junhui pumps his fist into the air, “I knew I could count on you, Kwak!”

Soonyoung joins in on Junhui’s excitement, excitedly hopping from foot to foot, “Hell yes! That’s what makes it worth it for me to work my ass off every day!”

“Don’t get too carried away, Soonyoung,” Jihoon says warily, “Don’t forget your position as a captain. Besides, you still have a few more days until it happens.”

“We know, we know…” Mingyu waves his hand at him, “But it’ll be the first nice evening that we’ve had in a while.”

When the meeting disbands, each captain goes their separate ways from the main hall. If the Chief wanted this to be a spring celebration, you’re going to need alcohol, food and flowers.

“If you have some time,” you call out to Jihoon as he begins to leave, “Can we talk about the arrangements for food, drink and decorations?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jihoon turns to you, “We’ll be celebrating at a place by Lake Bomun. If we’d done it here you’d work yourself to the bone… You still need to be rewarded as well.”

“Oh, Commander, I don’t think–” Your ears warm with embarrassment.

“It’s a secret,” he says with a coy smile, “If I reveal it now, it’ll spoil the surprise.” After vaguely speaking, leaving you in a confused state, he spins and leaves the hall.

A few nights later you find yourself being led along a stone path to a temple near the lakeside of Bomun. 

“Commander Lee…” You murmur, trying not to trip on the agate stone of the walkway, your nerves somersaulting at the sight of the flowing fabric around you. “Isn’t there an issue with,” you let out a small cough, “what I’m wearing?”

“What’s wrong?” He asks, “It’s been a while since you’ve worn women’s clothes… Are you uncomfortable?”

“I think that’s exactly my point,” You stop as he turns to look at you, “I’ve only worn men’s clothes since I’ve come to live with the Hwarang.” You’d neither tied your hair or worn a hairpin for a while so it feels quite out of your comfort zone.

“You look great,” he nods, “If I hadn’t known it was you, I’d assume you were a noblewoman.”

“You’re too nice,” you murmur as you feel heat creep up your neck, he surely has an odd sense of humor. It’s then you take a look at him, the blue of his Hwarang robes shed for a brilliant purple. Gold embellishments line the fabric and a portion of his long dark hair is held in a cuff, cascading a ponytail along his already freed hair. Jihoon doesn’t wear his hair like this often, nor the clothes of his noble rank. He’s handsome, you cannot deny that.

“I took some time off tonight so that I could walk the temple grounds with you,” he motions you to follow him, “It’s a rare opportunity for both of us. Want to look around?”

“Ye– Sure!” You nod, still momentarily distracted by him. 

The two of you wander the small pathways of the temple for a time. Other festival goers litter the paths as well, couples, parents and their children– an air of calm in a seemingly torrid world After a few more minutes of walking, you and Jihoon find yourselves on a more secluded area of walkway when he pauses, looking at you with a question hanging on his lips,

“Are your feet sore? I know you’re probably not used to those kinds of shoes.”

“No,” you answer with a shake of your head, “I’m alright.”

“You’ve got a stronger resolve than most,” he chuckles, “Makes sense, how else would you have traveled from Toehwa-hyeon to Seorabeol alone?”

“I only left home because I was looking for my father,” you smile at him, sadness riding in your tone and surely reflecting in the small smile you offer. 

“I know,” he sighs frustratedly, “Trust me, we are trying our best to figure out where he disappeared off to.” 

The once light atmosphere becomes heavy with the mention of your father. Walking further a bit, you see several temple patrons tying small pieces of parchment to a tower in the center square of the temple’s entrance. 

“Do you think that’s for prayers?” You ask and look at Jihoon, “Should we write something?”

His eyes stare coldly at the display before you, before relaxing at your request, “I’m not one to leave it all in the gods’ hands… But if we’re already here, why not.”

“I’ll go and find a brush,” you grin and begin to dash off.

“Don’t forget the paper!” He calls out after you.

It takes you a while to find the items, but you return to Jihoon and hand him a brush and piece of paper. You take your time carefully penning your wish down onto the paper, blowing the ink softly so it dries faster.

“I can tie it for you,” he says as he notices you trying to figure out where to place yours. You hadn’t noticed him tie his own to the tower.  

“Ah– Okay,” you nod, caught up in his words as you try to hand him your wish clumsily. 

“What kind of wish did you write?” he asks, gently holding it in his hands but not unfurling the carefully folded paper. Eyes widening, you reach out, aiming to grab the paper but instead grip your hands around his, blocking his free hand from taking the paper. He laughs, “I can’t put it up for you if you hide it from me… Don’t tell me you want to keep it a secret for me that badly?”

“It’s nothing like that at all!” You nearly shout, flustered as heat creeps along your cheeks. 

“Is it something too shameful to mention, then?” He teases, leaning in closer. 

“…Why would you think that?”

Jihoon looks at you suspiciously for a moment too long but eventually sighs and pulls back, “Now, thanks to you, I’m wondering if you’re really making a wish for yourself or for the sake of someone else. IF it’s really something you want for yourself, then good.”

Thinking for a moment, you drop your hands away from his. He sighs in the gentle night breeze wafting through the temple and ties your wish to the tower without looking at the inscription on it. 

“My bad,” he relents, “I was being tactless. Your wish is only between you and the spirits.”

“No,” you shake your head, “It isn’t that… What did you write, Jihoon?” Your teeth catch your lower lip at the slip of his first name. You don’t use it often, only in the moments where you forget that he wields absolute authority over your role within the Hwarang. 

His eyes widen at your name falling from his lips, and then soften, his lower lip turning into a pout as you raise your hands, “Sorry! I shouldn’t be asking you.”

He laughs, waving his hand, “No, I don’t mind. My wish is obvious: for the Hwarang to become even greater than they already are.”

“That makes sense,” you note. “Then my wish is–” you begin before he cuts you off.

“Hush, I didn’t ask,”

“You just told me yours, though. It wouldn’t be fair… I wished for you to be safe and healthy.”

When you tell him, he laughs a bit mockingly, “Really? Isn’t that exactly what I was worried about? Plus, there’s no reason to hide something like that, right?”

“I know, but it’s just–” you flush, looking at the ground.

“Thank you.” He says simply and you look at him. “I’m the one keeping you under house arrest, and yet you’re so good natured.”

“I don’t think of it that way anymore,” you retort. “At first, our only common goal was to find my father. But now that I know all of you better I’m happy that I can live with you all and be useful in some ways.” Ever since the raids on Wonweol and Jeolin you saw what force the Hwarang could muster, you then could understand and believe that they are fighting for what is right.

Jihoon gives you a small nod in thanks, “This was a nice evening but unfortunately I have some work to do, so I guess we’d better head back.”

“Thank you for taking the time to take me out today.”

“There’s no need for thanks, it was a nice breather for me as well.”

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 13𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “Look Seungkwan!” You call out to the captain some feet in front of you, “The trees are still in bloom.”

Boo Seungkwan stops in his tracks, the blues of his robes shifting as he turns to face you and then looks across the street at the tree you'd pointed out.

The gentle introduction of spring is most certainly needed in Seorabeol now. After last autumn’s attempt at quashing the Baekje forces, Silla thought themselves to be rid of the threat, but now more rumors have been arising from the north that Buyeo Pung and his men are on the move once again.

“You’re right,” he nods and looks back at you, a smirk on his lips as he does so, “Even then, I’d try to act sedate about it.”

Eyes widening as you look at a few townsmen who pass, their gazes dubious over your excitement towards the changing season. Maybe too forgetful of your attire with the dawn of a new spring, you find yourself quieting down as you catch up to Seungkwan.

“Seungkwan?” You question after a moment more of walking, your eyes watching a few petals float atop the river, “Why didn’t we go after those men who ran off after seeing you?”

“Them?” Seungkwan scoffs as you look back to him, “They’re not revivalists, that’s for sure. If they were, they wouldn’t have run off like a dog with its tail between its legs. More than anything they’re probably common thieves.” A nod of his head as his shoes kick up a small cloud of dust, “To be honest, I doubt there are any revivalists in Seorabeol willing to start anything and oust themselves at this point.”

“The Hwarang have really made a name for themselves, haven’t they?” You muse, watching the street ahead of you. “It seems like everyone knows your blues.”

In recent memory, the question of changing the Hwarang uniform has been placed on the table more than once, stemming from the fact that it both catches people’s attention as well as wards troublemakers off. As well as a lack of fashionable sense, Gongmyung had so graciously advised. 

“Has the Deputy Commander returned from Ungjin yet?” You question, knowing that Gongmyung had left some time ago to oversee some things at a newer installment of Hwarang in the area.

“Think so,” Seungkwan frowns, “Can’t say I wanted him back so soon, if ever, though.”

“He said he was going to recruit people too, right?” 

“Mhm, but I have to wonder if Ungjin is the only place he went.” The Hwarang mutters.

“Isn’t that a good sign though? That he’s trying to get more numbers?” 

“Is that what you think that’s about?” An eyebrow piqued at you.

“Am I wrong to assume that?” You furrow your brow, brushing your hand on the front of your robes to try and get rid of some lingering dust.

“Not at all,” with the way Seungkwan says it, you know he’s being sarcastic. “Kwak’s too nice to him, he should’ve been kicked out a long time ago.”

Ever since the Kim brothers had arrived to join the Hwarang, there had been a strong dislike for Gongmyung. You certainly can see why but hearing the absolute vocalized protest against him is jarring to hear. 

You break away from looking at the road ahead and catch a glimpse of a figure quickly turning and racing down a side alley. At first you think it to be more men afraid of getting caught from the Hwarang on patrol, but the bright pink of their skits catch you off guard as they slip around the corner. 

“Wait a minute…” Catching their eye, you’re stricken with a familiarity almost as if you were looking at your own face. You aren’t given much time to look at her, though, because once you’ve realized who she is, she’s gone. “Ahro!” You call out, only to be pulled back by Seungkwan.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, only for you to shrug him off and barrel down the road towards where you’d last spotted your doppelgänger. 

“Just hold on!” You call out behind you, knowing that a stunt like this is going to get you into trouble. The backstreets are more dense than you originally thought, a thicket of people causing you to weave your way through the crowds as you race after the girl. It isn’t until you trail her to a back alley deep in the depths of Seorabeol does she stop.

“Is something wrong?” Ahro asks as she spins on her heels as she turns to face you, “You seem to have exerted yourself quite a bit.”

“It looks like I surprised you earlier,” you huff, trying your best not to double over as your lungs take in more oxygen than they can process. “Do you remember who I am?”

“Of course,” she nods, “You were with the Hwarang that day.”

“Can I ask you something?” Thoughts flooding to what Mingyu had said that night at Noseo-dong, of the girl he mentioned who looked exactly like you. “One of the men said they saw a girl who looked like me at the bulletin board by the bridge some time ago… Was that you by any chance?”

“I’m not sure,” a frown holds her lips as her pink skirts flutter in the wind with a gentle breeze, “I don’t find myself traveling there very often. But if he had seen me, would that be an issue?” Embarrassment takes hold over you, you’re almost accusing a stranger for something that you don’t even know the full story of. “Perhaps what you wanted to ask me was if I’ve been there at night?”

Eyes widening at her statement, maybe she is more perceptive than you thought.

“It happened in late spring, someone who looked like me disrupted what the Hwarang were guarding,” you pick your words carefully, trying not to be but so accusatory at the moment.

“If it was you,” a voice, more accusatory, calls out from behind you and directed towards Ahro, “Then we need to talk, it may or may not end with your imprisonment depending on the answers you give me.”

“Seungkwan,” you mutter, surprise overtaking you as he walks to stand by your side. You’re not sure when he’d caught up with you. 

“Captain Boo,” she notes with a small smile, “Thank you for helping me back then.”

Her gratitude falls on deaf ears, Seungkwan’s frown not budging with her words. “Are you going to answer her?” He asks, gaze narrowing, the taught smirk reappearing as his body tenses, anticipating something, “Were you at the board that night?”

“Many people walk by that board during the day,” Ahro’s brow furrows, “But I don’t go near it at night because of the attacks. Are you accusing me simply because I look like someone else?” She looks almost downcast at her own words, her gaze dropping to the ground as she hangs her head.

“Of course not,” you step in, “It’s rude of us to assume without any proper evidence.”

“You’re still gullible,” Seungkwan scoffs, shaking his head, “After a few sorry words you’re just going to believe her? Even if she is the culprit, do you think she’d just tell you that?”

Seungkwan and you lock eyes, an immense feeling of guilt washing over you. You’re not one to place the blame with little to no evidence, but she was the closest thing to a lead you and he had seen since Mingyu had divulged what he’d seen that night.

“If there’s no reason for you to keep me here… I should be getting on my way, I have errands to run,” Ahro sighs out and turns on her heels, beginning to walk towards the main street.

You think to pursue her once more, but a fit of coughing coming from the captain interrupts that thought. 

“Are you alright?” A worried look to Seungkwan, who’s nearly doubled over, coughing into his hand. You find yourself stepping forward, wanting to offer assistance but not sure on how to do so.

His head shoots up to look at you as he hears you approach, his free hand raising to stop you, “Stay back.” Another bout of coughing before he speaks again, “I’m fine just… just give me a second.” It is the intensity of his demeanor that halts you, not only his words. The captain coughs for a few moments more, only standing straight when the bouts reside. His face looks pallid, sweat crawling down the sides of his face as he looks back at you. 

“Are you still sick?” You question him carefully as he wipes his hand on his sleeve. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine,” he answers shortly, a small smile finding its way to his lips as if to assure you. It doesn’t. “You did make me run after you, you know.”

“But…” you begin before he stops you.

“But nothing, we’re in the middle of our rounds, we can’t get sidetracked anymore.” With that, he begins to walk, pace a little more slower than usual. You catch up to him and he starts to scold you, “I agree that asking Ahro about the incident was important, but you can’t just run off like that alone. If she had been an enemy or had accomplices waiting for you, what would you have done?” He watches your brow furrow and shakes his head, “You didn’t even think about that, did you?”

Even if Ahro hadn’t done anything nefarious, Seungkwan’s right. You’d chased after your doppelganger without a second thought, which could have been bad if it had been someone else. 

“Just,” he sighs, “try to be more careful, okay? I can’t be around you all of the time to make sure you don’t run off and get yourself kidnapped or killed.”

With Seungkwan’s words still lingering in your head, you finish your rounds and head back to the temple grounds. They still continue to float around even after you've eaten dinner and resigned yourself back to your room, the bright light of the moon creeping in through the sole window of your quarters. 

You like to think yourself useful, on more than one occasion you have helped the Hwarang with their ventures and around the headquarters. Yet, today has shown you that there is much more to learn, and maybe that your perception isn’t where it should be. 

The more you think about it, the stronger your resolve to change it becomes, you’ll work on becoming more aware and less dependent on this. It’s high time you do something about it. 

Just when you think that to yourself, a loud boom reverberates around your room, up against your door as if someone’s thrown themselves against it. It causes you to startle, quickly bolting up from your bedding as your heart begins to pound in your chest. It happens once more and the door bursts open, splinters of wood falling to the ground from where the hinges once attached to frame, revealing a wang-do standing in the dimly lit hall.

“Is… everything alright?” You question after they make no move to speak, continuing to stand there ominously. “Do you need something?” Every muscle in your body feels taught, anticipating the culminating worry building in your gut.

The wang-do mutters something, nearly inaudible as you strain your ears to listen to him.

“What did you say?” 

“… Blood,” the word chills you as he takes a step across the threshold of your room, now as he comes into focus you can see that his hair is stark white. “I need… blood.” In his hand is a sword, dragging along the ground as he takes another step, the sound of the metal carving into the wood of the floor echoing around the space. It hits you then, your stomach dropping as you realize that he’s one of the Furies. 

You part your lips, wanting to call out for one of the captains, but find yourself unable to muster a singular syllable before the Fury lunges at you with a cackle. The blade hisses as he raises it and brings it down toward you, you roll from your bed and onto the floor but not before you feel the cool metal of the blade burn and sink into the flesh of your arm. 

A cry escapes you as you hit the floor, trying to scramble away from the intruder, but as the Fury catches sight of the crimson of your blood, he seems to only become more enthralled. Hand finding the wound on your arm, you try to apply pressure to it, your back hitting the wall behind you as the Fury looms in front of you. 

“Someone help!” The words finally escape you as the Fury reaches up to smear the droplets of blood that had hit his cheek, he laughs again before raising his sword once more, probably intending to end your life. His eyes show no remorse, no semblance of humanity as he laughs and laughs. Feet kicking off of the floor, he begins to barrel towards you, your limbs frozen in place as you can only watch.

The sound of a pair of footsteps racing into your room nearly pulls your attention away from the man running at you, yet it doesn’t, but when the new figure tells you to duck and look away, you comply almost immediately, tucking into yourself and trying to move away.

The Fury that had been chasing you stops at the intrusion, looking surprised to see the commander standing in the front of your room, his sword raised. Angered at the arrival, the Fury turns from you and takes a sloppy swing at Jihoon, the commander’s blade meeting the wang-do as he turns. 

A cry resounds around the room as the Fury is struck, writhing for a moment before his wound begins to heal before your very eyes. Jihoon realizes this and looks over to you, “Get over here, now,” his voice stern before he looks back to the wang-do. Wordlessly, you do, still holding onto your arm as you make your way to him, the Fury’s attention still rapt upon Jihoon. As you fall behind the captain, more footsteps race towards your room, several of the captains arrive at your doorway seconds later, their brows furrowed.

“You all right?” Junhui asks as he looks to survey the situation. 

“That’s,” Mingyu frowns before you can respond, his eyes settled on the wang-do, “the kid who had to drink the pimul after that shop raid… He’s too far gone now to bring him back.” The sadness in his tone is palpable, knowing that they’d have to kill the turned wang-do in the very near future. As if the words were an unspoken signal, the trio release their blades from their scabbards. They fan out, circling the wang-do carefully, watching for any signs of erratic movement. In an instant, the captains attack and fell the soldier, who crumples to the ground with a shriek of pain. 

For a few seconds, the room is quiet, only then to be interrupted by more footsteps approaching. Perhaps the captains hadn’t been the only ones to hear your plea for help.

“I thought we’d talked about sparring after the sun’s set…” Gongmyung’s voice sounds from around the corner, rubbing his eyes as he turns into the room, freezing when he sees the scene before him. “What’s happened?”

Brow furrowing as he looks to the fallen Hwarang, “Wasn’t he sentenced to death a few days ago for breaking our code?” Looking from the bloodied corpse to the bloodied blades held by the captains, “Are you all responsible for this?”

Jihoon mutters some profanity under his breath as Soonyoung begins to ramble, “You don’t understand, we’ve just-”

“A captain cutting down his own man?” Gongmyung continues, an amalgamation of confusion and anger culminating in his expression, “This is unheard of.”

“This is my fault, I suppose,” another voice rings out from behind Gongmyung and your hair stands on end immediately. Seungcheol looks forlornly at the wang-do’s corpse, “My lack of leadership caused this to happen.”

At the sound of his voice, Gongmyung jumps and at the sight of him, Gongmyung pales. “W- What are you doing here, Colonel? You’re supposed to be dead…?” 

The room falls silent once more, until Jihoon breaks it.

“I suppose we can’t keep it a secret for any longer.” Arms crossing over his chest, he looks to you as you push yourself from the floor, “You should leave, you can use my room for the night.” 

You want to stay, want to make sure that they can explain everything properly so that Gongmyung doesn’t get any more frantic. Yet, Jihoon’s expression tells you enough that he’ll handle it. 

𝔄𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔩 14𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The sound of birds chirping stirs you from slumber, and as soon as your eyes open you bolt up, looking at the unfamiliar space around you. This is the commander’s private quarters, you remember this as you recall the events of the night prior. Your arm, now wrapped in bandages, has healed quickly, yet you keep the guise of injury for the time being. The last you’d checked it had faded into a light scar, in a few days there would be no trace of it at all. 

Your feet eventually find the floor, standing and stretching before you open the door and quickly make your way to the main hall to see what the events of last night had wrought upon the Hwarang. Before you get into the hall, you come across the Kim brothers, Gongmyung calling out to you.

“You…” The Deputy Commander says before two more figures come into view.

“Soonyoung… Hansol… Where are you all going this early?” You ask, tilting your head in confusion.

“Due to last night’s… disturbance, I’m sure no one got a good night’s sleep,” Gongmyung answers for them, “You were injured, right? How’s your arm doing?” 

“It isn’t as bad as I first thought,” you nod, hand moving to ghost over the injury.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he says with an uncharacteristic smile. Rather than the manic state he was in last night, he seems to be chipper. 

“Did something happen?” You ask, wondering about the mood shift.

“I suppose you could say that, right, Choi, Kwon?” Gongmyung looks at them, as do you. When you catch Soonyoung’s eye he quickly breaks away, diverting his gaze away from you. 

“I guess so,” the younger mumbles out.

“It isn’t information we can give out right now,” Hansol frowns, his attention rapt on you, unlike Soonyoung’s. 

“Even for you, Choi, that’s a cold goodbye,” Dongyoung says, “Or did you want to get out of here as fast as you can?”

“Are you… leaving?” You question, looking back to the brothers before Gongmyung hushes his sibling.

“We’ll be on our way,” he nods at you, “I hope your injury heals well.”

“Goodbye,” Hansol says as he passes you, a small nod in your direction before Soonyoung brushes past with a ‘See you’. 

And then just like that, they’re gone, leaving you standing at the entrance of the main hall to try and understand what had just happened. Before long, you pull yourself from your thoughts and make your way into the hall, meeting with a few other captains.

“Are you sure you should be up already?” Eunseok calls out to you as you enter, a worried expression on his face as he notices your bandaged arm. He’s standing next to Wonwoo, presumably having been in a conversation with him before your arrival.

“I’m alright,” you try to assure him with a small smile, “It wasn’t as bad as it looked.”

“That’s good news,” Wonwoo smiles, “I’m sorry to hear that it happened though.”

“It’ll be alright…” Trying to sate their worry, you bring up another thought plaguing you. “I saw the Deputy Commander on my way here, he was acting strange.”

The two look at each other before Eunseok lets out a sigh, “You saw them?”

“Soonyoung and Hansol were acting strange as well,” feeling concerned for the captains, you look to the two in front of you for answers. 

After a moment of silence, Wonwoo speaks up hesitantly, “Well… They’re leaving.”

Eyes widening as Eunseok adds on, “They’re going to form a new group different from the Hwarang. We had a meeting with the Chief and Commander Lee about it this morning.”

“So Soonyoung and Hansol…” A frown begins to curve your lips as you realize why they had been so downcast. 

“They are leaving with him, yes,” Eunseok sighs out, “I think I’m as shocked as you are. I understand that coming from Soonyoung, since he’s known him for longer… But Hansol’s surprised me the most.”

“Don’t worry,” Youngmin’s voice calls out, probably having witnessed your conversation from the head of the room. “We promised to keep things calm between our two organizations.”

Even if his words are meant to calm, with Gongmyung leaving with several pivotal members of the Hwarang, you only think he’s meaning to split and factionalize the rifts forming in the Hwarang’s ranks. 

“He still won’t be able to associate with the Guard though, right?” Wonwoo questions.

“Like hell I’d let him,” Jihoon speaks up now, a bitter bite to his voice, “He can leave, but I’m not letting him walk all over us so he can get what he wants.”

From there, the Hwarang begin to speak amongst themselves of names and other organizations that you aren’t too familiar with, slowly leading you to drift away from the conversation. Despite your feelings towards the captains leaving, you know nothing you say now could change anything, they’ve already left. So, you quietly excuse yourself and leave the main hall. As you walk towards your room, you look to the sky, wondering what the impact of leaving would have on the remaining Hwarang. Surely a blow like this hurt not only their pride but the relationships they have with those who left.

The door to the main hall opens and you turn to see Jihoon leaving, he catches you looking at him and strides over.

“Shouldn’t you be resting?” He questions, eyes lingering on your bandaged arm, “I remember the cut being deep.”

“I feel better,” you say quickly, trying to brush off his concern.

“Just because your father’s a doctor and you know a few things doesn’t make you invulnerable,” an almost concerned tone wavering in his voice, “Go and get some rest before you hurt yourself more.” 

“I will,” you nod, mentally berating yourself. It’s hard to recall the severity of one’s injury when it heals so quickly. “Before I go, though… Can I ask you something?”

“What is it?”

“It’s about the new group… How do you feel about all of them leaving?” 

“What do you mean?” He questions, crossing his arms. 

“You’re losing some of your men,” you aren’t sure how careful you should be with your wording, “Doesn’t that make you upset?”

“If they were my allies yesterday and things change that makes them my enemies tomorrow, so be it.” He shakes his head, “That’s just life.”

“Even Soonyoung and Hansol?” The two captains had been by his side since he’d started commanding the Hwarang, surely, he couldn’t turn on them so easily.  

“They’ll be missed,” Jihoon frowns, “But if they’re leaving it means they had an issue with the Hwarang, it’s better they leave now than when their discontent grows even more.” 

The commander’s harsh and analytical take towards his men leaving has you somewhat stupefied. On one hand, you can see how indifferent he’d be towards Gongmyung and his lackeys leaving, but the two captains should have him more in a state. But if they all found themselves incompatible with the Hwarang, maybe it was for the best.

In the days following the departure of Gongmyung, Dongyoung, Hansol, Soonyoung and the rest of Kim's followers, you notice the compound feeling much emptier and lonelier. Around that time, Suh Kangjoon departed the Hwarang and his role as War Counselor. Even if it’s the inevitable change of things, you can’t help but see several different paths beginning to veer off the main one, unsure of where each one leads. 

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 11𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Three months have passed since the departure of Kim Gongmyung and his men to form the Guardians of the Royal Tomb. More so, it has been three months since Hansol and Soonyoung left. Their presence, or absence of, remains blazingly obvious at times during the days that have since passed. These thoughts of them, and their reasoning for abandoning the Hwarang plague you still, as they do tonight as you toss and turn in your bed as you search for slumber.

