#‘Lee’s heart sank’ girl me too

[fenrhi]

I am eating my arm

[dazzlingjaeyun]

𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 (𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬)

situationship!hyung line x fem!reader

genre: angst

warnings: suggestive, they're basically just toxic and lowkey (highkey) mean smh, jealous!hoon

word count: between 500-680 words per member

↝ dazzlingjaeyun's bookshelf

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

- ', lee heeseung ; 496 words ꒱ ↷

heeseung always told you not to worry about her.

the way he said it, so casual, so dismissive, made you feel small every time. as if your feelings were insignificant, like your concerns were nothing but a byproduct of your own insecurity.

tonight was no different. he’d spent most of the party talking to her – the girl he always swore was "just a friend." you watched as they laughed together, heads close, his hand lingering on her arm just a second too long. your stomach twisted, but you bit your tongue. it wasn’t the first time, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last.

when you finally found the courage to ask him about it later, as the party died down and the two of you stood alone in a dimly lit corner, his response was as predictable as it was infuriating.

“you’re overthinking this again,” he said, his voice low and calm, like he was trying to soothe a child. “i told you, there’s nothing between us.”

you crossed your arms, the weight of everything unsaid pressing on your chest. “you’re always with her, heeseung. you never act like that with me.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair, looking more exasperated than guilty. “we’re not even dating,” he shot back, eyes narrowing as if you were the unreasonable one. “i don’t know why you’re making this a big deal. you knew that from the start.”

the words cut deep, sharper than you expected. he was right, technically. you were never officially anything, never put a label on whatever this was. but that didn’t stop the jealousy from eating away at you, or the way your heart sank every time he chose her over you.

“so, what?” you asked, voice shaking despite your best efforts to sound strong. “i’m not allowed to feel anything? i’m not allowed to care when you spend all your time with her?”

heeseung stepped closer, his fingers wrapping around your wrist – not tight, but firm enough to make sure you wouldn’t walk away. “i’m not with her, okay? stop imagining things. you always do this, blowing everything out of proportion.”

you shook your head, yanking your wrist free, your chest heaving with the weight of his words. “but you are always with her, heeseung. i’m not imagining that.”

for a moment, something flickered in his eyes – guilt, maybe, or hesitation – but just as quickly, it was gone. he shrugged, and the indifference in his expression shattered whatever hope you’d been clinging to. “you don’t have to stay, you know,” he said, voice ever so soft – a sharp contrast to the cruelty of his words. “we never promised anything to each other. if you don’t like it, you can leave.”

the silence that followed was deafening. heeseung watched you, arms crossed like he was daring you to go, daring you to make a choice.

but it wasn’t that simple. it never was.

and you hated that, despite everything, you stayed.

other members under the cut!

- ', park jongseong ; 684 words ꒱ ↷

you had almost forgotten what it felt like to see jay’s name light up your phone. it had been weeks since he left you on read, a silence that gnawed at your insides until you convinced yourself that you were done waiting. but the moment you opened the message, your heart raced.

hey, you up?

you hesitated, fingers hovering over the screen before typing back.

sure

when he arrived, his casual demeanor filled the room, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. “hey,” he said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. “missed you.”

“missed me?” you echoed, trying to keep your tone light even as memories of his absence washed over you. “you didn’t even text...”

he stepped closer, his eyes softening as he watched you. “i know. i’m sorry for dropping off the map. life got crazy. but i’m here now. can we just forget about that?”

you felt your heart flutter at his words, yet a cautious part of you hesitated. it had been so long since you’d last spoken. still, you found yourself leaning into him as he drew closer, a familiar warmth radiating between you.

without thinking, jay closed the gap and cupped your face in his hands, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “can i?” he asked softly, his eyes searching yours for permission.

you swallowed, uncertainty flashing through your mind. but before you could respond, he leaned in and pressed his lips against yours, igniting a spark that sent warmth coursing through your body. the kiss was sweet and intoxicating, melting away your doubts as you lost yourself in him.

your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer as you surrendered to the moment. the world around you seemed to fade as he deepened the kiss.

his hands roamed down your sides, fingertips brushing against your skin, igniting a rush of heat. you felt a thrill at first, but then an unease crept in when he attempted to lift your shirt. that familiar warmth faded, replaced by a gnawing thought.

you pulled back slightly, breathless and searching his eyes. “wait, jay…”

“what?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, still caught up in the moment.

“were you… while you were away, were you with someone else?” you blurted out, vulnerability creeping into your voice.

jay’s expression shifted instantly, irritation replacing the softness that had just been there. “seriously? you’re going to ruin this moment with your overthinking?”

“i’m just asking,” you protested, feeling the warmth of the moment evaporate. “you’ve been gone for weeks. what was i supposed to think?”

“you’re overreacting,” he shot back, frustration lacing his words. “i told you, life gets busy. i didn’t have time for you. but you know i like you. can’t that be enough?”

“so, i’m just supposed to accept that?” you replied, your heart sinking as the sweet connection you’d felt moments ago felt tainted now. “you show up after weeks of silence and expect everything to be fine?”

jay’s demeanor shifted even more, annoyance replacing the previous sweetness in his voice. “you know what? maybe you should just stop expecting so much. it’s not like we’re a thing. you can’t play the victim every time i need space.”

“am i just supposed to just wait for you to come back whenever it’s convenient?” you shot back, anger rising. “this isn’t fair, jay. i thought we had... something.”

“something?” he scoffed, stepping back, creating distance that felt more comfortable for him. “you act like i owe you something just because we’re fucking. i didn’t ask you to wait around for me.”

the air between you thickened with tension, and the warmth you once felt began to feel suffocating.

“maybe i don’t want this anymore,” you said quietly, hoping to pierce through the walls he’d built around himself.

“then why don’t you walk away?” he shot back, a cruel smile forming on his lips. “i’m not forcing you to stay and i’m not chasing you around either, but you’re still here. if you really wanted to be gone, you’d have done it already.”

- ', sim jaeyun ; 668 words ꒱ ↷

the atmosphere was thick with unspoken tension as you stood in your dimly lit living room. you had been trying to move on, to enjoy yourself, but the moment you saw him leaning against your doorframe, eyes darker than the shadows around him, everything came flooding back.

“you didn’t call,” he said, voice low but laced with something sharp, an accusation that felt more like a challenge.

you shrugged, trying to appear unaffected, though his presence stirred something deep within. “didn’t think it mattered.”

“didn’t think it mattered?” he repeated, disbelief etched across his features. “it’s been weeks. you think just because we’re not dating means you can ghost me? that’s not how this works.”

he stepped closer, fingers brushing your arm, sending shivers down your spine. “of course it matters,” he muttered, his voice dripping with a possessiveness that made your heart race. “you’re mine.”

the words twisted in your chest, a fleeting warmth quickly replaced by cold reality. he never said more than that. mine – but never us. the possessiveness in his tone was suffocating, yet it wasn’t love. not the kind you craved, anyway.

“yours?” you echoed, bitterness creeping into your voice. “but i’m not enough to keep you.” the memory of him with other girls, laughing, flirting even, flooded your mind.

jake’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t deny it. he never did. his gaze flickered, a flash of something unrecognizable, but it was gone before you could grasp it.

“come on,” he said, leaning in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “don’t be dramatic. you know how this works. we have fun. it doesn’t have to mean anything more.”

“fun?” you shot back, anger sparking in your chest. “you find this fun? cause that’s not how i’d call it.”

he scoffed, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriating smirk that always made your heart race. “then maybe you should stop expecting something that was never on the table. you’re making this complicated, and you know i hate complications.”

you crossed your arms, feeling the weight of his words. “and you think it’s my fault for not reaching out? maybe i thought you’d actually care if i was gone.”

“well, maybe i wouldn’t have had to think about it if you’d just called,” he replied, frustration spilling into his tone. “you don’t get to just disappear and expect me to act like everything’s fine.”

the tension escalated, and you felt a sting of betrayal rise within you. “you don’t care about how this affects me at all, do you?” you almost whispered, pain creeping into your voice.

“not really,” he replied, his honesty cutting deeper than you expected. “you should know by now that this is just... whatever. it’s nothing serious. you’re not the only one i’m seeing, and you should stop acting like you own me.”

without another word, you turned away, knowing he wouldn’t follow. he never stayed when it counted. you were tired of pretending you didn’t want more, of pretending that his words didn’t cut deep every time you heard them.

“you think you can just walk away?” he called after you, his tone shifting slightly, a mix of irritation and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“you don’t get to decide that for me, jake,” you replied, voice steady, though your heart raced. “cause newsflash – you don’t own me either.”

“that’s where you’re wrong,” he said, stepping forward, his expression hardening. “i do own you. you might not want to admit it, but you’re not going anywhere. not when you know you’d miss this. and you do know it.”

the truth hung heavy in the air, suffocating in its finality. he was right about one thing: deep down, you knew you wouldn’t easily let go, no matter how hard you tried. and as you walked away, the familiar ache settled in your chest – knowing he would never give you what you truly wanted, but somehow, you would always find yourself drawn back into his orbit.

- ', park sunghoon ; 629 words ꒱ ↷

sunghoon never wanted to be with you – not officially, at least. he made that painfully clear from the start. "no labels, no commitments," he had said, and you’d agreed, thinking you could handle it. but as time went on, the lines between what you were and what you weren’t started to blur.

you’d barely finished laughing at something your friend said when sunghoon appeared, eyes dark with barely restrained anger. he had been watching you all night, but it wasn’t until he saw you standing too close to another guy that he snapped. now, he was pulling you into the corner of the room, his grip on your wrist unrelenting.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, voice low and sharp.

you blinked at him, incredulous. “talking. what does it look like?”

sunghoon’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. “it looks like you were flirting.”

you laughed bitterly, yanking your arm free from his hold. “flirting? i was just talking to a friend, sunghoon. why do you even care? we’re not together, remember?”

that was always your go-to defense, the one truth that should have shielded you from this exact situation. but sunghoon didn’t back down. he never did.

“don’t act stupid,” he snapped, stepping closer until you were practically pressed against the wall. “i don’t need to put a label on this to make it clear. you’re mine. i don’t want other guys near you.”

your heart raced, frustration and confusion swirling inside you. “yours? you don’t even want to be with me. you’ve said that a hundred times. no relationship, no commitment. so why does it matter?”

his face hardened, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he stared at you, unblinking. “just because i don’t want to be tied down doesn’t mean i’m okay with you hanging around other guys.”

you shook your head, disbelief flooding through you. “do you even hear yourself? you can’t have it both ways, sunghoon. you don’t get to act possessive when you’ve made it clear this is nothing to you.”

he sighed, eyes still cold. “i never said this was nothing. i just don’t want all the... drama that comes with it. but you,” he stepped even closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “you don’t get to act like you’re free to do whatever you want. not when it comes to other guys.”

the hypocrisy of it all made your blood boil. “so, what? you can see whoever you want, keep me at arm’s length, but i’m not allowed to talk to another guy?”

sunghoon’s gaze darkened, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. “i’m not seeing anyone else,” he said, his voice tight. “but that’s not the point. the point is, i don’t want you with anyone else. it’s that simple.”

the 'simplicity' of it, the stark unfairness, made you want to scream. “and what do i get out of this?” you asked, voice shaking with pent-up emotion. “i’m not yours, sunghoon. you’ve said it yourself, over and over again. you don’t want anything real, and yet you expect me to just wait around while you keep doing this?”

his eyes flickered, something unreadable passing through them, but he stayed silent. he couldn’t answer that. he wouldn’t.

“exactly,” you muttered, shaking your head. “you want control without commitment. you don’t want to be with me, but you can’t stand the thought of someone else wanting me.”

his silence was deafening, the unspoken truth hanging heavy between you. he didn’t deny it. he never would. you were caught in his web, and he knew it. you could feel the weight of his possessiveness, like invisible chains tightening around you every time he pulled you back, refusing to let you go, but never offering anything more.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

© dazzlingjaeyun, 2024. please do not copy.

join my taglist here

[killedpink]

[02:42]

everyone, please take a deep breath as i present to you: phone sex with felix lee.

🏷 contains: felix x reader, phone sex, mutual masturbation, voice kink, tease felix, mutual pining, a heavy dose of dirty talk, pet names, no prominent dom/sub dynamic, heavy cussing because felix is an aussie and i refuse to ignore that!

"are.. are you getting off right now, love?" felix asked, a mixture of both uncertainty and amusement in his rich, velvety voice. your heart stopped, "no! why would you think that?" your voice wavered, your actions under the blankets halting in embarrassment. he chuckled, "you know, it's okay if you are. its kind of.. i dunno, hot.." you could imagine the thoughts in his mind right now, likely picturing you with a hand over your sex, between your thighs, fingers slowly exploring your wettening slit with your half-lidded eyes and blushing cheeks. he wasn't far off of the money, either.

you brought the phone closer to your ear to hear him better, "you think so?" your voice was uncertain, still, shifting in the bed uncomfortably. "cause if that's the case, i am absolutely getting off to the sound of your voice, lix." you heard him suck in a breath sharply, releasing it with a lazy groan. "fuck, knew you were. y'miss me that much? couldn't even have waited until i got back? what am i gonna do with you, hm?" the sheets from his end ruffled. "sounds like you're gonna do the same thing i am," you chuckled, lips curving into a lovesick grin, brimming with pride.

felix hummed in agreement, granting you the gift of hearing that gorgeous voice of his again, practically feeling the vibrations of his throat through the phone that sat ever so closely to your ear. it sent shivers down your spine, giving you goosebumps and a strong urge to stuff yourself with your fingers, merely imagining that they were felix's in place of yours. "you might be right, there, love." he responded, the cadence of his voice making you dizzy with delight. your free hand sank down between your thighs once more, softly stroking your sex like you knew felix would if he were with you. your heart fluttered against your ribcage as you heard felix curse at the feeling of his own swelling cock finally getting some well-deserved relief.

it couldn't be helped that you imagined him in the moment. was his head tipped back, jaw in the air, with his neck on display? did he still have the bites from you decorating the soft skin of his neck? was his hair tied back out of his face, or did he let it splay onto the pillow below him, and fall into his face, obscuring his ethereal features? your hips rutted into your hand at the thought, allowing the phone's microphone to capture every minuscule noise you let fall from your lips. what about his pace? was felix taking his time, leisurely stroking his hard cock; or desperately fisting himself as if his life depended on it? it made you dizzy to think about, the undeniable need for him settling in your gut. "you make such pretty fucking sounds, love. fuck, let me hear you. don't stop, okay?" felix all but pleaded into his end of the microphone, your speakers doing a great injustice to you.

your hand slipped into your underwear, finally brushing against your needy cunt, earning a lust-filled, drunken whine to bless felix's red-tipped ears. "lix, you have no idea how bad i need you right now," you sighed, fingers swiping the slick that coated your skin and made everything around you sticky and wet, and used it to rub your swollen clit. felix hummed contently when his ears caught the obnoxiously loud squelching emitting from your cunt, his cock twitching in his hands as a consequence. "want you so bad, too. wanna hear you moan for me, wanna feel your tight cunt around my fingers.. fuck, just wanna feel you up, my gorgeous girl.." felix was rousing himself up at the thought of you, raking through his memories to urge him to orgasm. you could hear it in his voice, noted how he slurred, how his australian accent thickened and enunciated certain words, and you especially noticed how his tone dipped in octaves, growing huskier and breathier by the second. he poured his desperate thoughts into the microphone, each one dirtier than the last; sending you into a frenzy.

never in your life have you ever been displeased that you were touching yourself until now. you were hyperaware of every little detail of your hands that differentiated from felix's, completely miserable that it wasn't his thick fingers filling you up and stretching you out, caressing your throbbing cunt and exploring every inch of your sex, massaging your inner walls and attentively kissing your clit, eagerly lapping up any of your slick that would leak from you. it felt so vivid you could almost feel it — although nothing would ever compare to the real man. speaking of whom, you were so concentrated on your own high that his noises almost slipped past you. luckily, he was too loud to go undetected. you heard the way his precum squelched into his palm, the utterly erotic sounds of his hands stroking the entire length of his fat cock, base of his palm slapping against his skin as they reached the hilt of his cock, consequently brushing against his pelvis. his moans grew quicker, deeper, wantoner.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head, lips parting as your body succumbed to your orgasm, your hips faltering. "fucking hell, you sound so hot when you come, gonna make me—" felix started, cutting himself off with a full-bodied, filthily pornographic moan, his voice only spurring your own orgasm on further. you could hear the audible sounds of his cum coating his hand, spreading it all around his pretty cock as he fucked into his hand excitedly. soon after, the only thing you could hear were your mixed heavy breaths of air, almost harmonising. "did you come a bit too hard at that?" you asked slowly. felix sighed in relief, "i thought it was just me.." he chuckled lightly. you grinned, "we have to do this again."

"oh, love, don't tempt me."

[bimobuddy]

Duckling

SFW Hazbin tk fic

Lee!Charlie, Ler!Lucifer

Obviously it should go without saying, but just in case, this is a strictly platonic father-daughter relationship

Summary: Lucifer reminisces about what moments he did get to have with Charlie, though upon realizing there's not many, he decides to make some more

I'm in my feels, I'm projecting :D sorry

Charlie looked up from her list of things to do around the Hotel, spotting her father. Deciding to take a break, she set the list down and jogged up to him. "Oh, dad! I was planning on watching this movie later, if you maybe wanted to watch it with me?" She asked, hopeful. Lucifer smiled up at his daughter, apologetically and took her hands. "Of course I would, Kiddo, but I'm in the middle of a project with my duck figurines. Maybe tomorrow though."

Her heart sank a little but she smiled back with a small nod. "Yeah, yeah that's no issue at all, Dad, it's okay. Tomorrow works." She gently tugged her hands away, picked up her list, and went back to work.

Lucifer couldn't help but feel bad turning her down. He did want to spend time with his little girl, but he also really wanted to finish this project. He was so close to being done with it, and it had to be perfect.

He headed back up to his room, shrugged his jacket off, and set his top hat on the rack nearby. As he sat down at his desk and picked up the duck figure, he thought back to the last time he had actually spent time with Charlie.

-

"Chaaaarlie~! Where aaare youuu~?" The king sang out. A small giggle sounded from behind him. Of course he knew where she was, but he couldn't catch her too soon. It would spoil the fun.

He placed his hands on his hips and stayed turned around. "I guess I'll never find my little duckling at this rate. What a shame." He heard quiet shuffling behind him as a certain little Princess tried to sneak away. He turned around quickly and playfully growled, "Come back here!" She squealed and tried to run, but he was quick to scoop the child up, tickling her tummy and kissing her cheeks.

She squealed and giggled, trying to push her father's face away. "Dahaddy noho! I have ihit, I'll gihive it bahack!" Lucifer stopped with a smile, and held his hand out. The child reached into the pocket of her dress and pulled out a little duck figurine, decorated to look like herself. She placed it in his hand with a soft pout, which quickly went away as he kissed her forehead.

"It's not finished yet, Duckling, but you can play with it when I'm done, okie dokie?"

She smiled back at him. "Okie dokie."

-

His eyes drifted to the old, faded, wooden duckling he had just been thinking about. It had been nearly two hundred years since then, leaving the paint cracked and faded, the dress tattered and worn, and the pig tails frizzy and a little messy.

He looked down at the duck in his hand. It also was made to look like Charlie. Only this time it had her bright red suit and ponytail.

Wow... Nearly two hundred years since I actively spent time with Charlie, and the one time she asks me to do something with her, I say no and instead opt to spend that time with a wooden representation of her.

He sighed, set the figurine down, scooted back from his desk, and left his room to go find his real daughter. As expected, she was back to working, looking down at her clipboard as she had just checked something off her list.

He walked up behind her and gently latched onto her ribs, just under her arms, grinning as she squealed and immediately dropped, her knees giving out due to shock; something she got from him. He followed her down, continuing to tickle her ribs and sides.

"I gotcha, Duckling!" He smiled, watching a familiar playful light return to her eyes. "Dahahad nohoho! Stahahap!" She squealed, pushing at his face the same way she used to. Lucifer tickled down her side, then skittered across her tummy, chuckling as she curled up into a ball around his hand, giggling.

She started to fight back more, pushing and gently slapping at his hands, while Lucifer just pushed back at hers and batted them out of the way to pinch at her ribs, earning another loud squeal that would dissolve into giggles.

He summoned his wings, reaching them over his shoulders to playfully brush at her tummy, neck, and ears. Charlie's giggles turned squeaky as she tried to swat him away. "Stohohop stohohop nohoho! Dahahad thihis ihihisn't fahahair! Wihihings are cheheating!" Lucifer chuckled at this. "Cheating? I wasn't aware there were rules suddenly." "Thehere ahahare, I'm thehe prihincess ahand I mahade them juhust nohow, ahand you're cheheheating!" The king laughed at this. She definitely took after him.

When he finally let up, she was still giggling, trying to calm herself down from the sudden attack. Lucifer helped her up, and started to tug her in the direction of the lobby. "Welp, come on, you said you had a movie to show me- Ah!" As soon as he mentioned the movie, Charlie raced ahead of him, now being the one to pull him toward the lobby. Easier for her since he was a full head shorter than she was.

Charlie practically tossed the surprised king to the couch and looked through her bag to find the movie she had been talking about. "Vaggie got a friend to bring it here, it's called 'Finding Nemo,' and this is what we're going to watch," she slide the tape into the weird VCR creature Alastor had made, then looked back at him, "Okie dokie?"

Lucifer gave a fond smile. "Okie dokie, Duckling."

[iphone18pham]

It's Just Acting

Disclaimers! Bad grammar, Not Proofread

Paring: Minji x Idol/actor!Reader

Masterlist: GG,   BG

Genre: fluff (enemies to lovers)

Synopsis: What happens when you are asked to play a lead in a new Kdrama series, about two high school girls falling in love at a very strict homophobic boarding school, but what you don't know is that your worst enemy Kim Minji from Newjeans was playing the lead's love interest.

requests are open!!!

Y/N was thrilled when she was offered the lead role in the new Kdrama series.

"I can't believe I get to play Lee Haein!" she exclaimed to her manager.

"It's a great opportunity," her manager replied. "But there's something you should know. Kim Minji has also been cast in the series to play Choi Sora." Y/N's heart sank. Kim Minji was her worst enemy in the industry. They had had several public feuds on social media and in interviews.

"You're kidding me," Y/N groaned. "I can't work with her!"

"I know it won't be easy," her manager said. "But you're a professional. You can rise above the tension and focus on your performance."

Y/N nodded, taking a deep breath."Okay. I'll do it."

On the first day of filming, Y/N walked onto the set and saw Minji for the first time since they were cast in the series. Minji walked up to her with a smirk on her face.

"Hello, Y/N. Long time no see." Y/N gritted her teeth, forcing a smile.

"Hi, Minji. Let's try to keep things professional, okay?"Minji shrugged.

"Suit yourself. But I can't promise I won't steal the show."As filming went on, Y/N and Minji barely spoke to each other off-camera. But when it came time to shoot an intimate scene between their characters, they had to put their differences aside and work together.Y/N was nervous as they rehearsed the scene.

"Remember, it's just acting," Minji whispered to her.

The cameras started rolling, and Y/N and Minji fell into their roles.

"I never thought this would happen," Sora confessed, blushing furiously. "But I can't deny how I feel anymore." Haein nodded in agreement, her heart racing with anticipation.

"Me neither," Haein said, taking Sora's hand in hers. "I think I might be falling in love with you too." And with that, the two young women shared their first kiss. Y/N felt a strange sensation in her heart. She had never felt this way about another woman before.

Weeks go by and after filming more intimate scenes was over, Y/N pulled Minji aside.

"I need to talk to you," she said.

"What is it?" Minji asked.

"I...I think I might have feelings for you," Y/N admitted, blushing. Minji's eyes widened in surprise.

"Really? I never would have guessed."Y/N laughed nervously. "I know we've had our differences, but I can't deny how I feel."

Minji smiled, taking Y/N's hand. "I feel the same way. Let's give this a chance."

As filming continued, Y/N and Minji grew closer and closer. The rest of the cast and crew were shocked by the news, but Y/N and Minji didn't care. They were happy together and that's all that mattered. The series was a huge success, and fans couldn't get enough of Y/N and Minji's chemistry on-screen. In the end, Y/N and Minji found love in each other, despite their initial animosity towards each other. It just goes to show that love can be found in unexpected places.

[mirisss]

Haunting Shadows prequel

Vampire! Mafia! Ateez OT8 x afab! reader

Wordcount ≈ 2.2k

Warnings: mentions of weapons, blood, violence, mentions of someone being unalived, being chased, involuntarily put to sleep, I think that’s it, 

Thank you for the request! I hope you like it! I wrote it at 4 am when I couldn’t sleep so the ending isn’t the best. 

Please reblog!

Third Person POV

In a deep dark alley, somewhere downtown. A group of six men gathered around a seventh man lying on the ground. The man on the ground tried to shield himself from the haunting red glowing eyes staring down at him. The blood-red eyes paired with the guns pointed in his direction, made him realize that he was not getting out of this alley alive. One of the six men took a step forward as two others seemed to appear out of nowhere, or rather, they seemed to be appearing from the shadows. The man who had stepped forward had red hair that almost seemed to glow but right in front of the scared man, the hair morphed from red to black and the facial features of the previous red-haired man changed too. He went from someone the scared man had never seen to someone he recognized quite well. 

“Hello, Lee Jaejoong,” Jaejoong tried to move backward but his back met with a wall stopping his tried escape. “Who are you?” The eight men around him all smirked, revealing sharp fangs, causing him to hold his breath. “My name is Wooyoung, and these are my blood brothers, you may know us as Ateez,” Jaejoong’s heart sank as he recognized the name, Ateez, the largest mafia in the country. Ateez, a mafia group known to not leave anyone who has wronged them alive. “Please, please, I’ll do anything, just please, don’t kill me,” A shorter man stepped forward, giving a silent cue to Wooyoung who immediately stepped back again. “Yeosang, are you sure he is the one?” “Yes, captain, his scent is a complete match to the blood we found,” “Jaejoong, Jaejoong, Jaejoong… mm… and here I thought our partnership was going so well but you just had to mess it up, what a shame” The one called captain, moved around a little while sending a terrifying glare to the man on the ground. “Yunho, Mingi, take care of him. Jongho, keep guard. Seonghwa, San. Go fetch the car, no need to waste any more time on this one,” “Hongjoong, captain, someone’s getting close,” 

It was around 10 pm when (Y/n) decided to leave the university library to head home. Her back hurt from crouching for a few hours, trying to study as much as she could for an upcoming exam. Only a few students were still around, most of them studying with a few just hanging out with their friends. (Y/n) walked along her usual path, soon approaching the part she hated walking by. It was a dark alley downtown. While she had never seen or heard anyone there, she always felt uneasy walking past it but there were no other paths she could walk to get home from uni so she couldn’t avoid it. She took up her phone, prepared to call for help should anything happen. 

For the first time, as (Y/n) came close to the alley she found a light coming from deep within the alley. Her unease increased, that could only mean that someone was down there, she thought. Just as (Y/n) came to the opening of the alley, she saw two dark figures walking in her direction as she heard a loud noise. It sounded frighteningly familiar to a gun being fired, followed by a scream. Or rather two screams. One from whoever was shot and one from (Y/n). 

(Y/n) ran as fast as she could away from the alley, continuing her way home. Hoping that whoever had been walking toward her from the alley wouldn’t follow her, but if they were following she hoped they wouldn’t be able to catch up with her. 

“Hongjoong, captain, someone’s getting close,” Hongjoong turned to Yeosang who looked worried after picking up an unfamiliar scent coming closer to them. “Hwa, San, check it out on your way,” “Yes, sir,” As they began walking away, they could make out the shape of a girl or woman in the distance. Just as they were within eyesight of the human, a gunshot rang through the alley followed by a scream that bounced off the walls out toward the road. Within a second, another scream resonated through the eight vampire’s ears. Seonghwa and San saw the human look at them and then run for their life away from them. “Catch her,” Seonghwa muttered to which San ran full speed after the human. 

(Y/n) was terrified as she heard loud footsteps in pursuit of her. Please, I don’t want to die, not like this. She was getting tired after running for a few minutes, not even the adrenaline pumping through could keep her going for much longer. (Y/n) turned her head to try and see just how close the person behind her was only to find no one, feeling hopeful she turned her head back thinking she was safe, only to see a man standing a few meters in front of her. He seemed completely unfazed while (Y/n) was panting loudly, coming to a complete stop only three steps away from the man. What the hell? How did he get in front of me? (Y/n)’s eyes shot open as wide as they could when she looked into the, very attractive, man’s eyes only to find them shifting from a deep brown to a glowing purple. 

San was surprised by the overwhelming warmth that emerged throughout his entire body when he met the human’s eyes. His sight disappeared for a second only to come back a bit hazy, a purple tint now colored the world. A tint he had experienced before when he first met the other seven vampires in his group. This human, was their final soulmate. The missing piece of their connection. 

“Please don’t hurt me,” (Y/n) didn’t know what to do, her legs felt weak from the running and suddenly her heart was beating fast not only from fear and the running, but from the way this man was looking at her. While his gaze was threatening, it didn’t seem malicious, no it seemed more like longing. Another pair of footsteps could be heard approaching from behind (Y/n), but she didn’t dare look away from the man in front of her. “San, what’s going on?” “Hwa-hyung, it’s her,” “I may be older than you but I am not dumb, obviously this is the one who overheard our business,” “No, hyung, I mean she’s the final one,” Seonghwa stared at San a bit confused, it wasn’t until Seonghwa looked at his younger soulmate’s eyes that he realized what he meant. “Our soulmate?” San couldn’t do more than give a slight nod in answer, to captivated by the woman in front of him. 

Seonghwa carefully approached the human and put his hand on her shoulder, applying a bit of pressure to turn her toward him. (Y/n) was surprised both by the action but also by the handsome face she was now only mere centimeters from. The deep brown eyes of this man also shifted into a purple color, making the human gasp. Seonghwa shivered from the feeling of experiencing the first look at his final soulmate. The vampire quickly gathered himself though, shaking away the lovesick feeling that had made San freeze. The purple color in his eyes slowly faded back to brown only to shift into a glowing red. Seonghwa looked deep into (Y/n)’s eyes before he whispered: Sleep. (Y/n) immediately felt drowsy as her legs grew even weaker and her eyelids grew heavy, before she knew it she faded into unconsciousness. Seonghwa captured her body as she fell asleep. “Let’s go to the others,” San had finally managed to shake away the shock and could finally move and think freely again. 

The two vampires didn’t make it far before their six other soulmates approached them with questioning looks as they noticed the unconscious woman in Seonghwa’s arms. “Boys, let me introduce you to our soulmate,” Mingi gasped loudly while Wooyoung shouted out of joy. Yunho and Jongho looked at each other with happy smiles as Hongjoong and Yeosang both only looked down at the woman. No one said anything more as they simply walked to their van, bringing the human with them to their home. 

When (Y/n) woke up she could barely recall anything from the night before. Her memory felt foggy, she remembered walking home from uni but somewhere in the middle of the walk, everything turned black. The bed she was sleeping on was unfamiliarly soft and big. (Y/n) sat up and tried to shake off the sleepiness to focus on her surroundings. She quickly realized that this was not her bedroom nor any room in her apartment nor was it any of her friend’s homes. Hell, this room was pretty much as big as her entire apartment. (Y/n) looked around for her phone as quietly as she could but to no avail, she couldn’t find it anywhere. 

“She’s awake,” Yeosang said as he walked into the kitchen where the other seven vampires were gathered. “Earlier than usual,” Yunho pointed out. “It might not have been as effective because of the mating bond,” Seonghwa responded, usually when he used his gift of absolute command the effect wouldn’t subside for at least 12 hours, especially not the sleep command. Yet this time, it had only worked for about 8 hours. “That’s most likely it, the mating bond is known to mess with the effectiveness of gifts,” Hongjoong said before taking a sip of his coffee. “Should we go meet her?” Mingi asked, quite excited to finally meet the missing piece of their bond. “Yeah, let’s go,” Jongho said excitedly. “Come on, I really want to see her,” Wooyoung whined, he was ready to break down the door just to see her. “Let’s do it,” Hongjong said, as the leader he was the one to have the final say on most decisions they made, though sometimes Seonghwa as the oldest would be the one in charge, it depended on the situation. 

The eight vampires walked toward the room in which (Y/n) was still trying to find her phone. She didn’t stop searching until she heard the door creaking as it opened. (Y/n) turned toward the door coming to face eight unfamiliar men, six out of these men caught her attention one by one as their eyes slowly blossomed from brown to purple. This awakened a memory from the prior night, brown eyes turning purple, she also faintly remembered something red too. It took her a few moments until everything came back to her. Walking home, seeing the alley being lit up, hearing a gunshot, screams, running, facing two of these eight men before becoming unconscious and waking up in the unfamiliar room. 

Hongjoong, Yunho, Yeosang, Mingi, Wooyoung, and Jongho were all overcome with the euphoric feeling of meeting their soulmate. Seonghwa was the first to step into the room, a kind smile grazed his lips as he tried to make the human feel less scared. “I apologize about all of this, what happened yesterday and us barging in like this. All of it will make sense in a few moments if we may explain it to you,” He stopped speaking for a second, clearly indicating that he expected an answer from (Y/n) to his half-question-half-statement. (Y/n) didn’t dare deny it so she simply nodded her head. “Good, my name is Seonghwa, and you remember San from last night, the red-haired one is Wooyoung, the tall blonde one is Mingi, the other tall one is Yunho, the buff one is Jongho, this is Hongjoong our leader, and finally we have our handsome Yeosang. What is your name?” 

“I’m (Y/n),” (Y/n) couldn’t help but notice the fangs that protruded from Seonghwa’s mouth as he smiled and spoke. Eyes that turn purple and red, super speed or something like it, making me fall asleep just like that, fangs, soulmate… What kind of freaky fantasy book have I fallen into? Are they vampires? No way, right? “(Y/n), what a beautiful name,” Yunho said as he smiled brightly, showing his fangs which only confirmed (Y/n)’s delusional thought. “Are you vampires or am I going crazy?” They all chuckled at (Y/n)’s question, a little surprised that she had put it together so quickly. 

“You are correct, we are, indeed, vampires. And you dear (Y/n), are our soulmate,” Wooyoung said as he sent a wink her way as well as a beautiful smile, a smile that revealed yet another set of fangs to the human. (Y/n) just nodded before she turned her back to the men, counting her fingers to try and see if she was dreaming but she found 10 fingers confirming she was awake. She turned back to the alleged vampires. “Please explain all of this in detail because I still think I am asleep,” After a lengthy explanation and discussion on how they were vampires and what a soulmate meant with more. The nine soulmates began their relationship that would continue for eternity as (Y/n), even though she is human, was gifted immortality to be able to accompany her soulmates forever. 

[boydepartment]

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.⋆｡ “i wish…”: anton lee x m!reader

imagine- angst(250)

masterlist

the outside lights flooded through the curtains of your best friend’s room. he was finally back in town and you were excited to see him again. you both had spent the day together and were now in his room just talking on his bed in the dim lighting from the outside suburbs. sometimes cars would pass a little too loud, the occasional dog bark, sometimes the curtains would sway a little bit back and forth due to the summer breeze.

“do you remember when you got that horrible sunburn? after the swim event we had?” your voice was hushed as you tried not to laugh.

anton groaned and covered his face, remembering, “yeah… dude it was terrible..!” he lightly smacked you with your pillow and you covered your mouth to laugh. anton turned away from you and you looked at him.

“my hands smelled like aloe vera for like a month because you made me put it on your back!” you said quickly, your eyes studying how much his face had changed. his hair had changed too. he looked so ethereal to you. feelings bubbling up in your again, feelings that battled between love and guilt.

anton started laughing now not aware of the constant battle in your head, a sound you had missed for years, one that quieted the battle- it wasn’t the same over the phone…, “i remember your girlfriend at the time was so mad too…”

your heart dropped a bit when he mentioned her. you really hoped the conversation about her was going to end when you absentmindedly replied with a yeah.

“what ever happened to her?” anton asked, turning to you. you looked at him, not knowing what to say. you swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

“grew apart.” you said softly, “didn’t really like her anymore i guess- i don’t know…”

you weren’t a bad boyfriend to her, you were great to her and anyone could sense that. always accommodating, standing up for her, every girl wanted you as their boyfriend.

the issue was-

you didn’t want to be the boyfriend to a girl

“really?” you felt anton sit up and you turned your head to look at him again, you scanned his face. you wanted to tell him. you wished you could tell him, but you run the risk of him connecting the dots.

“yeah.” you said simply and looked up again.

anton laid back down and copied you, “i thought you were going to marry her or something.” a few chuckles escaped him, “hell if i was your girlfriend i would’ve married you asap.”

your heart sank to your ass, you were going to try to play it off, “you’d be a terrible girlfriend.”

anton laughed again, this time his laugh wasn’t silencing the battle in your head, it was making it worse, running a hand through his hair, “you’re probably right.”

“i’d be a better girlfriend.” you joked again, small breathy laughs leaving your mouth.

anton hummed, “sometimes i wish you were a girl.”

your whole body felt like it had been thrown off a building, your mouth running quicker than your mind, “why’s that?”

you didn’t want to know the answer- you don’t know why your mouth was running to get that stupid question answered.

“well you’re my best friend,” anton turned to you, smiling, unknowingly breaking your heart- shattering it and spitting on it, “if you were a girl, i’d marry you.”

you looked away from him again, faking a smile, faking a laugh, “you’re so stupid…”

eventually the topic changed, but the weight of your emotions didn’t.

the sentence replayed in your head when he left to go back to korea for work.

it would replay in your head everytime he’d call you when he wasn’t busy

and it would replay even when he wasn’t around

it would always replay

[keep-the-wolves-close]

Steady Heart

Chapter 2: Deep Stays Down

Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton × OFC Stella Daniels

Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

Warnings: Grief, panic, language because I mean let's be honest we've all seen the show lol

Word count: 2,710

Gif credit goes to @bodybebangin (I totally can’t remember if there’s a way to transfer the gif to my post with your profile link on mobile.) Edit I figured it out and I’ll remember for the next time!

Authors Note: Thank you everyone for the interest in my first chapter! Here we are with chapter two! I hope you all like this one too! I had to split chapter 2 into two so technically there’s an extra chapter. So I think I’ll post this early 😂.

I would love to give credits to @dameronscopilot for being a sounding board for me during this whole process, giving outsider insight, a cheerleader, and allowing me to screech at her about things that have happened during the writing process. I seriously couldn’t have gotten this far. 💛

Stella tossed the covers of the bunk back. She reached for her glasses and her phone. It was around 8:30 in the morning. She wasn’t too late, but later than she had planned. Late by ranch standards, for sure. Thankfully no one was in the bunkhouse at the time so she had free reign of the bathroom.