It isn’t coming any time soon, your muscles ache from your work earlier in the day, and you’d woken up early this morning to aid with an upcoming captain’s meeting… Why aren’t you tired? You should be, right? 

Eyes shutting for the umpteenth time, trying to force yourself to sleep, you hear a voice call out to you from behind your door, a gentle knock accompanying it. “Are you awake?” The voice of the Hwarang’s commander causes you to scramble to your feet, inching closer to the door.

“Is something wrong?” You ask as you approach the door.

“You have a visitor,” voice muffled behind the wood, you can hear him shift on his feet, “Once you’re dressed, come to the main hall.”

“A visitor?” You muse as Jihoon’s footsteps lead away from your room to give you some privacy. The visitor in question confuses you, who could possibly be calling for you late at night? Regardless of their identity, you quickly dress yourself and head to the main hall. 

The figure standing there as you enter surprises you, before you’re able to question their appearance, Youngmin speaks.

“I’m sorry for disturbing your sleep,” A small smile of apology as he glances towards the newcomer.

“You look like you just rolled out of bed,” Seungkwan says snidely, a grin on his lips, “Didn’t even brush your hair?”

You begin to move your hand towards your scalp as you frown at him, but before you can touch your hair, Jihoon cuts him off. Glancing at the commander, you can see Seungcheol, Junhui, and Mingyu in the room as well.

“This isn’t the time, Boo,” Jihoon huffs and looks at you, “You look fine.”

You nod quickly at the commander before turning back to look at your guest in full, once she lays her eyes on you, she breaks out into a small smile.

“It’s good to see you again.” With all of the elegance that you had upon your first meeting, Sooyoung commandeers the room with her charisma, “I hope you’ve been well? I’m sorry for visiting so late.”

“Sooyoung?” The name falls from your lips as you stare at her, confused. It’s then you realize that another woman stands beside her, her face seems familiar as well.

Sooyoung seems to catch this, turning to her and telling you, “She’s my bodyguard, of sorts.”

“Your bodyguard?” The woman in question is almost as striking as an actress, not what you’d expect a guard to look like. 

Even more confused, you look at Jihoon, who sighs out, “…She said that it was imperative to talk to you.”

It’s obvious that he isn’t stepping into your own matters unless you allow him to, so you hum to yourself and look back to your visitor. “Why are you here, Sooyoung?” A tilt of your head as you ask, “Is something wrong?” 

“I’ll get straight to the point then,” her smile fades away and her expression becomes stern, turning to face you fully, “I’m here to take you away.” 

“Take me away…?” Brow furrowing, your foot moves instinctively to take a step back, “Why?”  

A hum as she thinks, “It’s a long story that I’m not sure how to begin.”

“There isn’t any time to discuss this,” the woman beside her says hurriedly, “We need to leave immediately if we’re to get her out of here safely.” 

“Hold on,” you interrupt the pair, “Why should I go with you two?”

“That’s a good question!” You hear Junhui speak up from behind you, “You barge in here, ask to talk to her, and demand that she leaves with you?”

“You’re not related to her, are you?” Mingyu adds questioningly, “She looks about as confused as we do.” 

“Sooyoung could you explain what’s happening a little more?” You pose, not trying to get the captains upset if there’s an actual reason for you to be worried. 

“Our intrusion would perplex anyone, I suppose,” she nods in understanding and then motions to one of the tables in the room, “This might take a while, so it’s best to be comfortable in the meantime.”

“Would you like us to stay outside?” Youngmin asks, glancing towards the open doorway into one of the temple’s courtyards.

“No,” Sooyoung says as you move to take a seat at the table she’d motioned to. “I’d like you to stay, this involves the Hwarang as well.” She takes her own seat, followed by the captains, Youngmin and Jihoon, who she observes quietly before beginning to speak. 

“I’m aware that you all have met Hong Jisoo before, right?” As she states the question a few of the Hwarang look taken aback. “You’ve fought him once or twice.”

“How do you know that?” Jihoon’s gaze hardens on the woman.

“I know most things that go on in Seorabeol,” her gaze returns the hardness of his, “Eventually.”

“You’re like him and his cronies, aren’t you?” Arms crossing over his chest as he comes to the realization. 

“I’d prefer not to be associated with him, Minghao or Minhyun, but yes, in a sense I am.” A nod of affirmation as Jihoon’s expression softens slightly.

“… You were talking about Jisoo, then.” 

“We fought him at Wonweol, Ongsan and Banwolseong,” Mingyu interjects, brow furrowed, “What are his ties with the loyalists?” 

“It seemed like he was there for his own reasons, though,” Seungkwan points out, countering the other. “Not any sort of politics.” 

“Regardless, he’s an enemy of us,” Jihoon frowns, adjusting the way he’s seated.

“Then you’re also aware that he’s pursuing her?” Sooyoung’s eyes flicker to you, the captain’s stares following suit. 

The unraveling of this truth is a story you don’t want to hear the end of. Your stomach churns uneasily as each captain looks at you, some confused, some unsure of what to do or say. Youngmin eventually breaks the silence,

“We’re well aware of that.” He coughs to clear his throat before continuing, “We also know he has comrades he calls Demons; not that we believe that, of course.”

“I’m not sure that that claim is unfounded, Chief,” Seungcheol speaks up from the swarm of captains looking at you, “They all possessed strength incomparable to any of our men. Any of our... living men, at least. Despite that, it seems as if no one really knows they exist.”

The captains shift, murmuring things too quietly for you to hear before you look back to Sooyoung, anxious for her to continue. 

“So, then you do know that they’re Demons,” a nod as she hums somewhat contently, “That will make things a little easier to explain.” Her hands fold atop one another as she places them on the table, “I’m not human either, I’m a Demon too.”

Your eyes widen, lips parting in surprise, “You are?”

“I’m actually rather high ranking,” eyes locked with yours, “something akin to a princess.” 

“My family has been guarding hers for generations,” the other woman adds, moving a bit to stand closer to Sooyoung’s chair, not having sat when everyone else did. 

“I suppose that makes more sense,” Jihoon muses, despite you still looking confusedly between the three. “I was wondering why you were so friendly that night, you were getting intel on the Hwarang, weren’t you?” 

A sly smile as the guard brushes a few strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ear, “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

“You know her?” Junhui sounds shocked as he looks at Jihoon.

“Move your eyes up six inches, Junhui,” Mingyu snorts, “That’s Seulgi.” Then, it clicks, she isn’t as dressed up as she was that night, but it looks to be the kisaeng from the night the Hwarang had been in Noseo-dong. “Dressed a little differently, but that’s definitely her.” 

“Holy shi-” Junhui nearly chokes, baffled at his inability to have recognized her from before.

“Us Demons have lived on this land since before the kingdoms were even mere conceptions,” Sooyoung captures the conversation once more, “The top officials in Silla, Goguryeo, and what was once Baekje, already know of our existence. Most Demons have no interest in human affairs, preferring to be left alone. However, humans in positions of power sought to use us to benefit their own means.”

“Did the Demons comply, then?” You question softly, seeing the look of disgruntlement on Sooyoung’s face. 

“Most didn’t. Human ambition has never been strong enough to pull a Demon to get involved,” an almost angered sigh leaves her, “Yet, when the Demons refused to help, the humans were furious and sent out armies to destroy our homes and our villages. We scattered across the land and are now divided by the different kingdoms. We seldom leave our domains and remain in hiding.”

“That’s awful,” a somberness coating your words as she speaks, the lorness in her expression unsettling. 

“Many Demons went on to have children with humans, there are few of us now who can claim a pure bloodline.”

“I assume Jisoo is one of them?” Youngmin questions softly, trying to not upset Sooyoung further.

“The largest pureblood family are the Hongs, you’ve already met the head, Jisoo.” A small nod as she looks to you, “In the north, the largest clan is the Heo family. That would be yours. I heard the Demons of your family were destroyed by humans, but it seems like you’re the lone survivor.”  

“Me?” You resist the urge to point at yourself, utterly taken aback by what Sooyoung had just divulged. “That’s impossible… I-”

“I had Seulgi look into your family history to the best of her ability,” she insists with a firm shake of her head.

“It seems hard to believe,” Seulgi offers you a sympathetic smile, “but you are very much a Demon.”

At a loss for words, you stare at the two women. It’s borderline insane that this is what they’re telling you, but at the same time it would explain a few things. Why Jisoo is after you, why you heal so quickly…

“If you really are the descendent of a pureblood Demon, it’s quite clear why Jisoo is after you,” Sooyoung doesn’t finish the rest of her statement, the answer being quite clear.

“He intends to marry her,” Youngmin huffs, glancing at you and your wide-eyed expression.

“It seems so,” the woman agrees, biting her cheek, “So far it seems as if he’s only been testing the water, I’m unsure of when he’ll become more confident in his approach. If he were to use his full strength, I don’t know how you would fare in protecting her. Even the Hwarang can’t stand against the true power of a Demon.”

“Wait a minute- aren’t you going a bit too far?” Junhui asks, sounding hurt by the latter statement. 

“I don’t think you’re giving us enough credit,” Mingyu frowns, “We’re not just some foot soldiers.”

“The only reason you’re alive is because Jisoo wants you to be,” Sooyoung points out, “If he and his accomplices were to use their full strength I’m not sure what would happen.”

“Then let them,” Seungcheol’s voice rises through the unsettled quiet, “I would like to see the power of a real Demon.”

Jisoo, Minhyun and Minghao had all shown incredible strength in the prior meetings you had with them; even the Hwarang captains had trouble keeping up. If that hadn’t been the full extent of their power, you’re unsure that you want to see it. 

“Junhui and Mingyu are right,” Jihoon says, “Even if they’re stronger than the average warrior, you’re still discrediting us. The power difference wasn’t so great that they bested us easily.”

“That’s right,” Seungkwan nods and smirks at the Jihoon, “Besides, we’ve got the Demon commander himself in charge.”

“This isn’t the time for jokes, Boo,” Jihoon sighs and shakes his head.

“You must realize that these men are unlike any you’ve faced before,” there’s an almost pleading edge to Sooyoung’s voice. “Your job is to protect Seorabeol, not her. That’s why I’m asking you to leave her in our care, with us her chances of surviving one of Jisoo’s attacks will be much higher.”

“Give us a break,” Junhui says, rising to his feet and planting his palms on the table, “You’re making it sound like we can’t protect her.” 

“I’m not trying to sound rude but,” Seungkwan’s head tilts at the two women, “you think that the two of you could protect her better than us? Neither of you are a part of the Hwarang, I’m not sure why you’re going around and sticking your nose in our business.”

Sooyoung and Seulgi seem to be taken aback by the captain’s reaction. 

“What do you think, Commander Lee?” Seulgi looks towards Jihoon, her gaze narrowing, “You’ve acknowledged Jisoo’s strength, are you not at least considering Sooyoung’s offer? I think it’s in your best interest to leave her in our care.” 

“That’s different,” Jihoon looks at Seulgi, leaning back in his chair slightly, “We made a promise to her, to protect her, we’re not going to back out just because they’re Demons. And I understand that you call yourselves Demons too—but that gives us no ground to trust you.”

“Do you realize who you’re speaking to? Sooyoung is a descendant of—” 

“Seulgi,” Sooyoung stops the other with a raise of her hand, her tone calm but stern, leaving no room for more argument, “That’s not necessary.”

“I agree with Lee,” Seungcheol affirms, yet doesn’t look your way, “if she possesses blood of a different species… I’m sure her aid will come to use for our internal purposes in the very near future.”

Seulgi glares at the colonel, not speaking as to not anger Sooyoung. 

“This is a problem, then,” Sooyoung notes solemnly, “Is there no way to convince you to allow her to go with us?”

“Hold on,” Youngmin interjects, “We didn’t even confirm what she has to say about all of this.” His gaze travels to you, sympathetic in nature and looking in your eyes as if you already have an answer.

But you don’t know what to say. It’s not that you doubt the concerns of Sooyoung and Seulgi, yet there’s just more and more to take in. 

Youngmin sees your furrowed brow, eyes teeming with indecisiveness, and nods with a small smile, “It must be difficult to discuss in front of so many people. You should speak to Sooyoung privately.”

“What the hell—!” Jihoon begins to protest, but Youngmin is unwavering in his stance. 

“We’ve been ignoring her feelings for this entire conversation,” Youngmin states, “if she wishes to leave of her own accord, for her own safety, we ought to let her, no?”

“You’re too soft on people,” Jihoon scoffs, but makes no move to stop him. 

“You won’t steal her away the moment we leave you alone, will you?” Seungcheol asks as the captains rise to their feet.   

“Of course not,” Sooyoung says as she remains seated, “Once Demons make a promise, we’re bound to keep it.”

A few moments later, once the captains, commander, chief and colonel had filed out of the main hall, you lead Sooyoung to your room nestled in the compound. Seulgi had opted to stay outside, just far enough away so she wouldn’t encroach on your private conversation. 

“I apologize for giving you a terribly large number of things to think about,” Sooyoung starts off, “Normally, I would never do something like this.”

“It’s alright,” you try to reassure her with a small smile, “I’m sorry for them as well, I know they can be a little… brusque at times.”

“That’s to be expected,” she waves it off, “I know I was asking a lot of them. Not many humans would accept the existence of us so easily. But enough of that, what do you say to my offer? Do you have any thoughts on it?”

Of course you do. If it had been Sooyoung to come across you on your first night in Seorabeol, you very well may have taken her up on her hospitality. Yet now…

As if she can see the wavering of your options, Sooyoung speaks, “The Hwarang seem to believe they can protect you from everything out to get you. I don’t doubt their dedication, I do, however, doubt their ability.”

You stay silent, aware that what she just said may be true. The Hwarang are powerful, skilled in both the sword and bow. You’d seen them overcome overwhelming odds, but those odds had always been nothing but human-made. From what Sooyoung had said, the strength of a single Demon would be enough to wipe them out should they so choose. A few of you have been able to see that firsthand, and the losses associated with it. To think that that same fate could arise to a captain of the Hwarang fills you with undeniable dread. 

“With Buyeo Pung seeking aid in Goguryeo, things will only get more hectic here in the capital,” Sooyoung says to fill the silence, “If Jisoo were to strike in the hysteria, what do you think would happen? You should leave the Hwarang, let them fight without worry.”

“Sooyoung…” The concern for you seems real, frantic, almost. 

“Is there,” her expression softening as she searches yours, coming to a subtle conclusion, “a reason you want to stay?”

“…There is.” You answer without thinking it through, the words falling from you so quickly you can barely catch them. 

“One of those men, perhaps?” Innocent in nature, her question still catches you off-guard. 

“Yes,” you nod, lower lip catching between your teeth as you can’t find it within yourself to lie to her. 

For a moment she looks tense, before her posture softens and a relieved expression overcomes her, “I see… I won’t ask who, but I can understand your hesitance now. I can’t force you to leave, but should you need us, you need only ask.” 

Sooyoung and you make your way back to the main hall, the captains loiter around the space, some look anxious upon your arrival.

“Have you come to a decision?” Youngmin asks once you’ve fully stepped into the room, giving you little time to compose yourself. 

“For the time being we’ve decided to leave things as they are,” Sooyoung states, Seulgi looking at her worriedly.

“Are you sure?”

“Quite.” Sooyoung nods to her, “I believe prioritizing what she wishes is what’s most important for now.” 

“Very well,” Youngmin finds it hard to mask the smile growing on his lips, “The Hwarang accept responsibility for her well-being.” 

“Just relax and leave it all to me!” Junhui bursts out, eager to show his worth.

“I’m sure Wen’ll give you much more to worry about,” Mingyu laughs and looks at you, “It’ll be nice to still have you around.”

“What kind of girl wants to stay here?” Seungkwan chuckles, “I can’t tell if you’re brave or if you’ve had a strong lapse in judgment.”

“This doesn’t change anything,” Jihoon points out, “You’ll still be treated like you always were.” 

“Of course,” you nod, “Thank you all for letting me stay.” 

Sooyoung then moves to you, her hand finding yours as she looks into your eyes, “Please be careful, and remember, I’m on your side.”

“Thank you, Sooyoung,” you smile at her gratefully as she relinquishes the hold on your hand. She gives you one last beaming smile before her and Seulgi are off into the dark of night. 

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 19𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 In the days since Sooyoung’s visit, you find it much more difficult to drift off into a dreamless slumber. When you do dream, you find that your mind often travels to your heritage and what it means for you now and in the future, something of which you don’t want to think about. 

You had decided to stay with the Hwarang, but was that really the best choice for you, for them? Of course, you wanted to stay but would you being here cause them unneeded harm?

A sudden clang from outside causes you to jump, to leave your thoughts for a moment as your heart begins to pound. Eyes cautiously looking towards your bedroom door, your hands clench your blankets in taught anticipation. 

Several short bangs from your door cause you to rise to your feet, the voice of Jeon Wonwoo calling out to you, “I’m sorry for bothering you, but there’s an emergency!” 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, voice wrought with anxiousness as you walk towards the door, opening it to allow him inside. 

His body tense as he enters, continuously looking over his shoulder to make sure the hallway is clear, “The Demons have attacked us.” 

“What?!” Icy dread seeps through your veins at his words.

“They’re after you, which means you need to stay here.” 

“But—” You begin to protest his assertion, wanting to help in some way as the only reason the Demons are here is because of you. “Wonwoo, I have to find the others.”

“I can’t let you,” he shakes his head, a worried look in his eye as if he knows he can’t reason with you, “The Commander asked that I make sure you don’t leave.” 

“They’re here for me, though. If anyone gets hurt…” You wave away the thought, “Maybe I can try and reason with them? What if I can get them to leave peacefully?” 

Wonwoo’s lips purse, and after a moment, he shakes his head in defeat, “If you’re going to be that insistent, I don’t think I can stop you. I was told to protect you though, so if you’re going, I’m going.”

The two of you leave your room, barreling down the hallway until you’ve reached one of the inner courtyards. You stand there momentarily, unsure of where to go, until Wonwoo speaks up.

“It’s this way,” he says before something darts in front of you, pushing the officer to the ground. His body seems to fly for a few yards, hitting the ground with a thud as Wonwoo groans out in pain. As you try to run up to him, the same blur passes in front of you and you feel an arm wrap around yours.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The voice of Hong Jisoo asks you simply as you struggle to get out of his grip. His grip is like steel, unmoving and snakelike, “I heard the Park Clan visited a few days ago, I’m sure you know why I’m here, then.” 

He sighs, looking at the surrounding buildings, “You’re a Demon, a noble Demon… There isn’t any reason for you to hole yourself up with fakes.” Jisoo’s grip tightens on your arm slightly, “Come with me.” 

It’s obvious who he’s talking about when he mentioned the fakes. With the way your body tenses, Jisoo can sense your anger.

“Do you really think staying here and helping their own self-interest and agenda to create those… things is really what you should be doing?”

You find it hard to respond. For obvious reasons, you aren’t a fan of the existence of the Furies, but there were times when it was needed for a Hwarang to survive. Could you fault a man for wanting to live? Besides, your father was one of the people who created the serum, you can’t help but feel partially responsible.

“You don’t know anything about what’s going on here,” you thrash in his grip, trying to lessen his hold on you.

“So? Even if I did, are you asking me to play ignorant to what they’re actually doing?” He scoffs, looking up from you as the sound of racing footsteps approaches. 

You break your gaze away from him to see Mingyu and Jihoon running towards you, sour expressions on both of their faces.

“Breaking in again?” Jihoon frowns as he locks eyes with Jisoo, “I don’t know if you’re brave or stupid. This isn’t a gathering place for Demons, you know.”

“Barging in here to find yourself a wife,” Mingyu snickers at the Demon, “You’d think you’d have gotten the message by now.”

The sight of the two Hwarang puts you at ease a bit, even more so when you can see Chan and a handful of other wang-do behind them. There are a few missing faces among them, you wonder if they’d gotten injured in the earlier skirmishes. 

“You have no idea how important she is,” Jisoo frowns, his grip on you unrelenting still.

“So, taking her against her will just because you’re too scared of rejection is the way you’re going around this?” Mingyu nearly shouts at him, “That’s just pathetic.” 

“Even if you take her as a hostage, we’ll kill you without hesitation,” Jihoon affirms, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. 

“I wouldn’t need to use her as leverage with the likes of you,” there’s an arrogance in his words as the Hwarang begin to encircle him. The tension pulls like a taut rope, beginning to fray as it reaches its breaking point. 

Eyes glancing down to your arm, you realize that Jisoo had left your other one free, you reach for your blade at your hip. It’s an awkward angle, but you jerk the blade from its scabbard and swing it up towards Jisoo.

He dodges it easily, his hand reaching out to grab your wrist, his grip tightens and causes you to cry out. With the force he is exerting, you feel as if your bones will break, the blade in your hand clattering to the ground. 

“You really don’t understand how powerful I am, do you?” His gaze sharpens at you, lips parting to say something else before a voice calls out.

“I’m your opponent,” Jihoon shouts, “I said before that I wouldn’t hesitate to strike you from behind!”

Your failed attack had abated Jisoo’s attention towards the commander long enough to allow him a chance to strike. Jihoon’s sword drawn from his scabbard, he arcs his blade towards Jisoo’s head. The Demon moves quickly, but with a nonchalant nature in his movements as the blade passes centimeters from his throat.

The attack was enough time for you to rid yourself from Jisoo’s grasp and run towards the commander. Jihoon’s free hand outstretches to grab your arm and pull you into him, his arm then moving to wrap around you, both catching and sheltering you. 

“I thought I told Jeon to keep you in your room,” He mutters under his breath, “You never listen, do you?” 

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, the pulsating feeling from where Jisoo had grabbed your wrist beginning to fade.

“You did good though,” Jihoon praises you, “Without your distraction I wouldn’t have gotten an opening.” His approval is somewhat shocking, not something you’re accustomed to so it takes you by surprise.

“Lee Jihoon,” Jisoo’s voice pulls you and Jihoon’s attention away from one another and towards the adversary, “Get your hands off her. She’s mine.” There’s a possessiveness in his tone that chills you to your core, a fury in his eyes that seems to have ignited after he made his recovery from Jihoon’s attack.

“The Hwarang are responsible for her,” The commander shifts, bringing you just a little closer to him, “We gave our word.”

“Come with me,” Jisoo’s attention turns to you, “You’re a member of an honorable Demon family. You shouldn’t be associated with the likes of these humans.”  

“I’m staying here,” it only takes you recalling the blatant disregard Jisoo has had for human lives on your handful of encounters with him to confirm your distaste for him. 

“You choose the humans, then?” His voice low, threatening like a cornered animal. 

“That’s too bad, Jisoo,” a laugh from outside of the circle of Hwarang, you look to see Xu Minghao pushing his way through the members. “Never thought I’d see you get rejected by a girl.”

Your eyes widen, Jihoon had had issues dealing with Jisoo alone, now that another Demon is here, you’re not sure what he’d do. 

“Commander,” another voice from outside the circle as the Hwarang break their lines to allow Seungcheol to walk through, “I apologize for being late.” He looks at Jisoo and Minghao with a small smile, “I’m afraid the Fury Corps will be your opponent this evening.” 

A wash of relief overcomes you at the sight of several members walking behind Seungcheol, although the Furies have caused issues in the past, it seems these men were on a set goal.

“You were saying some interesting things earlier,” Seungcheol muses, still looking at the two Demons. “Something along the lines of calling us fake? This would be a great opportunity to prove you otherwise.” The colonel’s eyes then turn red, his hair turning stark white as he reaches for the blade at his hip. 

“These men are ready to fight,” Minhyun, who you hadn’t seen snake his way through the men, tells Jisoo. 

“So?” Minghao scoffs, the quiver of arrows on his back rattling as he moves, “They could have a whole army of these new bloods and they still wouldn’t be a match for us.”

“There’s no need to dirty my blade with fake Demon blood,” Jisoo’s eyes flicker from Seungcheol to Jihoon, “I’ll do you a favor and not kill you all today, but that doesn’t mean I’m done here. I will be back for her.” With that, the trio break past the lines of Hwarang faster than any of the men, human or Fury, could keep up with, disappearing into the darkness outside of the compound.

“You bastards—!” Jihoon calls out after them after they’ve already disappeared.

“Should we go after them?” Seungcheol asks the commander, glancing back at his group of men. 

“No,” Jihoon shakes his head, “We can’t risk the citizens of Seorabeol seeing your unit.”

“Understood,” Seungcheol nods, “We’ll call it a night, then.” 

“Thank you, Commander,” once you were sure that the threat was gone, your body sags in relief.  

Jihoon’s grip on you relaxes and allows you to step away from him, “There’s no need to thank me. We had our reasons for wanting to protect you. Just try and get some sleep now.” He then turns to his men and orders them to find any dead or injured men around the compound. His demeanor takes on that of astute seriousness, wanting to end this as quickly as he can.

𝔍𝔲𝔩𝔶 20𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔅𝔲𝔩𝔤𝔲𝔨𝔰𝔞 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Mid-morning, after a tumultuous night and subsequent sleep, you trudge your way to the main hall to find the captains in some kind of meeting. Upon your entry, Eunseok turns to you and offers a small wave.

“Good morning,” he smiles and beckons you over to sit down next to him, you take him up on his offer and he speaks again, “Did you sleep well?”

“As best I could,” you respond sheepishly.

“You don’t need to lie,” Eunseok notes, “We can tell you barely slept at all.”

“Do I really look that bad?” You mutter, your fingers moving to trace the circles under your eye. A shake of your head as you turn to Chan, who sits on your other side, “How’s Wonwoo doing?” 

“The fall knocked him out cold, but aside from some minor bruises he looks like he’ll be fine,” the officer reassures you. “He wants to apologize for not doing a better job of protecting you.”

“I should be the one apologizing to him!” You claim almost exasperatedly as the door to the main hall opens and a figure strides in.

“Is something wrong, Chief?” Eunseok questions Youngmin, who looks far from the chipper mood he typically has. “I think you’re scaring her.”

“I’m sorry if I am,” he apologizes to you, “Forgive me.” The smile he gives you is fleeting, returning to the grimace that seems deep rooted into him now. 

“What happened?” You question, and he lets out a sigh.

“The monks here don’t want us staying at Bulguksa any longer.” He says as calmly as he can, a look of defeat in his eyes.

“You mean to say they’re telling us to leave?” Chan asks, a troubled expression overcoming him. 

“More or less, yes,” The leader frowns.

“I had a feeling this would happen…” Eunseok sighs out and looks at Youngmin, “What should we do?” 

The monks at Bulguksa seemed to have shifted to a pro-Guard stance since the outburst of attacks in the recent months against the Hwarang. It’s no surprise they want the Hwarang gone, but this place was just beginning to feel like home.

“Do you think last night’s incident was the last straw?” Chan poses to Youngmin, who nods in agreement.

“I don’t think, I know.” He huffs out a large amount of air, “They don’t want actual fighting on their grounds, I’m sure some councilman also had his hand in this as well.” 

“This is all my fault,” you realize as he says that, the Demon’s wouldn’t have shown up if you weren’t here.

“That isn’t true,” Youngmin tries to reassure you, “We forced ourselves in here with unreasonable demands.”

“If we need to move, we should start looking at new locations,” Chan says quickly to change the topic. 

“The monks here have already provided another temple for us to stay in,” Youngmin says, his brow furrowing. 

“That’s very… nice of them,” Eunseok states, trepidation in his voice. “They must really want us gone.”

“Yes to both,” Youngmin nods, “which is why I accepted their offer. We’re going to get busy around here soon.”

The donors to Bulguksa Temple bought a piece of land some ways away from the original site to build a new compound for the Hwarang. It lay outside of the city, further than Bulguksa or Shoshin had been, called Shoji. The new grounds has ample enough space for a bathhouse, new training buildings, and even more rooms for the Hwarang members. The members are clearly excited about it. By the time the end of the summer came around, the Hwarang had fully moved from their residence at Bulguksa to their new home in Shoji. 

𝔖𝔢𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 27𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Autumn breaks quickly after the long summer months. In August, the Crown had ordered its army to lay siege to Tolsa Fortress in the southern part of the Goguryeo Kingdom, asking for the aid of several Hwarang captains to join their ranks. The siege lasted for weeks with no eventual winner, save for Goguryeo as its stronghold hadn’t been weakened. No major events had occurred during the siege, the captains that had left, Junhui and Mingyu, returning with little to tell of their ventures to the northern kingdom.

It’s a quiet morning today, you’re cleaning up dishes from breakfast when you realize that the commander is nowhere to be found. Come to think of it, he hadn’t been present for breakfast this morning, either. Maybe he’s too busy to come out, but that doesn’t mean he shouldn’t eat something.

A few moments later you find yourself with a tray in hand, walking carefully to his room. You’ve adorned the tray with an assortment of food and a small pot of tea as well, not knowing if he was hungry or not.

“Commander,” you say as you stand in front of his door, “I’ve brought you some tea.”

“Come in,” Jihoon says after a moment, and you move to open his door. 

“Oh,” your eyes widen as you step inside, a bit taken aback by what you see.

“You can put it down anywhere,” he says, and you move to set it down, trying not to stare at him too much. He sits at the head of the room, writing something down on a piece of parchment, but that’s not what is grabbing your attention. His hair, which he usually ties up in a not atop his head, cascades down his shoulders loosely as he writes. 

“Do you need something else?” He asks, probably noticing your elongated stare.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, averting your gaze from him. 

“Then why are you here?” Jihoon questions, setting down his brush, careful not to draw his sleeve through the inkwell. “I’m a little busy.”

“Well…” You mumble, “Isn’t your hair in the way?”

“I don’t have time to tie it up, there’s too much I need to do,” he says nonchalantly, “I’ve got mountains of this shit to go through.” It’s then you notice the stacks of papers around him, all baring what looks like important seals. 

Even then, every time he moves to brush a strand of hair from his vision, he becomes even more frustrated. 

“Would you like me to tie it up for you?” 

Jihoon stays silent for a moment before turning back to his work, picking up his brush and beginning to hurriedly write, “I don’t like it when people touch my hair.” 

“I see…” you say, watching him write for a moment, not knowing what to say next.

“I appreciate the gesture,” he sighs, once again setting the brush down and moving to tie his hair up. “Now I can focus a bit more.”

“Commander? Have you eaten anything today?” You ask, looking towards the tray you’d brought in, “I brought you some snacks but if you needed a full meal, I could make you something.” 

He pauses from his work, and for a moment you think he’s forgotten about your presence entirely. “No,” Jihoon says and shakes his head, “I should be done by lunchtime. I’ll eat a lot then.” 

“Is there anything in particular you’d like?” 

“I told you that I don’t have time to eat right now,” he frowns, a small hunger pang reverberating through him.

“I meant that I’m the one cooking lunch today…” You scramble to fix your words, “So if there’s anything you want, let me know and I’ll see what I can do.” 

Jihoon now turns to fully look at you, chuckling to himself as he does so, “If you make what I want, the captains are going to be pissed.” 

“Let them be,” you shoot him a smile, “They can be as mad as they want. You’re working hard, and since I can’t help you out here, I can at least do something else for you.” 

“Food on the mind, huh?” A smile curling onto the edge of his lips, “I guess it can’t be helped then… If you back out on what I say, I’ll have it out for you, okay?” There’s a playful edge to his voice, joking, obviously, but it still catches you a bit off guard. 

“I’m ready to do what I can,” You nod eagerly.

“How about namul then?” He states simply. “Any kind will do.”

“Of course,” the words fall as you begin to think of what you’d need to make the dish. It’s not that it’s difficult to make, just time consuming as you would have to cook the variety of sides that you could find. 

“I’m looking forward to it, your cooking’s gotten a lot better recently.”

“Really?” You ask, somewhat surprised. No one’s really mentioned your cooking prowess before, you think it's okay at best. 

“The food we normally have is quick and easy to make, we don’t get much that takes time and effort. I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it though.” 

A smile creeps onto your face and you try your best to hide it, still taken aback by the continuous praise, “I’ll try my best. We get a lot of fresh vegetables this time of year.” 

“Ingredients aren’t important,” he shakes his head, “If you could try and get the northern flavor, that’d be great.” A peaceful demeanor, almost as if he’s reminiscing, overcomes him. It ignites something of a fire in you, making you want to make this the best namul he’d ever had. 

“I’ll be going then,” you say and turn on your heels, only for the commander to call out your name a second later. 

“Do I really look that tired?” Jihoon asks as your eyes meet his.

“I never meant anything like that… It’s just that I don’t get to do much for you and I’d like to do anything I can.” 

The commander frowns, staying silent for a moment. “I’m not sure what it looks like, but I only allow myself to take on jobs that I can do. If I can’t do it, then I give it to someone who can. That’s also a part of my job.” He watches your eyes for your reaction, “Being determined is always good, but if there’s something you can’t do, you can’t do it, right?” 

“…Right?” Jihoon is being serious, but for the life of you, you can’t understand what he is trying to say. 

“How do I…” He hums, tapping his foot impatiently, “What I’m saying is that you don’t need to give yourself more work. Just do what jobs you can.” 

If you did that, then you’d barely be doing anything. 

“With you here, it gives the Hwarang something to stake its pride on. Do you understand?” He breaks his gaze with you to shrug slightly, “We’ll keep you safe, you don’t need to worry.” Your silence seems to miff him, “Don’t trust me?” 

“No, of course not!” You exclaim shortly, trying to keep your outburst to a minimum. 

“Then put on a brave face and don’t worry over what you can’t control,” he sighs, “that’s what everyone else here does.” 

“Commander…” you feel warm at his words of assurance. 

“I’ll stop lecturing you now,” Jihoon looks back to you, “I’m sorry for holding you.” He reaches for the cup of tea you’d brought him before looking back to his paperwork. 

“Thank you…” You know he’s driven by a ravenous determination to never look at Hong Jisoo or any other Demon out there, and that asking for help from others isn’t who he is, yet… To hear him say that in front of you, in and of itself, is some part of that resolve. Even though he can’t see you now, you give him a bow before you leave the room. 

𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 1𝔰𝔱, 664 – 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔬𝔩, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It’s windy today, you noticed it first when you awoke, the hiss of air swarming in through unsealed cracks and pockets of air where the doors don’t meet their frames. You notice it still when the last of the leaves are stripped from their branches as you and Mingyu walk to the city center. And you’re noticing it now, the slice of the cold cutting through your clothes and chilling you to the bone. 

“It is almost winter, isn’t it?” Mingyu muses as he catches you shivering involuntarily, “The wind coming in from the coast isn’t helping. If this is what it’s like during the day, I kind of feel bad for the guys who patrol at night.” 

Your hands clench as he huffs out a laugh that turns into clouded vapors, “Are your hands cold? Want me to hold them for you?” 

You know he’s joking by the way you get flustered and tell him no, him laughing again as you continue to walk down the street. Looking up from your embarrassed haze, you spot someone walking towards you.

“Isn’t today great?” Junhui asks as he approaches, his arms outstretching as if to embrace the chilled air.

“Unfortunately, not all of us can act like human torches,” Mingyu shakes his head, “I still don’t know how you’re not affected by the cold.”

“Look at who’s talking Mr. I’ll-Break-Code-and-Wear-My-Summer-Clothes,” Junhui scoffs. Now that he mentions it, Mingyu is wearing his Hwarang blues, but the white cloth of his sleeves doesn’t look to be the thick linen typically worn during the colder months.

Even if Junhui was meaning to scold him, you know he means it in the friendliest way possible. Their friendship is wrought with things like this: what seems to be an argument but is really them caring for one another. You can’t help but chuckle at the two.

“Why’re you smiling like that?” Junhui asks when he catches your expression.

“She probably thinks your face is funny, you should really do something about that…” Mingyu pokes, a teasing cadence to his voice.

“It’s not that,” you shake your head, “I was just remembering the last time we met each other on your rounds, I was with Seungkwan and Soonyoung then.” The latter name brings a bitterness to your tongue, still unsure of how to feel about Soonyoung and Hansol leaving the Hwarang on such short notice. The two men’s faces turn sour at the mention of their friend.

“I just meant that with everything going on… it makes me a little nostalgic,” you say, trying to shake off the thought.

“The Hwarang’s changed,” Mingyu nods with a sigh, “Hell, so has everything else. Youngmin’s been promoted and all.”

Youngmin’s promotion didn’t mean he left the Hwarang entirely, but it meant he traveled often to speak with other generals and assess the threat of another Baekje plot. Rumors of Buyeo Pung raising an army in Goguryeo had been circulating recently, putting everyone on edge once again. You thought Youngmin’s promotion to be a good thing for the Hwarang, yet with Junhui and Mingyu’s reaction, they seem less than thrilled.

“We didn’t join to be the Crown’s guard dogs,” Junhui shakes his head. While the Hwarang had been surface level related to the Crown, only receiving orders when necessary, they now take orders directly.

“How is this going to change for everyone going forward?” You ask the pair, trying to focus on them and not the whirlwinds of conversations happening along the busy street.

“Well, if we really do need to fight against another one of Buyeo Pung’s rebellions, we won’t just be killing off the tail end of his followers. We’ll probably be put on the front lines.” Mingyu frowns, not too certain what to think of that idea.

“Supposedly, it was Yoon Jeonghan. He’s been making efforts to get Baekje back on its feet,” Junhui’s shoulders shrug, “Because of that I heard some factions of the revivalists are pissed at him because they were trying to win Pung’s favor.”

“He already had a target on his back within the Silla government for being a Baekje revivalist, he’s hated by most of the kingdoms now.” Mingyu muses, looking up to the sky for a moment. “Until something happens though, I suppose things are going to stay as they are.”

“And they will, it’s not like they can do anything about what the kings want to do,” Junhui nods. “They’ll only get involved once the king starts asking them to ration their food again to send it off to war.”

As you look around the street, you want to think that he’s right. The city kept thriving even under the threat of another invasion or war… Life continues regardless of what the higher powers of the kingdoms are plotting. You look up to Junhui, words falling out of you before you can catch them,

“I never realized you were so interested in politics.”

“Didn’t realize?” He looks slightly taken aback, his arms crossed over his chest, “What exactly did you think of me?”

“Uhm…” You cough into your hand, looking away from him, “Let’s continue our rounds. It’s nearly winter which means the sun’s going to start setting earlier...”

𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 7𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 The name Yoon Jeonghan had only been said once before, that you can recall. He seemed to be an instigator for a few of the Baekje-Silla skirmishes as of late and the kingdoms were desperate to find him. Yet, after a few negotiations with Tang and Silla leadership, it seems as if he had betrayed his loyalty to the Silla powers and had begun to help the two allies. You don’t know much about the logistics of it, but when Eunseok brings him up, you’re a bit startled by what he says.

“Yoon Jeonghan has been assassinated.” Eunseok states the news in the main hall, among the collection of captains who linger there after their morning practice.

“Are you serious?” Mingyu questions, “Do they know who did it?”

“Could have been someone from Silla or it could’ve been someone from the loyalists,” Junhui shrugs, “Hell, it could’ve been personal. If it was, I bet it was that Huang guy.”

“If he was going to get killed, I wish I could’ve done it myself,” Seungkwan sighs, crossing his arms.

“That’s not very funny, coming from you,” Junhui frowns as he looks at the other captain. “Weren’t we told to leave him alone?”

You’d never met Jeonghan, in fact, you barely know who he was or what he did. Yet somehow you feel that his death means something important to the kingdom, as if the already rising unease has skyrocketed.

“You all know the orders to leave him alone came from the Crown,” Eunseok nods gravely, “The rest of the kingdom isn’t going to see it that way. A scabbard belonging to a member of the Hwarang was left at the scene of his death. An official investigation by the Guard has been launched.”

“Is a scabbard really enough evidence?” You ask, feeling worry begin to claw its way down your spine.

“If it’s not I’m sure they’ll ‘find’ some more when it comes time,” Mingyu huffs as he looks back to Eunseok, “Who are they saying it belongs to?”

“They actually say it’s yours, Mingyu.” Eunseok frowns as the elder’s eyes widen.

“Really Kim?” Seungkwan sounds somewhat amused, “I wish you’d taken me along.”

“Cut it, Boo.” Mingyu’s voice is sharp as he motions to his waist, “My scabbard’s right here. If they’re going to make shit up they should at least do it better.”

“I don’t suspect you,” Eunseok points out and gestures to the others in the room, “I’m sure no one else here does either. Unfortunately, I’m not sure that the rest of the kingdom won’t try to pin the blame on you… I’m sure they’re having trouble finding the real culprit. Those who don’t think it’s you are looking at Huang Renjun, they say that he hired us to kill Yoon.” Was that the Huang that Junhui had mentioned earlier?  

“I’m sure most of the king’s chamber are eager to pin this on us though,” Junhui shakes his head, “Ever since the rumors of Baekje started again, the king only appointed staunchly pro-Royal Guardian and Guard nobles. Unless someone lied though, there’s no way this murder was done by one of us.”

“Unless Seungcheol decided to go and do it off the record,” Seungkwan notes, a slight smirk on his lips.

“How… is he these days?” Mingyu asks, a worried expression on his face. The last few times you’d come across him, he seemed to be acting stranger and stranger. Even if you didn’t want to believe it, something like this wasn’t far out of his realm of possibility. Whenever you pass him in the halls, it looks as if he’s hungry, thirsty for blood.

“We’ll have to be careful,” Junhui says, a hand running through his hair, “If we let people know about the Furies…”

“About that,” Jihoon interjects as he walks into the room, followed by Youngmin. It looks as if he’s going to say something else but the third figure that walks in takes everyone by surprise that whatever the commander is trying to say gets drowned out.

“Hansol?” Junhui nearly gasps out, “What the hell are you doing here?!”

For a moment, you question whether you’re asleep or not. The man who had just entered the hall was the same man who’d left months ago with Gongmyung and his men, Choi Hansol.

“Hansol,” Eunseok says, a smile overcoming him, “What happened with Gongmyung’s organization?”

“Why are you so nonchalant about this?” You ask him as you look at Hansol. “There’s no way the commander would allow someone from Gongmyung’s group here, we’re not even supposed to be talking to them—”

“Just,” Jihoon sighs out, trying to get the energy in the room to settle, “Let me talk. Starting today, Choi’s returned to the Hwarang.”

“What?” Mingyu sounds surprised, his once crossed arms falling to his sides. “Hold on, Lee, we’re glad he’s back but… What happened to Gongmyung?”

“You’re mistaken, but understandably so,” Hansol speaks, and you feel a sense of calm wash over you. It’s been too long since you’d heard him last. “I was never one of his supporters.”

“In fact, he joined Gongmyung under Jihoon’s direct orders,” Youngmin says with a coy smile, “As a spy, of sorts.” With the leader’s words, everything begins to make sense.

“I can’t believe you went off and had fun without me,” Seungkwan faux pouts at Hansol.

“I’m sorry we had to keep this from you,” Youngmin’s head bows down in apology. It’s a surprise for sure, but nonetheless a welcome one.

You give Hansol a small smile but he only sighs and shakes his head, “I’m afraid it’s a bit early to feel relieved.” His gaze turns to Jihoon, “The last six months have made Gongmyung’s intentions clear. Gongmyung plans to uproot the Hwarang institution in favor of his ideal one.”

“What do you mean by uproot?” Eunseok asks with a frown.

“Gongmyung is going to expose the Furies to force the king’s favor,” Jihoon bites the inside of his cheek as he holds in a scathing retort.

“There’s more,” Hansol adds and glances at Youngmin, “They plan to assassinate the Leader of the Hwarang.”

Youngmin’s face is tense, gaze hardening as he looks at Jihoon and waits for him to speak. You feel your stomach drop, not realizing the extent to which Gongmyung hated the Hwarang.

“The Guardians are moving to destroy us,” The commander says and looks to Mingyu, “You heard about Yoon?”

“That they’re trying to pin it on me?” A nod, “Yeah.”

“They’re using it to pin blame on us and to discredit your father,” Jihoon crosses his arms, “They’ve been spreading the rumor across Seorabeol, even if Huang says that he wasn’t the one who ‘hired’ us, there’s still going to be people who believe it was our doing.” His gaze travels to Hansol, “So, Choi’s going to be guarding Huang for the time being. If it looks like he left and then came back, it won’t be hard for Gongmyung to figure us out.”

A subtle nod from the captain, “Of course.”

The room stays quiet, so quiet that one can hear the wind whistling in from outside. A tension remains taught in the room, anticipatory for what’s to come and the outcome of what it brings.

“Kim Gongmyung…” The name leaves Jihoon in a hushed murmur, “It’s not enough for him to expose the Fury Corps, but to try and kill Youngmin too?” It’s almost as if he’s having a quiet conversation with his former comrade. He shakes his head, drawing his gaze from the floor and looks to the captains, “It’s too bad that it has to end this way, but we have no other choice. Gongmyung dies.”

“It can’t really be helped, can it?” Youngmin exhales, nodding solemnly as if to seal the former Deputy Commander’s fate.

“We’ll invite Gongmyung to Youngmin’s residence in Seorabeol, I’ll be there too,” Jihoon begins, his voice low, commanding, “Once he’s dead we’ll use his corpse to lure the rest of his Guardians there and kill them.” He looks to Mingyu and Junhui, “I’m assigning both of you and your divisions to this, take care of it.

“Who do you want me to kill?” Seungkwan asks, his hand resting atop the hilt of his sword.

“No one, you’re staying here.” When he sees the other beginning to protest, the commander speaks again, “You’ve still got that cough, right? You’re sick. Hansol can keep you company for a few days.”

“So, you’re telling me I can’t participate in the assassination of a person who’s trying to kill our leader?” Seungkwan sounds agitated, a bitterness coating his words as he glares at Jihoon, “You’re a real asshole.”

You don’t realize that you’ve been watching the scene unfold in silent shock until you feel a gentle tap on your shoulder. Turning, you see Hansol standing there, he seems to take in a breath before speaking.

“The Guardians of the Royal Tomb are going to be destroyed after this… If we want Soonyoung to return, this is our only chance of getting him back.”

Eyes widening at what he says, he’s right. If the Hwarang mean to kill the Guardians, that includes Kwon Soonyoung.

Sucking in a breath, you look at Jihoon, “Commander? What are we going to do about Soonyoung? He’s a part of the Guardians…”

“Don’t be silly,” Junhui says easily, “Of course we’ll save hi—”

“If he fights us, he dies.” Jihoon interrupts, cutting off the captain.

“You can’t mean that—” Heart beginning to pound in your chest, your mind going blank. Is Jihoon serious? “You’ve known Soonyoung for so long, surely you don’t mean that?”

Jihoon looks as if he wants to push you away, turning on his heels and exiting the main hall swiftly.

“You’re actually going to order them to kill Soonyoung?!” You cry out after him, finding yourself following his footsteps, “Just because he left the Hwarang means you don’t care if he lives or dies?!” Before you’re actually able to leave the main hall, a hand grabs the back of your robes and pulls you into the room.

“I know that he wants to save him too,” Youngmin’s voice says softly as you turn to face him, his hand letting go of your clothes. “There’s no way he could possibly live with giving the command to kill a friend who was part of our family for years.” His hands clench at his side, so much so his knuckles turn white and you fear his nails have pierced his skin.

In this moment you realize how much each of the Hwarang are suffering with this.

“I’m sorry for saying that,” you bow your head to him after your realization.

“There’s no need,” Youngmin sighs, “You’re angry. We all are. It makes me happy though, I’m glad people care about Soonyoung.” He lets out a heaving sigh before turning toward Mingyu and Junhui, “I’m not asking this as your Leader, but as Kwak Youngmin… Let Soonyoung live, if you can. Try to convince him to rejoin the Hwarang.”

“… Got it,” Junhui says quickly as Mingyu takes a moment more to think.

“His life in our hands?” He shakes his head, “That’s a big responsibility.”

“I trust everything’s clear, then?” Youngmin asks, scanning the faces of the captains, “If you have questions, now is the best time to ask.”

“…Wait,” you speak up, unable to stop yourself. The leader looks to you as you brace yourself, “I haven’t been given any orders. I want to help.”

“This is an… unseemly job.” Youngmin looks at you, brow contorted, “Nothing like Wonweol or Ongsan. You shouldn’t be involved.”

He’s right. This isn’t a mandated order from a higher official, this was the Hwarang’s business alone, a covert and self-righteous one at that. They aren’t meant to guard or patrol, they’re set on murder. Still, you want to do what you can.

“Please, let me be a part of it,” You implore, “I promise I won’t get in the way.”

“This isn’t like anything else you’ve been a part of,” Junhui says gently, “You understand that, right?”

“We’re killing someone who used to be a Hwarang.” Mingyu adds soberly, unable to look you in the eye. “And even if we don’t want to, we may end up killing Soonyoung.”

“I know it’s serious.” The Hwarang, as prim and proper as they like to see themselves a majority of the time, have carried out these sorts of missions before. There wasn’t any way you could stay with them if you hadn’t known, but this burden was too much to bear alone. “If it’s too presumptuous, please tell me, but I consider myself a member of the Hwarang at this point. And because we’re going through this, I want to help however possible.”

“Tell me then, how do you intend to help?” Youngmin’s face has lost its usual warmth. Anger not cruelness takes shape on his expression, but the gravity of the situation at hand seems to age him a handful of years. He seems like a weathered general addressing his troops.

“I want to help with Gongmyung.”

Youngmin seems to stare at you, analyzing your thought process with fierce determination.

“Very well then,” he nods once, “You may accompany us.”

𝔑𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 9𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Whether out of courtesy or want to humiliate his former leader, Kim Gongmyung accepts Youngmin’s invitation to his home several days after the plan to assassinate him came to be. Kwak Youngmin and Lee Jihoon stand at the head of the room, speaking quietly to one another before the sound of approaching footsteps enters the room. You stand in the corner of the dimly lit area as Gongmyung walks in, an air of proudness about him.

“Why am I honored with the privilege of being summoned here this evening?” Gongmyung asks, looking around the room. “I can surmise you wish to ask me something?”

“I called on you because I was hoping to have a discussion,” Youngmin says with a confident grin, “It’s about the current political climate. You, as well as me, must have seen that we need to come to a consensus on how to move on from here.”

“Let’s save the business talk for later,” Jihoon says, “Let’s try to get warmed up first.”

You move to sit at the small table set up in the center of the room, several bottles of gokaju littering the tabletop. Jihoon reaches out to pour Gongmyung a cup, the latter noting this,

“I never thought I’d see the day where Lee Jihoon pours me a cup of alcohol.”

“Don’t say it like that,” the commander chuckles, “I wasn’t faced with as formal an education as you, it just took me a bit to learn the proper etiquette. We’ve come to realize that you were right this whole time."

“With your politeness, I can’t help but feel a little… off.” Gongmyung notes as he lifts the glass of gokaju, “You’re not trying to poison me, are you?”

“Don’t trust me?” Jihoon shakes his head, moving to pour himself a cup before downing it quickly. “Not poisoned, am I?” An eyebrow quirked to the Guardian as he set down his glass.

“I never meant to offend—” Gongmyung states and sips from his cup.

The three continue to drink, you pouring most of the glasses, with Gongmyung becoming more and more reddened with the amount of alcohol the two Hwarang and you ply him with.

“Are you familiar with Dong Sicheng’s ‘On the State of Being’?” Gongmyung slurs his words together as he speaks to the two, “On what it means to find peace in the life you were given? That was written twenty years ago! Do you know how much has changed since the fall of Baekje?”

“You’re right,” Youngmin nods in agreement, “The Crown has implemented so many new things that I can’t quite keep up with it myself.”