She came out fully dressed and ready for the day. She saw all the men out the kitchen window. ‘All of them, except one.’ She blinked rapidly and air rushed up from her lungs. It was like that thought had just sucker punched her right in the gut. The nausea came back, her fingertips and cheeks went numb. No one came for her. More so, Lee wasn’t barging in, telling her to “Get your ass up and let’s get a move on! You’re holdin’ me up, lil’ bit!” He let her get away with much more than he probably should have.

Leaning forward against the sink, she looked down and tried to catch her breath, open mouthed and salivating. She tried to convince herself to not vomit. ‘In through your nose, out through your mouth girl.’ A groan escaped her. Her eyes welled up and she sank to the floor against the sink cabinets.

Stella slammed her fist on the floor. “Fuck!” She screamed in anguish. Partly regretting hitting the floor so hard, but most of it aimed at the loss of a coworker. A friend. The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing him giving her a hard time about his brother, about how she did something with a particular horse? It hit her like a freight train. One thought after the other. There was an empty crater made by the absence of Lee. One which she didn’t even realize would be there.

She hiccupped and hyperventilated while the tears streamed down her round cheeks. Stella tried to remind herself not to pass out. She could hear Lee's voice, right after she had gotten bucked really hard for the first time. “Big breaths kid. Big breaths.” Her face contorted into sorrow. She gulped air for a minute. Slowly, but surely, her breathing came back to a better rhythm.

Standing carefully, she ran the cold water in the sink. Stella splashed her face and held the cold water around her eyes. She didn’t need to be super swollen and red going out there. Ryan would immediately sniff it out.

Fixing her hair into a bun, she closed the bunkhouse door behind her. Before she had her meltdown, she had seen from the window that John and Rip had brought out Kayce’s horse. She definitely wanted to go and watch; that horse was about to give everyone a run for their money. He listened great for Kayce though. There was something kindred between the two that she noticed yesterday. She didn’t think John would have the patience for him for long.

“Hey Rip, Mr. Dutton.” She smiled at them.

“Hey kid.”

She rolled her eyes at the foreman while laughing. “You do realize I’m 26 now and not 14?”

“Don’t do that to me, Stella-belle.” Rip pleaded playfully.

Stella jested. “What? Make you feel old?”

John grinned at Stella. “If it makes him feel old, then I feel ancient, little girl.”

“Well you do look pretty rusty with that horse, sir.” She joked because of the show the stallion put on while she walked up.

“Oh you think you can do better?” John challenged her.

“I mean, your oldest and youngest did teach me almost everything I know.”

“And who do you think they learned it from?”

“Lloyd.” Stella giggled and hopped up and over the fence. She wiped her hands on her pants. “Let me take a crack at him.”

She handed her glasses to John and said, “Don’t get your dusty fingerprints all up on my lenses, sir.” He chuckled and stepped back to the fence where Rip stood.

“You should invest in contacts, dear.” John joked. He didn’t leave the pen, just in case she needed someone to grab her out. He knew his son’s best friend could be a little reckless when it came to the horses. Lee had seen fit to mention that to him.

“My glasses treat me just fine, thank you.” She pivoted back to the mustang.

“Whoa Tank.” She said softly and outstretched her hand to him. He looked to her, but then at John behind her. He let out a short snort and stomped his front foot.

“Mr. Dutton, no offense, but get out of the pen please.” She could hear him as he shuffled his way out.

He leaned over to Rip and said quietly, “Excuse me, just getting kicked out of my own arena.” They shared a chuckle at her determination.

“I can hear y’all by the way.” She smirked over her shoulder at them. “I work with the rest of these horses nearly every day, so let me try to do my thing.”

Stella stepped forward carefully. “Is that better, bud?” He nickered gently at her, partially satisfied. She chuckled at him. “Just like Kayce,” she said softly.

She clucked twice. “Come here boy.” The stallion took his time as he decided whether or not she was going to betray his trust. Just like she would with Kayce, she let him come to her. Which, he finally broke and decided she was interesting enough.

In her outstretched hand, he placed his muzzle. She began to pet him on his velvety soft nose and forehead. Once she felt that he was comfortable and he wasn’t giving a negative reaction, she started to mess around with his saddle; giving him gentle shoulder pats every so often. She just wanted to be extra sure that if the stud tried to toss her, she would have as much control as possible.

She got close to his ear and said gently, “okay, Tank. You ready to show these boys what we’re made of?” The horse chuffed just a tiny bit, just loud enough that she could hear him. She patted his chest and placed her foot in the stirrup. Stella gauged his reaction and he made it seem like she could proceed. She scrunched her eyebrows in suspicion and gripped the horn, stepping up into the saddle. She didn’t want to pull on his back harder than she needed and piss him off even more.

She sat deep in her seat and took a deep breath. She kept the reins loose, they were split reins anyhow, and her legs soft on his sides. Her heels low to keep her center of gravity. Stella could feel the stallion’s mind brewing. She brought his head up because she didn’t want him to go between his knees.

“Well I’ll be damned,” John muttered.

“Why do you think Lee and I gave her the position to work beside him with the horses, sir?”

“It’s okay, boy. You’re doing gre— shit!” Stella grabbed the horn tight and pulled her legs close because Tank took off in a flying leap.

He bounced them both around for the longest 10 seconds of Stella’s life. He tried to flip them, but she loosened her legs and pulled his head sharp into the inside lead causing him to lose momentum. She could hear Lee screaming at her in her head to get him on the inside and get his head back from him. The stud took a step to the side to gain balance. Tank made his displeasure known as he hollered and tried to toss her more times than she could count.

Stella flexed his neck and made him move forward. She, at the very least, wanted to get him to listen to her. There was a lot of work she was going to have to put in with this one. ‘Of course Lee left me the difficult one.’ She kept pushing him forward in long strides around the arena and finally he ground to a halt with an agitated squeal. They were both breathing heavily, but she refused to let him catch her off guard again. She flexed the inside rein again.

“Come on Tank, work with me here.” He tried to step on the outside lead to get away from her direction, but she brought him back in. He allowed her to trot him over to the two man audience they had. At least she had thought it was just Rip and Mr. Dutton. Everyone else from the bunkhouse had joined in to watch the free rodeo.

Lloyd looked proud. “We could make you a rodeo queen yet, little bit.”

Stella let out a full belly laugh. “Oh my god, Lloyd. Hell no. I like where my spine is. I’ll be just fine without the buckle.”

She stopped in front of John and he passed her glasses over to her. “He’s got a lot of work ahead of him, but I really don’t think anyone but Kayce is gonna be able to do anything with him. Or at least have him agreeable. This is absolutely your son’s horse, sir.” She got down and gave Tank a few good pats on his shoulder.

John and Stella shared a look of understanding and she put her glasses back on. They both knew exactly what she meant about Tank being Kayce’s. More so, Kayce being Tank’s. She breathed a chuckle through her nose and handed the reins over to Rip.

“I’ll keep trying with him tomorrow. I’ll talk to Kayce about him if you want me to?” She offered.

She watched Rip walk off and holler out, “Jimmy! Saddle up! We’ll make you a cowboy, yet.” Bless that man for what they were about to do to him.

“Yeah Stella. You do that for me.” John directed her.

She sent a text to Kayce. Hey, you got a minute to talk about that horse of yours? When she brought her eyes back up from her phone, she almost choked at the sight before her. Jimmy was now duck taped to Tank and being given explicit directions by Rip. Stella wandered over to her brother and Colby. She heard them placing bets on the horse or Jimmy.

“That horse has a name, ya know.”

“And what would that be, little bit?” Colby asked sarcastically.

She bit back. “His name is Tank if you would have paid attention at all.” She came to occupy the space between the bro-buds and Mr. Dutton and Rip.

“Do I detect some defensiveness?” Ryan goaded her.

Stella leaned forward on the fence and placed her foot up on a rung. “I never said I wasn’t gonna put money on the horse. I just want you to use his name, is all. Respect him and he’ll respect you. Maybe.” She cracked a smile. “I put $20 on Tank.” John let out a gruff chuckle from her right hand side. “I expect both of you to pay up too.” She joked to her bosses.

Ryan hissed through his teeth at her as Rip and John guffawed at her challenge. “Stella Lee!”

“What?” She bounced her shoulders. “Alls fair. Isn’t that right, gentlemen?” She focused on Jimmy and the horse, bouncing around just like she and John had been not long before. She felt for the poor kid because they were so rough on him, but he needed to harden up some.

Silence overtook her. This is where she would have been standing while watching Lee in the pen. Ryan glanced over at his sister when he realized she had gone silent.

He leaned toward her. “You okay?”

“I will be.” She murmured back. She didn’t have the energy to get into it.

Ryan questioned quietly. “Lee?” She confirmed silently. He sighed and placed an arm around her. “We’ll get through this, Stellee. I promise.”

Her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her jeans. Pulling it out, she glanced at the message preview. If you mean my father’s horse, I guess I got some time.

She replied. You want me to call you?

“Hey, I’ll be right back. I might gotta make a phone call.” Stella announced to the men as she removed herself from under her brother's arm. She figured the barn would be the closest and quietest place. Jamie was just walking up as she made her exit, and she acknowledged him in a quick greeting.

In through the side door she went. She figured she could say hi to her baby at the same time. Abigail made a happy noise at her arrival. Stella caressed her muzzle fondly. “Come on girl, back up.” She clucked twice and gently pushed her muzzle and the bay roan moved backward. Opening the stall door, she moved inside to the cleanest part and made herself comfortable on the floor to wait for Kayce’s approval to call.

She heard movement from the front of the barn. Her eyebrows pulled together. It was past morning turnout, and it wasn’t feed time, so no one should really be in here. She went to move back out into the hallway when she faintly heard John talking to Jamie.

“Did they identify Kayce?” John asked. Stella tilted her head quizzically and stopped moving. What did they mean, “identify Kayce”?

Jamie answered. “Not yet.”

“Who are the agents we’re talking about?” John asked.

“It’s, uh, Tom Reynolds and Aaron McReary.” Jamie offered up.

John pursed his lips in contemplation. “Reynolds I can deal with. I don’t know this McReary.”

“Yeah, he lives in the south end of the valley. Word is he likes his religion.”

“As in “won’t tell a lie” likes it?”

“Yeah, that would be my guess.” Jamie exhaled heavily.

“Find out where he goes to church. Anything else?” John thought twice. “Anything else? You said there were a few.”

Jamie sighed. “The medical examiners report. You’re not gonna like it.”

“Who else has seen the report?” As John questioned his second oldest son, Stella leaned forward to try and peek out the bars of the stall.

“The only ones who have seen it, want it to change.”

“Then it’ll change.” John started walking in her direction. Stella withdrew from the bars and bent down in the front corner to avoid being seen.

“It means they’re doctors. Which means they took an oath and it wasn’t to you. No matter what we do the photographs won’t change. The body won’t change. It’ll tell the same story to anybody who looks.” Jamie started to raise his voice.

“The body is buried, Jamie. Relax.”

“Yeah, but when they see the report…”

Abigail chose the most inopportune time to snort loudly. Stella squeezed her eyes shut, fixed her glasses, and put her hand on the underside of Abigail’s stomach. She tried to convince her to be quiet.

“When they see the report what?”

“When they see –,” John spoke over Jamie.

“–You think I’m just gonna let them dig up my son?”

“When they see the report they’re not gonna ask, they’re just gonna do it, dad.”

“Don’t say it –,”

“–I think–,”

“–Don’t say it –,”

“–I think we should beat them to it.”

“Don't even think it!”

Stella could hear things getting heated. She wanted to know, but also didn’t. She looked at the stall window that faced the one back paddock for the horses. Silently she thanked God for her girl having one of the few rooms with a VIP view. She gave Abigail a pat and tried to quietly climb out the window. She accidentally leaned back against the open section and it bounced against the barn. She grimaced as her feet dropped to the ground semi-gracefully. She thought she was in the clear as she took off. Unbeknownst to Stella, John had heard the noise from Abigail’s stall on his way out.

She was gonna have to go around the barn the long way to avoid running into John. She made an immediate left to wrap back around and texted Kayce. Actually, can I just meet you at your house?

There was only a few minutes in between messages. Yeah, that’s fine with us. Stella thanked God above and darted to her car. She didn’t catch John as he peeked around the corner and watched her race off.

Comments, thoughts, commentary, and asks are welcome! Just please be gentle lol. 🤓

[rachi-roo]

------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }------------

Yakuza's Guide to Babysitting: A little secret about Kirishima~

Just finished this DISGUSTINGLY wholesome and comedic show again so now I'm feeding myself~ 😋 Highly recommended to those of you who also enjoy Spy x Family and Buddies Daddies!!! 12 episodes and all adorable with that kick-ass element thrown in 😚🤌

Summary: After the little lady, Yaeka is left with Suguhara and Takeuchi, she learns a very important secret about Kirishima that simply MUST be observed first-hand!

Lee!Kirishima, Lers!Suguhara, Takeuchi

Tw: Footer tiggles

------------{ ☆°•○•°☆ }------------

"Ticklish?" Yaeka's eyes lit up as she listened to her stand-in babysitters, Kei Suguhara and Shogo Takeuchi, as they spilt the beans on poor Kirishima whilst he was at a meeting with their boss.

Suguhara was laying on his side as he watched Yaeka drawing happily. He took another biscuit from the table, popping it in his mouth with a nod.

"Mhm. Kirishima is suuuper ticklish. It's his only known weakness~" He explained, wiping the biscuit crumbs on his jeans. Takeuchi, who was sat across from Yaeka, furrowed his brow.

"Hey," He started in a hushed tone. "Are you sure it's safe to be telling the little lady this? If Kirishima finds out through her, he'll know it was us who told her. He'll kill us."

The other blonde's face sank as he realised. This was bad. Of all the secrets they had spilt about Kirishima, this was definitely the one that would get them in trouble.

"Damn it, you're right!" He gasped as he sat up, frantically clinging to his partner's shirt. "What are we gonna do?! I'm too young to die, Takeuchi!"

"I-It's fine! It's fine! I'm sure Yaeka will understand how important it is to keep it a secret. R-Right, Yaeka?" The two looked at the doe-eyed girl with a hopeful smile. Praying that she was merciful enough to not let it slip. That she would find it in her heart to-

"Keep what a secret~?" The two blonde's hearts stopped as they heard the unmistakable, cold-toned, voice of the Demon.

They shuddered in their seats, listening to the sliding door behind Yaeka as it was pushed open. Kirishima stepped in and stood over the little lady, still wearing his black suit jacket that was only worn to official events. He smiled warmly at his little lady, before turning a grim eye to the others, he already knew they had done something that would warrant a beating.

Kei stuttered for his life, trying to come up with something. Anything that might save their butts.

"Uh! N-Nothing! Nothing at all! We don't keep secrets here! We're an open book, right Takeuchi?!"

"Right! We've just been uhhh, drawing! Drawing all afternoon~ Look how amazing Yaeka's drawing is! Haha, woooow!" Shogo held up one of Yaeka's crayon drawings, hoping it may act as a shield. "So talented!"

Kirishima raised a brow as he smirked, baring those shiney fangs of his. He loved watching his underlings squirm.

"They told me that you're ticklish." Yaeka's little voice spoke up as she looked up at her babysitter. The two blonde's all but died behind her, collapsing into a heap. They were finished for sure.

"Oho, did they now?" The silver-eyed man chuckled angrily, slipping his jacket off, and draping it calmly over a dresser, before loosenig his tie and cracking his knuckles. Yaeka set her crayons aside, gently grabbing Kirishima's trouser leg.

"I want to see." She smiled innocently at him, the blonde's suddenly being revived as they heard her request.

The cheeks of the Demon heated up a little as he stared down at her, shocked by her words. No. Surely she didn't just say-

"I want to see you laughing!" Yaeka smiled, bouncing on her toes. "It can be your atonement for not taking me to the park yesterday like you said."

"N-Now, little lady, I don't think that's very fair. It was pouring down with rain." Kirishima smiled meekly as he petted her hair, desperate to convince her otherwise.

"Are you reeeally going to deny the little lady such a simple request?" Suguhara said with a teasing smirk.

Kirishima grits his teeth at the snarky tone Suguhara used toward him. He knew damn well that Kirishima couldn't handle being tickled! He internally reminded himself where he left the shovel so he could bury those two alive later!

"Well, not necessarily, I just- I just got back from a job and, you know, I'm... Tired." Uh oh, Kirishima was floundering. This wasn't like him at all!

Yaeka folded her arms, puffing her cheeks as she just glared at him.

"Y-Yaeka, please. I-I really don't..." Kirishima sighed, realising he wasn't going to win this one. Yaeka would be grumpy with him if he didn't do this, and that's not what Kirishima wanted.

"Fine. Fine." He grumbled, sitting on the tatami matts with his legs crossed, folding his arms like a kid who'd just been put in time-out.

Yaeka smiled, shuffling to his side before being stopped by Takeuchi.

"Please, allow us, little lady. We wouldn't want you being injured~" He grinned, gently sitting her at a safe distance from Kirishima and his potentially dangerous limbs.

Suguhara sniggered, sitting beside Kirishima, with Takeuchi on the other. The Demon Wakagashira of the Sakuragi family allowing himself to be tickled for his atonement?! This was an opportunity too good to pass up.

"I'm going to kill you guys after this, I swear." The victim grumbled, tensing his whole body as he prepared for the attack, his eyes darting between the two sets of slowly approaching hands, each armed with their own teasing, wriggling digits.

"Worth it~" Suguhara chimed, wriggling his fingers eagerly, knowing very well that anticipation was Kirishima's kryptonite when it came to tickling.

Kirishima snarled at Suguhara.

"Worth it? Oho, you won't be saying that when I-Iiiieeeahaha!" Takeuchi suddenly poked at Kirishima's side, breaking the Yakuza's cold front in mere seconds. The purple-haired man quickly turned to grab Takeuchi's hands, immediately regretting his decision to go through with this.

"Noho! No, no, no. Nope, I've changed my mind. I'm not doing thiiii-ahaha!" A second attack from the other side made Kirishima squeak as he felt his partner's fingers spidering up and down his side.

"Hehey! W-Wahahait! Time out! I-I changed my mihihind!" Kirishima giggled through gritted teeth as he flinched and twisted this way and that as both his attackers took turns poking his sides, making him turn one way then the other, back and forth in a tickly trap.

"Atone for your crimes against lady Yaeka!" Suguhara chimed, his tickling fingers following Kirishima as he flopped onto his back, losing all composure against the devious attack.

Kirishima lost it, and so quickly, too! His loud, boyish laughter filled the room, spilling out into the hallways for all to hear. His ears heated up with a pretty pink glow, matching his rosie cheeks.

"Gehet ohoff! Get off! Noho! Y-You f-Ahaha!" A potentially bad word was cut silenced as his laughter suddenly jumped up in intensity.

"Watch your language there, Kirishiiima~ Not in front of the little lady~" Takeuchi chimed as his hand managed to find its way up inside the Demons cotton shirt that had come untucked in his struggling. Devious digits now pressing and pinching at Kirishimas' lowest set of abs, ripping a huge snort from his throat as he suddenly curled up like a woodlouse, pulling his knees to his chest defensively.

"*Snort* AAAAHahahaaah! NO! Jehehesus! NAAA!" He rolled to one side, hugging himself as his sunglasses slipped from the bridge of his nose and onto the tatami mats.

Little Yaeka watched on from the side, smiling happily as she watched her usually stoic bodyguard turn into a pile of purple haired mush as he laughed freely.

"Aha! N-Nuho! Fwuah-AHA!"