“So, you agree!” Gongmyung nods vehemently, “And to add to that, they’re looking for help from the Tang to help educate the troops! And dress like them as well!”

“Is that true?” Youngmin asks, looking a bit taken aback.

“Of course, it is, all of my sources are very reliable,” Gongmyung says after downing another cup of gokaju. “If you ask me, this spells out a rocky relationship once this Baekje mess is over. If we leave ourselves with Tang customs, there’ll only be little left of Silla’s own design in its own kingdom!”

“I see…” Jihoon nods. His lips smile as if he agrees but a different, burning fire behind his eyes tells a different tale. “This means we’ll have to rethink a lot of things, right, Chief?”

“You’re right,” the shock that had once lain on Youngmin’s face is gone, replaced with a cheery smile. “Gongmyung, it would be such an honor if you would continue to guide us on such matters in the future.”

“Confucius once said: ‘Gentlemen are undignified if they are frivolous, and they aren’t stubborn after learning.’ So, yes,” Gongmyung nods, “Of course I’ll help you. If you all don’t open your minds to proper knowledge, you’ll just become hard-headed.”

“We may be on different paths, but we are headed for the same destination,” Jihoon nods, “Your glass seems empty, would you like another drink?”

“Yes, please.” Gongmyung motions towards his empty cup, “This gokaju is very easy to drink.”

“Here you are,” you say, pouring some of the contents of the bottle in your grasp into his drink. There isn’t poison within the alcohol, yet you were making Gongmyung drunk now to murder him later. Although this felt no more different than pouring poison into his glass.

“Your hands are shaking,” Gongmyung notes as you manage to drop a few beads of gokaju onto the table as you pull the bottle away from his glass, “You’re not feeling ill, are you?”

“Ah, don’t worry about him, he’s probably just nervous about speaking to you,” Youngmin waves it off with a small laugh.

“Am I that intriguing?” The Guardian chuckles as he looks at you.

“He does have his moments,” Jihoon says, his eyes flickering to you. “You need a little self-control sometimes.” His subtle message is clear: hide your emotions. It had been your choice to be here, the least you can do now is to not screw it up.

“I’m sorry,” you say to Gongmyung and move to wipe up the droplets with your sleeve.

“Oh, don’t be so boring,” Gongmyung laughs, “We’re having fun!”

“Truly a man worthy of distinction,” Youngmin nods as he looks at the man.

“You flatter me,” he sighs out with a smile, “Is there anything else you want to ask me? I can answer anything.”

The minutes turn into hours, Gongmyung is drunk, stumbling to the street as you, Youngmin and Jihoon follow him.

“Thank you for the meaningful conversation,” he says as he spins on his heels, looking towards Youngmin. “I’ll take my leave now.”

“It’s dark out,” Youngmin notes the dimness of the street, “Please be careful on your way back home.”

“There’s no one who would dare kill me in Seorabeol,” Gongmyung almost snickers at the thought, drunkenly sauntering away into the darkness of the city’s streets. You watch his silhouette fade into the blackness, noting that it would be the last time you’d see him alive. A hand on your shoulder has you looking away, turning, and you see Youngmin looking at you.

“…It’s a bitter taste, isn’t it?” The frown on his lips is telling as you sigh.

“It’s the path we chose,” Jihoon shakes his head, “Our duty. In order for us to do what’s right, sometimes we need to get our hands dirty.” You feel conflicted, unable to say anything as you stand on the quiet street. “This isn’t on you or Kwak, though,” the commander says, sensing your unease. “I was the one who orchestrated it, I gave the orders.”

What happened later that night is something you’d rather forget. Gongmyung, too inebriated to walk in a straight line, was quickly killed by the Hwarang waiting for him. But that didn’t end the night. Junhui was met with a bloody fight outside of the Guardians building, Seungkwan was faced with fate at Shoji. For many of the Hwarang, it is a night after which nothing would be the same.

The assassination of Kim Gongmyung and the dissolvement of the Guardians of the Royal Tomb comes to be known as the Samsil Incident. Both the Guardians and the Hwarang were surprised by the sudden appearance of the Royal Guard and the Demons who accompanied them. Both parties had fallen for the trap and the fight was thrown into a mass disarray.

As the battle of Samsil was taking place, the headquarters of the Hwarang came under attack from Hong Jisoo. Causing the already ill Seungkwan to further injure himself fending off the attacker.

The serum that your father brought to the Hwarang seems to only be a cause for worry. Slowly devouring the organization piece by piece. How long until the serum swallows them whole?

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 2𝔫𝔡, 664 – 𝔖𝔥𝔬𝔧𝔦 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Barely a month since Gongmyung’s murder, since the Samsil Incident and the return of Soonyoung and Hansol, but the Hwarang feels nothing like it once was. A looming, dark atmosphere hangs over the headquarters. Many men had lost their lives or had been injured due to Jisoo’s attack, even more had been wounded in the fight of Samsil, Soonyoung being one of them. Several of the wang-do had seen him almost succumb to the injuries he’d sustained during the battle, due to this, he was pronounced dead but joined the Fury Corps shortly after. Hansol hadn’t been wounded, but many of the Hwarang began to call him a coward.

To them, his betrayal of leaving the Hwarang still runs deep, worsened as they saw him leaving the Guardians to change his fate. You see no reason why he shouldn’t correct them: he’d left to help the Hwarang, not deceive them. He claims that he’ll keep quiet on the matter, as to not tarnish both Youngmin and Jihoon’s names, who had ordered him to join Gongmyung. Due to this, it has been decided that Hansol will leave Shoji for the time being, until the hot-headed tempers of some of the Hwarang recede. He’s been sent to protect Huang Renjun, a Tang noble residing in the northern part of the kingdom.

The Samsil Incident was in no small terms a turning point for the Hwarang. For the men who knew only the surface level details, it seems as if it were just a battle between the Hwarang and their former comrades. Those better informed know that it is the causation due to a culminating fear of another Baekje rebellion. Yoon Jeonghan’s death solidified that as truth. And further still: the Hwarang are the only ones who know of the Demons, and Soonyoung’s transformation into a Fury. They’re the only ones who know Seungkwan’s illness has gotten worse.

Such an event riled the compound, a moment of silence scarce in the days following the battle. Feeling as you would only be in the way during this time, you keep to your room.

You’re sitting cross-legged at your desk, wondering if writing your thoughts down may help you try and conceptualize this all, when your door opens without a knock.

“Thank goodness you’re here,” Seungcheol says as he steps into your room. “If you’d left, I wouldn’t have been able to search for you.”

“Seungcheol?” You look up to him, confused at his appearance. “It’s daytime, are you okay?”

“Yes, yes,” Seungcheol nods his head, his voice sounding a little frantic. “I just had a revelation and had to share it with you immediately.” His eyes glitter with… a dangerous curiosity and you feel spindly cold fingers of dread scratch down your back.

“Why me?” Questioning carefully, “Wouldn’t you want to tell the Chief or Commander first?”

“…Well, it has to be you.” A small frown pulling at his lips, “Won’t you listen to me?” Although in the form of a question, the way he asserts himself lets you know you have no choice. “Sooyoung claimed you are from a Demon family, right?” He doesn’t allow you to respond before he begins to speak. “And as a Demon, you’re stronger, faster and more resilient than a human. Their superiority over humans was clearly displayed during their most recent attack.”

“I understand that,” you nod slowly, “But what are you trying to say?”

“A Demon possesses more power than the average human, it follows that the blood of a Demon possesses that power as well,” His deductions begin to unsettle you, despite that, he continues, “Perhaps even potent enough to counteract the madness of the Furies.”

You’re unsure how the pimul works, but Seungcheol’s explanation seems logical, even if he’s somewhat frenetic about it.

“Since before I became a Fury, I’ve been researching how the serum works, I know more about it than anyone here.” Seungcheol pauses and shakes his head, “Yet, I still have yet to discover the exact composition of it. I hypothesize, however, that a core ingredient is fresh blood… And I’m assuming not from a human. Perhaps there are Demons or Demon-like beings roaming throughout the other kingdoms.”

“So…” You trail off, still not able to follow him completely.

Seungcheol takes a step closer to you, falling to his knees as you continue to sit at your desk, “Your very existence could save the Fury Corps… No,” He shakes his head, “The entirety of the Hwarang.” His eyes turn sharp, piercing, even, as he looks at you. The barest trace of mania in his voice as he confesses his thoughts. His hand reaches for the sword at his hip, calmly and carefully drawing it from the scabbard.

There seems to be no madness or bloodlust in his movements, but that only serves to terrify you even more.

“I’m not going to kill you,” He tries to reassure you, but your heart’s beating too quickly and your limbs feel too heavy to move away from him, “I just want a sample of your blood…” Seungcheol begins to rise to his feet, that’s when you find yourself mirroring him, taking a step or two backwards to distance yourself from him.

The blade glimmers in the sunlight as he raises it, raising it towards you before you hear a shout from the hallway.

“Seungcheol, what the hell are you doing?!” Jihoon bursts into the room, quickly looking from the colonel to you as if to gauge the situation. “What’s going on here? Of all people, you should know not to draw your sword on someone in the compound, have you lost it?”

“Jihoon,” Seungcheol smiles when he sees him, “Please, give me a hand here. Convince her to cooperate with us.”

With an assertive quiet, Jihoon steps between you and Seungcheol. “Personal conflicts are forbidden, the O Gye apply to even us.”

The colonel stares at Jihoon for a moment, and then another before begrudgingly sheathing his sword.

“Did she do something to upset you?” Jihoon asks one it seems as if Seungcheol’s cooled down.

“I’m searching for a way to treat the madness caused by becoming a Fury, for the good of us all,” Seungcheol says simply, his hand still resting on the hilt of his sword.

“And that means you have to cut her?”

“It’s not like I’m going to kill her,” Seungcheol frowns and shakes his head, “I only need a little of her blood. We lost so many Furies during the attacks, many of our human wang-do as well. If we are to effectively use the men we have left— We need to find a way to temper their madness. Surely you understand this, Jihoon.”

“The code says we’re to trust one another,” His gaze hardens at the colonel, “It doesn’t look like she’s very trusting of you right now. No matter your reasoning, I cannot condone this if either party is unwilling, or coerced into submitting.”

“It’s not as if she’s one of the Hwarang,” Seungcheol points out.

“Maybe not, but she’s been here long enough to might as well be one.” The two continue to stare at each other for a while, their stubbornness present at the matter.

Seungcheol eventually sighs, “It isn’t like you to be this soft. I’ll leave for now. But if we don’t find a way to suppress the side effects of the pimul… Even Soonyoung will suffer like the rest.” He leaves on that note, you don’t exhale until you hear his footsteps wane away into nothing.

Jihoon hums, looking at the door and then turning to you, “Are you okay?”

“Oh, yes,” You nod, “Thank you…”

“Nothing to thank me for,” He bows his head, “I was making sure he was adhering to our code.” His gaze returns to the door, “In the past, he wouldn’t have challenged me like that.”

A slow nod as your eyes find the door, lingering there for a moment. It’s turn, Seungcheol had been acting more and more strange lately. He would never have drawn his sword aggressively, or demanded things from you without consulting the other Hwarang first. “… I’m sorry.”

“Is something wrong with you?” Jihoon questions, his attention turning rapt to you, “There isn’t anything to be apologetic for.”

“The reason he was acting like that…” You frown, “Because Jisoo destroyed the Fury Corps.”

Jihoon seems to reflect on this for a moment before responding, “I think you’re confused.”

“Hong Jisoo has allied himself with our enemies, be it in the court or Baekje. If an enemy attacks us, it’s known that we’re going to put our lives on the line to stop them.” There’s conviction in his voice yet you cannot help the guilt that invades you.

“It isn’t your sole duty to protect me, though.”

“What are you trying to say?” His arms cross as he tilts his head, “Want us to hand you over to the Demons in the hopes they’ll spare our lives? Just because they’re more powerful than us? That isn’t how we work.” Jihoon’s confident in his claim, and you feel no way to object to it. Even if he won’t say it, having you leave the compound would make their live exponentially less dangerous, it would be a violation of the values they pride themselves in upholding.

“I’m sorry if what I said was out of line,” apologizing once more, you bow your head.

“I already told you to stop apologizing, don’t make me repeat myself,” He murmurs under his breath, timidly looking in your direction. “The next time something like this happens, tell me. Don’t keep it to yourself.”  

“I understand,” you look at him and nod. Jihoon then turns to leave, but there’s one thing left you have to say.  “Commander…”

He stops and looks back to you, “Is there something else?”

“Is there anything I can help you all with?” With Youngmin busy with the Crown, Hansol protecting Huang and Jihoon himself tirelessly working, you feel wrong not aiding in some way.

“Help?” He sounds almost incredulous. Has he become upset at your question?

“It could be anything…”

The silence stretches throughout the room, saturating the space for a moment.

“You may be more discreet than some of our men…” He seems to muse for a second, “Brush and paper.”

“Huh?” You ask, looking at him with confusion.

“Do you have a brush and paper?” Jihoon asks as he glances around your room.

“Of course,” you reply and quickly rummage around your room for the materials. After a few moments you gather the items and he sits at the desk in your room, staying silent as he quickly begins to draw. It looks to be a rudimentary map of sorts, having you question, “What is… that?” He ignores you and continues to draw.  

“Hansol is in Noseo-dong guarding Huang, right?”

“Right,” you nod, looking down to the paper.

“I want you to visit him,” Jihoon says before gently blowing air onto the ink, hoping to dry it faster. “Do you think you can? You won’t stand out as much as one of our men.”

“Yes, of course,” You say enthusiastically, excited to do something, and even more overjoyed that it’s especially catered to you.

“I drew you a map,” He says, lifting the edges of the paper and handing it to you, “So you don’t get lost.” Without it, you may have, only really knowing the select routes of several of the captains’ patrol when it’s your turn.

“I’ll get going, then.” Taking the parchment into your grasp, you begin to turn on your heels towards the door before the commander stops you.

“It’ll be hard to deliver a message you haven’t heard…” His voice stops you in your tracks and you whip around to face him, “I know it’s been a while since you’ve been out,  but you’re getting a little too excited.”

“I’m sorry!” Exclaiming with widened eyes as you look at him.

As you speak, he quickly writes something down on another piece of parchment, he lets it dry for a moment, carefully folding the paper before handing it to you. “This is a letter for Captain Choi, make sure you don’t drop it… or lose it.”

“I’ll be very careful,” you say as the parchment folds in your grasp, “Is there anything you want me to say to him?”

“Everything I need to say is in that letter,” he nods, glancing at the paper.

“I’ll be off then,” you state and hurriedly leave the room, anxious to begin your mission.

The streets of Seorabeol are busy once again, the crowds closely knit together, not allowing you any space to slide past the throng of bodies. Jihoon’s map, unfolded haphazardly in your hands, guides you to Noseo-dong and leads you through several side streets, winding your way around the district until you come upon one of the most unassuming inns you have ever seen. On the map, Jihoon had written that Hansol’s name should be under ‘Seola’.

Making your way inside, you walk to who you presume to be the innkeeper, you ask to speak with your friend and they’re off, Hansol walking out shortly after.

“A Ha—I mean Seola,” you say with a nod, “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

“Oh,” he says, almost genuinely surprised, “I didn’t realize they’d send you.”

“I’m sure you weren’t expecting someone as inexperienced,” You give out a short laugh.

“No,” he shakes his head to dismiss your thought, “I was only surprised. I expected to receive new orders soon, but I didn’t expect that you’d be the one to deliver them.”

“Ah, well, I asked if there was anything to do to help and…” You mutter, reaching for the letter you’d tucked away on your belt.

“I can see the commander’s thinking,” Hansol muses and reaches out to take the parchment, “It’s a good plan. Any other Hwarang would’ve drawn unnecessary attention to this place. The new members can’t be trusted yet, either. You, on the other hand, can move unnoticed, and your loyalty is beyond question. He really did make the best choice.”

The captain’s explanation makes you realize how much Jihoon had thought the plan through, not merely giving you the task on a whim.

Hansol then unfolds the letter, scanning its contents before lighting it on a nearby lantern and watching the paper disintegrate into ash on the ground.

“Uh, Captain Choi?” You begin but he cuts you off.

“Seola.”

“Ah, right. Seola,” you retract your words and begin anew, “Is it okay to burn that?”

“I’ve read it and know what it says,” his shoulders shrug, “There’s no reason to leave evidence lying around. Thank you for delivering it.”

By the time you return to Shoji, the sun has already dipped below the horizon, dusk coolly falling onto the compound as the bite of winter sinks its teeth into you. Breath coming out in short puffs only to quell as you enter the main hall, you find the space empty. You’re surprised, hoping to see at least one of the captains loitering around, but none are present. So, you make your way to Jihoon’s quarters to report that you’d succeeded in handing the letter off to Hansol.

“Commander?” You ask, knocking on his door.

“Come in,” you hear after a moment and open the door, stepping into his room. His room still lay adorned with documents as he sits at his desk, the glow of the lantern in the corner of his room providing a shimmering light onto him. “Thank you for taking care of that,” Jihoon says as he looks up to you from his work, “How was Hansol?”

“He’s his usual self,” simply said as he nods his head.

“That’s good,” a sigh and you wonder what’s come over him. His mood seems more sour than when you left him earlier in the day.

“I’m sorry,” you say, unsure of how to go on with your conversation.

“What do you mean?” His brow furrows, “Did you lose the letter? Or did you not even make it to the inn?”

“Nothing like that—”

“Then why did you apologize?”

“I thought you’d be angry since I’d taken so long to get back…” You lead off, eyes breaking from his gaze and settling on the floor.

He sighs, as if relieved what you said wasn’t dire, “I’m not mad at you. It may surprise you that I have other things to worry about than just you.”

“Oh of course,” You say quickly, “I never meant to imply that— ”

Jihoon’s expression softens and he gives a short chuckle, shaking his head as he tries to contain himself. It does warm you a bit, knowing that he isn’t as worked up as you thought him to be.

“If you don’t mind me asking, why were you so upset earlier?”

“As you know,” he sighs, “there have been some issues in the Hwarang. Things are becoming more strained with the higher-ups as well.

“The higher-ups?”

“Ah, you’re practically one of us so I should tell you,” the happiness from seconds ago fades as his brow furrows, “Word is, Buyeo Pung is on the move again, this time backed by Goguryeo.” Does this mean that there would be a bigger battle than that of Baekgang or Ongsan? Jihoon’s lips purse and he shakes his head, “We’re not sure of their movements until they strike first. Then again, it’s not like worrying about it will do any of us good.” With each sentence, there’s another sigh, knowing the decisions made now will impact the whole of the Hwarang in the future.

“Is there anything else I can do to help?”

“Was running off to Noseo-dong not enough for you?” He questions with a piqued eyebrow.

“No… But if the Hwarang need help, I feel more than obliged to lend a hand.”

“You know what?” His eyes linger on his paperwork, “No matter how much you work, you’re different from Hansol, Chan, or Wonwoo. And you wouldn’t be able to do the dirty work that I give Junhui or Mingyu, either. Assigning duties to my men isn’t as easy as I’d like it to be.” Every one of his words feels like a knife to your gut, even if he has a point.

“I understand that I’m not a warrior like the rest of you,” you begin with a deep breath, “But I see how hard everyone is working and it makes me feel bad if I just sit around and don’t do anything.” Head bowing and your eyes looking to the floor, “Just let me help out in any way I can…”

Jihoon sits quietly for a moment before sighing out a “Damn…”, you hear him move to stand, his footsteps nearing you and his hand gently placed under your chin. His hand raises your face until your eyes are locked with his, the proximity of him so close to you sets your skin on fire. The commander’s eyes seem to pierce through you, the intensity churning your stomach.

“You say that you want to help,” he says as you nod your head, his hand still planted under your chin, “Why?” You can’t find the words immediately, and as you think, he speaks again, “Is it because you want to make a name for yourself? Or do you want us to recognize your efforts and reward you accordingly?”

“That’s not it,” confidence riddled in those three words as you speak.

“Then why put yourself through all of this?”

“For everything you all have done for me…” You frown, the pads of his fingertip’s abrasive on the underside of your chin. “There were times you all put your life on the line, people got hurt… The Hwarang have protected me time and time again. I just want to give back. I don’t want to regret anything anymore.”

 Jihoon’s hand falls away from you and he sighs, speaking with a low voice, “Then stop bowing so easily. You think you’re right. Why apologize if you believe yourself to be true?” Your eyes widen at his words, slowly realizing what he’s trying to convey. “If you believe in something then never yield to someone else. Hold your head up high and walk tall, you won’t win if you can’t even see the prize because you’re looking down at your feet.”

His words spark something in you, an understanding of his mindset and attitude towards life. So, you look at him, trying to match your gaze’s intensity with the blooming fires behind his eyes.

“I want to help. If there’s anything I can do, let me know.”

A small smile flickers onto Jihoon’s lips as he takes a step back from you, “If you want to help so much, how about you make some tea?”

“Alright,” you nod assertively, and the smile lingers on the commander’s face.

“The fate of the Hwarang rests on this tea, you know.”

“Leave it to me!” You say loudly, brushing past him and out of the room, racing as fast as you can towards the kitchen. Yet, before you leave, you can hear Jihoon mumble to himself,

“What’ll happen to us now…”

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 11𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔎𝔦𝔪 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔨𝔪𝔦𝔫’𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 Baekje is trying to restore itself once more. News from Goguryeo solidifies King Munmu’s fears a few days into December, after a skirmish breaks out on the Silla-Goguryeo front. At first it was thought to be Goguryeo troops, but with Buyeo Pung leading the charge himself, it’s quickly realized that the kingdom is once again trying to establish itself.

More and more soldiers begin to flock to Seorabeol in anticipation of the oncoming onslaught, purges of Baekje loyalists once again resume and a tension lies in the air as if a cord is about to snap and set everything loose. With each passing day, news comes from the north of the collecting armies, as well as from the east, where former Baekje citizens have begun to rebel against the Silla leadership. As the Crown draws in its allies, seeking out aid from Tang once more, they call upon the Hwarang to aid in the upcoming battle.

The Hwarang reside at Kim Seokmin’s residence, Mingyu’s father’s home a little way outside of the city. While his father remains locked in the capital as plans are drawn, the residence is being used as a base of operations for the Hwarang, and not just those from Seorabeol.

“Everyone!” A voice shouts from the outer courtyard of the home, a wang-do bursting into the main room, sweat dotting their brow and his eyes looking frantic. “The Chief’s been shot!”

There were no witnesses, and the culprit escaped unnoticed. The motives unsure.

“What the hell?” Junhui frowns, “What asshole uses a bow in the city?” The captain leaves the residence shortly after collecting a group of men to survey the scene of where Youngmin had been attacked.

The arrow pierced the leader’s right shoulder, the head lodging into bone and shattering it. It requires more treatment than you can provide.

The sun had gone down when the door to the main room opened again, Seungcheol striding in the room, looking surprised to see you. “You’re still awake?”

“Colonel Choi…” You note, “If you need to use this room I’ll leave.”

“I don’t mind,” he shakes his head, “Rather, I think it’s best that you stay here.” His words are confusing, anxiousness rising in your stomach as you recall the last time you’d been alone with him.

Just as he finishes speaking, the captains of the Hwarang file into the room, somber expressions dotting their faces. Your anxiousness only continues to heighten.

“… Looks like everyone’s here,” Jihoon muses as the door is closed to allow you all a bit of privacy.

“Where’s Seungkwan?” Seungcheol asks, scanning the faces for the missing captain.

“He shouldn’t hear this,” Jihoon shakes his head, “If he learns about Kwak, he wouldn’t think twice about his safety and run off to find vengeance.”

“But if that’s what he wants, why wouldn’t you let him?” Seungcheol points out, “Again, being too kind, Jihoon.”

“What did you want from us?” Mingyu’s voice rises, directed towards the colonel. “We don’t know when the fighting’s going to start, for all of us to be here right now… Don’t tell me—”

“It’s exactly that.” Seungcheol nods. “I asked you to come with the intention of giving you something.” In his hands, you now see, is a bundle of cloth that he slowly unwraps before you all. What you see makes you take in a sharp breath of air.

“Pimul?” Hansol frowns, eyeing the vials of red liquid in the colonel’s hands.

“As captains of the Hwarang, we took on the risks of researching this,” a slow nod, “In doing so, it’s necessary for us to take responsibility for this experiment. Especially if any of you become injured and unable to fight. Or in the worst case, there’s a possibility that you may lose your own life.” Moving the vials to one hand, he picks up one in his other and examines it in the lantern light of the room, “I know for certain that this serum will be of use to you.”

“Colonel…” Junhui says slowly, “Are you trying to experiment on us too?”

“I know your hesitation,” Seungcheol snips, dropping the vial back into the pile with an audible clink, “But under our current circumstances, we cannot afford to lose any more of our captains.”

“Fuck that,” Junhui frowns, “I don’t want to depend on that shit to survive.” With that, he storms past the group of captains with heavy footfalls, swinging open the door before leaving.

“Maybe this would be something of a good luck charm…” Eunseok suggests, his eyes warily looking over the vials. “I hope it never comes to the point where we use the serum.” Seungcheol extends the pile to the captains.

“I don’t think I’ll use it,” Mingyu murmurs as both he and Hansol pick up a vial, “but I’ll keep it just in case…”

Until this moment, Jihoon had remained silent, listening to Seungcheol’s speech.

“Take responsibility, huh?” Eyes looking troubled, the commander reaches for a vial and pockets it, almost as if he doesn’t want to acknowledge its presence, “Maybe you’re onto something.”

“I believe that’s all I have to say for tonight.” Seungcheol nods as he folds the now empty cloth, “I hope this courtesy doesn’t go to waste.” After he finishes, the captains slowly file out, leaving you alone with Seungcheol once more.

“I’m sure you’re aware of this,” He sighs and looks to you, “But don’t let any word of this reach the other Hwarang, do I make myself clear?”

Nodding your head timidly, the colonel stays for another moment before leaving.

The serum that your father created now lies in the hands of the Hwarang captains. The serum that had entrenched them into the world of Demons and a life they should never have had to think about.

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 16𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔎𝔦𝔪 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔨𝔪𝔦𝔫’𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 “We still haven’t figured out who shot the Chief?”

“I bet you anything it was some of those Guardian bastards!”

“No way, it was probably the Baekje loyalists—”

Ever since the attack on Kwak Youngmin, the atmosphere at Kim Seokmin’s residence had been wrought with speculation and tension. This tension ever more present as you step into the main room with a tray of tea for the captains.

“Thanks,” Mingyu says as you enter, “Can you just leave it here?”

A nod as you set down the tray, it seems as if you’d walked in on an important discussion.

“What’s the plan, then?” Junhui questions whomever he’d been speaking to. “Gaozong wants power in exchange for helping us, but they’re also hoping not to get as involved as they were at Baekgang. They know a war’s coming and they’re trying to extort Munmu for all he’s worth.”

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong,” Jihoon sighs out from the head of the table. “There’s nothing you or I could do about that though. We follow the Crown and not Gaozong.”

“In regard to sending our men to the front line…” Wonwoo speaks up, “Colonel Choi’s been pushing to implement the Furies.”

“I disagree with that,” Mingyu frowns, “This is war, not a massacre. There’s going to be both enemies and allies on the field, we won’t be able to control them. It’s not that they’re not powerful, it’s just too risky.”

“Agreed,” Junhui nods, crossing his arms as he leans back in his seat, “And inhumane too.”

“Then what do you suggest?” Hansol questions, looking at the captain. “If you’re so vehemently against it, you should offer an alternative.”

“We’re working on that.” Junhui grumbles, his voice raising, “If it were so easy do you think we’d be in this mess?”

“Commander,” Wonwoo looks at Jihoon, “What do you think?”

“… Let me think.” A deep exhale from Jihoon as he straightens himself in his seat, “We need to know the movements of Baekje before anything else, as well as prioritize what the Crown wants and, inadvertently, what Tang wants as well.” With the war inching closer and Youngmin’s injury, everyone in the Hwarang had been and is still on edge.

You leave the meeting sometime after then, never finding out what solution the men had come to. Later in the day, as the sun sinks over the horizon, you find yourself at Seungkwan’s door, anxious to check on his condition.

“Captain Boo?” You ask, gently opening the door and stepping inside, “How are you—huh?” Upon entering, you find that Soonyoung had come along to keep the captain company as well.

 “What are you doing up so late?” Soonyoung asks as he looks to you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well um… people may get the wrong idea if a girl visits a man’s room at night…” The young captain trails off, obviously flustered.

“You know that Seungkwan and I aren’t…”

Soonyoung laughs, “Yeah, yeah… That’s not really your kind of thing, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you mean ‘what do you mean?’?” Soonyoung snickers, “Come on…”

“Why are you here?” Seungkwan, not seeming to be in a playful mood, cuts into the conversation, “I assume you have a reason for visiting me?”

“Oh, yes, well… I came to check up on you.” Returning to the reason you’d come in the first place, you look to the captain, “Are you feeling okay? Is there anything I can get you?”

“Of course not,” his expression bitter, “Look at what’s going on.” After a moment of silence, he speaks to you, “Is that all? You can go now.” His aggression taking you by surprise, you falter for another moment before coming to your senses to bring up what had been bothering you.

“Do you all know?” Another pause, “That Colonel Choi wants to… use the Furies.”

“Of course…” The grin that was adorning Soonyoung’s face drops.

“If you were him,” Seungkwan sighs, “Wouldn’t you want to do the same? They need numbers or they’ll never make a name for themselves. I mean, it’s a given once they can’t function anymore, they’ll need to be cut off.”

“Cut off…”

“We’re not all good-doers,” the captain shakes his head, “we can’t go around giving food to everyone we see who needs it. I mean, yeah, you mooched off of us for years, but that was entirely your good luck. Don’t forget that.”

“I guess you have a point…”

“Seungkwan you’re being a bit of a jackass,” Soonyoung frowns at the other captain. “It was our fault she was brought to the Hwarang.”

Seungkwan sneers at the statement, clearly unmoved, he continues his grievances. “And what the hell is Jihoon doing? He should be kicking himself in the ass for not apprehending the men that hurt Kwak.” A frustrated sigh, “If I weren’t—If I weren’t like this, I’d go out and do it myself.”

His bedrest is clearly getting to him. He’d known Youngmin, long before either of them had joined the Hwarang.

“What do you think, Soonyoung?” A glance towards the other as you ask.

“Me? I, uhm, well…” He hums, “I did drink the serum but… I was worried about what would happen to me. Seungcheol wants more men in the Fury Corps, and says we’ll never win otherwise. But I don’t like the idea of forcing the Hwarang to join us, even if they’ve broken our code.” The demeanor he has is unlike the one you remember from when you’d first met him, it’s cold and stern. Recalling how he used to be, sadness overcomes you.

“No matter what Seungcheol says, it’s Jihoon that makes the call.” Seungkwan says, crossing his arms.

“You’re right.” Soonyoung says, a frown pulling at him, “But the Corps already exists, it’s not like we can pretend it doesn’t.”

“Then maybe we should use them, then.” Seungkwan mumbles, “They can hold a sword, at least.”

The power of the Furies is something that would ultimately be beneficial to the Hwarang, should they need to utilize their power for the war effort. Yet, once the war was over… You struggle to think of what would be done with them after. Fearing the answer, you don’t press the matter further.

𝔇𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔪𝔟𝔢𝔯 17𝔱𝔥, 664 – 𝔎𝔦𝔪 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔨𝔪𝔦𝔫’𝔰 ℜ𝔢𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔡𝔬𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞 It should be no surprise to you by now that an unexpected visitor, be it friend or foe, should stop in on you at any time now. Such an occasion occurs, with a friend, this very morning.

“It’s been too long,” Sooyoung’s voice calls out to you as you walk outside the front gate of the Kim residence, one of the captains had alerted you to her and Seulgi’s presence and you came as quickly as you could.

“What brings you here?” You ask, an inquisitive tilt of your head.

“We have business with your leader, could you go and get him for us?” Seulgi responds, glancing towards the interior doors of the home.

“Oh… the Chief isn’t really in good condition to meet with people, I could go and get the Commander—”

“That’ll do fine as well,” Sooyoung nods with a smile before you’re off to summon Jihoon.

After you’d let the two women inside, as well as summon the commander, the four of you stand in the main hall. Jihoon looks over the two warily before crossing his arms, “This is unexpected, to say the least. What do you want?”

“I apologize for intruding again, but it’s important that I speak to you.” Sooyoung begins, her expression turning stony as she speaks to the commander, “I’ve come to discuss your… Furies.”

You’d been about to excuse yourself to make tea for the group, but upon hearing Sooyoung’s statement, you freeze in place. Jihoon seems to tense as well, a downward curvature of his lips etching into his face. “I won’t waste your time or mine—how long do you intend to keep them in your service?”

“What do you mean?” Crossed arms, stern gaze, the signs that Jihoon is on the defensive yet again.

“You’ve kept them imprisoned here long enough; I think you know what I’m saying.” Her words turn bitter midway through her statement, “Even the Crown has admitted to this failed experiment. They are too much for the Hwarang to handle. With Jisoo on your trail, it would be best for you to wash your hands of them.”

“Is it up to you to decide if they’re a failure or not?” Jihoon questions, letting out a sigh, “We’ve done our research, I’m not sure you have the authority to judge us.”

“Then are you aware that the Hwarang’s Furies have been murdering people on the streets to test their strength?” Seulgi asks, her gaze narrowing at Jihoon.

His eyes go wide, muttering a “What?” before looking at her. For a split second, his veneer of put togetherness fades and confusion and worry situates itself on his brow. And then it’s gone, his composure returning and frown reappearing.

“Where did you hear that?”

“There’s no reason for me to tell you…” Seulgi states, “My sources are reliable, and that’s all you need to know. Your job is to protect Seorabeol, is it not? And yet you let your men who’ve succumbed to madness wander its streets and kill its civilians. It disgusts me, Commander.” Her eyes bore into Jihoon’s, “Before all of Silla knows of your failure, I strongly suggest you disband your Fury Corps.”

Her logic is sound, no matter how scathing she is towards the Furies. The room falls silent, you can almost hear Jihoon’s thoughts racing in his head.

Sooyoung stops him, however, speaking up, “We can quiet this conversation for a moment, there’s something else I would like to address.” With that, she looks to you, “Will you still not leave with us?” The question simple, her eyes wide, “I know we spoke of this before, but with the current climate… I fear your safety here is jeopardized more and more with each passing day.”

 You know that war is coming, everyone in the room does. Yet to hear Sooyoung insinuate it adds even more weight to it all.

“Are you suggesting that we can’t handle it?” Jihoon says, anger tinged by his words.

“The truth is hard to accept sometimes,” Sooyoung turns to him, “If Hong Jisoo shows up, can you protect her? If he comes while you’re amid battle to take her away, can you protect her then?” She’s angry, her tone rising as the commander stays quiet, “She’s a Demon, not a human. She should be with her kind; we can protect her.” Looking back to you, she pleads, “If you’re with us then their entire effort can go towards the war and battles to come.”

Each word is a blow to your chest, guilt wrought upon you for even thinking that your presence among the Hwarang wasn’t detrimental to them. Meeting with Jihoon’s gaze says nothing, he averts his eyes as you’re left to make a decision.

You’re sure Sooyoung is right, yet you can’t find the words to say that.

“What do you say?” Sooyoung asks, her voice returning to a normal, soft level. You know she wants what’s best for you, even if her means aren’t the kindest towards those you’ve begun to hold dear to you.

Jihoon, however, sees right through you.

“You don’t want to leave, do you?” The question is simple as it leaves him, and he knows your answer before you even say it. “Then don’t, stay. There isn’t much else to think about if your mind’s already set.”

“Is that really okay?” The implication behind you staying is far more dangerous than that of you leaving. Is Jihoon saying that he wants you to stay?

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” He shakes his head, “What proof do we have that they can keep your secret any better than we can? If that bastard’s after you too—Well, if we’ve got the same enemy, wouldn’t it make sense to stick together?”

“So… I can stay?”

“What kind of question is that?” Voice gruff as he huffs out, “If you were as much of a pain in the ass as you think yourself to be, I would’ve kicked you out years ago.”

A smile, small and timid, curling your lips, “Thank you, Commander.”

The four of you disperse moments later, you leading Sooyoung and Seulgi to the front gate of the home before the first woman stops you just as you reach the gate.

“So,” she says with an apologetic tone, “You’ve turned me down again, haven’t you?”

“I appreciate your offer,” a nod of your head, “but my place is here.”

“It’s alright,” another apologetic smile, “If you’re so determined to stay then there’s no way I would’ve gotten you to leave with me… And… When you told me that you were staying because you were, ah, interested in someone, did you mean the Commander?”

You’re not sure how to answer that question.

“To be honest,” you begin, the toe of your shoe scraping atop the dirt of the ground, breath coming out in puffs of white air, “I don’t know him all too well, but…” The words stutter out of you, not sure how to explain yourself or because you, too, cannot comprehend your feelings towards the Hwarang. “The men here call him the Demon Commander because of his harshness and strict nature, a lot of people think he’s cold because of that… But I think it’s his way of showing kindness, there’s warmth there that isn’t seen too often yet…” You don’t realize that you’re rambling as you continue, “He’s responsible for most of the Hwarang, it’s not like he has a choice whether he can act like that or not, either. I’m not sure what I can do for him, but I’d like to stay and do whatever I can.”

“He really has you wrapped around his finger,” Sooyoung hums to herself, “Not that I think he sees that, though…” After giving her a confused look, she continues, “They say my ancestor fell in love with a human and followed him to the capital. I'm their granddaughter so I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from… Rank and circumstance, whether human or Demon, mean little before the eyes of love.”

Wait. Wait… “What?” You squeak out, “Love?! I never—Sooyoung, I never said I love him.”

Her hand only finds your shoulder as she sighs and continues, “A human and a Demon, there’s something romantic about that, I think… Don’t think it’s destined to fail, either.”

“Sooyoung…” Seulgi calls out, probably to save you from dying of embarrassment, “We should get going.”

“Ah,” her hand lifted from your shoulder, “You’re right.” The Demon looks to you, “Take care of yourself, please. Don’t underestimate Hong Jisoo, he’s more powerful than I’d like to imagine.” A slow nod as she sighs, “If you need to contact me, please send a letter to Seulgi.”

“Thank you, Sooyoung.” And with that, the pair are gone through the front gate. Your mind, however, lingers on Sooyoung’s words. Rank and circumstance mean little before the eyes of love… But was your desire to be close to Jihoon that? You want to be around him, to help him… The most important thing for him is the Hwarang, he’d invested his life into this organization, and put everything he is into it. With war on the horizon, he doesn’t have the time to think of anything else.

As dusk descends on the compound, you find that the men of the Hwarang are ravenous. You would expect nothing less from men who spend their days training and patrolling and spend their nights doing the same as well. Any food given is gone as soon as it reaches their plate and you offer any that you have, finding yourself forgoing dinner tonight in favor of a younger member of the Hwarang getting a meal.

With pangs of hunger rattling through you, you decide to stave it off by going to the kitchens to either drink some water or make yourself some tea. Your hands gently clenching at your stomach as you walk, you almost don’t hear the voice behind you.

“Was that your stomach?” Turning, you see the Hwarang’s Commander stopped to look at you, “I know the wang-do ate all of the food, did they not leave you any?”

“I’ll eat later,” you nod, fingers still at your sides as you try to stop another growl from escaping your gut. “I’m alright.”

“I didn’t ask if you were alright,” arms folded across his chest, “I asked if you’ve eaten.”

“Well, um,” a shake of your head, “no, not yet.”

“Really,” he huffs, almost incredulously, as he reaches for the bag slung around his shoulder. He rummages around inside of it for a moment before grabbing something and tossing it to you. Unwrapping it from the cloth, you find that it’s one of  the balls of rice that you’d made for the captains.

“Commander, this is yours—”

“Just eat it,” he grits his teeth and the two of your gazes settle on the disputed food. After a moment of silence, he sighs and moves to break it in half, “Don’t tell me you’re rejecting my kindness… If we halve it will it make you feel better?” Taking his half in his free hand, he offers the other chunk out to you.

You grab your half, “… Thank you.”

The two of you eat in silence, before Jihoon speaks again, “Stop worrying so much about the other men and eat what you deserve. Okay?”

“I’ll be sure to do that next time…” you nod as your hand drops to your side after finishing the food.

“I wasn’t trying to lecture you,” Jihoon’s voice goes soft before muttering, “… thanks.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll let the men eat what they want and get my own food another time,” you shake your head, “They need it more than me—”

“I wasn’t talking about that,” he coughs to clear his throat, “I meant to say thanks for staying. You decided to stay with us.”

Was the commander happy that you decided not to go with Sooyoung?

“What’s with the funny face?” The commander asks and you feel a swell of emotion come over you. “Was that not enough food?”

“No, no,” you shake your head, “It was fine.”

Jihoon nods as he tucks the cloth back into his bag and looks towards the entrance of the home, “I’m going to leave you in charge for now before I go out on my rounds. Take care of this place, okay?” There’s a small smile on his lips as he asks you.

“Of course,” you say, returning the smile. And with that, the commander turns on his heels and strides out of the front entrance to the home, heading off to his duties in Seorabeol.

𝔥𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔤 - 𝔩𝔧𝔥 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳

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: 18k

taglist: @reiofsuns2001, @hipsdofangirl, @lovrehani

𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔳 || 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔳𝔦

January 3rd, 665 – Seorabeol, Kingdom of Silla

Just before the year ends, it’s decided that Seungkwan’s condition had worsened and he’d contracted both what your father had once called phthisis. The disease isn’t uncommon, but it is incurable. You’d had suspicions that he had contracted phthisis when he’d first began to lose strength, but never wanted to admit to such a devastating thing. The entirety of the Hwarang are shaken by the news.

It’s come to pass that he and Youngmin are to be sent to Daegaya, where Namekawa Yasuo can look over them as they receive treatment.

Despite them leaving, Seorabeol is still on high alert. The Hwarang remain on standby at Kim Seokmin’s residence as the year begins to shift to the next. Your hope that the thoughts of war would wane lasts only three days into the new year.

A coalition of soldiers claiming to be from Baekje invaded a town on the western front of where the Baekje-Silla border once was. Violence broke out and suddenly, the war had begun. Groups of these revivalists began to spring up in the kingdom as well, the closest having come to burn down Kim Seokmin’s residence late at night. For now, the only option for you is to retreat from the heart of the capital.

Your feet slap the road as you race through the emptied streets, only pausing to catch your breath as your partner stops beside you.

“Are you alright?” Eunseok asks, sounding almost as out of breath as you, “We can stop if we need to.”

“We can’t afford to do that,” you shake your head at him, “I’ll be alright.” Wiping the sweat from your brow, you take a deep breath and urge your aching feet to move once more. Under Jihoon’s orders, the two of you are to make your way to Hwaseong, a temple that lies some ways away from the outskirts of the city’s domain. The Hwarang had been dispatched to roam the outside of the city, looking for traitors as the Silla army began to make their way to protect the king.

“I know this isn’t going as planned,” Eunseok says as the two of you begin to pick up pace, “Commander Lee admitted as such…” To have Jihoon admit to anything near defeat is startling to hear, but the raid on Kim Seokmin’s residence had shaken the Hwarang more than any Demon attack had. “I’ve never been as good with a sword as the rest of the men,” the captain offers a small smile, “But I can aid the Hwarang in other ways.”

It took several hours to reach Hwaseong, Jihoon’s hope is to use this place as the Hwarang’s new station, where he could station his men and launch attacks.

“Why are the gates closed…?” An uncomfortable silence encapsulates the area, there aren’t any other people here.

Suddenly a whir of wind passes by you both, an arrow sinking into the ground behind you. Eunseok immediately grabs your wrist and drags you into the tree line beyond the temple’s entrance.

“They’re shooting at us? I thought they were supposed to be friendly—” You say as Eunseok lets go of you, looking at the walls of Hwaseong.

“Either the loyalists have already taken over or they’ve been against us all along…” He murmurs as to not draw any attention, “We need to get back to the other captains.”

“But the Commander said to—”

Eunseok merely shakes his head, “It’s clear by now that this place is hostile towards us. It won’t do us any good to stay around it any longer.”

“But if we leave what’ll happen to everyone else?” Your gaze looks back to the temple, “If we say that it’s orders from Commander Lee…”

You’d never seen Eunseok look this serious before. “I want to help him as much as you do, but my job isn’t merely to ask for aid. It’s to protect you as well. If something happens to you now then I will have failed him twice, come on.”

His hand finds your shoulder after a moment of silence, his expression softens, and he gently urges you, “I’m sure the Commander will come through with one of his brilliant plans. But if we’re to see it, we’ll need to be alive. The men will be worried if we don’t head back soon.”

By the time the two of you near the Hwarang’s encampment on the outskirts of the city, you notice that something feels… wrong.

“Aren’t we supposed to meet the others here?” You ask, looking around the empty clearing, void of any sign that the Hwarang had been here. “Did we get lost?”

“No,” Eunseok shakes his head, but his voice sounds uneasy, “It should just be up ahead.”

As you round the clearing, you spot something on the ground. “Eunseok! There’s someone over there!”

“That’s impossible—there’s no way the rebels would’ve gotten this far already…” He says as the two of you near the body. He wears the blues of the Hwarang, and looking up from him at the path ahead, you see even more scattered along the road.

Standing in the middle of the carnage is a face you dread to see.

“I was wondering why these men looked so familiar…” Specks of blood litter the light-yellow robes of the perpetrator as his eyes fall onto you. “You’re here after all.” Jisoo’s smile is cruel and mocking.

You—!” Too furious to speak, you glare at the Demon.

“To see that Hwaseong turned on you… Maybe following your tedious politics paid off.” He muses, shaking his head, “But I never thought I’d find you among the wreckage.” Once again glancing at the bodies, “I thought they’d provide some entertainment until you came back, but they weren’t skilled enough.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eunseok’s balled fists shaking with rage. Most of the men on the ground were members of his own division.

“I was… distracted the last I saw you,” Jisoo frowns in your direction, “But this time you’ll leave with me.” You know that neither you or Eunseok could face him and win, but maybe if you go with him he’ll spare Eunseok’s life…

A hand placed in front of you as Eunseok steps forward, his other hand reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Stay back,” his voice calm as he looks at Jisoo.

Anxiousness rising, “What are you doing, Eunseok?”

“You’ll have to run for it,” he says apologetically, unsheathing his sword, “Get back to Shoji and tell the Commander… Tell him that I’m sorry and that I hope he forgives me for not being able to walk alongside him to the end.”

“No.” You say as you realize that Eunseok doesn’t intend to return to the headquarters with you, “I can’t leave you here to die!” Hand finding the sleeve on his robes, you clench to it tightly, “If I go with him then you can live!”

The smile on his lips is bitter, “Are you suggesting that I use a girl as a shield so I can escape? I’d never be able to call myself a Hwarang again.” He then shrugs off your grip, turning to face Jisoo, his hands tightening around the grip of his blade.

“Eunseok you don’t have to do this,” you plead, but he doesn’t move an inch, “Run!”

“Are you done saying goodbye yet?” Jisoo sighs out from the other end of the clearing, “I’ll give you a chance to listen to her, go on, run.” His hand flicks towards the direction of the city as he stands there.

Eunseok says nothing but charges at the Demon, his sword arcing towards the unarmed man. Jisoo’s sword unsheathes from its scabbard, too fast for you to witness him doing it, and the tip of the blade emerges from Eunseok’s back. A grunt and blood begins to bubble from the captain’s lips.

“Eunseok!” The cry rips from your throat as he falls to his knees, a deep red stain blooming from his wound.

Jisoo looks down to the Hwarang, leaning down to whisper something, “The men that I killed are yours, aren’t they? Don’t you want revenge? I understand that warriors put great stock in avenging their fallen comrades.”

The Hwarang looks up to him angrily, white-hot rage running through him. His shaking hand reaches into the depths of his robes, bringing out a small vial.

“Pimul,” Jisoo scoffs as Eunseok attempts to bring the unopened vial to his lips, “Pathetic.” Before the captain can drink the serum, Jisoo’s blade rises once more, slashing against Eunseok’s chest as sunlight glimmers off of the blade. The vial drops to the ground, cracking and leaking the red contents into the soil.

Eunseok falls forward, his hands finding the ground as he turns to look at you, red streaking from his lips as he pushes himself back to his knees weakly, “Run!”

Your feet scramble atop the loose dirt as you begin to turn as Jisoo speaks again, “You’re by far the weakest human I’ve fought. The Hwarang would allow someone like you among their ranks?” Something within you snaps, and you look back to Jisoo just as he cuts across Eunseok’s abdomen once more. Eunseok falls without a sound to the grass.

“Eunseok… Eunseok!” Even as a part of you screams at you to run, you find yourself scrambling to the fallen captain, grabbing for his hand. A friend that has become something like a brother to you, he can’t hear you cry out for him, or feel your hand encasing his. He had joined his men among the corpses littering the ground.

“Now that that’s dealt with,” Jisoo says as he stands above you, still on your knees next to Eunseok’s body, “Come with me.”

Seeing Eunseok’s lifeless body and hearing Jisoo’s cold and callous words makes fire bubble inside of you, shattering your heart as you look up angrily to the Demon. Hand grabbing desperately for the blade at your side, you rise to your feet and ready yourself to lunge at the man.

“I thought you were smarter…” He huffs, “Your time with humans has made you weak.”

“Shut up!” Burning tears trail down the sides of your face, vision blurring as you blink to look at him clearly.

“Does it bother you that I killed him? A human foolish enough to challenge a Demon, what else would have happened?”

“Shut up, shut UP!” You’ve never yelled at someone as angrily as you are now, but you’ve also never been angry enough to try and kill someone until now. “I’ll never be able to forgive you for what you’ve done!” Grip tightened on your blade, you rush forward towards Jisoo, only seeing white.

The man easily parries your attack, your sword flying from your grasp. You hunch down to reach for it, but before you can, Jisoo’s foot comes down on your arm, pining it to the ground. Pain shoots up your limb and you cry out, his gaze meeting yours, his aura radiating an abrasive arrogance.

“Even now you refuse to listen,” you feel the coolness of his blade against your throat.

“If you’re just going to treat me like an animal I should just bite off my own tongue and drown in my own blood,” you spit up angrily at him, knowing full well that there isn’t any other chance for you to escape any more.

“I don’t remember giving you permission to do that. And I also don’t care for people who can’t follow orders.” The moment you hear the voice coming from the opposite end of the clearing, your head clears.

“Jihoon!” His name rolls from your lips in a moment of relief, forgetting for a moment the blade pressed to your neck.

“I had a feeling you were in trouble but…” His eyes scan the scene, looking at the fallen men. His face falls at the sight of Eunseok’s body beside you, expression twisting with grief and regret. Jihoon’s hand reaches for his sword, pulling it from his scabbard as he looks to Jisoo with a renewed rage. The wind whispers around the blade as he marches towards the two of you.

“Another human with a death wish,” Jisoo sighs, the blade at your throat lowering as he watches the commander stride over. “It’s strange to me that you’d want to throw your life away like him… Anyway, let’s get this over with.”

“Throw his life away?” Jihoon nearly shouts, “How dare you say that he threw his life away!” In a wordless fury, he throws himself at the Demon, with all of his weight he strikes at Jisoo’s neck.

Jisoo flicks his sword up to deflect Jihoon’s with a small grunt, and for a moment the two look evenly matched. The Demon is thrown back, his feet sliding on the ground as he stops himself and glares at Jihoon.