"You're very loud." Yaeka giggled, quietly taking out her phone and taking a photo of Kirishimas toothy smile. His dimples and scrunched up nose would make a lovely contact photo for whenever he texted or called her.

"He is loud, ain't he?" Suguhara sniggered, clawing at Kirishima's belly, watching his higher-up vibrate with laughter.

"Dahahamn it! AHA! E-Enough!" In an attempt to free himself, Kirishima pressed his socked foot against Takeuchi's chest, trying to push him away. "Knock it off!"

A look of terror crossed Kirishima's face as he realised that Takeuchi had gripped his ankle and was staring at him with a menacing smirk.

"Don't. You. Dare."

"Don't I dare, what? Kirishima?" He smirked, moving his flexing fingers closer to the vulnerable foot.

"Tickle my foot."

"I can't believe you really just fell for that! Haha!" Takeuchi laughed as he attacked, scribbling his nails up and down the Demons sole.

"WAAHAHAIT! I-I sahahaid doho-HAHAHAA!" He couldn't handle it. His feet were ridiculously sensitive, and he cursed it every time he was reminded. Like right now.

"Gimme the other!" Suguhara chimed in, grabbing the other ankle and pinning it in an ankle-lock under his arm, starting to scratch at the heel.

"NAAAHAHAhahahaaa! Oho God! Nohoo! Nonono! Haaaaah-ah! *snort* AHAHA!"

Takeuchi and Suguhara looked at each other with a cruel smile before both starting to tease in union.

"Tickle, tickle, tickle~"

"Shudduhup! Shut up, shut up, shut u-AHAHAP!"

"What a ticklish little demon we have here~" Suguhara sang, scribbling under his toes.

"Nohoho! Stahahap!"

"Yes, very giggly and wriggly~ I bet the ghost tickles will last for hours once were done." Takeuchi added, dragging all five nails up and down the length of his foot.

Kirishima was a mess, tears streamed down his face as he tossed and turned on the tatami mats, his hands covering his face in ticklish agony, muffling his laughter. Unable to find the strength to pull his ankles free, all he could do was lay there and laugh, his chest heaving as he sucked in shuddering breaths.

"Mehercy! Plehehease! PLEHEEEEASE!" Kirishima leaned forward, managing to grab Suguharas shirt, trying to pull him back and free himself.

"I sahahaid-! RH!" In one swift movement, Kirishima found a burst of strength and pulled Suguhara back, using the momentum to pull Takeuchi over as well, the two ending up side by side on their backs with Kirishima straddling them both as he panted.

"-Mercy!" He panted, glaring down at his two underlings as they stared in terror.

"Um, K-Kirishima, we were just playing." Kei whined, holding his hands up in submission.

"Yeah! It was for Yaeka! We just wanted to make her happy!" Shogo nodded, looking behind himself at Yaeka for support.

The little lady giggled, walking over and gently placing Kirishimas sunglasses back on his face. "Are you okay? Did they tickle too much?"

"Hah, course' not, little lady. It'll take more than that to take me down." He smiled, gently petting her hair. "Now, why don't I show you how to really make someone laugh?" He asked, smirking down at the two cowering men beneath him.

"Wait, wait, wait! Kirishima! NOOOO-!"

[dirthara-dalen]

WIP Wednesday

Another week another Wip. This up is taken from my prequels era fic with my oc aLee who is descended from my Jedi knight and my friend's @myth-and-mischief oc Shara-rea. It will be partly under a cut.

Once alone he found the place eerily silent. Slowly he began walking down the tunnel as he gazed at the various kyber statues. Each one radiated with the force, he found it oddly comforting as he walked past them. As he reached a t-junction he discovered that the statue looked like the one in his vision. It was a beautiful shade of teal, a rare kyber colour, the statue itself depicted an ethereal woman holding three orbs.

“Are you looking at the statues too?”

Lee pivoted slightly to see a young human girl, no older than maybe six years old looking at him. She had long black hair sitting on her shoulder in a braid with the same teal flowers he had seen all over the city delicately woven in. Her teal green eyes were vibrant and full of life as she smiled at him. There was something about her that felt familiar but he couldn’t place it, something about her that felt safe.

“Y-ya…I saw this one in a vision.” He looked back up at it. “I do not know why exactly the force sent me vision. I’m Lee by the way.”

She giggled. “I’m Shara-rae, most people call me Shara.”

“Are you training to be a guardian Shara?”

She shook her head. “No…Chirrut said I’m only allowed to stay here until I’m of age to become a padawan. Well…that's what he said the Jedi said.”

“You’re force sensitive?!” This surprised Lee. Normally he would have been able to sense her. As he thought about it he realized the feeling that comforted him did not emanate off of the statues but her.

She nodded. “That’s how I found you here. Most normal people don’t feel like anything in the force but you send out ripples in the force.”

Lee found this comment interesting as he knelt in front of her. He watched as she did not follow his movements. Could she be blind? If so, was she not using force sight? Did she not know how too?

“Shara, are you blind?”

“I am, Chirrut is too. He likes to teach me tricks on how to get around. One trick is listening to the sound of the statues as each one gives off a different sound in the force.”

His heart sank upon hearing this and yet he was impressed. “Has…has no one ever told you about force sight?”

“Force sight?” She tilted her head giving him a curious look.

Lee fully sat down as Shara sat across yet relatively close to him. He was no expert on the topic but he did know some things. He did his best to explain how it worked to her. Admittedly he also explained how there were others who would be able to teach her far better than he ever could. He told her that there was even a race of force sensitives that had to use it to see. To see her smile learning that there was an entire group of people out there that might be like her made him happy for some odd reason. Was this the reason he saw the statute in his vision? Was he supposed to meet her?

“Lee?” She spoke with an inquisitive tone to her voice.

“Yes?”

“What do you look like? Baze says I’m human but that there are aliens here too. Some of the guardians are aliens. I do know that.”

He knew using words to describe himself would be difficult. “Well, I’m half human myself. My mother is a species called Mirialan which is categorized as a near human species. As a result I have green skin. As for how I really look…” He gently took her hands in his.

“What is it?”

He smiled as he then guided her hands to his face. “I find sometimes touch is the best way to learn something. I do not mind letting you do this, Shara.”

“Do what?”

“Feel my face, learn my appearance through touch rather than sight. Not everything has to be done through sight.”

No one had ever offered to do this with her before. She didn’t know what anyone looked like, only what they sounded like. As Lee let go of her tiny hands she stood up in front of him. Slowly she traced the outline of his face starting with his forehead. It wasn’t too broad then she felt something fuzzy which guessed were his eyebrows. As she ghosted over his eyes she was somewhat surprised to find they were similar to hers in their shape.

She had, of course, traced her own face of course but still had no idea what she herself looked like. As she brushed past his nose she found it didn’t jut out from his face too far and had a bit of a rounded tip. Then she reached his lips. He was still smiling as he found he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know if she had realized but she had the biggest, dorkiest smile on her own face that was bringing him so much joy at the moment. She began to slowly traced his lips, from the corner curl of his smile down to his plump bottom lip.

“I really like your smile.”

“I like yours too. You know, as silly as this may sound I feel as if the force wanted us to meet Shara. Why else would it have given me a vision of the statue?”

[sparkly-key]

The monster in the mirror

Aziraphale, who has always seen himself as a good being, cannot come to grips with the death and pain he's caused.

An alternate timeline where Aziraphale and Crowley didn't stop Armageddon. Heaven and Hell get their war as Adam Young reshapes and rules the world in his image. Collaboration with WaneMoose

Other parts in the series: (Not) Fine | The ebb and flow of a flatlining heart | When my presence brings you pain | AO3 Written for Whumptober 2023 Day 29 – “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.” | Scented candle | Troubled past resurfacing | “What happened to me?” Content warnings: Graphic depiction of a corpse, burns, brands, references to torture, references to multiple deaths.

Aziraphale covered his mouth with both hands, stifling the shout of surprise as he stared down at Madame Tracy’s body in the center of his temporary study. It was exactly as he’d buried it, her flesh warped and charred from where an angel had smote her.

“A-a-a-azir’fell?” Madame Tracy groaned weakly as Aziraphale and his new vessel scrambled to reach her, kneeling at her side.

“It’s me, dear girl,” he murmured, taking her rigid and blackened hand in his. He squeezed it lightly, intending to reassure her, but the woman gave no indication that she felt his touch. “I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have left you.”

Had Heaven remembered the redhead from the airfield? Did they know it was Aziraphale possessing her or had they forgotten in the chaos that had erupted when Adam had accepted his birthright?

Inside his mind, Mr. Howard Bernard thrashed violently, unwilling to share as Madame Tracy had.

Aziraphale apologized vehemently. He didn’t mean to. The sting of Heaven’s wrath had violently ripped him from Tracy’s body and the angel had fought the force pulling his essence upwards, jumping into the closest vessel he could find.

Madame Tracy had been a willing and receptive possession, offering herself when the angel had explained what was at stake. Mr. Bernard …

Well, he was receptive. But he clawed at Aziraphale’s spirit with vicious strength.

“Th-th-thank … thank you,” Tracy croaked, her breath rattling in her throat as she forced the words out. “F-f-for not … not l-lee-leaving me … me alone.”

Aziraphale wept as he felt the life escape her body, hunched over her for what seemed like hours as he apologized until he was hoarse.

“Angel?” Crowley asked anxiously, gripping Howard Bernard’s shoulder. Aziraphale almost didn’t hear him over Mr. Bernard’s screams inside his head. “That you?”

Aziraphale nodded. “We need to hurry,” he said as he dashed the tears out of his eyes with the back of his hand. “No telling when they’ll send another patrol out, if that one reports humans are nearby.”

The demon watched as Aziraphale slid his arms under Madame Tracy’s corpse, slowly dragging the body back toward the woods. He slipped in the mud, Mr. Bernard’s frail frame too weak to rise. “Crowley, I can’t just leave her there,” the blond pleaded, eyes wide as he met the demon’s gaze.

Wordlessly, his best friend lifted Madame Tracy in his arms.

“’Not your fault, angel,” he lied gruffly.

The angel didn’t last long in Mr. Bernard’s body, too busy warring with the human to hear Crowley’s warning shout as demons swarmed them.

He squeezed his eyes shut and sank down against the wall, biting his fist.

It wasn’t real. She wasn’t here. He’d buried her properly, prayed for her soul to find peace and offered Shadwell what little comfort he could. (The witchfinder blamed him. He’d hurled insults and curses as the angel stood there and took it.)

It had been loss after loss after that, no vessel as welcoming as Tracy or a hostile as Mr. Bernard as he got better at possessing the humans. Ian Murphy. Brenda Howe. Jaime Newport. They had watched numbly as he led them to their deaths, their silence only breaking when he’d fled.

“I can’t keep doing this, Crowley,” Aziraphale sobbed, Taylor Brown’s hands caked in dirt as they collapsed on Jaime Newport’s freshly dug grave. “I-I need my body. I can’t keep letting them die because of me!”

The demon knelt in front of him, clasping Taylor’s trembling shoulders. “We’ll get yours back, Angel, I promise,” he soothed.

Aziraphale flinched as he processed the word ���we’ and lurched back. “You can’t!” he insisted desperately, meeting Crowley’s gaze. “I-it’s too dangerous, Crowley. I can’t let you –“

“You’re not ‘letting’ me do anything, Aziraphale,” Crowley growled, his eyes alight with determination. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

(Taylor Brown had sighed in relief as he left their body in Heaven, their corporation crumbling away from Aziraphale’s when they stepped off the elevator.)

With a ragged breath, Aziraphale forced his eyes open and stared at the void where Madame Tracy’s body had been.

At least he’d managed to keep quiet enough to not disturb Anathema, no tell-tale sliver of light visible beneath her door frame. (He hadn’t. The young woman was staring at the door, forcing herself to keep still against the overwhelming urge to offer comfort – a gesture she knew would be shamefully rebuffed with false cheeriness and polite deception).

Crowley –

He lifted his eyes to the demon slouching against the door jam, golden eyes invisible behind his glasses but boring into the angel.

“You look like shit,” Crowley offered, folding his arms over his chest. (He tried hard not to flinch when his hands brushed his body, sending a wave of pain through him.)

Aziraphale gave a watery chuckle. “Sure, the world has gone to Hell. Why should we worry about manners?”

“That was me being nice, Aziraphale. Honestly, I’ve seen Satan shit heaping masses of dung and decay that look better than you do right now,” the demon snapped with an exaggerated eyeroll.

With his posturing, Crowley looked more like himself than he had in weeks, if Aziraphale could only bring himself to ignore the thick bandages on his neck and hands, or the almost-healed cuts and bruises on his face. But the angel could see the way his muscles were coiled, ready to run or strike, whichever he needed in that moment.

“Feeling sorry for yourself again, angel?” the demon hissed. “Might be too late for martyrdom but there’s still a chance Heaven will put in a good word for you.”

Aziraphale recoiled, wounded by the animosity in his words.

He’d called himself soft once, uncertain if he could kill anybody, though that was the reason he’d been put on Earth – to keep humans out of the Eden by any means necessary and to protect God’s wayward creations. (That vicious voice in his head had reared, urging him to recall the executioner and the fascists – He may not have dropped the blade himself, but he certainly had a hand in their demise.)

In the past several months, he’d proven just how wrong he was.

“I am the last person deserving of sympathy, Crowley,” the blond snapped. He inhaled sharply, the strength of it sending a stabbing pain through his side, where he’d been bitten. (Out of all of the wounds, that was the hardest – infernal enough to resist the Grace he poured into it and nasty enough that he shied away from Anathema’s ministrations.)

He waved his hands toward the demon. “I mean, look at what I did to those humans who I possessed – what I did to those angels and demons. Look at what I did to YOU! I’m a monster, Crowley.”

“For someone’s sake,” Crowley grimaced, raking his hand over his face. The gesture pained him, Aziraphale knew, by the way his jaw clenched and Adam’s Apple bobbed in his throat. “You terrify me, Aziraphale, but you’ve never …”

The demon swallowed, staring up at the ceiling for a minute before exhaling deeply. “Look, those angels and demons have plenty to answer for – no need for you to lighten the load any more than you already have.”

He stumbled slightly as he headed to Aziraphale, crouching in front of the angel.

Aziraphale’s breath caught in his throat and he stilled, as though he was afraid a sudden noise would scare Crowley off.

“You’ve never hurt me, Aziraphale,” the redhead assured the principality softly.

[on-a-mechtechnicality]

The descent was loud, louder than anything Sigrid could remember. But not nearly as loud as the silence that followed. The engines went from full blast to idle to quiet. Planetside there wasn’t the need to run the gravity generators and with all the ‘Mechs deployed, there was no work to be done.

Music is how humans decorate time, and the next stretch of it felt barren as an empty page. The rumble of the battle far away barely reached the DropShip and only the faintest tremors could penetrate its armored doors.

Within the MechBay the silence could be felt more than heard. Every single man and woman had worked tirelessly over the past months to ensure every single BattleMech housed in this mobile facility was ready for the fight of a lifetime.

She hoped it was enough.

Every single screw, every single adjustment, every degree of tuning she had done had all culminated in this, and she would not know if it had been enough until it was over. And it was far from over.

It was easy being in charge when there was work to be done. She could organize, she could prioritize, she could delegate. Find optimal solutions to problems and assign work. When there was nothing to be done but be prepared, it was a lot harder.

The tablet on her wrist was connected to the communications network. Reports rolled in and were replaced by others at a constant speed. Nothing she could do.

Victories, losses, uncertainties.

Uncertainties were the hardest to deal with. Losses were simple. You grieve and move on. Victories were harder. It meant there was no loss yet. The uncertainties were hardest, they weighed on her like an anvil.

No news from the lance that had stepped out of the doors what felt like moments and ages ago at the same time. The same memories replaying over and over in her mind. Had she missed anything, was she sure she uncoupled the auxiliary bus after the main reactor spun up, was the Highlander’s torso hatch sealed back up? Did she imagine Karrie being okay or did she miss something?

Always the chance to miss something. Always an unknown.

Focus. She needed to be ready.

The tablet lit up green. A message for the MechBay.

ATTN: Friendlies on approach; 2x Medium 1x Assault; More to follow.

Time that had seemed endless before seemed too short now.

The calls over the speakers came immediately.

“Clear the doors! Prep MechBays four through six! Directors in position by the portal. MedTechs to standby stations. MechTechs to the bays”

The MechLab came to life like a well-oiled machine. People took up their positions, Sigrid herself found her station on the overlook and began calling out orders to her fellow MechTechs.

“Thomas, Kate, Bay four. Dani, Andrew, Bay six. Lee, with me on five.”

She looked over the ‘Bays and watched the engineers get into position. The routing for the incoming ‘Mechs pinged on her tablet.

“Gantries four and six to medium, five to max.”

She made her way to her own assigned Bay just as the sound of heavy footfalls made it over the din of the MechBay in operation.

When the doors opened to the muddy snow beyond, she could see the ‘Mechs on approach. A Highlander led the way, though not the Old Bird’s Nest. Smoke rising from its torso obscured the sky, but the white left in the snow was enough to bathe the MechLab in blinding light.

And no sooner had she adjusted to the intensity than it stood in the opening, shrouding the space in darkness. The director guided it into its bay. Sigrid could feel the reactor power down as the gantry in Bay five took the weight of the impressive machine.

Two Raptor IIs followed after, guided to bays four and six, but the light did not return. An Awesome stood watch.

Sigrid knew the deployment orders. She knew that Awesome. She knew it intimately.

Her heart sank as the Old Girl limped, turning into the DropShip. The PPC they spend so much time calibrating shattered in its housing.

“Andrew, bay seven! Get that gantry up!”

She set off in a sprint and keyed the radio on her belt.

“Control, I need that ‘Mech in seven!”

The ‘Mech director barely made it to his position by the entry, batons ready for the unexpected guest when the Old Girl finished her turn.

Sigrid was nearing the rising gantry when the heat hit her.

The Old Girl was backing up into the MechBay and she could feel the reactor containment breach on her skin. A familiar sensation dormant in her scars reminded her of the last time she was this close to something this hot. And then it was gone.

The catwalk flexed as the reactor shut off, returning the 80 tons of articulated myomer and concentrated firepower to a dormant state carried by the MechBay.

On her left she could see the pilot extract himself from the smoking Highlander. He seemed annoyed, frustrated. For a moment she wondered if she needed to interfere when a sound drew her back to her surroundings.

Movement. Karrie. She climbed.

She was standing atop an Awesome. She worked on this, this was her work. It was carrying someone she loved.

The hatch beneath her feet opened and she reached down, hand clasping the pilot’s as she helped her up. Karrie collapsed on her shoulder and before she was able to stop it, she wrapped her arms around the smaller woman and held her close.

MedTechs were waiting on the gantry, Sigrid guiding Karrie down the angles of the Old Girl, though she was pretty sure her fellow MechTech walked across those a hundred times. Whether Karrie was hesitant to stop leaning on her or just too tired to stand on her own, she might never know.

The MedTechs took the load off of her, a little too soon for her liking.

And now she needed to focus. There was work to be done. A part of her wanted to ditch it all, let Thomas handle it and be by her friend. Another part of her wondered why that was so important after all, there was work to be done. Feelings didn’t matter.

But the feelings were there.

There and pushed to the side as Sigrid focused. There was work to be done. They could wait.

Drawing Blanks

Exhausted. That’s what Karrie was. Exhausted. It had been months since she last strode into combat—let alone dropped from orbit—and she felt it. And as she limped her custom Awesome back from the frontlines, she knew it could feel it too; every day clung to them like cigarette smoke. Images flashed through her mind—the crackle of PPC fire, the roaring scream of a hyper-assault gauss rifle, the dying screams of Blakists over the comms. All of it was saved in the Old Girl’s BattleROM, and as they walked it saw fit to show them to her over and over again. She grumbled and willed the machine to change the subject. Thanks, but no thanks, she thought. I’ll think about that later.

As she did so, the warning lights started up again, and across her Neurohelmet’s view a dozen errors popped in and out of existence. She drew up her focus and forced them to come by one at a time—the armor was completely compromised in the left arm and torso, noted; the heat sinks were overtaxed and some of the wiring had fused, of course; some of the myomers had snapped in the right leg, along with a busted lower leg actuator, which would be why she was limping so badly. She looked to the weapons—one PPC’s focusing array had been busted by a missile, but the rest were operating at battle-ready efficiency, if relatively light on ammunition and cooling capacity. The engine, now leaking heat as its containment fields struggled against the glowing plasma within, nonetheless surprised her with its performance. Clanspec engines really are well put together. Even when they’re an XL….

Splayed across her ‘Mech’s side view was an impromptu lance of wounded ‘Mechs—a Highlander on the heavier side, with two of the SLDF’s mediums in tow. She seemed to be in better shape than they were—smoke billowed from the Highlander’s torso, and the rest of the ‘Mechs…ugh. It occurred to Karrie that normally she would be able to identify them, were she not in a poor state. Maybe the Neural Link is damaged, she thought, heart sinking. That would explain why I can’t…can’t think.

Her command instincts took over, and she called for a sound-off over the radio.

“Aff, Warrant Officer. I show damage on my readouts, but I will live,” responded the Highlander’s pilot. The other pilots quickly followed suit.

“We doin’ ok then?” she asked. “I mean, as people. That’s a rough thing to drop in on, yeah?”

“…aff,” the pilot replied unconvincingly.

“Hey, look. You’re not dealing with another Clanner, you can tell me.” She winced as the words left her mouth. Not the right thing to say….

“Aff. A fact you remind me of with far more than words, Warrant Officer. Must I remind you that, were it not for the General’s favor, I should be the one ordering you around?”

“…sorry. Didn’t mean to cause any offense.”

“Yet you do.”

“I do.”

“Keep the air clear for important information. I will not answer you again.”

“…a-aye, sir,” Karrie forced. A cold silence filled the airwaves, leaving Karrie alone with the wheezing hum of the Old Girl’s damaged engine.

She could see the forward base on the horizon. A trio of DropShips had touched down full of support staff and equipment, and temporary structures were just beginning to be assembled. Barely visible people bustled like ants, coolant trucks and SupportMechs close in tow. It was relieving. It was also rapidly coming up, and she hadn’t identified them yet.

As if on time, a crackly voice spoke over the radio. “This is forward base Omaha to incoming lance, please identify. Repeat, Omaha to incoming BattleMech lance, please identify.”

“Warrant Officer Karrie DeLacey with three SLDF ‘Mechs in tow. One Highlander, two…” she replies. “…shoot, two…”

“Repeat, Warrant Officer DeLacey? You cut off.”

A bolt of panic shot through Karrie’s mind. Why couldn’t she identify the ‘Mechs? That was her job! As if to answer her, the Old Girl’s TRO computer squealed, and a shaky readout appeared in her view. “Sorry,” she said quickly. “One Highlander, two Raptor II’s inbound, in need of repairs.”

“Aff, Warrant Officer DeLacey. Three MechBays are being prepared. Approach at your convenience. Keep us informed if you need firefighting assistance.”

“Aye.” She flipped a switch to broadcast only to the ‘Mechs around her. “Alright, we’ve been given clearance to approach. You guys’ll get repairs, a little bit of rest for your injuries, and then we’ll get right back out there,” Karrie said as they walked.

Gradually, the base came closer and further into focus for the wounded lance. The DropShips became towering, egg-shaped behemoths, looming over the ‘Mechs—almost enough to scare you.

“Warrant Officer DeLacey, you have made a mistake,” the Highlander’s pilot called, snapping Karrie suddenly back to reality.

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“By the Founder, you are a fool. There are only three MechBays prepared for us.”

Karrie’s blood ran ice cold. “So there are….”

“You are to stand watch. I and the Raptor IIs will receive repairs.”

Karrie flushed blood-red within the safe walls of her cockpit. “A-aye. You lot all get in there—I’ll keep ya safe, eh?”

“Warrant Officer, try to maintain a veneer of competency? Now come. The bays are open.”

Karrie sat in the ringing silence of her cockpit.

“Aye.”

[maatryoshkaa]

between the lines | lee minho

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐘 𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐒 𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒!𝐀𝐔

✑ Late fines, shared lockers, and a missing love letter:

In which a frantic search for an overdue library book leads to you finding other things that are...long overdue.

✑ PAIRING: student librarian!minho x bookworm!reader

✑ GENRE: retro!high school au, slow burn, slice-of-life romance, slight enemies-to-lovers shenanigans

✑ WORD COUNT: 9.7k

✖︎ TAGS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, mild language, bullying themes, skz are all around the same age. mc is insecure and a bit of a valentine's day grinch. minho is whipped but too hardheaded to admit it. also, an embarrassing amount of classic literature/pablo neruda references.

Ah, Valentine’s Day.

Call it the most romantic day of the year if you will, but in the treacherous hallways of Levanter High, it meant a minefield of hormonal couples, crushed chocolate boxes, and supermarket rose bouquets. Clutching your backpack with a grimace, you narrowly dodged a pigtailed cheerleader as she leapt into her jock boyfriend’s waiting arms. Turning into another hallway, you plugged your ears to block out a senior boy’s cold rejection of a freshman’s nervous love confession.

You finally caught sight of your locker and breathed a sigh of relief. Levanter High’s lockers were split in half lengthwise—one top row, and one bottom row. You dropped to a crouch to wrench yours open—you’d lost your lock a couple of weeks ago—trying to block out the early morning commotion as you rummaged for your English books.

“Hey, watch ou—”

The locker above yours opened with a screech, and you looked up just in time to see a pink avalanche of cards and chocolates raining down on your head in a painful, deafening crash. The student who had called out the warning was frozen with a comical look of shock on her face. You swore the entire hallway fell silent, blood rushing to your cheeks as you slowly raised your gaze at the person who had opened the locker.

Lee Hana—head cheerleader of Levanter’s pep squad, and in your humble opinion, the spawn of Satan herself.

“Ohmigosh,” she exclaimed, raising one hand to her mouth in mock horror, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there.”

The crowd around you was beginning to snicker and point, and you felt your face growing redder by the minute. “What are you doing here?” You asked tersely, motioning towards the locker above yours. “That’s not even your locker.”

Hana smiled and held up a small, glittery package. Oh. You didn’t have to look closer to know that the envelope was a love letter, elaborately tied to a box of expensive chocolates—the kind your parents would probably have to work overtime to afford. “My Valentine—for your locker buddy,” Hana replied matter-of-factly, then added, “Not that you would understand, hm? Since you’ve never received one yourself, and all.”

A smattering of laughs erupted from the crowd that was building around you. Biting back a retort, you looked down at all the other Valentine’s trinkets that had spilled around you. Of course—you should have gotten used to it by now. After all, your locker was right underneath the one that belonged to the student librarian, school heartthrob, and the absolute bane of your existence, Lee—

“Minho!” Hana exclaimed, and you looked up to see him shuffling through the crowd, his eyes briefly falling on yours. You immediately turned away as the pretty cheerleader skipped up to him, and shoved your books into your bag. Slamming your locker shut—twice, because Levanter’s damned lockers always jammed before shutting properly—you snatched up as many of Minho’s fallen Valentine’s Day trinkets as you could before shoving them back into the now-emptied top locker. The metal door was still swinging wide open. You’d overheard Minho complaining to the boy who always did the announcements—Han Jihyun? Han Jisung?—about how he kept losing his own lock. Both of you seemed to have a habit of misplacing things (not that you liked to admit to that similarity).

Out of the corner of your eye, Minho was still watching you over Hana’s shoulder, his lips tilted in a half-smile. Your gut twisted unpleasantly. Four years and counting—that was how long you’d ended up with a locker right under Minho’s.

“You’re so lucky!” Lia—your best friend—had gushed, while you had scoffed in utter disbelief.

“Oh, sure. Just my rotten luck.”

“Come on, y/n. Are you still hung up about that love letter from freshman year?”

Yes, you had thought sourly. “No way,” you had snapped, and Lia had giggled, unconvinced.

It wasn’t like you’d always had a personal vendetta against Minho. In fact, in ninth grade, you’d been head over heels for him, just like the rest of the student body—to the point where you’d even slipped a small love letter into his locker on Valentine’s Day, too. It had been one of those gaudy 99-cent corner-store cards, and you'd saved up your pocket money just to buy a matching pack of candy hearts. Then you’d spent the day with butterflies in your stomach, anxiously waiting nearby his locker to see his reaction.

But when he hadn’t shown up, you'd shrugged and begun heading home—and that was when you had caught sight of Minho, throwing all the love letters he’d received straight into the Dumpsters in the back parking lot.

Talk about a reality check.

As if that hadn't been traumatizing enough, you’d been forced to face him nearly every morning for the following three years. To make matters worse, being Minho’s involuntary locker mate also meant that all the girls—and guys, for that matter—saw you as little more than a stepping stone to him, always asking you to relay party invitations or trying to curry favour with you to get to him.

“We’re not close,” you’d insist to his persistent admirers every time, but it didn’t help. Minho, on the other hand, you thought bitterly, seemed to think he was too good for anyone—he didn’t even respond much to Hana’s advances, and she was drop-dead gorgeous. There was no way he’d even look twice at you—you’d been firsthand witness to that. You finally gave up trying to clean up the fallen Valentines, and stood up with a sigh. Throwing him a death glare, you pushed past the crowd just as the bell rang and students began scurrying away.

What did it matter if Lee Hana was trying to get with Minho? If anything, they were a match made in heaven. Or hell. With a decided huff, you plopped yourself down at your desk just as your English teacher began class.

“We’re starting the poetry unit today! Remember, you’ll be writing a love poem of your own for the final project—so I suggest you all get started on reading!” You teacher had winked and clapped her hands excitedly while a collective groan had swept through your class. A few couples had nudged each other meaningfully, already promising to write their poems about each other, and you’d thrown up a little in your mouth.

Romance was a bit of a touchy subject for you— now, you didn’t hate the notion of love, per se, you’d just always been somewhat...wary of it. After watching your friends fall in and out of disastrous relationships and fleeting feelings from the sidelines too many times to count, your own defense mechanisms had skyrocketed, and now you found yourself trying not to roll your eyes at every piece of romantic writing you read. Still, this inexperience only made you more determined to get a head start on the topic— and so, once the last bell had rung, you made a beeline for the school library. You would tackle love the only way you knew how to—by hitting the books. Pushing open the door, you overheard Hana and her friends muttering in disappointment and immediately recoiled.

“You said he’d be in here!”

“Well, I thought I saw him! Let’s wait for a bit.”

You peeked over the librarian’s desk, and sure enough, it was vacant— save for a tray of half-shelved books and stamping cards. Maybe Minho left early today, you thought, shrugging. That’s a relief. Then you shook your head quickly. What’s it to me whether he’s here or not? You tried to ignore Hana’s disdainful glance at you, heading straight towards your favourite nook at the back of the library instead: a cozy alcove tucked behind the last row of shelves. With a deep sigh, you pulled out the first book of poetry your teacher had assigned—Shakespeare’s Complete Sonnets—and sank into the bean bag chair.

‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May…’

A couple lines in, and the Englishman’s words were already making your head spin. You grimaced, massaging your temples. ‘A summer’s day?’ Seriously? You could swear you’d seen something less cheesy on a dollar store card. After a couple of pages, you could already feel your treacherous eyelids beginning to droop, fighting to stay awake as you tried to make sense of Shakespeare’s verses. But thy eternal summer...shall not fade...nor lose...possession…

“The library’s closing.”

You jolted awake, hands fumbling blindly before you could even force your eyes open. The library came into focus first—the lights had been dimmed, the flickering EXIT sign from the empty hallway casting a warm glow through the panelled window across the room. A dull headache still throbbed in your temples.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, rubbing your eyes groggily. You had to practically peel your cheek away from the Shakespeare book, fingers gingerly feeling the dent the cover had left in your cheek. “I-I’m so sorry, I must have—lost track of time studying.”

A familiar chuckle sent your heart plummeting to your stomach. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

When your eyes finally adjusted, your expression automatically soured into a glare.

“Now that’s more like it.” Smirking, Minho crossed his arms, leaning back on a bookshelf. He glanced down at the book in your lap—the book that you clearly hadn’t been studying. “Didn’t know you were one for Shakespeare.”

“I—” You threw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m not. His writing gives me a headache. It’s like it’s all in another language or something.”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Old English. Why are you reading it, then?”

“We’re doing poetry in class—and our final project is to write an actual love poem, based on the poets we’ll study. Shakespeare was just first on the reading list, so…” you felt yourself trailing off, flustered. Why were you even bothering to explain this to Minho, who probably couldn’t care less? “Nevermind.”

You felt his piercing gaze on you as you shoved your books into your bag, glancing outside at the nearly emptied parking lot. If you squinted, you could spot a couple—Seo Changbin, judging by the male’s iconic leather jacket, and his lover—making out under the bleachers. You shook your head incredulously. Valentine’s Day. Love poems. Hormonal couples galore. It was like the universe was playing a long, cruel joke on you: Ha-ha, look who’s spending Valentine’s Day studying in the library alone.

Well, alone except for a student librarian with whom you had a mortifying history. Not much better. Eager to leave, you got to your feet, only to see Minho flipping through a smaller book he’d pulled off the shelf next to him. “If you want some real inspiration,” he began slowly, pushing up his glasses, “I’d suggest you start closer to our time period.”

You looked down at the book he was holding up, brow furrowing as you read the title out loud. “Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair. Pablo Neruda.”

“The best Chilean poet of the 20th century,” he nodded. “‘I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving but this.’”

It took you a second to realise Minho was quoting a poem, and you were suddenly grateful that the dimly lit library hid the flush of red that had betrayed your cheeks. Clearing your throat, you mumbled, “That actually sounds...kind of pretty.”

He didn’t look up, but you thought you saw the corners of his mouth shoot up ever so slightly. Maybe the shadows were playing tricks on you? Flipping through the book, Minho fished out a pad of sticky notes from his back pocket and marked a few pages. “Here. ‘The Song of Despair’...‘Tonight I Can Write’...‘Here I Love You.’ Those are good.” Clamping the book shut, he held it out towards you.

You almost thanked him, but the words faltered on your tongue as you took it from him suspiciously. “What’s with the sudden helpful attitude?”

He shrugged. “It’s my job.” You raised an incredulous eyebrow, and he smirked. “Consider it my apology for this morning, then.”

That left you at a real loss for words, and for the first time, you struggled to find a retort. “That’s...considerate of you, apologising on behalf of your girlfriend and all.”

“Hana’s not my girlfriend.”

You breathed a small laugh. “Soon-to-be, then. Don’t break her heart.”

Minho scoffed, bringing the book to the front desk and scrawling your name on the sign-out card. He stamped the dates, then held it out at you before glancing out the window. Dusk had fallen, the empty football field lit only by rows of flickering lampposts. “You can get home safe?”

“Screw off, Lee Minho.” You eyed him warily, shoving the book into your bag before practically running to the double doors. The strange atmosphere that had suddenly built up in the library felt terrifyingly foreign to you, and your first instinct was to be rid of it as soon as possible. In the hallway, you spotted a janitor dumping a bin into a trash bag. A familiar avalanche of pink envelopes and gifts caught your eye, and you felt a wave of humiliation. Just the memory of Minho throwing yours out—after reading it and having a good laugh, no doubt—made you want to ram your head into the lockers all over again. You’ve got no chance with him, y/n, you thought blearily. Right when you’d thought you’d finally come to terms with Minho’s brutal (albeit unintentional) rejection, here he was again: crashing back into your life like some...cat-eyed, pointy-nosed meteor.

“Oh, y/n! One more thing.”

You’d already had one foot out the front door when Minho called your name again, making you jerk your head back in surprise. Minho had his bag slung over one shoulder, a pile of books in his arms as he waved to get your attention. His smile looked almost...genuine in the warm shadows, his round glasses softening his usually sharp gaze. Despite yourself, you felt your heart skip a beat.

Then Minho made a wiping motion over his face and grinned. “You’ve got drool on your chin.”

Your face reddened, and you slammed the library door shut, earning a glare from the janitor down the hall. Smacking the heel of your palm against your forehead repeatedly, you stormed out of the school muttering curses under your breath. Typical Lee Minho.

To your surprise, you practically devoured the poems in less than a week, taken aback at how much you genuinely enjoyed them. It was the first time you didn’t find yourself cringing at romance—and sure enough, in a couple days’ time, you found yourself reluctantly standing back in front of the double doors of the school library once again.

Carefully, you craned your head to peep into the panelled window, scanning the room for Minho. As per usual, a gaggle of girls were huddled on the other side, blocking your view.

“Looking for someone?”

Flinching, you nearly tripped on Hana’s long legs as she came up beside you. Before you could respond, she fixed you with a withering look. “You’ve got some explaining to do, Little Miss Perfect.”

“I—sorry?”

The cheerleader rolled her eyes, sneering. “Don’t act all innocent with me, you sneaky b—”

Sighing, you pushed open the doors before she could finish. Hana followed you into the library, still sputtering angrily. Her hand snatched your arm, French manicure digging painfully into your cardigan.

“The Valentines,” she hissed, and it finally clicked.

She’s talking about the love letters, you realized. The ones Minho throws out every year.

Gut twisting, you looked up to see all the other girls crossing their arms and looking back at you expectantly. “None of you...got a response?” You asked incredulously, already knowing the answer. This happened every year: Expectant admirers showered Minho’s locker with gifts, Minho wouldn’t even glance at them— and then, for some reason, you were left to take the blame. A twinge of annoyance shot through your chest.

“You stole them from his locker, didn’t you?” Hana continued accusingly, pupils shaking. “You sneaky, jealous bitch— of course you did.”

He threw them all out, you wanted to scream back at her, but the words wouldn’t budge from your tongue. Somehow, saying them out loud felt like tearing off the stitches of an old wound; a painful reminder of your personal humiliating memory. And—though you hated to admit it—a small part of you still didn’t have the heart to throw Minho under the bus just yet, even after all that he’d done.

Feeling defeated, you sighed and turned towards her. “Why would I want to do that?”

Hana scoffed, tossing her chocolate curls over one shoulder. “Oh, please. We all know you’ve had a massive one-sided crush on him since ninth grade.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks, the other girls’ snickers at your reaction drowning out any of your protests. “That’s not—”

“Not true? Then—is it mutual?” Hana sneered mockingly. “Don’t make me laugh. He wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of y—”

“Can I help you with anything?”

The small crowd fell silent as Minho appeared from one of the aisles, eyebrows raised slightly in his usual nonchalant manner. A chill of panic rushed down your spine, palms growing clammy with cold sweat. H-how much did he overhear? In your peripheral, Hana was practically batting her eyelashes at him, but Minho’s mild eyes were focused on yours expectantly.

“I—uh. Well,” you stammered eloquently, your entire body suddenly paralyzed. Hana’s cherry red lips were twisted in a smug smirk, clearly waiting for you to embarrass yourself. “The book,” you blurted, immediately rummaging for the poetry book in your bag and holding it out to him.