“What?” The words fall from him without thought, as if this is the first time a human opponent has overpowered him. Jihoon sees this and doesn’t let the opening go to waste, he pushes himself towards the other again, sword hissing through the air with fervent fury.

The two are thrown back once more, Jihoon catches his breath as a small transformation overcomes Jisoo. His hair turns stark white, not unlike that of the Hwarang’s Furies, and his eyes turn golden.

“The moment your eyes behold a true Demon is the moment of your death,” Jisoo’s voice is low as he speaks to Jihoon. And with those words, the battle changes. The Demon’s sword slices and cuts through the air with ease not found in the moments prior, the only thing Jihoon can do is anticipate and block the attacks, unable to land any offensive blow of his own.

“What happened to your fire?” Jisoo quips, landing another series of blows to Jihoon’s blade.

“Damn it—” Jihoon grunts out, losing his breath with each block of his blade. All Jisoo has to do is tire out the commander and their fight would end. One particular blow sends Jihoon’s sword flying from his grasp, and you instinctively grab your own blade and run towards Jisoo, not wanting him to strike Jihoon.

“…Stay out of my way,” Jisoo pushes you aside and you fear to look in Jihoon’s direction just as you’d done with Eunseok, not wanting to see his body crumple too. He raises his sword and looks to Jihoon, “This is the end for you. Humans always seem to fight the battles they cannot win. That’s recklessness, not courage.”

As Jisoo monologues, Jihoon drags himself to his blade.

“Trying to run?” The Demon asks as the commander clutches his blade’s handle. With the last bit of strength left within him, he rises to his feet to face his foe. “I’ve made a fool of you and yet you refuse to acknowledge the difference between us.”

Jihoon stays silent at the verbal attack, quietly reaching into his robes for something. A small vial filled with red liquid.

“How far do you mean to take this idiocy?” Jisoo spits as he spots the pimul.

“Like I give a shit what you say, we were always a pack of idiots.” His voice weakened from the fight, “We shared an idiot’s dream that we were all too stubborn to give up on. We’re halfway up the hill, stumble now and we’ll have lost all we worked for.”

“Even if you become a Fury, you’ll be nothing more than a faded reflection of a true Demon,” Jisoo says, hand still holding his blade.

“You never know until you try—” The commander lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks. It only takes a few moments for the serum to take effect, Jihoon’s hair turning stark white and his eyes turning a deep crimson.

“I’ve had enough of these fucking loyalists and I’m sick of you goddamn Demons,” Jihoon’s voice is low as he looks towards Jisoo, a bitter edge to his voice, “So I’m not a real Demon? Why should I care? I was never treated like a real warrior until the Hwarang, never loved like a real son.” Eyes burning with anger as he sighs out, “Hell… Where are you supposed to find good men these days? Everyone’s too invested in their own business to care about anyone else. Try to make a difference and they’ll cut you down, I say bullshit to that!” Jihoon’s words aren’t only for Jisoo, but for Eunseok, for the counselors who opt against the Hwarang and the loyalists who infringe upon the borders of Silla.

“I believe what I believe, and I will never back down from that.” His head shakes, “Call us fake if it makes you feel better, but if we push hard enough, we’ll become what we say we are.” The predatory grin on Jihoon’s face is inhuman, “If we beat you, we become real Demons, right?”

The commander strikes forward, lunging at Jisoo with a speed akin to his. Jihoon had been beyond skilled as a human, as a Fury, though… The two clash swords once again, neither relenting in their strikes, taking no chance for the other to gain the upper hand.

“Where’s your gloating now?” Jihoon asks through clenched teeth, clearly realizing that he’s gained the advantage of superior strength. Jisoo’s sword rebounds from one of Jihoon’s strikes and he’s forced back, Jihoon leaps for the opening, aiming for the Demon.

It’s too fast for you to witness, but Jihoon’s blade grazes Jisoo’s cheek, a thin trail of blood seeping from the opening before it begins to heal immediately. The Demon jumps back, surprised at the injury as his hand raises to touch the wound.

“You look like a warrior now,” Jihoon scoffs, “How’s it feel to get cut by a fake?”

Jisoo doesn’t seem to hear Jihoon, entranced by the crimson ichor that stains his fingers. “Damn you…” Although the wound had healed, the ramifications of it had not. “Fake, how dare you draw my blood?” It must’ve been the first time he was injured by a human. His preternatural face distorts into rage and disgust. “I will never forgive you for this. I will strip you for everything that you are so that you understand true pain!”

“And the real Jisoo’s revealed,” Jihoon shakes his head, almost mocking the other, “I dare you to kill me.”

Their swords once again clash, ringing out into the woods. Jisoo fights with a newfound angst, veins on Jihoon’s neck and forehead begin to strain as he defends himself from the Demon’s blows.

“Damn you, damn you, damn you!” With each phrase, another blow from Jisoo onto Jihoon’s blade. “How dare you draw my blood?!” He’s gone mad with rage, eyes widened and bloodshot as he stares down Jihoon.

“I’ll never forgive you,” Jihoon’s blade chips with each of his own strikes, you fear that it will break under the strength of the two men, “you arrogant son of a bitch! You’re going to hell even if I have to drag you there myself!”

They leap at each other like enraged animals, blows flying so quickly you’re not sure how to tell the ones meant to block or attack apart. It’s clear that the battle would end only when one of them was dead, but it’s rapidly becoming apparent that Jihoon is fighting in a way that puts him at a disadvantage.

Prior to this, Jihoon had fought with calmness, even in the heat of battle. But that had fled with his humanity. You need to stop them before Jihoon loses himself entirely.

“What’s going on here?” A voice shouts from behind you, followed by the sound of footsteps rapidly approaching. “The commander left to see how things had gone at Hwaseong and we haven’t seen him since. Have you seen him?”

“Chan…” His name leaves you tiredly, “He’s fighting Jisoo.”

The officer stares at you for a moment before looking past you to the fight raging on. His eyes widening in shock, “That white haired Demon is… Is that a Fury? Oh my god,” he says at the realization of who it is.

“He drank the pimul,” you say and watch as Jihoon is disarmed by Jisoo, his blade clattering to the ground as the captain lands with a thud on his side.

“I am impressed that you lasted so long,” Jisoo says as he inches closer to the commander, who moves away from the Demon. “I hope you haven’t forgotten that I don’t intend to simply kill you. You’ll die, eventually, but not before I’ve inflicted all the pain I can imagine onto you.” As the advantage returns to his favor, his calm returns. “I’ll send your head back to your beloved Hwarang when I’m done, they deserve to see you at your best, after all.”

Jisoo lifts his blade, the steel clean and undamaged. Your eyes close as a horrible, wet sound rings around the clearing. Opening your eyes, blood had splattered across Jisoo’s yellow robes, but Jihoon remains unharmed. Chan kneels at the feet of the two combatants, a large gash running along his robes, blood beginning to stain the cloth.

“What are you doing, Commander?!” His voice weakened and strained, “Running off to face the enemy alone…?”

“Chan what are you…?” The commander’s speech falters as Chan gives him a small smile, his eyes shining as you’d seen them do when he and Jihoon had discussed important secrets.

“You can lose an arm or a leg, but if you lose your head you lose everything.” With that he goes limp, his body falling to the ground as blood begins to pool at his side.

You find yourself rushing to the scene, calling out to the fallen officer. The death of yet another comrade seems to pull Jihoon from his hysteria, brow contorting in bereavement.

“Chan… why…?” His hair slowly begins to shift back to its original color, the white darkens as he blinks back tears.

“Lee?! Chan?! Eunseok?!” Another voice from the depths of the woods calls out, sounding like Junhui, “Where are you guys?!”

“Damn it,” Jisoo says, his blade lowering, “There are more of you still…”

A figure in the trees emerging, but not a Hwarang. Hwan Minhyun steps forward as if to warn Jisoo to not strike again. “This will only lead to more unneeded casualties if we stay.”

“Am I supposed to let this fake go free?” Jisoo nearly spits as he looks at Jihoon.

“It would be enough to soothe your anger, sure.” A glance towards the commander, “But he’s wanted alive. For now, at least.”

Jisoo lets out a groan of frustration as he angrily sheaths his sword, understanding that it’s pointless to argue with him. “Lee Jihoon… I won’t forget your name.” He and Jihoon glare at each other with such hatred you feel as if they’d strike out yet again. Then Jisoo spins on his heels and follows Minhyun into the forest.

“There you are—” Junhui, Hansol and Mingyu break through the tree line and rush over to you. “What the hell happened here?”

“There’s dead men everywhere,” Mingyu notes, looking at the bodies, “Did you all run into loyalists? No… those blade marks…”

“Can someone attend to Chan?” Jihoon says, shakily rising to his feet, “He may still be alive.”

“What?!” Junhui says, spotting the officer’s body on the ground. “Hold on Chan,” the captain says as he begins to move to the younger “hang in there for me!”

“What’ll happen to him? Don’t tell me—” Mingyu begins as he looks over the wounds and then to you. The blade had sunk deep and you hazard a guess as to what’ll become of him.

“Don’t tell me he’s…” Junhui frowns, glancing at the body he’s trying to prop up.

“Does anyone have any cloth?” You ask, moving to kneel by Chan. “We need water and alcohol as well…”

“Here,” Mingyu shrugs off the white jacket he’d been wearing over his robes and hands it to you.

“There’s a stream nearby, I’ll go and retrieve some water.” Hansol nods.

“I’ll leave Chan to you!” Junhui says and begins to run towards the city, hopefully in search of some gokaju.

“Commander… what happened here?” Hansol questions Jihoon quietly.

Although the commander doesn’t seem to hear him, muttering to himself, “I never thought that I would sacrifice my own men so that I could survive…”

“Sacrifice?”

Jihoon looks at one of the bodies on the field, “Eunseok’s body is over there… Can you help me bury him?” He frowns and bites back against the bitter sting of tears, “His men too… It’s cold this time of year; we can’t leave them out to freeze.” You know that he wants to break down and cry more than anyone else here, easily seen in the way he struggles to grin and joke.

Unable to hold it in any longer, you bury your face into your hands and begin to sob. Eunseok had given his life to save yours, Jihoon had become a Fury to fight the Demon chasing you across Seorabeol, and Chan had been mortally wounded trying to protect Jihoon. How are you to atone for all of this?

The night of the initial attacks, Seungcheol leads his Fury Corps in a retaliatory raid. During the night, it was harder to fight an opponent who could see clearly, and the Furies capitalized on this. And it did, at first, being more successful in deterring the loyalists than they had planned. But then arrows and blades began to pierce and cut differently, the metal different from that of normal weaponry. With the situation becoming more and more dire, it seems as if most of the Hwarang allies will succumb to the loyalist and Goguryeo effort.

When dawn breaks, you awake to different news. King Munmu had sent a request to Tang in the weeks prior to the Baekje attacks, asking for aid. And during the night it looked as if the call had been answered, swaths of Tang soldiers encircling the city and pushing back the enemy forces.

Buyeo Pung is captured in this effort, but not killed. Like his father and his elder brother, he is meant to be exiled to Tang, with no chance of ever returning the kingdoms again. This diplomatic decision agreed upon by Gaozong and Munmu sates the Baekje rebellion for now, but their attention now turns towards a new common threat, the ones that had housed Pung: King Bojang and the rest of Goguryeo.

January 4th, 665 – Shoji Temple, Kingdom of Silla

“… What’s the sense in building a place this big?” Mingyu frowns as the Hwarang enter the temple, lamenting the building’s structure as it isn’t aiding their effort to find help. Him and Junhui hold up a pallid Chan, who’s shallow breathing hadn’t gotten any better during the trip here. “Namekawa said he’d be returning to Seorabeol today,” he mentions, “I plan on finding him and bringing him here.”

“Go ahead,” Jihoon nods as the pair take Chan inside.

Chan had been bleeding and groaning in pain as you’d brought him here, with the severity of his wounds you don’t see him lasting much longer. You’re also worried about Jihoon, now that he’s a Fury, being in the sunlight doesn’t bode well for him.

“Are you feeling alright Commander?” You ask and look at him.

“Surprised to see a Fury in the sunlight?”

“That’s not what I—” you mumble, “I was wondering if anything has changed.”

“Not yet,” he crosses his arms and shakes his head, “Although pretty soon it’ll probably be painful for me to even look at the sun. Might as well enjoy it while I can.”

Even if he’s joking, it makes you feel bad. As if he can tell, he speaks up again, “I’m not sure what self-deprecating tirade you’re conjuring, but the only person who made the decision to drink that stuff was me. I’ve ordered enough men to take that shit so I couldn’t chicken out when it was my turn, could I?” He offers you a smile, “I figured it would happen sooner or later.”

Even if he’s trying to assuage all of your guilt, you can’t take him at his word. He looks somewhat relieved when you look at him.

“Did something good just happen?”

The commander glances back to Shoji and laughs, “Isn’t it obvious? We have big things ahead of us. As long as we remain here, we won’t be able to lose. Maybe I’ll even get revenge on the bastards who tried to burn us alive.” The man you’d watch fight Jisoo seems to be gone, Jihoon’s face now looks determined, not driven by a maddening fury.

“Commander! There you are,” Jeon Wonwoo barrels in through the front gates of the compound, out of breath and panting.

“What’s wrong?” Jihoon asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been… We’ve been ordered to Ungjin.” Jeon looks as if he’s about to keel over as he reaches into his robes to procure a document bearing the royal seal.

“Ungjin? The Baekje city?” Jihoon asks as he reaches for the parchment, “Are we not meant to stay here and keep the peace while Munmu sends his soldiers off to Goguryeo?”

Wonwoo hesitates and you surmise that it’s from reluctance, not confusion. “Munmu’s going as well… to meet with Tang advisors…”

For a moment, Jihoon stands there stunned. When he speaks, his voice is low, “What do you mean by that? Is he so eager to sell our support?”

“To be honest… I’m not sure. There have been people saying he’s meant to meet with Tang advisors over the next course of action with Goguryeo but—” Wonwoo doesn’t look pleased either.

“Damn it,” Jihoon’s fists clench angrily at his sides, “It was stupid of me to think that the fighting was over. There’s always another bastard out there for us to fight.”

January 31st, 665 – Somewhere near Sangju, Kingdom of Silla

With the aid of the Tang, Silla becomes somewhat indebted to Gaozong after the threat of Buyeo Pung is quelled. The Tang emperor quickly sets his sights on his long-term enemy, Goguryeo, and demands that Silla involve themselves to diminish their debt. As Silla and its leaders leave for Ungjin to speak with Tang ambassadors, the Hwarang find themselves swept away by the current of a larger, more looming conflict.

During the travel across Silla, you and Namekawa take turns caring for Chan as you walk with the caravan of Hwarang.

From the makeshift cot at the campsite for the night, Chan calls out to you, his voice hoarse and tired.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, saddling over to his bedside, “Does something hurt?”

“No…” a shake of his head, “I… T-There’s something that I’d like… to tell the commander…” Each breath seems like a struggle for him, “Can you… call him for me?”

For him to ask for Jihoon must mean that he knows he’s not got long left, it makes your stomach sink, but you nod your head quickly. “Just wait a moment…” You hurry from the tent and race to Jihoon, quickly asking for him to accompany you and returning to the medical tent as soon as possible.

“Chan,” your voice soft, “I brought him.”

“Thank you,” the officer’s smile weak as Jihoon walks to the bedside. His face pale, the color drained long ago, it’s heart wrenchingly clear his end draws near. Cold sweat beads at his forehead as he begins to speak quietly, “I-I’m sorry that I won’t be there for you.”

“What are you saying? If you have the energy to apologize, just focus on getting better.” Despite the harsh tone, Jihoon sounds as if he knows that Chan is dying. Yet maybe that’s why he’s still speaking normally to the officer.

“You let me… join you all even though…” Every breath ragged, every syllable sounding as if it’s a needle stabbing him, “I was never a noble, my father’s an acupuncturist… You’re letting me die a warrior all because of the Hwarang…”

“If you force yourself it’ll only hurt more,” Jihoon’s voice is low as he sits by Chan.

The officer looks to you, “Please take care of the Commander from now on… Stay by his side and help the Hwarang rise to their full potential…” Watching this is almost too much for you to bear, you can’t find the words to respond immediately.

“Say something,” Jihoon urges after a moment of silence.

Tears well in your eyes as you respond, “Just rest, Chan…”

After a while, the officer closes his eyes, breaths becoming shallow as they slowly stop, his body becoming limp. Calling his name elicits no response and you realize that he’s gone.

“At least it was peaceful…” Jihoon says as he looks down to Chan, “Almost as if he’s sleeping.”

Your knees hit the ground as the tears stream down your face.

His burial is held the next morning, the captains mourning the loss of their fallen comrade. There isn’t any way to mark his grave, just a shallow pit in the ground that he’d remain in for the rest of time.

“You alright, Youngmin?” Jihoon asks as the chief staggers over, worry tinging in his voice.

“I’m okay…” Youngmin frowns as he looks as Chan's body, encased in a shroud, is lowered into the grave. “Lee Chan was an integral part of the Hwarang. For him to leave us like this… It fills me with unimaginable sorrow. He was selfless beyond belief and I think all of us can learn from that.” The chief speaks out to the captains, you can see tears pricking at his eyes as he speaks but holds them back momentarily. “I’d like to celebrate his life, his work and his ambition… Goodbye, Chan. I pray that you watch over us proudly from wherever you are.”

“Damn you Chan,” Junhui sniffles out as several men begin to cover the grave, “How dare you die on me.”

“I’m sure he wanted this less than anyone else…” Mingyu frowns.

“I know that!” Junhui bites. Most of the men aren’t displaying their grief for the others to see, but many had tears welling in their eyes. You can assume they allow themselves their own private grief when they’re alone.

That night you cannot find it within yourself to sleep soundly as your mind is focused on Chan. You slip from your tent, intent on walking to clear your mind, when you see Jihoon standing at the edge of the encampment.

“Oh,” he says as you approach, twigs snapping under your footsteps as you near, “It’s you. Is something wrong? You’re up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep…” You sigh, “What about you?”

“…Same.” He offers a small smile as you recall his disposition.

“Ah, right…” With all that’s happened in the past few days, you’re sure that he needs time to process it on his own. His eyes travel up, to watch the stars breaking through the trees, like the ghost of the daylight haunting him from above. From the east, the pale fingers of sunlight begin to break over the horizon.

“I know you’re handling a lot right now…” Jihoon starts, looking back to you, “But they say it isn’t good for women to be out in the cold for too long, right?”

“I’ll head back inside soon.” You nod, and the conversation ends there. For a moment, you listen to the sounds of nature, of the wind whistling through the trees and the birds beginning to wake from slumber. Even with the minor distractions, you can’t help but think of those that were lost in the skirmishes.

“Until now,” Jihoon breaks the silence, “I always felt like I was trying to fight an uphill battle by trying to assert myself as a true noble, a true warrior… Never once did I ever think that the path I chose was the wrong one. Eunseok, Chan… I’m sure everyone else who died felt the same way.” His voice sounds strained as he tries to reason with his thoughts, “That’s just a more reason for us to go on, to live in their honor and fulfill what they would expect from us.”

The commander looks to the eastern sky, to the beams of light trickling to dissolve the black of night. As you watch his determination return, you feel compelled to speak,

“I need to tell you something.” You take a deep breath in, “Eunseok wanted me to tell you something before he died. He said he wanted to apologize for not being able to walk alongside you to the end. He didn’t have the words to thank you properly enough for it…” As you speak, you find your voice getting caught in your throat, choking back a cry from escaping your chest.

Jihoon stays silent and then lets out a short chuckle, “… Dammit Eunseok… What’s with the vagary? ‘Thank you’ for giving him a chance?” His voice lowers to an almost whisper, “We should be the ones thanking him.”

Without a word, the two of you watch the sun slowly rise over the horizon, its orange glow bursting into bloom once the tip of the sun breeches the skyline.

“Maybe it’s because I’m a Fury now,” Jihoon sighs out, “but that damn sun is really stinging my eyes… As soon as we get to Ungjin, we’re going to regroup and avenge Chan and Eunseok. Everyone that’s wronged us will know us, I swear it.” His face is almost gallant in the light of the new dawn, you can’t look away. His resolution to the fallen and resolution to the future is nothing short of inspiring, it gives you something to pull yourself out of the grief of battle.

 June 7, 665 – Seonggwa Inn, Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla

By the time that the Hwarang finish following King Munmu of Silla to Ungjin, they find themselves holed up in Seonggwa Inn, a relatively spacious lodging, as their king speaks of a treaty between his kingdom and the Tang. With each day, the Hwarang hope that the potential of invading Goguryeo due to their aiding and abetting with the now quelled Baekje forces becomes a reality.

Silla hadn’t lost the conflict with Baekje, without the aid of the Tang the story would be entirely different though. Yet, with their aid, it had begun to expose several rifts in both the Crown and the Hwarang in favor for or against the additional help.

 The recent attack on Youngmin’s life, as well as Seungkwan’s illness, has confined both of them to staying with Doctor Namekawa Yasuo to treat them. So, while they don’t remain at the newest Hwarang headquarters, they still reside within Ungjin. Although present in spirit, some of the men have begun to notice their rather large absences…

“He’s probably just run off to not have to deal with this shit,” one of the warriors guffaws at the thought of Youngmin not returning. A few others around him return the sentiment.

“He’d never do that,” a serious voice responds, and you turn to see Junghwan looking angrily at the group, “All of you are complaining instead of focusing on the work we have ahead of us.”

Normally such insubordination from a lower wang-do was met with harsh consequences, yet things had changed since coming to Ungjin.

“You all have too much to talk about, go sharpen your swords or train,” Junhui adds to Junghwan’s proclamation.

With grumbled acceptance, several of the Hwarang run off.

“I can see where they’re coming from… They’re tired, I suppose,” Mingyu huffs out, shaking his head as he watches the other scurry away. “We’ve been sitting here without orders for weeks.”

“True, but I mean… What else are we going to do while Munmu’s off kissing up to the Tang?” Junhui frowns, moving his head from side to side to crack his joints.

“Don’t give me that bullshit,” Mingyu retorts, “These men were ready to die for him not too long ago, I’m pretty sure they just want to run out the loyalists and Goguryeo soldiers just like we do.”

“So…” Junghwan murmurs, “What’s going to happen now?

“Youngmin’s stuck in bed. Even if we wanted to run after the traitors, we’re not going to be able to touch them if we leave too late,” Junhui sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Future’s looking pretty dark if we’re looking north… Maybe we oughta head to Jinro-dong again…”

“Jinro-dong?” Mingyu’s brow furrows at the mention of the nightlife district, “Really? In a time like this?”

“Of course you idiot,” Junhui scoffs, “Times like this are when we need to party hard! Gotta lift our spirits somehow!”

“Huh,” Dohoon, who’d been standing in the courtyard along you all quietly, asks, “Does anyone know where Hansol is? I haven’t seen him around lately…”

“He’s off helping Namekawa,” Mingyu explains, “We still have a lot of injured men after the last fight.”

You frown, not saying anything. Memories of the peaceful times back in Seorabeol are like a candle flickering in the wind, one breath away from turning it all into smoke. Sometimes you have to ask yourself if they really had happened at all.

June 18, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla

When you hear footsteps walking up the entranceway of the inn, you think it’s just another Hwarang returning from town until…

“Hello,” a soft voice greets, “It’s been a while.”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen upon looking up from your work and finding Lee Seokmin standing before you. “Seokmin… What brings you here?”

“I've come to discuss a few important matters with Jihoon, would you mind taking me to him?” He asks as his shoe slowly taps at the gravelly rocks underfoot.

Sometime after you lead him to the Commander’s quarters, murmurs of conversation suddenly become exclamation.

“Are you sure?!” Jihoon says angrily as you peer into the room.

“Yes,” Seokmin nods solemnly, eyes trained on the floor, “Supposedly, an urgent matter has arisen, meaning he cannot meet with us.”

“… No.” Jihoon frowns as he shakes his head, “We need to talk to him. I don’t care how. If we don’t, we’re stuck here. I’ll go.” And with that, he storms towards you, toward the exit. He doesn’t acknowledge you as he goes, only looking as pensive as ever as he leaves the compound.

“Did something happen?” You ask Seokmin, who’s gaze had risen to watch the Hwarang leave.  

“Jihoon had planned to meet with a member of the king’s council today, but I’d been informed that the man hadn’t planned on showing up, so I came to notify him.” Seokmin explains quickly.

The Commander has been attempting to gather council support to try and speed up the process of invasion, however their unwillingness to try and sway the king’s favor has led to them not entertaining Jihoon’s initiative.

“Do you think they’re just waiting until Tang makes a call?” You question timidly.

“Whatever the case, the King has instructed me to not make any rash decisions,” Seokmin hums, “Honestly, in times like these, I am a little envious of Jihoon as he can do as he pleases… Anyway, I’ll be heading out now. Please send my regards to everyone.”

“Oh, of course!” You say as you begin to walk with him towards the entrance. “I’m sorry that I couldn’t offer you more courtesy while you were here.”

Shortly after Seokmin leaves the inn, a familiar figure approaches you to ask a question.

“Is the Commander inside?” Wonwoo says as you stop outside the front door.

“Ah,” you shake your head, “You’ve just missed him, he’s stepped out for the time being… Did you have business with him?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows raise in surprise, “Wow, ever since we’ve gotten here, he’s been working non-stop.

“I know… I seriously wonder how he finds the time to sleep, if at all.” As far as you know, Jihoon should be suffering in agonizing pain during the daytime due to his condition as a Fury. However, seeing him work as tirelessly as he does, one would have no clue of his affliction at all.

“Are you okay, Wonwoo? You look a bit more gaunt than usual…”

“Ah… Well… Ever since Chan passed away, I’ve had a lot more work to do.” Wonwoo smiles sadly, “But he left it to me, and I’ll be damned if I dishonor his memory by messing it up. And seeing how far the Commander’s pushing himself for us, it wouldn’t feel right if I just sat around here all day, you know?”