Minho took it from you, fingertips grazing yours slightly. They were surprisingly warm. “How’d you find it?”

“R-really good, actually.” Then, you hesitantly added, “I...like the way Neruda uses imagery—he’s precise without being plain, and artful without deviating too much into purple prose. I think I liked Tonight I Can Write the most— y’know, ‘Tonight I can write the saddest lines...’” You swallowed, then instantly began regretting having ever spoken. Great job, y/n, now you sound like a full-blown nerd.

But Minho nodded, his eyes gleaming. “‘I loved her, and sometimes, she loved me, too.’”

“That’s the second verse,” you muttered automatically, and his lips twitched.

“It’s one of my favourite lines.”

The other girls had begun to awkwardly shuffle out of the library, their absence easing your racing heart. With just a few mildly spoken words, you noted, Minho had managed to make you feel as though you had blocked out the rest of the world. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted Hana glaring daggers at you, and the small smile dropped from your face.

“Do you need something?” Minho asked her blankly, his gaze trailing down to Hana’s hand, which was still painfully latched onto your arm. With a roll of her eyes, she spun on her heel and stormed out of the library.

As soon as she was gone, you breathed an audible sigh of relief. Minho was peeling the sticky notes off from the poetry book you’d returned, eyes still watching you intently. Giving him the side-eye, you deadpanned, “She’s pretty, you know. Maybe you should go talk to her sometime.”

There was a small smile on Minho’s lips. “Does she like Chilean poetry?”

You could only give a short—slightly too shaky for your liking—laugh in response, ruffling your own hair as you tried to calm your frazzled nerves. Don’t forget, y/n. One, that he’s out of your league. Two, how this was all his fault to begin with.

“Is that all you came here for?” Minho’s voice broke into your thoughts again, making you jump. There was a glint of amusement in his eyes. He finds this—me—amusing.

“Well…” you looked down at your feet, then grudgingly nodded at the poetry book you’d just returned. “Do you...have any other recommendations?”

Minho’s face broke into a shit-eating grin, and you bit back a groan. before your pride got the better of you and you changed your mind, he was already heading towards the back of the library, sliding books out as you struggled to keep with his pace. “First of all, Dickinson. Hit-or-miss, but you never know. Then there’s Sylvia Plath, some Emily Brontë…”

Before you knew it, you’d been whisked into a world of verse and metaphor, flying between numerous time periods and continents as you and Minho perused the shelves. Just like the time when you had accidentally fallen asleep in the library, the library seemed to grow cozier, quieter, more peaceful during moments like these, as if the entire world was holding still as you lost yourself in pages upon pages of books. Soon, you found yourself heading to the library nearly every day after school. Despite yourself, you found yourself looking forward to that sunset hour, the fleeting period where most students had left, and the entire library would glow warm as though it were blushing under the swathes of golden light. And in these same fleeting moments, you found your gaze lingering more and more on Minho—the way he would push his silver glasses on, furrowing his brow in concentration whenever he searched for a book, or run his long fingers over their worn spines whenever he was lost in thought—

“Like what you see?” With a flinch, you realised Minho had begun walking back towards you, a crooked smirk on his lips as he set a new pile of books down at the desk you were sat at.

“No!” You snapped, too quickly. “Just—spaced out for a bit. Too concentrated on the project.”

The smirk hadn’t budged from Minho’s face, and you resisted the urge to throw a copy of Emily Dickinson’s Selected Poems at his long, pointy nose. “Mm. You seem to be coming here a lot more often.”

“That’s because the due date is coming up.”

“No. I mean, you seem to be talking to me a lot more.”

You rolled your eyes, snatching a book from the top of his pile as you muttered, “Screw you, Lee Minho.”

His eyebrows shot up in wicked mischief. “You’re more than welcome to try.”

With a cry of exasperation—and surprise at having been heard—you hoisted your book bag onto the table, building a makeshift wall between the two of you.

You didn’t catch the way Minho’s laughter slowly faded as he rested his head on one hand thoughtfully, quietly watching you read. Your lips were pursed in concentration as you muttered your notes under your breath. Cute, he couldn’t help thinking.

Minho had always been good at memorizing things, but he couldn’t remember exactly when you’d begun disliking him so much. You had always intrigued him—what with the way your locker always seemed to be overflowing with books, or how you used to lend him your copy when he forgot his, back in ninth grade. That Valentine’s Day, four years ago, your name had been the only one he’d hoped to find as he rifled through the cards he’d received. But he’d come up empty, and so he’d thrown them all out. And for some reason, you’d been cold to him ever since.

Minho had assumed that you were probably annoyed with all the letters that would fall out of his locker and onto you, and so every year he tried his best to get rid of the Valentines as soon as possible. Nevertheless, you only seemed to be getting more and more annoyed with him.

And now here you were, right in front of him, four years later, and he still couldn’t bring himself to ask you why. Confrontation had never been his strong suit—his words always seemed to come out too blunt, too cold, too soon, and so he’d always avoided bringing it up with you again. Minho sighed, raking a hand through his hair. Written words—that is, books—had always been so much easier than people.

He did, however, remember when he’d started falling for you.

Tenth grade, literature studies. He’d begun arguing against your thesis during one of your presentations, and the two of you had ended up bickering the entire class—pulling out quotes from nearly every chapter of Pride and Prejudice before the class president had to intervene, and your teacher had sent you both to detention.

You had glared at him once, and he’d fallen head over heels.

These violent delights have violent ends, he’d mused in his head back then—Romeo and Juliet—and with the murderous stare Minho sometimes caught you fixing him with, he was willing to bet that you were wishing a violent end on him, too.

He couldn’t pen a love letter to save his life, either— and so, he resorted to pettily glaring at any admirer that approached your locker like Gandalf—you shall not pass—until they backed off. Minho didn’t think you would appreciate him revealing that, either. The more he thought about it, the more ridiculous his actions seemed—and like a poorly written plot twist, you had ended up stumbling back into his life again. Never in his life, however, did Minho think that Pablo Neruda would become his wingman. Glancing down at his portrait on the back cover of the book, Minho could almost imagine the Chilean poet pointing his pen threateningly: “Don’t screw this up.”

“Hey, Minho?” He snapped out of his thoughts to see you waving your hand at him from the other side of your book bag. “You were right. I don’t get any of Dickinson’s poems.”

Your words took a moment to register, Minho caught off-guard by the soft golden hour light illuminating your pretty features. You waved your hand in his face again, and he blinked, breath caught in his throat. Almost tripping over his tongue, he finally quipped, “How on earth are you passing AP English?”

You glowered and smacked his shoulder, the near-silent library ringing with Minho’s laughter once again.

With a week left to the deadline, you were planted at your desk in your room, the wastebasket littered with crumpled up half-sheets of notebook paper. To your dismay, none of the words seemed to be coming out the way you wanted them to. Gnawing the back of your pencil in frustration, you dumped the contents of your book bag onto the desk, and spotted your latest library book—100 Love Sonnets, by Pablo Neruda. Inexplicably, out of all the poets Minho had introduced to you, you always found yourself coming back to him.

Flipping through the well-thumbed pages, your fingers stopped at one titled Sonnet XVII. “I love you without knowing how,” your eyes scanned the verse curiously, “or when, or from where. I love you simply…”

It was the poem Minho had quoted that evening in the library, you realized, heart skipping a beat. “...without problems or pride / I love you in this way, because I do not know any other way of loving / but this, in which there is no I or you / so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand / so intimate that when I fall asleep, your eyes close.”

With a sigh, you buried your head in your arms, lying face-down onto the desk. Maybe the reason why you instinctively disliked reading love poems so much was because of the sheer sincerity of them all. You envied their ability to put feelings into words—with unabashed, unapologetic ardour, and be celebrated for it, to boot. Eyes scanning the verses again, your mind wandered to the way Minho’s eyes had lit up as he’d explained the lines to you, his brow furrowed in focus.

At Levanter High, you had grown used to being pushed around and out of the spotlight. It was either the popular girls and their backhanded compliments, or the boys who spoke to you condescendingly just to a) get you to do their homework, or b) get in your pants. But Minho had always taken you seriously, albeit while driving you half-insane with his infuriating remarks. And as much as you hated to admit it, that same fiery look in his eyes whenever he got worked up—so different from his usual reserved facade in front of the teachers and swooning students—had always made your heart skip a beat. In tenth grade—back when he seemed to pick a fight with you nearly every English class until Bang Chan had to hold the two of you back from killing each other—you’d thought you’d successfully quashed your feelings for the mild-voiced, hazel-eyed librarian. Yet every time he spoke, he left you feeling vulnerable, disarmed, and you were back—though you refused to admit it—to square one.

“‘I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,’” you whispered, fingers tracing the words on the paper. Feeling a sudden surge—of confidence, or simply exasperation, you weren’t sure—you seized the pen and began scribbling on a new piece of paper. For years, you’d been afraid to face your feelings, terrified of the humiliation if Hana—or anyone at school—found out. But if getting them all out in one cheesy, hot mess of a love letter could give you some closure, you thought tensely, you were more than happy to oblige. You would write it all out under the guise of a love poem, and then it would never have to see the light of day again.

Words began coming to your head like a floodgate had been thrown wide open, and you began scrawling onto the page. “‘I love you as the plant that never blooms, but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers,’” you quoted thoughtfully as you drafted your own poem. In a way, it felt cathartic—you could get all your feelings out, pass it off as an assignment, and never think about the forbidden fruit again. For all you knew, it was a win-win situation. The pen kept wobbling, ink spilling out haphazardly and skipping, but you relaxed slightly. Maybe this assignment wasn’t too bad, after all.

Head filled to the brim with poetry, you set the pen down and dozed off.

“You’re not coming to the football game?” Lia flashed puppy eyes at you, and you smacked her hand playfully, swiping a french fry from her plate.

“Lia, since when have I ever gone to one?” The two of you had dropped by the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe for a quick pick-me-up during lunch hour, but one smile from the cute waiter—Yang Jeongin, if you remembered his name correctly—had dazzled Lia into ordering an extra burger combo, complete with a plate of fries. “Sports and crowds—not my thing. And I have an English project due the next day.”

She pouted. “Oh, come on! Knowing you, you’ve probably already finished it by now.”

You grinned, thinking back to your love poem and fighting the urge to cringe. You’d read it the morning after, and it had taken every fibre in your being to hold yourself back from ripping it to shreds. Piercing, catlike eyes, you’d written in one line. Silver spectacles. Long fingers on dusty pages. Shuddering, you’d stuffed it into the Neruda book before banishing them both to your locker and going about your day. Love poems are supposed to be cheesy, y/n, suck it up. It’ll only be this one time. Besides, it wasn’t like anyone other than your teacher would ever read it.

When you dropped by the library after school, you spotted Hana’s familiar figure by one of the cubicles. As she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a laugh muted by the plexiglass windows, you saw that she was talking to a grinning Minho.

“Are you sure you’re not coming to the game on Thursday?” Hana was whining as you pushed open the doors to the library. She patted his arms playfully. “You could be on the football team if you wanted to, you know! Why don’t you try?”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not that quick on my feet.”

“Well, tell you what. They’re having a party at Hyunjin’s place right after—his parents are out of town. If you don’t feel like coming to the game, at least join us at the afterparty to loosen up a little—have a little fun.” She blew him a kiss and stood, throwing her purse over her shoulder and spotting you. You instinctively froze, bracing yourself for whatever slew of insults she had for you today, but all Hana did was beam and wave at you.

As she passed you by the door, she threw you a knowing wink. “Have fun on your little study date!”

Her words made your ears grow hot again, but to your surprise, there was no trace of venom in her voice — only a lighthearted teasing, as if she had been your friend all along. Hana really did look sweet when she smiled genuinely, and you could see why she had so many people easily wrapped around her finger. Maybe people do change. Or she’s just in a good mood. Before you could shrug and turn away, you sensed Minho’s presence behind you and yelped.

He held his hands up in mock surrender, and you could swear he was suppressing a laugh. “Here to work on your project again?”

Hana’s strange exchange with you on her way out had left your mind reeling, and you scrambled to form coherent sentences. “No, I, um—I actually finished it last night. I just…” Thought I’d just drop by to say hi. But your pride turned the words to mush before they had even formed, and you ended up trailing off awkwardly.

“Really?” There was a flash of disappointment in his face, then Minho’s gaze landed on the book-borrowing register on the front desk. “Right—your book is due today. Did you want to return it?”

Your eyes widened, silently cursing at your own forgetfulness. “Um—yes,” you lied, pretending to search in your bag before giving an awkward laugh. “Yep. I think it’s in my locker—let me go get it.”

After jogging to the other side of the school, you flung open the bottom locker, making another mental note to replace your missing lock. Still catching your breath, your hand sifted through the notes and textbooks before coming up empty. Where is it? You could swear you remembered putting it there, unless—

Breath catching in your throat, you shut the locker with a mortified bang. The English classroom. You practically sprinted down the hallways, earning another dirty look from the janitor as you raced past. Bang Chan looked up in alarm when you nearly crashed into the English classroom door. The entire room was empty, save for the class president, who looked like he was helping to file the teacher’s papers.

“Where’s the fire?” He asked jokingly as your eyes frantically raked the room.

“Have you—seen a book, by any chance? 100 Love Sonnets. Pablo Neruda.”

Chan frowned. “We shelve all the books after class, and if it’s one we don’t recognize, we keep it until the students come back in the morning.” He shrugged. “I don’t remember seeing anything.”

Your heart sank, and you saw the corners of Chan’s mouth lift bemusedly.

“What’s the hurry, anyway? I thought you hated love po—”

With a groan of frustration, you left the baffled class president staring after you as you turned on your heel and back into the hallway. Your mind was racing, panic making your ears buzz. The love letter’s in there. Where the hell did I put it? You sprinted to the Sunshine Coffee Shoppe next, but only got an apologetic shrug from Jeongin even after you’d scoured every nook and cranny of the diner. The sun was already beginning to set as you trudged, defeated, back to the school. Spotting the library’s dim windows in the distance, you wrestled with your options — if it weren’t for that cursed love letter, you could’ve probably just told Minho you’d misplaced it. But now the book—along with everything you’d never dared to tell anyone, crammed onto a sheet of notebook paper—could be anywhere, and there was no way in hell you were going to stop looking until you found it. Heart heavy with dread, you did a full 180 and began walking home.

It was no use. You’d practically pulled an all-nighter tearing your room apart searching for the book— and then, the better part of the following day running around town. But no matter where you looked—the record shop, Blockbuster’s, or even the laundromat—you came up empty.

It’s like it’s disappeared entirely, you thought as the lunch ladies piled your tray with a few sad-looking burritos. The cafeteria was buzzing with teenagers jittery with caffeine and sugar, and you had to duck as a boy chucked an apple at another across the room. You passed the cheerleaders’ table, trying to avoid eye contact, but their giggly conversation carried over the chaotic commotion.

“Did you see how cute Hyunjin looked today on the field?”

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend? Maybe Hana can talk to him for us—if he doesn’t fall for her first.” The blonde cheerleader that had spoken nudged the older girl insistently.

“Me?” There was a smile in Hana’s voice. You could feel her eyes on you as she mused, “Oh, I don’t know, Hyunjin’s not my type. I much prefer boys with—how should I put it—catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long fingers perfect for turning dusty pages…” She clasped her hands together in mock adoration, and her friends erupted in giggles.

“What the hell was that? Sounds like a cheesy love poem.”

You had frozen stiff as soon as she had uttered the words, stunned eyes finding Hana’s only a couple feet away. She gave you a winning smile—the same one you’d deemed friendly just a couple days ago—and winked.

“Give me my book back.”

You pulled her aside after the last bell had rung, voice shaking. Hana only tilted her head innocently, eyes round as a puppy’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Before you could spit a biting retort back at her, the taller cheerleader tapped her chin thoughtfully with one bejewelled nail. “But I might think harder if...I got a little something in return.”

You grit your teeth. “What do you want?”

“Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party as my date,” Hana beamed, “and tell the office you want to change your locker.”

“You’re crazy,” you blurted, and her face immediately darkened. Dropping her voice, she leaned in closer, until her voice was right beside your ear.

“Oh, I can be even crazier. What would happen if I made copies of this little letter on Monday, hm? Or published it in the school paper for everyone to read? I’m sure Han Jisung would love that—”

Your eyes trailed down to the slip of paper she’d pulled out of her purse, the sight of your own familiar handwriting making panic surge through your veins like ice. Snatching it from her hand, you quickly began tearing it apart before noticing the calm smirk on Hana’s face.

“Photocopy, silly,” she giggled in a sing-song voice as you peered more closely at the shredded pieces, hands shaking. “Oh, all right, don’t cry. If you want the original so badly…” she leaned in again, cruel smile on her lips. “Then you might want to look in the library.”

Eyes widening, you immediately pushed her away and bolted for the stairs. “Don’t forget the deal! Thursday night,” Hana called after you, and you broke into a run.

Most of the classrooms were already empty, their dark windows reflecting your own face back at you as you hurtled past them. Your heart pounded in your chest as the library finally came into view at the end of the hallway, but you nearly came to a screeching halt when you saw that the lights had been turned off. Had Minho gone home early? Chewing your lip anxiously, you peered past the plexiglass. Aisles empty, books all shelved neatly, chairs stacked. The library was quiet as a tomb. Desperately, you tried the knob—and to your surprise, the door creaked open. Maybe he forgot to lock it. You had nothing to lose. Holding your breath, you slipped in.

Even the faint click of the door closing again sounded deafening. You rifled through the front desk first, dropping to a crouch as you inspected the carts and borrowing-bin. To your dismay, they were all empty—they must have all been re-shelved already. Heart sinking, you began tip-toeing through the shelves, fingers trembling as they ran over the laminated Dewey Decimal labels. Please, please, please…

You reached the poetry section at the back of the library, eyes squinting to try and read the spines of the books under shrouds of shadows. Poets— Nash. Naidu. Nemerov…

“Neruda,” you gasped, eyes falling on the book you had practically gone through hell searching for. 100 Love Sonnets. Almost sobbing in sheer relief, you reached out to grab it—just as another hand shot out from beside you. Your yelp of surprise broke the still, dim quiet, and you didn’t have to look up to know who the warm, pale fingers belonged to.

“Care to explain what you’re doing here?”

Spectacles glinting under the twilight, one hand in his pocket, nonchalant as ever, was the boy that had gotten you into this mess. Lee Minho.

As you stared back at him, mouth slightly agape, you felt as though your entire world was balancing precariously over a yawning abyss— as if one wrong move would send everything you’d spent the last two months—no, the last four years—repatching. You swallowed hard. His hand had landed a split-second later than yours, holding both you and the book in place, and you tried to ignore the feeling of his warm fingers on your chilled skin. Forcefully, you yanked the book from the shelves and out of his grasp. “The—book. I-I realised I still needed it for the project. It’s due this Friday, you know.”

He raised his eyebrows, unconvinced. “Today’s only Wednesday. Why not come back tomorrow morning?”

Shit. “I, um, promised Lia I’d go with her to the game tomorrow,” you fibbed, flipping through the book quickly, ready to grab any stray piece of paper that flew out. Nothing. “So I—need to finish the assignment today. Could you renew it for me?” Trying to plaster on an unbothered smile, you flipped through the book again. Still nothing. Had Hana lied to you?

In your peripheral, you saw Minho slowly shift his weight, crossing his arms as he mused, “Well, I’m not too sure about that. We’re getting...careful about letting students borrow books for too long. People tend to leave some...strange things in them.”

Your eyes snapped up, fingers freezing on the fluttering pages. “What—then did you—see anything? S-strange, I mean.”

A flicker of amusement passed through Minho’s eyes, and then it was gone. He cleared his throat, humming thoughtfully. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

The strange intensity of his gaze seemed to corner you into the shadows, and you swore your heart was pounding so hard it seemed to echo through the room. “Nothing,” you stammered, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “I mean, I just—accidentally left—” Kill me now. You shook your head rapidly. “N-nevermind. I’m heading home.”

“Y/N—”

“Oh, one more thing.” You turned, remembering Hana’s sly words to you back in the stairwell. “You’re invited to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, after the game on Thursday.” Then, hoping you sounded more convincing than you felt, “Hana’s really counting on you to be her date.”

Minho chuckled. “You know I go to parties as often as you do.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was no malice in his words, only that same, airy indifference Minho always carried himself with. “Please? Hana—I mean, it would make her really happy if you went.”

“Would you be happy?”

The strange question caught you off guard, making you look up again. Minho was no longer smiling. His hand was still resting lightly over the missing space the book had left on the shelf, and his expression looked strangely lost under the twilit sky.

“Would it make you happy if I went?” He repeated, and you felt your mouth go dry.

Make your librarian boy come to Hwang Hyunjin’s party, and I won’t publish your little love letter for everyone to see on Monday. You nodded firmly, laughing in an attempt to ease the strange atmosphere that had settled over the two of you once again. “Y-yeah. Ecstatic.”

You turned on your heel, breath leaving your lips in a shaky sigh. If the poem wasn’t in the book, where on earth could it be? Option one: It had fallen out somewhere along the way, and hadn’t fallen into anyone’s hands. The best case scenario. Option two: Hana had been playing with you again, and she had had the original all along. Option three…

“By the way, Hana told me not to give this to you.”

You whirled around in surprise, and your eyes landed on a horribly familiar piece of notebook paper dangling from Minho’s fingers. Option three, damn it all. Mortified, you snatched it from his hand, crumpling it into your fist as he laughed lightly.

“It’s a very good poem.”

“Shut up, Lee Minho,” you wailed, wishing the ground would just swallow you up and bury you six feet under for all of eternity. “It’s a cheesy, cliché wreck.”

He hummed in amusement. “What were you writing about?”

Paralyzed, your eyes flickered towards the window before sputtering, “The—sunset. Figurative approach, you know? Emily Dickinson-inspired—”

“Mm. Then what was that quote about—” He tilted his head in thought, fingers snapping. “Catlike eyes, silver spectacles, and long—” He stopped when you plugged your ears instinctively, eyes glowering at him in disbelief. If looks could kill, Minho was sure he’d now have died more times than the characters in a Shakespearean tragedy. “—was that about the sunset, too?”

“Of course,” you snapped, your voice a tad too pitchy for your liking. Damn Lee Minho and his knack for memorizing things. “Haven’t you ever heard of extended metaphors? Rest assured, Lee Minho—I will never, ever, ever—have feelings for you.” You crumpled the sheet of poetry into a ball as you spoke with a note of finality, jamming it into your back pocket for good riddance.

Minho looked unfazed, the light curve of a knowing smile playing on his lips. After a moment, he took a step towards you, making you stumble back in alarm. “‘You can cut all the flowers,” he mused, glancing down at the crumpled love letter, “‘but you cannot stop spring from coming.’”

“Wh-wha—”

“Neruda quote. Tell me if I’m making you uncomfortable, and I’ll stop,” he murmured, eyes growing serious for a moment before his lips twitched with mirth, “but something tells me I deserve to hear more about that sunset from your poem.”

Gulping, you felt hot tears brimming in your eyes, and suddenly wished you were anywhere but here. This confrontation had been your worst nightmare, what you had always wanted to avoid. Your pride’ll be the end of you, y/n, you remembered Lia remarking when you’d sworn up and down that your feelings for Lee Minho were a thing of the past. And it was true—your pride had always gotten the better of you. You were a hypocrite, and a terrible one at that—always telling yourself you had gotten over that stupid, ninth-grade heartbreak, before unravelling into a nervous mess whenever Minho so much as threw a glance at you. And now, you could feel everything you’d feebly repressed for the last four years caving in. Crashing down on you like an avalanche of cheap supermarket chocolates.

“It was about you. You, alright?” You hissed, voice coming out more wounded, rather than venomous like you’d intended. “There. Are you happy now?” You were glad the shadows hid the humiliated tears beginning to roll down your cheeks, and wiped at your eyes furiously. Damn it all. So much for not crying.

“Then why didn’t you—”

“Say anything?” You breathed a short laugh. “Because I didn’t want to see you just throw it out again, okay?”

The silence that met your words was deafening, and when you finally mustered the courage to lift your gaze you saw that Minho’s look of disbelief mirrored your own.

“'Again?'”

Damn Lee Minho and his two-faced ass. Had he already forgotten? “In ninth grade. I left you a—stupid love letter in your locker, with all your other Valentines. Then I s-saw you throwing them all out, behind the school.”

“But I read every name on the cards,” Minho insisted, running a hand through his tousled hair. I left you—a stupid love letter in your locker. Your words sent his head spinning, and he felt his flustered cheeks heat up as he mumbled, “I’ve never—seen yours on any of them.”

Now it was your turn to blink in confusion. Minho’s brow furrowed in vague recollection. “But I did see Hana pulling an envelope out from my locker that day. She said that—she’d heard someone had been sending chain mail on Valentine’s Day, so she was helping the principal clean them up from people’s lockers.”

Hana? Your mind flashed to the missing locks, and the cheerleader that always seemed to be hanging around your locker, and suddenly everything dawned on you. “What did the envelope look like?”

“A corner store card. With—”

“Candy hearts. Right.” You muttered, watching Minho nod slowly. Your anger faltered slightly, feeling a slight shame wash over you, but you weren’t willing to give up just yet. “That still doesn’t explain why you dump out all the gifts you get every year.”

He sighed. “Look. Why would I keep love letters from people I don’t like? That’s just...narcissistic. And I don’t...like chocolate, either,” he added as an afterthought, and you couldn’t help exhaling a short laugh at his ridiculously blunt sentence. Another silence fell between the two of you, the angry tension in the air replaced with an almost childish awkwardness.

“I really did like the poem,” Minho spoke tentatively after what felt like an eternity, and you buried your head in your hands.

“Shut up, Lee Minho, oh my g—”

“And I wouldn’t have thrown it out.” The soft edge to his voice made you stop, peeking out of your fingers to look at him questioningly.

“Why not?” You asked, swallowing hard. “You said keeping letters from someone you don’t like would be narcissistic.”

He was barely a foot away, and the sheer proximity of his face from yours made your stomach flop—with irritation or butterflies, you weren’t sure you wanted to find out. Nonetheless, a tiny voice at the back of your head told you that you were heading towards the latter.

“You know, for someone who reads so many books, you sure are dense,” Minho murmured, shaking his head.

“Wh—”

“I throw out all my Valentines every year because I never see your name on them, alright?” His expression was as careless as ever—that cool, calm facade he wore like a suit of armour—but you didn’t miss the slight tremor in his voice, the flicker of apprehension in his eyes. Lee Minho, you realized with a jolt, was nervous. “I...only ever wanted to receive one from you.”

Your eyes widened, hands lowering from your face in shock. The book tumbled from under your arm to the ground. “But—Hana always told me about how much you hated me.”

“Hmm.” He dropped down to pick it up before fixing his piercing eyes on yours. “Funny. She’s been telling me the same about you. How you’re a two-faced, back-stabbing...such-and-such,” he smiled at the indignant look on your face before his face grew serious. “You’ve always let people walk all over you, and you never retaliate. It’s both admirable and frustrating to watch.”

“I’m not good at confrontation,” you mumbled, still shifting your weight from one leg to the other nervously. “Every time I think I’ve finally got the guts to try and say something back, I...I get all terrified that the words’ll jumble up and I-I’ll start to cry like an idiot again—”

“You’re not an idiot,” he interrupted sternly, “You’re probably more clever—and genuine—than everyone in our grade combined. Your thesis was brilliant.”

You snorted incredulously. “Then why did you keep attacking it every class?”

“It was the only time I could get you to talk to me.”

“Weirdo,” you muttered, but you couldn’t find it in you to make the word sound insulting anymore. Minho chuckled, hand grazing yours as he handed the book back to you. You didn’t move your hand away, and neither did he.

“It is weird. I must be out of my mind. Whenever you look at me, it’s like the whole world stops, and suddenly every cheesy line of poetry I’ve ever read just seems to make sense.”

Your heart was pounding so hard you were more than certain Minho could hear it. The way he was looking at you was nearly overwhelming, stomach fluttering with a feeling so strange and foreign it terrified you. Never in your wildest dreams had you thought that you would be here, in this delicate, unreal moment, and you felt all your insecurities threatening to swallow you up again. Out of everyone in the school, he likes you? A voice snickered at the back of your mind. Don’t kid yourself.

Shrinking away, you mumbled, “Y-you—don’t have to say stuff like that, you know. I mean, i-if you feel bad because of the letter and everything, you don’t have to pretend you lik—”

There was a flash of an exasperated smile on Minho’s lips. Before you could finish, his hand reached to pull your chin towards him again, and suddenly his mouth was pressed flush to yours. You froze, lips parting in surprise, but the kiss was light—barely even a brush of soft skin, and bringing with it the faint scent of vanilla and old books. Minho pulled away almost as quickly as he’d pulled you in, stammering, “I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

That seemed to send what was left of your hesitation crumbling into dust. You grabbed the collar of his dress shirt to pull him back in, and the library fell silent again.

Minho kissed the way he talked—soft but firm, and always leaving you struggling to catch your breath. Each touch had the growing intensity of something long overdue, starting out careful—as though you were treading over the newly shattered, four-year-old misunderstandings of one another—before your hands instinctively tangled in his hair and Minho pulled you in impossibly closer. You could feel his heartbeat pressed against yours, the crumpled poem and Neruda’s sonnets long forgotten on the carpeted ground.

The click of the library door opening sent the two of you flying apart, Minho hitting his head on the shelf with a comical thud. The kiss left you dazed and out of breath, and Minho’s face was flushed as both of you whipped around to see a livid Hana at the front of the library. Mouth opening and closing in silent fury, she shot you a death glare before storming out the door, leaving both you and Minho blinking after her.

Several moments passed, the whiplash of the unexpected interruption having sent both of your heads reeling. Then, the two of you broke into stunned laughter, slowly sliding down to the carpet as you doubled over in giggles.

When you finally stopped laughing at the ridiculousness of it all, Minho’s gaze was fixed fondly on your face. You poked his cheek. “You’re blushing, asshole.”

He didn’t respond, eyes falling to your lips again, and you felt your own face flush. “W-what?”

Minho grinned. “And you have drool on your chin again.”

“Hey, Minho! Minho, you won’t believe this!”

That enthusiastic voice belonged to none other than Han Jisung—voice of Levanter High’s morning announcements, and notorious school gossip. He hurtled down the bustling hall towards you and Minho, hunching over with his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

“Shit, ‘sung—did you kill somebody?”

The dark-haired boy shook his head rapidly. “Did you see the school newspaper?”

Your mouth went dry, Hana’s lingering threats still ringing clear in your ears. Jisung continued excitedly, “Two people submitted anonymous love poems over the weekend—at the same time! Can you believe it? I’m supposed to cover it on the announcements in a bit!”

Two? You peered at Minho, who hadn’t looked at you, and glimpsed a knowing glint in his eyes. “W-who submitted them?”

“Well, Lee Hana was handing out copies of the first one to everyone first thing this morning. But when I showed her the other one, she refused to tell me who the first belonged to.” He pouted.

Minho looked like he was trying hard not to laugh. “Do you have a copy of the paper, ‘sung?”

The dark-haired boy grinned. “Yeah, ‘course! You guys can have mine. See ya!”

As Jisung disappeared into the crowd of students, you turned back to Minho. He had been in the middle of putting a new lock on your locker, and was now setting the combination on his own. “They’re matching,” he’d pointed out when you’d gone into town together to buy them, and you’d groaned.

“Gro-oss.” The old, PDA-hating you would have probably thrown them away on the spot, but now the sight made you smile like a dork. If you can’t beat em, join ‘em.

You looked down to read the papers Jisung had deposited into your hands. Sure enough, on the left column, you spotted a photocopy of your own love letter. But on the right, there was a completely new one—and you had a sneaking suspicion you knew who the anonymous writer was.

“You know, Minho,” you deadpanned, “I don’t think either of us are cut out to be poets.”

“I stayed up all night writing that love letter, you know!” Minho exclaimed indignantly, and you just shook your head laughing. “But you’re right. I could feel Neruda turning in his grave.”

“You’re going to be the end of me, Lee Minho.”

His face broke into a mischievous grin at that, pinning you playfully to the lockers and stealing another kiss as you yelped in surprise.

“Can it be a happy ending?”

[writemekpop]

Soul Sucker | Lee Taeyong

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader

Summary: “Spread your legs,” Taeyong commanded. Your vampire boyfriend needs human blood, tonight. You offer him your body... but you don't know the price you're paying. 

Genre: Vampire!Taeyong, Horror(ish), Smut

Word Count: 1.1k

Warning: Blood, sex, vampires

You normally had to run to keep up with Taeyong’s long strides, but tonight, he was trailing behind you. 

“Baby? You alright?” you asked. 

You turned around, and gasped, Taeyong was slumped against the wall. He was clutching his throat in agony, his skin sickly pale. 

Taeyong was trying to hide it from you, but you knew it’d been too long since he last drank human blood. 

When Taeyong saw you staring, he straightened himself up. “I’m- I’m fine, Y/n.” His voice was gruff, choked out through gritted teeth. If there was one thing you knew about vampires, it was that they hated showing weakness. 

“You gulped. “Y-you know… you can always d-drink from me.”

Taeyong’s eyes snapped up to your face. “I would never,” he snarled.

You placed your hand on his chest, feeling a heady rush of courage. “I want you to drink my blood, Taeyong. I’m asking you.”

Taeyong slammed his head back against the wall, the concrete cracking as if it was cardboard under his strength. “Stop tempting me, Y/n. You know I won’t be able to control myself if I begin.”

You weren’t put off. Taeyong had saved you at your life’s lowest point, when you would walk into bars full of monsters and throw yourself at the first one you saw. It was your turn to return the favour. 

“My body is yours, Taeyong. Take it.”  

An animal sound left Taeyong’s throat, halfway between a growl and a moan. The sound awoke something inside you. You watched, breath frozen, as the whites of his eyes turned pitch black. 

“Fine,” he said. “But never again.”

High on adrenaline, you pulled on his arm. “I know just the place.” 

Taeyong had never been to your house, despite you being together for a year. He followed you all the way up your driveway, slinking in the shadows as you unlocked your front door. 

You entered the house and kicked off your heels. But when you turned around, Taeyong was still standing outside the house. 

“What’s the matter?” you asked. “Why aren’t you coming inside?”

Taeyong’s eyes darted around nervously. “Don’t you know? I can’t come in unless… you invite me in.”

Your mouth fell open. “Oh.”

You stepped forwards and took his hand. “Come inside. What’s mine is yours.” You gently pulled him across the threshold into your house. 

You didn’t waste any time, and took Taeyong straight into your bedroom.

“How do you want me?” you asked, unbuttoning your jacket and throwing it across the chair. 

Taeyong groaned. “It’s going to hurt, you know.” 

“I’m a big girl,” you said, gazing at him through your lashes. “I can take it.” You and Taeyong used these cliched come-ons, echoes from old movies, to pretend that this was normal. That every boyfriend was hungry for their girlfriend in more than one way. You unzipped your dress and pulled it over your head, leaving you in just your red lace bra and panties. 

Taeyong’s dark eyes raked over your body. He hissed. 

“Spread your legs,” he commanded, voice low. You’d never seen him like this before. 

Adrenaline pulsed through your veins as you clambered onto the bed and lay your head on the pillow.

Taeyong got onto the bed and shuffled in between your legs. “I can hear your heart racing,” he said. “I can smell your excitement.” 

You gulped. Taeyong pressed his hands into the softness of your thighs, slowly spreading them apart. In the few times that you’d been intimate before, Taeyong had never fully let himself go. Only now did you feel the pulsing need inside you for all of Taeyong: human, vampire, everything. 

Taeyong’s gaze landed at a spot on your inner thigh. He leaned in - grazing his teeth against your skin. “Do not fear, darling. I will stop before…” He stopped mid-sentence. But you knew what he meant. Before… you died.  

Taeyong’s lips parted. And that’s when you saw them – his fangs. This was the first time you’d seen them unsheathed. 

In that moment, pure fear ripped through your body. 

But it was too late now. 

Because the next second, Taeyong lurched forward and sank his teeth into your thigh. 

Deep moans emitted from Taeyong’s throat as he sucked. His cool fingers pressed into your skin, leaving finger-shaped bruises. 

Soon, the initial sting faded into a dull ache. 

You watched your boyfriend in awe. His skin was getting smoother and more supple with every drop he drank, as if your blood was rejuvenating him. Taeyong was swelling in other places too. After all, his face was just inches away from your core. 

Taeyong kept on drinking, and now, the blood loss was beginning to affect you. 

Soon, your head started to spin. You felt sickly cold, like you were about to faint. 

You reached down and tried to push Taeyong’s head off your thigh, but he wouldn’t budge.

“S-stop!” you cried, or at least you think you did, you were too weak to tell. You tried to kick him off, but Taeyong’s grip was too strong. 

The last thing you heard was Taeyong moan… before you slipped into a cold, dark, sleep.  

---

When you woke up, your head was pounding. 

It took you a few seconds to realise that you were tucked up in the duvet, wearing your purple tie-die pyjamas. Had Taeyong dressed you? 

You opened one eye to see Taeyong pacing at the foot of your bed, so fast he was a blur to your human eyes. Taeyong had to be upset to forget to act human around you. 

“T-tae,” you croaked. 

Taeyong’s head snapped in your direction, and the next second, he appeared by your side, with only a gust of wind as proof of how fast he had moved.

“Oh my sweet angel, what have I done?” he moaned. 

Taeyong no longer looked sick - now he looked as devastatingly handsome as the night you’d first met him. 

“How are you feeling?” Taeyong asked, pressing his cool lips to your forehead.

“A little weak,” you murmured. “But I’ve got you. That’s enough.” 

Taeyong stroked your cheek. “I’m so sorry, my darling. In my four hundred years on this earth, I’ve never lost control like that… your blood, it’s irresistible.”

You shuffled, allowing Taeyong to lie beside you. 

“I know how you can make it up to me,” you whispered, toying with the top button of his black shirt. 

“And how is that?” Taeyong murmured, his fingers slipping under your T shirt.

“Fuck me.” 

—

MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[sorryimananti-romantic]

Take Me Home (Chapter 3)

faerieprince!park seonghwa x oc (yena)

genre and warnings: fantasy, fluff, angst, violence warning

word count: ~21k

synopsis: prince seonghwa, the faerie prince of dark, has been having dreams about his own death by the hands of his friend, prince hongjoong of light, his only hope the girl with an incredibly familiar face appearing in those dreams telling him she'd go back in time to save him- the girl being yena, who's lived her life without memories of her childhood and a block in her mind, now out on a journey to get herself treated, where she'll encounter the princes and find her life changed in ways she never thought, discovering her powers and her soulmate along the way, love strong enough to survive through multiple timelines.

series masterlist

"Why do I smell Yeosang on her?"

Yena gaped at Prince Wooyoung, and after Jongho and San came to their senses, San took the Prince in a chokehold.