“I see…” You know exactly how he feels, yet he’s actually in a position to contribute. Unlike Wonwoo, there is nothing you can do for Jihoon, even though you yearn to be involved and do whatever you can to help.

“Well,” Wonwoo nods briefly, “I’ve got plenty more to do, so I’ll be on my way.”

“Of course, please be careful.”

“By the way,” he’d begun walking before stopping himself, “There've been a lot of killers on the street recently, looking to test their swords on a living body. Don’t travel alone, okay?”

Later that night, you’re waiting in the empty common room for the captains to return, sitting idly as your fingers tap atop the table you’re seated at when Kwon Soonyoung comes strolling into the room.

“Evening!” He greets cheerily, moving to come over and sit beside you.

“Hey Soonyoung,” you say politely, peering around him to see if anyone else has followed in behind him. “Where’s everyone else?”

“Junhui and Mingyu took the men to Jinro-dong, and, if you can believe it, they left me behind to house-sit.” He sighs out, resting his head on his chin, “I’m not their servant, you know. They can’t keep giving me this kind of bitch work… Well, I guess it’s nice that they’re acting like usual. To me, I mean. Like nothing ever changed.” His laugh sounds small in the empty hall.

“That reminds me, do you know where Seungcheol is?” You tilt your head inquisitively as you ask. “Did he go out somewhere?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung sits up, nodding his head, “He went out on patrol.”

“Patrol?” You furrow your brow, “But we’re not in Seorabeol any more… No one’s asked us to keep peace in Ungjin…”

His face grows solemn, as if he’s quietly searching for words. “… He’s been acting weird lately. Like, today, soon as the sun went down, he said he was going on patrol. I asked if he wanted me to go with him but he said he’d be just fine on his own.”

“I’ve heard that there’s been a lot of killings at night recently, maybe he’s going out to try to learn about who or what’s causing it?” Seungcheol may not have the same authority here that they had in Seorabeol, but they do still work for the Crown. Perhaps Seungcheol’s just trying to protect Ungjin, regardless if he was asked to or not.

“…Well, if that’s the deal, then good.” Soonyoung doesn’t sound fully convinced.

Just then, the door opens once more and Jihoon comes inside quietly.

“Good evening, Commander,” you greet him with a small smile.

“You’re still up?” His face is pale, but his tone is sharp. As you watch him, you can see that it looks as if he’s struggling to stand. He shakes slightly as he moves, and you get the feeling that if he were to let his concentration slip, he’d just simply collapse on the floor in front of you.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” You already know his answer, but you can’t help but to ask.

“No,” he shakes his head, “Just stay put, and stop thinking about that.”

Even though everyone else is working themselves thin, barely sleeping or eating, all you can do is sit around, useless.

“Hey… Don’t give me that look,” he says, noting your expression.

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, only realizing after you’d spoken that you’ve only made things worse. And apologizing makes you sound all the more miserable.

Jihoon nearly chuckles, “You don’t need to worry about us. Just… go make some tea, alright? Your tea isn’t that bad, I guess.”

“Okay!” You rise to your feet, “I’ll be right back.” Your feet carry you to the kitchen, a slight smile curving along your lips.

You return to the common room some minutes later, a tray with three cups atop it, along with the hot teapot steaming into the night.

“I couldn’t find any yakgwa to go with it… but I was able to sneak a few of Youngmin’s old snacks…” You say as you set the tray atop the table.

“It’s alright,” Jihoon sighs, now sitting down at the table. “I have to get back to work as soon as I drink this anyway.”

“Are you sure you’re going to be alright?” Soonyoung frowns worriedly, “You’re a Fury now. You should be sleeping during the day and working at night.”

Jihoon doesn’t answer, just chooses to sip at his tea for a long drawn-out moment. “When we were leaving Daegaya, Youngmin said something to me. He said that if he were the King, even if he only had two hundred men, he would continue to push forward for the legacy of our Kingdom, and if he failed? Gut himself like an honorable warrior.” He huffs out a short laugh, “Now he’s stuck in bed, shot in the shoulder. He’d die for any one of us, and we all know it. Sure, I feel like shit, but that doesn’t mean I get to rest.”

The prospect of handing over a fully-functioning Hwarang back to his friend brings a gleam to his eyes. If the rest of the men are worried because their leader has been wounded by a coward's arrow… Jihoon is buoyed by the fact that Youngmin is still alive, and that he has the courage to do what other leaders will not. He finishes his tea quickly, returning to his room with only perfunctory thanks.

Yesterday, his light had stayed on late into the night. Today, you’re sure, will likely be no different.

“I’ve got an anxious feeling about what’s ahead…” Soonyoung says after Jihoon’s left, “He’s a Fury, but it doesn’t look as if he’s started to feel the bloodlust yet.”

“Bloodlust?”

“When you become a Fury… Something happens to you and, well, sometimes you really, really want to drink blood. Like, you need to,” he explains slowly, “It hurts, and not like how it hurts when Kim shoves a practice sword into your gut. You want to die, just because that’ll make the pain stop.”

Your mouth hangs open. Jihoon already looks terrible, if unbearable pain is suddenly added to his already long list of burdens… “Is there any way to do anything about it?”

“Well, if you drink some blood, then it goes away almost immediately, but… only for a while.” Soonyoung sighs out, “And the longer you go, the more painful it gets. At first you only need a little blood to feel better, but after a while you need more. And pretty soon you’ll need a whole lot before you feel better again.”

You sit there at a loss for words. Furies truly do seem like the monsters from legends.

“What about you, Soonyoung? Are you…?”

“Come on,” he closes his eyes, unable to look at you, “You can’t ask me that.” After this, he makes some manner of excuse and shoots up. He departs from the common room quietly, leaving you alone with your thoughts of the commander. Is he really okay?

Lost in thoughts, you stumble upon something—your father had done research on the Furies. Perhaps he’d left something useful behind at your home… or the one that used to be yours. It’s already too late to visit… And finding an escort will be troublesome enough…

June 25, 665 – Toehwa-hyeon, Kingdom of Silla

The following day, you leave a neatly written note behind at the inn for anyone who may be curious as to where you’re headed. It had only taken you a week, maybe less, to return to your home on the main roads… And it should take about that time to return.

It seems as if no one’s visited the home in several years, everything covered in a thick layer of dust. You hum to yourself, perusing the shelves and drawers for anything denoting your father’s research on the Furies. Hands brushing off a few books, you scan their contents only for them to reveal some barely legible scribbles that would take you forever to decipher.

‘No…’ You shake your head, this is the least you can do for the Hwarang.

After searching through several more books, you sit on the floor, sighing heavily as your eyes fall to the unkempt floor. Have you been foolish enough to think that this would work? That waltzing in, finding these secret documents and solving the Hwarang’s plague would be easy?

You frown, needing to rid these thoughts. So, you continue to flip through all the books and papers you can lay your hands on. As you skim through a large sheaf of papers a small stak falls onto the floor, dust flying upwards as it lands. It appears to be… some kind of formula?

“Huh?” You murmur, moving to place down the stack in your hands, reaching for the papers at your feet. Studying it, you realize what you’ve found. It details a mismade concoction your father had created after working with the Hwarang that could stop Furies’ bloodlust for a time. Maybe you’ve found something useful after all?

July 1st, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla

You arrive in Ungjin just as the sun settles beyond the western horizon, and as you enter the Hwarang’s compound, you’re met with Soonyoung and Seungcheol. Their backs turned to you, you call out to them to make sure they can hear you.

“You’re back?” His brow raises inquisitively, as if he’d not known if you were coming back. “It’s dangerous out there, you know. You shouldn’t be out at night all by yourself.”

“I meant to come back earlier… The roads were… I lost track of time, is all,” You say quickly, trying to change the subject. “Anyway! I have something for you!”

You reach into your bag, procuring the medicine you were able to make from your father’s old supplies.

“What’s this?” Seungcheol questions as he looks over the powdery substance.

“It’s medicine to suppress bloodlust! I went back home and found instructions on how to make it,” you nod enthusiastically, “It should make the pain go away, at least for a little while.”

His gaze looks from the medicine to you, biting his lip in thought 

before looking into your eyes, “Thank you, but no. Your gesture is certainly appreciated, but it isn’t needed.”

“Huh?” You say, unable to stop the exclamation from leaving you, “Wait, but… without it…”

“You are not one of us, so to you the bloodlust may seem odd, or wrong.” He gingerly hands the powder back to you, “However, the more one tries to suppress it, the greater the pain becomes. This medicine would be a minor reprieve… nothing more.” Before you can say anything else, he nods to you, “Excuse me. I must leave for patrol. Good night.”

You wonder what he’s to do about his bloodlust without the medicine as you watch him walk briskly into the night. To not only acknowledge but accept this insatiable craving as a part of one’s life seems… beyond you. It’s now that you remember Seulgi’s warning of the Hwarang’s Furies murdering people on the streets to test their strength… Had they been feeding off of innocent lives?

“I’ll take that,” Soonyoung says, looking down at the medicine.

“Oh!” You nod, handing it to him, “Of course.” He stuffs it into his pocket before staring at where Seungcheol had just disappeared. “I’m going on patrol with him. If he… does anything weird, I’ll stop him. So don’t worry, alright?”

“Alright,” you nod quickly, “I’m counting on you, Soonyoung… Is the Commander inside?”

“Yeah,” the Hwarang nods, “he came back earlier this evening, but he locked himself in his room. Not a peep from him since.”

“Oh…” You hum, “I’m going to check on him then.”

Soonyoung and you say your quick goodbyes, and you make your way inside of the inn towards Jihoon’s room. You hope the wave of anxiety you feel is a needless one, but you have a very bad feeling as you call out to him from behind the door of his room.

A knock, “Are you in there? I have something for you…”

Nothing. “You’re about to turn away, assuming that he’s asleep when—

Jihoon cries out in pain, sounding as if he’s struggling for air.

“Commander—I’m coming in!” You blurt out, opening the door and running inside quickly.

Jihoon lays bent over his desk at the back of the room, sweat pouring down his face as his teeth squeak horribly as he grits them. His hair that falls around his face lay a stark white, his eyes, when he opens them to look at you, are a harsh crimson.

“Are you okay?!” You say as you rush to his side.

“You idiot.” He groans, “Just shut up.”

“But—”

“This’ll pass… any time now… Don’t get all worked up over nothing! Leave it.” He wraps his arms around his shoulders and squeezes until his knuckles turn white as he glances up at you. His breath comes out in pants as he shivers violently.

It’s Jihoon’s personality to refuse any show of pain, or any emotion at all—or at least to show as little as possible. For him to be like this…The pain must be unimaginable. Is this the bloodlust that Soonyoung spoke of?

You pause, knowing that he needs blood but that’s… A frown as you think of the medicine, but again, Seungcheol had said it was a temporary solution. Should you give him your blood, then?

There isn’t any time to think of this any longer. It’s not the best plan, perhaps, but you cannot bear to see him in pain any longer. Besides, this is one way that you can help.

Jihoon shakes fiercely as you gaze upon him in horror. Saying nothing, you draw the blade at your waist.

“What the hell are you—?!” Jihoon’s eyes go wide as you slide your finger along the edge of the blade, a bead of thick blood forming over the cut.

“Please drink my blood,” you offer your hand to him, “It’ll make you feel better, right?”

“I can’t do that!” He refutes, his clothes drenched in sweat as he shakes like a leaf in the wind. If he had the strength you’re sure he’d try to knock your hand away.

“Don’t worry about me,” you insist, unable to watch him suffer any longer, “Please…”

Though he’s trying to resist, his eyes are locked on your finger, to the blood dripping to the floor. He balls his fist tightly, but he cannot resist.

“You’re an idiot,” he murmurs, reaching out for your hand, “A girl shouldn’t hurt herself for a man’s sake…” Then, he brings your fingers to his lips, you wince slightly as you feel the soft caress of his tongue on your cut. Then, the gentle pressure of his teeth and lips as he sucks, drawing a few more drops out and into his mouth.

“I’ll be fine,” you promise, “I’m a Demon. I heal quickly.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he frowns, “Demon or not, you’re still a girl.” By now, his breathing has already begun to calm itself; through his hand on your wrist, you can feel him stop shaking as well. A few moments later, his grasp on your wrist loosens and he slips his hand away.

The cut on your finger has already healed. The split in the flesh mends before your very eyes as you sit there quietly, Jihoon wincing.

“I’m sorry for being so forward…” You apologize, returning your hand to your side.

Jihoon takes a quiet breath and shakes his head, a sense of calm seems to emerge from him, “This isn’t the time to be pretending that I’m fine. I know that. If I want to make sure that Youngmin succeeds, then I don’t have a choice. I have to become a monster.”

Absently, you move your fingers to the wrist he’d taken when he drank your blood. A peculiar feeling lingers on the surface of your skin, almost as if you can still feel his warmth there.

September 10th, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla

Even after the events of that fateful night, Jihoon had pushed himself just as hard as he had before; he still continues to visit the council members whenever he can find the time. Eventually, that work does pay off, and he’s found himself in several meetings with the King’s closest men.

Between his demanding schedule and Fury-related difficulties, you know he must be miserable, but you know that he’s determined to give Youngmin his fight. This alone seems to drive him forward.

It’s a cool evening when the doors of the compound open and Kwak Youngmin walks confidently into the Hwarang’s main hall.

“I apologize for worrying you all,” he smiles, scratching the back of his head.

“Welcome back!” Both Dohoon and Junghwan say excitedly, “We’re happy you’re back with us.”

“You flatter me,” Youngmin laughs, “But in all seriousness… Thank you. I am truly grateful that I am able to join you all again.” His eyes scan the room of men, nodding as he does, “I’m sure you’re all wondering what’s next. First, we’ll head to Hanseong. We’ve been ordered to take the city.”

Prior to this, you’d heard that Youngmin has almost been promoted to a position outside of the Hwarang, while Jihoon has basically taken over Youngmin's old role as Chief.

It’s a momentous honor to have been bestowed, although you can see that some of the men are hesitant to find cause for celebration.

“Hey, Kwak,” Junhui says from his seated position, “Who came up with the idea of us sieging Hanseong?”

“Kim Yong, why?” Youngmin looks at him quizzically, “Is that a problem?”

“This guy is rumored to be a pacifist,” Junhui pushes, “Why does he want us to go to war?”

“Besides,” Mingyu adds, “I’ve heard that the King is perfectly willing to just go along with whatever the Tang forces want. You don’t think Kim feels the same way?”

Youngmin crosses his arms before he speaks, “Wen, Kim, these are direct orders from the King’s council. It’s true that the King is following the influence of the Tang, but to be fair, he owes them a great amount of debt. However, if we can take Hanseong, then perhaps he’ll see that he won’t need to rely on their aid as much as we drive out Goguryeo. This isn’t just a matter of winning and losing; the men in charge are saying that we are a force skilled and dedicated enough to capture Hanseong.” His voice sharp, domineering, “Isn’t our duty as warriors, then, to give all we can to this fight? Don’t you agree, Junhui?”

“You’re going to gloss over it like that?” Junhui scoffs, “I’m a captain of the Hwarang, but I’m not your retainer.”

Looking upset, Youngmin moves to speak before Mingyu interjects, “Hansol… what’s your take on all of this?”

“I will do whatever is commanded of me.” He says simply.

All eyes turn to Jihoon, who’s been observing the amicable commotion before him quietly, “We should round up more men if we’re to go to war. If we do well in Hanseong, I’m sure the Crown will send us even more men. As far as Kim goes… Doesn’t matter how much he hates war, I’m sure he knows that you cannot avoid it.” His head shakes as he sighs out, “I mean, if he refuses Tang influence at this point, what’s the point of staking out Goguryeo? What’s the point in seeking out revenge?”

“I guess you have a point,” when Jihoon had put it that way, it seems like Junhui has nothing more to oppose.

“Shall we head out for the mountains near Hanseong and prepare for night raids?” Seungcheol asks.

“The Fury Corps aren’t going this time,” Jihoon states, “You’re staying here.” 

“Why?” Seungcheol frowns.

“If the King does send us reinforcements, I can’t afford to let them see you.” Jihoon adamantly shakes his head, “There’s going to be significantly more men in Hanseong, you’ll get spotted. Then what’ll be the point of having a secret division?”

“But—!” Seungcheol begins to retort until Soonyoung stops him.

“The war’s only just begun… We shouldn’t be in a rush.”

You see Jihoon and Soonyoung exchange a quick look. They must have realized how Seungcheol would react and spoke of this beforehand. To you, at least, there seems to be a silent agreement.

“Alright then, everyone return to your rooms. We have some time before we leave so make sure you get your affairs in order,” Youngmin stands as he addresses the room.

And that’s that. The captains soon leave for their stations, seeking to brief their men and prepare for battle. Only Jihoon remains behind, mumbling something to himself as he sifts through the massive stacks of paper and maps before him.

“Are you sure it’ll be okay?” You ask timidly as you approach him.

“Hm?” He glances up to you, “What will be okay?”

“This war… It’s not going to just be one battle, is it?” You frown, “Wouldn’t it have been better to take the Fury Corps along?”

“Oh.” He sighs, “That.” The map in hand set down, he glances at it before looking back to you, “Remember what that Sooyoung girl, or whatever her name was, warned us about the Furies killing people?”

“Yes…”

“Well. I think it might’ve been Seungcheol.” He says shortly as your mouth flies open.

“What?!”

“The Fury Corps is our ace in the hole,” he continues, ignoring your short outburst, “but I can’t have them murdering people in the streets to satisfy their bloodlust. During the fight in Seorabeol they used silver arrowheads on the Furies, which made them essentially useless. Until we can figure out how to counteract the silver problem, I need to have Seungcheol stay here. Soonyoung will… keep an eye on him. We also may need them to collect arms for a counterattack.”

A counterattack… Does that mean Jihoon is planning for a possible loss in Hanseong?

“This next fight is going to be a big one. We probably shouldn’t take you, but… If I leave you here, Jisoo might decide to try and steal you away again. So, I’m taking you with us, but you need to watch yourself and stay out of trouble.”

With the nervous knot slowly forming in your stomach, you nod, “Okay…”

October 31st, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla

Today, the Hwarang leave for Hanseong. And as you enter the common room, you take note of the different outfits the men have donned.

“You’re up early,” Junhui muses, beckoning you over.

“Your clothes…” Your brow furrows at him, “Are you really Junhui?! What are you wearing?”

“The Commander ordered us to dress in Tang clothing when going into battle from now on,” Hansol explains as you look over his new uniform as well.

You look at the Commander, dressed predominately in black with red trim, his new outfit giving him an elegant look. It suits him well, he looks almost as handsome as an actor. You can’t help but stand there and admire him for a moment.

“Something wrong?” Jihoon asks as he notes your prolonged gaze, “…Do you think I’m wearing it wrong?”

“Hm? Oh. No. No, definitely not.”

He laughs, “You’re strange.”

“Hm,” you shake your head and your eyes fall on Youngmin, “Why aren’t you wearing Tang clothes?”

“They’re just so… heavy.” Youngmin explains, “I can’t stand how the shoes are made either. I wouldn’t feel like a real warrior dressed like that. I suppose I’m being childish, but that’s my right.”

“You’re fine,” Jihoon smiles, “It’s not like you’ll be out on the front lines. You just have to act dignified in front of the men. Your presence alone is enough to inspire everyone.”

“You’re going to make me blush,” Youngmin sounds flustered before speaking to the men, “Well, let’s go then! To Hanseong!”

November 11th, 665 – The Road North, Kingdom of Silla/Goguryeo

And so, the Hwarang are headed north. During the journey, Youngmin splits from the main group to visit his hometown somewhere east of the border. And after several days of his absence, the men begin to worry.

“Where is he?” Junhui notes as the men stop along a rocky path, his eyes looking up the walkway and behind to where they’d come.

“It seems as if the Chief hasn’t caught up with us yet…” Junghwan trails off, a frown of worry present on his lips.

“Still? How long is he going to sit around that inn getting drunk?” Junhui says impatiently.

“Well, he probably hasn’t been home in a while,” Mingyu snorts, “Probably wants to show off how successful he’s been. Not to mention he probably wants to visit his wife and daughter. He hasn’t seen them in a long time.”

“Show off, huh?” Junhui shakes his head, “We’re marching to war. You really think this is the time for that shit?”

“He’s gone to see if the rumors of people wanting to join us were true, if they are, he needs to assess their abilities,” Jihoon interjects. “What better way to get to know new soldiers than by sharing a drink with them?”

“You have a point… but…”

Jihoon’s eyes narrow and Junhui looks unsatisfied as the commander mutters to himself, “If we had gotten enough men before we left, then Youngmin wouldn’t be out there right now.” His words cut the air like a knife.

The Hwarang had made a name for themselves in Seorabeol, but their notoriety can only carry them so far. You no longer have the luxury of interviewing potential recruits and taking the best ones; now, you need to offer incentives of alcohol and money to attract them. You know Jihoon would have rather cut off his own arm than stoop this low, but he has no choice.

From down the path, you can see Hansol rearing towards the group atop his horse, stopping shortly before you and leaping off, “Commander, I have something to report—The enemy has called reinforcements to Hanseong.”

“What? How did they know we were coming…” Jihoon frowns, “We’ve got to relay this to Youngmin as soon as possible.”

November 14th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo

It’s some time before the Chief receives the message and returns to the main group of Hwarang. Long enough for the news of the enemy threat to spread and causation for some to panic. Nearly fifteen hundred of the men you’d left Ungjin with desert, reducing your forces to a mere two thousand. Mingyu and Junhui seem only more cautious at this, both advising retreat. But Youngmin decides that the Hwarang will form up for battle and fight until the bitter end.

Now that the Crown had given him direct orders, he said that there cannot be any hesitance.

“I’ll call in reinforcements from Ungjin,” Jihoon frowns, “One thing for sure is… We cannot afford to lose this. Make that damn clear to the reinforcements, we can’t afford to have any more deserters.”

“Of course,” Hansol nods, turning and jogging off to join the rest of the men.

After giving his directions to the last of his men, Jihoon looks to you.

“Go back to Ungjin with someone. This place will turn into a battlefield soon enough, and you should be somewhere safe.” The tone in his voice shows no room for you to question his call.

“I’ll stay here…” You eventually conclude, “I can’t run away to somewhere safe while everyone else is off fighting. I’ll stay here to watch over the Chief until you get back.”

Jihoon grimaces, “How? You can’t swing a sword to save your life, and I don’t think you’ve got the guts to kill a man. You’re not a soldier.” You’d expected him to say as much, but you’re not going to back down easily.

“It’s true that I’m not very good with a sword, but… I can still be his shield. Any small wounds I sustain will heal quickly enough.”

“Why are you doing this? No one’s asked you to,” Jihoon stares at you, seeing that your resolve isn’t shaken.

“I know I may be out of line when I say this, but I know that we can’t lose him. Not now.” You insist, “I’m sick and tired of always being protected, I want to help!” You’ve been with them long enough now to see how much Youngmin means to Jihoon and the rest of the Hwarang. If you go back to Ungjin and Youngmin dies… Just thinking of it makes a cold chill crawl up your spine.

Jihoon chews his lip thoughtfully for a moment, and his hard, piercing gaze never seems to drift away from your face. Refusing to break his concentration for a long moment, he sighs.

“If you’re really that serious about this, then I’ve got an order for you,” he crosses his arms, “As a member of the Hwarang.”

“What…?” Your eyebrows shoot up.

“You’re going to guard Youngmin personally. Stay by his side and give him anything he asks for.” After awaiting your baffled response he continues, “…And?”

“Yes! Sir!” Without thinking, you straighten up and nod vigorously.

“I will protect him even if it means my li—” Before you can finish, Kum cuts you off with a sharp expression.

“There’s one condition. You can’t die.” That isn’t the sort of thing you’d expect him to say. ‘Be careful’, maybe, but not ‘You can’t die’. “And don’t do anything stupid, like being his shield, or whatever bullshit you were saying. I am not ordering you to die.” He gives you one last pointed look before turning to gaze bitterly at the walls of Hanseong in the distance.

“If our enemy this time turns out to be a bunch of amateurs who’re just hoping to kiss some ass with their king, we might have a chance,” he muses. “If it’s not… That’ll be a different story. I’ll try and get back as fast as I can, but if something happens before I do, I’m counting on you and Hansol to make sure Youngmin gets away clean.” Jihoon then looks back to you, “And none of this shield shit. You escape with him. Die, and I’ll make sure you regret it. Understood?”

You feel a cold sweat on your  back as his words sink their way into your skin. You’d seen others fight for their lives in battle many times, but this is the first that you’d actually be joining. Will you really be able to protect Youngmin? Will it even be possible to evade your enemies, let Youngmin escape and survive?

Perhaps Jihoon notices your sudden fear as he lets out a short, bitter laugh, “Hey. Take out your sword.”

“Huh?” You ask, stunned for a moment by the strangeness of his request before complying and unsheathing your blade from its scabbard.

Jihoon then moves to swiftly remove his from his hip, taking his steel and tapping it against your own. The clear tone they make draws goosebumps from your arms.

“The third rule of O Gye is to trust your friends and treat them sincerely…”

“O- Oh…” You furrow your brow. The O Gye is the set of principles that the Hwarang have followed since their inception, why is he…

“You’re a Hwarang now… Well,” he chuckles, “I suppose you’d be a Wonhwa, wouldn’t you? Regardless, this is proof.”

“Proof of what?” You ask as he smiles gently at you.

“That I’ll come back, that you can trust that I will return and that I can trust that you’ll survive too.” He lowers his blade, slipping it back into its sheath, “So you believe me, and you wait. And don’t die.” His words are confident, and listening to him, you feel as if they somehow have bolstered your spirit tenfold.

As someone who prides himself on being a Hwarang, you know these words, the O Gye, mean a great deal to him. You have to follow through, you can’t break this newly formed promise with him.

“I understand,” you nod, “I will protect the Chief and I will survive.”

November 27th, 665 – Outside of Hanseong, Kingdom of Goguryeo

Slowly, the Hwarang find themselves driven into a stalemate. Youngmin had done his best to try and tell the men they were to slowly siege the city, to draw them out and have them surrender on their own terms to protect the area around Hanseong from becoming bloodied with battle. Unfortunately, one of the new recruits had cried out that he was a Hwarang and slain a Goguryeo soldier.

That was the spark that set the pile ablaze. The bulk of the opponent’s forces turned out to be men who’d come from the hardened battle lines of Goguyeo’s northern fronts, meaning they’d been in near constant battle with the Tang for years. It quickly becomes stalemated as the days progress. Youngmin has no choice now but to retreat until forces from Ungjin arrive.

“We have to go!” You cry out as Youngmin emerges from his tent, “If we don’t, you’ll be killed if Goguryeo breaks through our lines!”

“My men are still fighting out there!” He states firmly, “I cannot run away and leave them, I will not leave them behind!”

“Even if we lose this battle now, we have reinforcements coming later, and as long as you’re safe, there’s still hope for the Hwarang—” You insist as you walk with him, “We can regroup and fight back later!” You reach for his hand, pulling him as hard as you can toward the path away from the city.

Youngmin looks across the battlefield at his men, hopelessly entrenched in lines that will never break or push through. The smell of death from both allied and enemy corpses stings your noses. Looking at him, you can see tears well up in the corners of his eyes. He lowers his gaze, murmuring something as Hansol returns from the front lines.

Hansol’s steely expression is colored by streaks of mud and grit from the battlefield, “Are you prepared to leave?” He notes the bags around your and Youngmin’s backs, “Good. Let’s go.”

“Let’s go quickly…” You say, urging Youngmin forward.

“Right…” He sighs out and begins to walk once more.

Running into the nearby forest, you escape into it under the cover of the quickly encroaching night.

“We’ll be in Silla territory soo,” you say as you look at Youngmin, “Hang in there.”

“Right…” He sighs once more.

Perhaps it’s because you’ve never seen him lose before, but this is the first time you’ve seen Youngmin so… drained.

“I’m sorry for being so, um, forward…” He eventually says, “I let so many of my men die…”

“You can’t beat yourself up over that now.” You say, trying to rid him of the thought, “Like the Commander said, we just don’t have what it takes to beat them right now.” Your words don’t seem to reach him as he continues to stare numbly beyond you.

“Perhaps if someone else were Chief… they might still be alive…”

“Youngmin…” You let his name slip from your lips, forgetting the last time you’d referred to him by his name, not his family’s.

“Who’s there?”  Before you’re able to console him any more, you hear a voice coming from the brush that sounds unfamiliar to you. Peeking out, you catch the sight of a Goguryeo soldier and freeze immediately. “I know you heard me.”

Hansol, who’d been staring intently out to where the soldier stands, murmurs, “I’ll buy you some time. Take the Chief and escape.”

Nodding quickly, you and Youngmin tiptoe away through the brush, trying your best not to make any noise. Just as soon as you’re able to get Youngmin moving at a decent pace, a shadow leaps out before you, barring your way forward.

“I had a feeling you might be here…” The figure of Hwan Minhyun murmurs before you. Instinctively, you step backwards, unease writhing in your stomach as you wonder if Hong Jisoo is nearby.

“Wasn’t he with the Goguryeo army in Seorabeol?” Youngmin asks as you slowly nod your head. “Then we can no longer escape… I need to take responsibility for the men I’ve lost. Will you go on without me?”

“What…?” You look at him puzzled, “I can’t do that!”

Minhyun had remained silent for the short exchange, but now he speaks up, “Yes, I do work with their forces. But I have been given no orders regarding the Hwarang.” His eyes shift to you, “My only business here is with her.”

“Me?” Your brow furrows as he crosses his arms.

“Jisoo is… vexed by you and that commander of yours. He disregards the kingdom’s wishes and does as he pleases, not as he is ordered. Yeon Gaesomun is troubled, to say the least. And for now, we don’t wish to cut our ties with Goguryeo quite yet.” The light in his eyes promises violence, and his body tightens as his hand rests on the hilt of his sword, ready to make good on whatever promise he’d made. With a swift flourish, he relinquishes his blade from its sheath and narrows his eyes at you, “And for that, you must die here.”

With shaky hands, you reach for your blade, already knowing you’re no match for the Demon.

“He’s after me,” you look frantically to Youngmin, “Only me. You need to escape!”

“But—!” Youngmin says, panic riddling his expression.

“I’ll be fine,” you try to reassure him with a small smile. “The Hwarang need you now more than ever, you can’t abandon them.”

His mouth hangs slack for a moment, speechless. Then he shuts his jaw and draws his sword,“No matter the reason, an honorable warrior cannot run away and leave a woman to fight alone.” Despite your protest, he gets into a fighting stance, slowly closing the distance between Minhyun and himself. His face calm and serene, you don’t see any hesitation in his eyes, “My recklessness has seen many of my men to their death, I don’t want it to lead another away.”

You’d seen this same expression on Eunseok’s face just before he’d died on Jisoo’s blade. Youngmin’s mind has already been made.

“I am Kwak Youngmin, Chief of the Hwarang!” With his sword held high, he charges Minhyun.

The intense force of their clash sends a shockwave rippling through the air. The clangor of metal rings out and the two part.

“You challenge me knowing that you cannot win, for the sake of someone who cannot defend themselves…” Minhyun almost lets a smile creep onto the corner of his lips, “Your actions are worthy of respect.”

Youngmin swings at his last word, Minhyun sliding away as if he’s made of water. His hand outstretches and grabs the metal of Youngmin’s blade, pushing the hilt of it into the Chief’s stomach.

As Youngmin groans out, falling towards the ground, Minhyun flips him around so that he slams directly onto his back.

“I’ve knocked most of the air out of him. He won’t be able to move for quite some time,” Minhyun glances at Youngmin writhing on the ground and then looks at you. “You’re next. Do not blame me for what I have to do.”

Raising his blade, he charges at you, kicking you in the stomach as you have no time to dodge his attack. Feeling like your whole body is about to shatter, you endure the pain just a bit more and struggle to your feet.

“You just saw the difference in our power… Are you sure you still want to put up a fight?” He asks, looking at the blade locked tightly in your grip. Noticing that you’re not budging, he nods, “Very well. I’ll humor you, then.”

Giving a huff, you readjust your grip on your sword and rush at Minhyun. However, he evades your attack with no effort. You murmur to yourself how you need to change your movements, and begin to swing rapidly at him. Yet, once again, his elegant technique moves him out of the path of your blade. No matter how many times you charge and slash at him, there’s no way you’ll even scathe him. It’s not until his leg moves and kicks your arm with the force of a falling boulder that you move again.

The pain is so immediately overwhelming, you drop your blade to the forest floor, crying out in pain as you fall to the ground. Your knees skim across the dirt, digging into the earth and scraping your skin. Your brain screams at you to move, to fight, but the roar of your surely broken arm drowns it out almost entirely.

“This fight is done,” Minhyun says quietly, “Don’t worry, I’ll make it quick.”

Your eyes close as you hear him approach, and a myriad of thoughts runs through you. An apology to Jihoon, first and foremost, he’d told you to survive and now you’re doing everything but. A tear carves its way down the side of your cheek as you wait for the blow to hit you.

“Giving up so soon?” A voice says calmly, “The Hwarang don’t stop fighting until they’re dead. The only thing on your mind right now should be how you’re going to out-think this idiot.”

That voice…

Your head raises and eyes shoot open just in time to see Jihoon leap through the air and land a strike with his sword on Minhyun’s arm.

“You!” Minhyun says as he recoils.

“I thought I’d only be fighting soldiers out here… Guess I’ll be taking care of a Demon, too,” Jihoon huffs, his white hair glimmering in the moonlight.

“Have you learned nothing since your fight with Jisoo?” Minhyun huffs, “A Fury is a mere echo of a true Demon. No matter how powerful you may think yourself, you cannot defeat us.”

Jihoon lets out a short laugh, “Never know until you try…”

“Only bloodshed will satisfy you… Very well.” Minhyun raises his sword, “I’ll be your opponent.” Giving him a short nod, Minhyun once again falls easily into a ready stance.

Jihoon’s blade flickers through the air, a little more than a glint of silver in the moonlight. Minhyun blocks it with his own sword, dodging away from the attack. With his brow furrowed, Jihoon braces himself for the pushback that Minhyun does, using the momentum against the commander to shove him back.

Jihoon’s face twists as his feet slide back into the dirt. Be it his Fury-born strength or his adrenaline- he surges forward after a split second, charging toward Minhyun. His blade leaps forward, burying itself into the Demon’s chest. Blood flies from the gash, splashing across Jihoon’s face.

A startled noise falls from his mouth and he jerks back, pulling his sword from the wound. No sooner had it been out did the wound begin to close.

“Right…” Jihoon shakes his head, “You heal quickly, don’t you? It’s straight through the heart or not at all, huh?” His sword shines with the sheen of fresh blood, “I’ve got you figured out, though. I know how you move. You’re tough, but you’re not impossible.”

Drenched in blood, Jihoon looks more monster than human, his eyes wide and hungry. There’s something terrifying and inhuman about his expression as he whips his sword through the air.

Minhyun leaps back, Jihoon’s sword almost catching his hand as he does so. Jabs and parries, feints and counter-feints… The battle flows between them like a living thing; it changes, moving too fast for any mortal eye to track. Neither of the two men show any sign of tiring as they dodge and attack in ways that would be unthinkable for any human.

Even in the maelstrom of death and violence, you can see Jihoon smiling.

The smell of blood hangs heavy in the air, and his grin speaks of a Fury’s lust for death.

“I never imagined a Fury could match me in battle…” Minhyun murmurs as the two part, “You are unexpected. This power, though, what will you do with it?”

“What?” Jihoon says, confused. “Protect those I care for. What other reason could there be for wanting power?”

“Those you care for… Would you count Silla among that number?”

“No… This is bigger than the Kingdom. They can’t compare.”

Minhyun closes his eyes and stays silent for  a moment. What’s gotten into him? Why had he stopped fighting?

This would be a perfect time to strike, right?

Just as you think to pick up your blade and move toward him, you feel a hand on your shoulder, “Stay back.” Hansol, who you hadn’t heard return, stops you despite your protest. “That Demon no longer thirsts for blood. This battle is over.”

“Demons are not meant to involve themselves in the world of humans,” Minhyun states as he opens his eyes to stare at Jihoon, who’d lowered his sword. “Now that you’ve become a Fury, you belong in the shadows as well.”

“Yeah.” Jihoon says shortly, “I’m not interested in my name being written in the annals.”

“If you understand that, I shall leave the rest to you.” Minhyun shakes his head, “Jisoo is proud, even for a Demon. If you have indeed humiliated him, I doubt he will ever forgive you. It is unlikely that you will defeat him… However, if there is something you wish to protect, then please… use the powers you’ve been granted to do so.”

In his own stoic way, Jihoon looks as confused as you feel. Can Minhyun be trusted?

“There is one more thing I must tell you…” Minhyun warns, “The power of the Furies is not magic, or a gift from the gods. Great strength, lightning speed, and mortal wounds that close themselves… This power was already within you, but had you stayed human you would have spent it in decades, not minutes. You are only borrowing these things.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms at the realization. By ‘borrowing’, does he mean that when Jihoon taps into the speed and strength of a Fury, he’s picking away at his future—his life?

“So you’re saying that every time I tap into it, my life gets a little shorter?” Jihoon asks and Minhyun nods. The commander lets out a short laugh, “Makes sense. Seemed too good to be true. Guess it’s only natural that I’d have to trade something for this kind of power.”

“Then I will be on my way…”

“Hold on. I want to ask you something.” Jihoon stops him before he can run off, “You sure you want to let us get away? If you don’t kill me now, I’m pretty sure I’ll end up killing your friend.”

“If you defeat him, then that was all he amounted to.” Minhyun states plainly, “We Demons are not sentimental.” Then, with a last polite nod, he disappears into the night,

With his enemy gone, Jihoon slumps and takes a long, deep breath.

“Are you alright?” Your voice comes out quietly as you look at him.

“Fine. Where’s Youngmin?”

“Over there,” Hansol gestures as Jihoon runs off toward the Chief.

“Are you okay?” Jihoon asks as Youngmin looks at him wide-eyed, “Are you hurt?”

“Jihoon… you…” With Jihoon standing before him, his white hair and red eyes bright in the moonlight, he looks as if he’s seen a ghost. A Fury.

“Oh…” Jihoon begins but looks away, almost guiltily.

Staring at him a moment before speaking again, Youngmin notes in a soft, stunned voice, “Are you… a Fury?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jihoon admits, “I didn’t have a choice, alright? It was for the Hwarang,”

For a moment, he sounds composed, but as you look closer you can see that he’s desperately avoiding Youngmin’s gaze. Not being able to bear looking him in the eye.

Everyone is silent for a moment before the first raindrop hits you, taking you by surprise.

“…It’s starting to rain…” Jihoon sighs, “We need to get back to Ungjin and reorganize. We need to discuss our next move.”

“Right,” you nod, reaching out to tug at Youngmin’s sleeve, “Come on, we need to hurry.” Youngmin simply stands there, almost as if he’s forgotten how to walk. “Is something wrong?” It begins to rain harder yet he doesn’t budge.

Rain runs down his cheeks to his chin, or are they tears?

“What…” He murmurs, “What have I been doing…? Today I sent men—men who trusted me—into battle. They died. And I’ve made you,” his gaze flickers to Jihoon, “a man I’ve known for years, into a Fury. A monster…”

“Youngmin…” Jihoon’s brow furrows at him, “What is this? No one blames you. We were able to take the city because Wong Kunhang’s forces showed up— No matter how good of a tactician you are, we couldn’t have taken Hanseong alone.” He shakes his head, “I made bad calls too, and it got Eunseok and Chan killed. We cannot change the past. What we can do is turn this around and keep fighting with our all. Besides, I don’t regret becoming a Fury.”

He laughs shortly, “Hell, I’m stronger and faster than I ever was, and I can use that to help you out. Nothing could make me happier.”

Rain pours onto their faces. Surely it’s in your imagination, but for a moment, it almost looks as if Jihoon is crying. Youngmin stares at him for a long moment, then finally draws himself together.

“I’m sorry,” Youngmin shakes his head with a small smile, “I was being foolish. Forget what I said.” Something in his voice tells you that even he doesn’t quite believe that.

 December 2nd, 665 – Ungjin, Kingdom of Silla

The Hwarang had returned to Ungjin. Rejoining with your friends and the rest of the men who had stayed behind feels bittersweet. Your mind often turns to Youngmin, who expectedly remains disconsolate after his first defeat on the battlefield. 

Even after the attempts to rouse him, he spends most of his time in his quarters, moping. The man who had come in only hours after the Hwarang had given up their position in Hanseong, Wong Kunhang, would be arriving in Ungjin any day now. His victory over the Goguryeo forces had been a swift undertaking, something of a thorn in the Chief’s side. 

You think of this future meeting as someone brushes past you just as you’re about to begin lighting the lanterns outside of the headquarters. 

“Oh– Hansol? Are you off to work?”

The man gives you a curt nod, “When you have a moment, could you make some tea and bring it to Jihoon?” Without waiting for a response, he gives you a small smile and scurries off. 

Hansol had never been a talkative man in your presence, or anyone’s, really. Yet he’d lately taken on a taciturn demeanor. Is he still upset by the events from Hanseong…? Or maybe… 

The day after the large posse had returned to Ungjin, you awoke the next morning to Junhui and Junhui loitering around the main hall, their gear and belongings tucked away into haphazardly made bags. 

‘We’ve made up our minds’ you recall Junhui saying, a dimness in his voice that you would have never attributed to him prior to that meeting. ‘Our path isn’t Youngmin’s. I don’t think we can follow him anymore.’ 

It was a blurry goodbye after that, and you suspect that you’re not fully over their departure, either. Of course, you’ve only known them for a few years, not the lifetime it seems that they’ve had with the other men. 

Along with their departure, Seungkwan had been moved to Sabi, a southern town known for its medicinal practices. Finding his room empty left you feeling bereft as well. 

One by one, the group that you’d come to find as a second family is slowly falling apart. 

As you light the last lantern you sigh to yourself and decide to go make tea, as requested by Hansol. 

The tray remains sturdy in your grasp, even if you can hear the ceramic clinking against itself as you approach the Commander’s door, “Good evening, I’ve brought you tea…” As you speak, you open the door, stopping almost immediately as the gazes of Jihoon, Soonyoung and Seungcheol fall onto you. 

Their conversation must’ve been important judging by the hardset lines carved into their expressions. 

“I’m sorry!” You say quickly, “I hadn’t realized that you were in the middle of a meeting.” Feet trailing backwards, you’re almost out of the room when Jihoon speaks up.

“You can stay.” 

His words halt your movement and Seungcheol piques your interest as he looks back to Jihoon, glaring, “You cannot possibly be serious about this! Why would you halt the augmentation of the Fury Corps?!” 

“I am serious,” Jihoon’s attention turns from you and once back to his comrade. “I will not have any more men being turned into Furies. Make do with what you have.” 

“I apologize but I cannot support your decision. The Hwarang’s power is at an all time low, even if Silla is standing against Goguryeo and winning– I think that expanding the Fury Corps to keep this fight pushing forward is our only option.” Seungcheol’s voice is a strained composure as he grits his teeth and continues, “Soonyoung told me that Junhui and Mingyu have left. That is a serious blow to us, Jihoon.”

“You saw what happened in Hanseong– Even if we recruit more, they’ll run off on us. Wasting our effort on pitiful men like that is foolish. Would it not be better to focus on those who have abided by our code? Who understands what it means to be a Hwarang?” 

Soonyoung looks to the floor, his shoe gently tapping the boards underneath. He’s been silent since you arrived, but you can clearly see that he isn’t agreeing with Seungcheol fully. 

“You make several good points, Seungcheol.” Jihoon frowns, his arms crossing, “If we want increased strength, the best way to attain that is through the Fury Corps.”

“Then why–!” Seungcheol begins.

“There’s a problem with the Furies. A big one. We only just found out about it and our source is,” Jihoon glances at you briefly, “reliable.” With your eyes widening at what’s to come, you can only look at Soonyoung's and Seungcheol’s faces as he divulges what Minhyun had told you. 

“The power of a Fury comes from your… potential. The more you use it, the shorter your life becomes.”

Seungcheol’s gaze, usually cool and calculating, goes awry as he processes. From his standing position he falls to his knees, hitting the wood with a thud. A surge of realization of his powerlessness registers within him. 

“Yeah,” Jihoon’s voice falls into a somber lull, “We shouldn’t be using the Furies unless we really have to.”

After several long moments of silence, Seungcheol raises his head to speak, “Then that is yet another reason why the research must continue.” He pushes himself from the floor, brushing off his knees and looking at Jihoon, “It is a flaw, yes, and a serious one. But with more research… We may find a way to circumvent, or even counteract, it entirely. As a Fury, you should understand.”

“This is not a request, Seungcheol. This is an order.” Jihoon’s arms uncross and seems ready to impose his status over the other, “As your Commander, I am telling you that research on Furies will stop. There will be no more.”

Seungcheol says nothing, he just glares at Jihoon until seconds once again turn into minutes. 

“Let’s go, Seungcheol…” Soonyoung tries to urge him. When Seungcheol turns to him, you can see lines in his face, perhaps proof that his life is already steadily leaving him. 

You step aside to let them leave, and as they open the door, the figure of Youngmin is seen passing by in the hall. 

“Oh, Chief,” Soonyoung stops, “Were you coming in?”

“No…Uh… No, I’m just out for a walk,” Youngmin chuckles, “Just passing by. Don’t mind me.” A few more pleasantries were exchanged and then the sound of three sets of footsteps trail away down the hall. 

You’re reminded of Jihoon’s presence when he sighs behind you, you spin on your heels and note that he’s looking forlornly out of the small window in his room. 

“I’m sure the tea’s cold by now,” you look at the tray in your hands, “Let me get you a fresh pot.”

“No,” he stops you, gaze broken from the window and now linked to you, “I’m thirsty, cold tea’s perfect.” His hand gingerly reaches out to the tray as you approach and swiftly grabs one of the cups atop it. Jihoon brings his lips to the porcelain and he sighs, a distant look twinkles in his eyes.  

“He’s right, you know.” Jihoon says as he sets his empty cup down. “Seungcheol’s right. Mingyu and Junhui leaving…  It hurt us badly.” His voice shakes almost imperceptibly, his lips curling into a bitter smile, “I had a feeling this might happen someday. It’s our fault for falling short of what they wanted. But damn, we sure have lost a lot of people. Things are undeniably different now.”

You can’t even begin to imagine what’s going through his head. He’s been working from dusk to dawn, has he even had time to grieve anyone properly? Even with the strength that his newfound Fury powers had given him, you can see the horrible toll it’s taken on his body. 

“Jihoon…” you say softly, “you have to stop.”

“What?” His voice is much rougher than you though, giving you momentary pause.

“I’m only telling you to do what you told Seungcheol to do a few moments ago. Don’t use your Fury abilities unless it’s an emergency.” 

“Why should I listen to you?” His expression questioning. 

“Well… You turned into a Fury to save me from Jisoo, you wouldn’t have had to unl–” 

“This again?” He sighs, “Look, I said I chose to do it. I wasn’t forced.”

A pang reverberates around your ribcage, “When you say things like that, it only makes it worse. If you’re in pain, just say so. Don’t you wish you’d never become a Fury?”  

For a moment, the room is quiet, and then Jihoon begins to laugh. “I just can’t win with you, can I? You really are from the countryside.” Another chortle before he continues, “I can’t remember if I’ve told you this before– Anyway, I am the adopted son of a sixth rank noble, I hardly knew my birth parents. I was raised with the noble’s son and daughter, Hoseok and Joohyun. You kind of sound like Joohyun. Seungkwan’s sister Cheng sounds the same way too. When you go off, it’s like I’m being scolded by my family. Makes me feel like I have to listen to you.”

You’d never heard him speak of his childhood like this before. It’s surreal in a way. 

“If what Minhyun told us is true, then as long as I don’t use my Fury powers, I’ll be alright, right?” His lightheartedness flees slightly as he huffs out a puff of air, “If it gets bad I’ll let you know. Stop worrying about me.” 

He’ll likely keep most of his pain to himself– that’s just who he is, but if he really means what he’d said…

“I understand,” you say with a nod, another thought beginning to bubble to the surface. “So… What will happen to the Hwarang now?”  

“Well, we need to get Youngmin to snap out of it, but after that, we’re heading north.”

“North? You mean back to…” 

“Yeah, back to Hanseong.” Jihoon cedes with a sigh, “The Tang forces may have saved our asses up there but it doesn’t mean that they don’t want every man they can take fighting alongside them. Some of Namekawa’s men are stationed there too, hoping to round up some men and head to Bakjak. We’ll try to pincer Pyongyang and take those–” Suddenly, Jihoon’s body contorts and hunches, his hand grasping at his now heaving chest. His eyes wide in pain, sweat begins to pour from his head and he mutters out through clenched teeth, “Fuck, fuck–!” 

“Jihoon?” Your mouth lays agape as the hair on his head turns an alabaster white. It’s bloodlust, you’re sure of it. “You need blood…” The sentence isn’t a question, and you react almost instinctively, recalling what you’d done for him before. 

With unsteady hands you reach for the blade at your hip, laying its cool edge on the palm of your hand before his hand grasps around your wrist. Trying to pull away, you're met with a fervent shaking of his head. 

“I’ll do it,” he murmurs, straightening himself to the best of his ability. Jihoon moves around you, standing behind you as he loosens your collar as the night air hits your neck followed by his fingertips. Seconds later you feel the kiss of a cold blade against your neck before feeling it slide against your skin. You try your best not to wince but the air makes the cut sting. 

The cold is eventually replaced by the warmth of his face as his lips fall onto the cut. Heat raids your body, never before had you been this close to a man before. Nerves make your body twist to try and look at him until Jihoon’s hands grab your shoulders.

“Don’t look,” his voice low, husky. And you nod, not particularly sure that you want to see him in his Fury state. Those few words– a last, strained defense of his wounded pride– tear at your heart, and a knot gets stuck in your throat. For his sake you try and calm your nerves, although you can still feel your heart racing.

“I’m sorry… I can’t afford to lose it right now.” You’re unsure if he’s saying that to calm himself or calm you. 

“Of course…” Your voice leaves you quietly, “You don’t need to hold back, I want to help in whatever way I can.” 

In the days you watched both Chan and Eunseok die, you’d find yourself inundated with near tortuous regret. There had been nothing in your power you could do for them. Ever since those fateful days it has been your resolve to help the Hwarang after they’d aided and sheltered you for so long. 

Jihoon’s grip tightens on your shoulder, and a wave of emotions washes over you– guilt, disappointment, anger, regret– and you soon realize that they are not your own. They’re his. 

Eventually he lets go and steps away from you.

“I’m sorry for doing that…” His hair back to its darkened state, he can’t seem to meet your gaze. 

“It’s nothing,” you insist, adjusting the collar of your outfit that he’d shifted aside, “See? The cut’s already closed up.” Seeing his still-stolid demeanor, you continue, “I’ll be staying here for a while longer so please, if you need anything, just let me know.” 

“So I can just drink your blood whenever?” 

You nod, “You can.”

Jihoon cracks an eye open and gives you a small chuckle as he shakes his head, “Shouldn’t say things like that. Someone’s gonna use you up and throw you away.” 

You know he’s joking, but there’s a part of you that feels if it were he that used you up then it wouldn’t be that bad.

ᘏ LEE JIHOON BOYFRIEND TEXTS

pairings: lee jihoon x reader

warnings: cursing, a bit suggestive (mdni)

note: woozi im in love with u.