"Who-" slap "Told-" slap "You-" slap-

"Stop!" Wooyoung screamed and Jongho laughed out loud, Yena watching in horror.

"To-" slap "Be-" slap "Such-" slap "A-" slap "Big. Mouth!"

Wooyoung broke free, "It's not like I know anything! Why can't I say it out loud?"

"Stop, San," Yena looked at the Prince of Air, "What did you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Wooyoung straightened his clothes, looking pointedly at San. "I smell Rukbat on you. You must have lived there earlier, you smell more like Fomalhaut but because Rukbat is my city, I had to point it out."

"And what exactly did you mean by the Yeosang part?" Jongho asked carefully.

"Exactly that too. And what's with her magic? You feel it too, don't you?" He looked from San to Jongho. They nodded, and the three went to stare at Yena who started to feel uncomfortable- she was visibly squirming. 

"You're not hungry yet, are you?" San asked, and Wooyoung shook his head. "You might not be hungry anymore after we tell you about Yena."

And so, seated on the grass like before, San quickly explained how he met Yena and what had happened so far, including the recent flashbacks she had. Wooyoung's gaze was sharp as he scanned her every now and then, sniffing the air as if for lies. 

"Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Wooyoung asked, and San and Jongho nodded. 

"Please, tell me," Yena almost whimpered. She was getting impatient now.

"If that's General Lee's brother- because mind you, the illusion magic belongs only to that bloodline, that means General Lee's son... there is a possibility that he is alive?"

San and Jongho nodded, and Wooyoung looked at Yena as he continued, "And if she has the magic of dimensions, and maybe time travel too- I know the Kang bloodline never tried the time magic because it was risky but that didn't mean they wouldn't have been able to- and the fact that she smells like Yeosang- even looks like him, and the colour of their magic is the same..."

Yena felt dread creep up on her and was tempted to throw up again. "What are you getting at?"

"And he called her princess. Saying she could be queen. Quite convenient that she has no memories about her family, huh? Doesn't even remember her surname?" San shook his head.

"She might be the lost twin. Oh, god," Wooyoung looked at the sky, and Yena's heart sank.

"The lost twin? The lost twin?"

"One and only," San pursed his lips. 

"But... you said twins are rare, and fraternal twins are even rarer. Are you sure the lost twin was a girl?"

"Only the elder Princes and I know the gender of the twin," Wooyoung told her. "And it was a 'she', alright."

"Impossible," Yena breathed. It made sense- she felt the dots were connecting. But there was still something missing.

"Only Yeosang would be able to confirm if you are, so don't let your hopes get up too much," San told her. Upon asking how, he said, "He'll be able to feel it. If you are, even you would be able to feel it. Plus he did say there's something else that would confirm it, but he never told us. He never even told us your name- his twin's name."

"Why?" Yena asked. 

"Security purposes," Wooyoung said, "The twin's name was a unique one- they didn't want random faeries to come and claim that they were the lost twin. Of course, they don't know that they would never be able to fake it, since Yeosang would identify in an instance."

Yeosang. Of Spirit. Her possible twin sibling.

"What do we do?" Yena asked.

"Let's not delay it further," Wooyoung suggested. "Let's go tomorrow, find the place you were kept in when you were in the mountains of Rukbat. As soon as we find clues, we move to Antares and work on your magic. Seonghwa and Yunho arrive in Antares in two days, and Mingi and Yeosang arrive in a week."

One week, Yena thought. 

"Let's just get to Rukbat first and decide from there," San suggested and they nodded. 

Yena's stomach growled, and she shut her eyes in embarrassment. 

"Someone's hungry after killing my hunger!" Wooyoung joked and Yena stifled her laugh. 

"I'm sorry," Yena shrugged. "Your bad."

"Hey!" Wooyoung laughed. "Even that attitude is like Yeosang's!"

"Shut your trap, Wooyoung!" San scolded. "We won't speak about this until we reach Antares, okay? I have a feeling we'll be having some uninvited guests soon..."

Jongho got up, helping Yena up, "Let's eat dinner first before we worry about that."

—---------------------------

After dinner that night, the three Princes decided they would be travelling by themselves, with Yena. The stakes were too high and if Yena was indeed the lost twin- the lost Princess, they could trust absolutely no one, even if it was their court- the people they trusted the most. The only information they gave to their court- San to Seokmin and Mingyu, and Jongho to Hyungwon and Changkyun- was that they were to leave for the castle in Rukbat tomorrow, and the Princes would join them later. 

Wooyoung's own court had been quite curious about why their prince had to travel alone. Siyeon- his Right Hand and Jeongin- the Captain of the Guard had been quite hesitant, but Wooyoung insisted that they obey before he had to pull rank. So with a heavy heart, they did.

Sana was to leave with Eunha back to Altarf, and she bade her good luck and goodbye for her journey ahead, showering Yena with one too many hugs and reminding her again and again that she could come back to them anytime- if not as a patient, then as a friend. Yena promised she would.

The Princes decided their route- they would have to cross the River Al Ard twice- once to get to Zubenelakrab, which bordered Wooyoung's kingdom, and once to reach the mountains at the outskirts of Rukbat. Jongho said he would arrange for fur coats as it would be quite cold in the mountains. 

"You could just turn into a bear," San commented.

"We could all just turn into animals, but what about Yena?" Jongho asked, looking at her, "Have you ever tried shifting?"

"I don't know if I can?" Yena wondered. "How do you know what animal form you have?"

"It's usually one from our parents," Wooyoung said, "My mom was a hawk. San's mom was a fox, and Jongho's dad was a bear."

"Oh... What about Prince Yeosang?" Yena asked, and the three met eyes.

"He's a meerkat- he got that from his dad, so the lost twin should be a meerkat or something else entirely."

"Oh... a meerkat sounds... funny.." Yena trailed and the three ended up bursting in laughter.

"You have to see when he walks as a meerkat!" Wooyoung was howling. "It's hilarious!"

"You should have been a hyena, the way you're laughing-" Yena shook her head, making them laugh even harder. 

"Anyways," San began. "The way your magic is being constrained, you could probably do a lot more than you can already, even if you aren't the twin. Maybe you'll even have a knack for shapeshifting."

Yena shrugged. She wasn't sure if she could handle her power. 

That night, sleep came late to Yena and she kept shifting in her bed. She was restless, and she knew she could only sleep from now on if she was dead tired. She just knew she wouldn't be able to get proper sleep until she found out the truth about herself, and she was ready for the truth, no matter who she was- a lost princess, or a nobody with more power than the others.

She had to admit it felt unreal. She could never imagine herself having the same position and power as the 8 Princes. She wasn't even sure if she was just consoling herself by telling herself over and over again that she would be okay with the truth. She did not know.

She felt lost- as lost as she had felt in one of those memories- trapped in a room with no way out.

The next morning, she woke up and gave herself a warm bath, scrubbing rather harshly. After drying her hair and tying it back, wearing pants and a loose shirt over which she would wear a cloak for now, and a coat for later, she went to the window, peeking out at the two suns.

She was just lost in thoughts when a knock sounded on the door, Mingyu telling her that she was to come for breakfast and they would be leaving right after. She had only packed a small shoulder bag for the short journey to the mountains, and Mingyu would be taking the rest of her stuff to the castle in Rukbat. After saying goodbyes and Mingyu telling her to 'wipe the frown off her face', she went to the dining chamber of Prince Jongho, where the three princes were already eating. She silently nibbled on her sandwich, and even though the princes noticed, they didn't say anything. They knew how she felt.

"We're taking horses until we reach the river, it's faster that way," San told her. "Then the rest of the way, we travel by foot."

"But I don't know how to ride," Yena reminded him. 

"Then you can ride with me, like old times," San grinned and Yena rolled her eyes. 

"I might try to push you off the horse so stay on your guard, Prince," she warned.

"You can ride with me too, you know," Wooyoung winked at her, and Yena looked from him to San and back at Wooyoung.

"I don't know which one of you is the shameless flirt anymore," she muttered.

"I don't flirt!" San folded his arms defensively.

"You're the unintentional flirt," Jongho concluded. Yena agreed.

Seokmin entered, bowing once before going back to his usual self, "San! I mean, Prince San-"

"Come on, Seokmin, we all know how much you respect your Prince," Wooyoung laughed.

"Exactly, San, you must take your weapons with you, I put some in your room. And I put some for Yena too. If you have to travel alone, I insist you all be armed to the teeth."

San shifted, "Is there a threat to us?"

"No, but you can never be too sure, with your luck, I mean," Seokmin pinched the bridge of his nose dramatically and Yena laughed.

"That's right! I thought it was my bad luck only, but when I was with San, we encountered assassins!"

"You never told me about that!" Seokmin boomed, and San muttered 'I forgot', glaring at Yena.

"He's right," Jongho said, "With the four of us, together, we'll have to limit the use of our powers. Otherwise, it'll be like waving a red flag."

"That's right. I'll just travel as a hawk, so I can monitor the area as the rest of you go."

"That's convenient for you, isn't it?" San narrowed his eyes at him. "We travel like normal people. A single hawk flying in the air would draw more attention."

"Alright," Wooyoung slumped. "Good luck masking her power then!"

Yena pointed at herself, mouthing 'me?' and San said, "It's not like there's someone after her. For now. Actually.... Yeah, let's just arm ourselves to the teeth."

And so, a few hours later, they were travelling through the forest that led to the river. The horses were very fast, and they were soon to reach the river.

"This really does remind me of old times," Yena said, San behind her smiling, "How did we even cross paths?"

"You were drinking from the river, unguarded," San reminded her, and Yena shifted as if to look back at him.

"I never got to ask, why did you even approach me that day? I mean, you're a Prince, you wouldn't want to attract attention. What if I had recognised you? You said it was because you wanted company, but obviously that was a lie."

"It was," San confirmed, exhaling loudly. "It's like I said, your power is sending a call. Anyone with more power than usual can hear it."

"You could have ignored me..." Yena muttered.

"Good thing I didn't, right?" San smirked, and Yena was about to say something colourful when she heard the sound of the river, drawing her attention.

"We're here!" Wooyoung announced, getting off from his horse and stretching. The rest did the same, and San touched each horse- sending them a signal to go back to where they had come from, and the horses took off.

"I didn't know you could do that!" Yena was in awe. He just smiled, shrugging. 

Two boats were tied to the bank of the river, probably courtesy of Jongho's men. Wooyoung helped Yena into his boat, and San and Jongho took the other one. He sat in front of her, a smirk growing across his face.

"We're speed-travelling now," he said, and Yena only had time to raise her brows when the boats took off at full speed. 

It was like Jooheon's magic, but this felt different- it was more controlled and swift. Yena was smiling now, letting her hair flow behind her, tightly holding the edges of the boat while Wooyoung sat unmoving.

"Can you make us fly too?" Yena joked.

"Do you want me to try?" Wooyoung grinned and her eyes went wide in horror as she shook her head. "I should try it sometime, as a prank. Thank you for the idea," he winked at her.

It only took them a few minutes as the mountains grew closer, a majestic sight. The taller mountains were tipped with ice and Wooyoung told her that though it didn't snow much there, it was still cold.

"You have to visit Seonghwa's mountains someday," he said, "There are beautiful lakes in those mountains."

"Aren't there lakes here too?" Yena asked.

"There are, but they're not as impressive."

"I'm pretty sure our standards of 'impressive' are different," Yena shook her head. Wooyoung slowed the boats down and they got off as soon as the boats stopped. The air smelled like a breath of fresh air, and Wooyoung inhaled.

"Welcome to Rukbat."

—---------------------------

Surrounded by mountains with the river and plain behind her, Yena smiled. There was something familiar about this place, and Yena was sure her mind tugging at her was right.

Wearing her bag over her shoulders, Yena and the rest started walking north-west towards the mountains. The land was getting higher with every step as they approached the mountains and Yena could feel the strain on her legs.

"So how has your life been back in Fomalhaut?" Wooyoung asked.

Yena had heard that he was a social butterfly among the princes, so she didn't hesitate, "It was... pretty normal and boring, you could say. Every day felt like a routine."

"Tell me about it," Wooyoung laughed. "The only exciting time of the year is when I'm meeting one of my friends. Otherwise it's the same old routine."

"Exactly," Yena scoffed. "I guess that's bound to happen when you're a Prince."

"Seems like it," Wooyoung grinned. "Where did you grow up?"

"I just woke up in front of an orphanage one day, and the only thing I remembered about me was my name," Yena tucked her hair behind her ears. "Then I moved to my mentor's place which was a house for kids with unusual powers, basically."

"Oh, they must be like your siblings then?"

"Not really," Yena shook her head. "They were scared of me."

"Scared of you?" Jongho paused. "Why?"

San started to chuckle, and Yena sent daggers through her glare, "I once threatened to portal them into another world. Then I had an incident- I got lost in the folds between the dimensions, but already a week had passed here. I guess time flows differently in the dimensions, so when I came back, they got scared because they knew I could."

"That must be hard..."

"It was, but I got used to it. As you said, life got boring, so I just tried to find a reason to live."

"And did you find it?" Wooyoung looked at her.

"No, but I found myself trying to survive, so," Yena shrugged. "My life had been pretty meaningless until I learned about the block in my mind. Since then it's all been about trying to find out who I was."

"Well," Wooyoung said, "What are you gonna do once you find that out?"

Yena blinked. "I never got to think about that-"

Wooyoung pulled her towards himself and Yena's eyes widened as she heard the sound of an arrow whoosh past her, narrowly missing her.

"Duck!" Jongho shouted and Wooyoung and Yena ducked, another arrow missing its target. 

San bent down, his hands on the ground, Jongho mirroring his movement as they tried to feel where the arrows were coming from. Wooyoung and Yena went behind the two, and Wooyoung told her to stay put as he sniffed the air.

"I smell five," he whispered, and Jongho nodded.

"Six," San said, "A sixth one away from them."

Wooyoung caught the arrow in his hand that had been flying for her, his eyes furious, and Yena gawked in surprise. She hadn't even seen it coming.

The Princes took out their daggers and swords, and Yena did the same. It was time to put San's training to use. They walked further into the mountain, hiding behind the trees as they waited.

It was only a few seconds later that two men sneaked up on them, and Wooyoung and San attacked, engaging in swords and daggers, the two moving gracefully- Yena had never thought she would see someone fight gracefully. 

Jongho went for the third one, waving his hand as a vine grew out from the earth, holding the man by his feet who immediately tried to cut it with his dagger. Jongho was walking towards him when the fourth one came, and Yena immediately threw a dagger into the portal, making it slide in his shoulder, the man wailing in pain and Jongho muttering a silent thank.

Yena threw another dagger at the fifth one that came running at her from the left side, and the dagger hit his thigh, immobilising him. He sent a dagger flying at Yena but she opened a portal, sending it flying somewhere else entirely. 

San and Wooyoung had immobilised the two men as well. It seemed like they were going to interrogate the men. Yena was about to take another step when she felt a sting on her shoulder and her eyes went wide as someone put a hand on her mouth and held her wrists. Yena struggled to break free, but to no avail. All she could do was thrash.

"Shapeshifter," Wooyoung muttered, his eyes dark. "Give me a reason not to suffocate you to death, right here, right now."

Prince of Air indeed, Yena thought. He looked dangerous. Yena would have cowered away if she didn't know better.

"We're here for the girl," the man behind her said, surprising them all. "Let me take her. We mean no harm to the Princes."

"Should've said that before you sent arrows flying at us," San said, locking eyes with Yena. "What do you want with her?"

"We're only here to take the girl to the one who sent us," the man said, and Yena tried to break her wrists free but he only held them tighter.

San locked eyes with Yena yet again, nodding. Yena didn't understand until he put a hand at the dagger by his side, mouthing 'portal'. Yena blinked as a nod.

"Who ordered you?" Jongho's voice was not the same anymore. "Tell us, or we kill you and your people and feed you to the hyenas."

"We don't know who it is," the man said, and Yena saw the Princes' eyes go wide as she heard footsteps. More men were approaching. They hadn't expected this- someone must have been masking their scents.

San looked at Yena again and muttered 'now', throwing the dagger right at Yena. Wooyoung and Jongho almost screamed but Yena visualised the phantom hands, internally grateful for all those hours of training, and made a portal in front of her, opening it right behind her so the dagger hit the man square in his back, making him go limp and Yena broke free, immediately portaling to where the 3 stood, looking behind once at the men coming, and they grabbed each other as Yena ran, portaling them as far as she could envision.

They fell on the ground, their bodies hitting the rocks and everyone groaned in pain. Yena coughed, suddenly hit by the cold wind, her hands freezing-

Snow.

Yena looked up in horror. She had portaled to one of the peaks of the mountains that she had been watching all the journey.

"At least we skipped the hiking," San threw his head back and laughed. 

Wooyoung shifted to his hawk form, flying around as he scanned the area, and Jongho peeked below at the city beneath them, shaking his head in disbelief.

"I guess thanks are in order," San smirked. "All the training did you good after all."

"You're right," Yena said, actually grateful. "I guess thanks are in order..."

Wooyoung landed near them, shifting back. "I would have scolded Yena but this is a good place to start. No one is in sight, and I see some houses if we go further north. We can start there then go back down."

"I'll portal us down too," Yena offered. Wooyoung and Jongho shook their heads.

"I don't trust you- what if you portal us a few feet above the ground? Wooyoung can fly but I can't, sorry."

"If I do, you can blame San for it because he's the one who trained me-"

"HEY," San shouted. "Not fair!"

"Let's just walk down," Wooyoung said, "It feels weird to get portaled."

Jongho nodded and Yena looked at them. "How exactly?"

"It feels like someone kicked me in the stomach and it made me nauseous," Jongho said, clenching his stomach for emphasis. "I really don't feel like portaling anytime soon. It's worse than the one time Wooyoung made us fly-"

"You asked for that!" Wooyoung shouted.

"Alright, let's eat first," San said, and they sat down, opening their bag for the packed snacks, digging right into it. Yena didn't care if the chicken was cold- she loved it nonetheless. They couldn't risk making a fire anyway.

"If Mingi was here, he would have heated the food in a second," Wooyoung looked wistfully at the food.

"If Mingi was here, he would have lit your butt on fire too," San said, making Yena laugh.

"Has he done that before? I'd like to see it..."

"He has a knack for 'accidentally' burning things," Jongho said, " We aren't so sure if half of them were actually accidents..."

"If I had fire power," Yena began. "I would have done the same."

Wooyoung scoffed, "Good thing you don't, then."

After eating their fill, they packed their bags and started down the mountain. The rocky terrain made them stay alert- they had to watch each step, and occasionally they gave each other a hand as they walked.

"There's a small cabin there," Wooyoung pointed at the opening between the peaks, and they decided to check it out. After a few minutes, they reached the wooden cabin. The snow no longer covered these parts of the mountain, which made it easier but it was cold nonetheless. 

The cabin's door was wide open, and it seemed more like a storage and supply shed than a proper house. While the three were wondering if they needed supplies, Yena walked to the edge of the mountain, peeking down and spotting a small lake, reflecting the purple sun.

"There's a lake here," Yena pointed, and the boys peeked at her. "I think I see a proper house down there too."

"I've never been to this part of the mountain," Wooyoung told them, joining Yena and shifting to his hawk form, descending down, circling the lake once then coming back up.

"We need to go down," Wooyoung's eyes were dark. "I think I detected remnants of magic there."

San and Jongho looked at each other, and then at Wooyoung, who nodded. Yena internally groaned. They needed to stop silently communicating in front of her- god knew what cooked in their mind.

"Can't I just portal us down?" Yena sounded impatient.

"No," Jongho shook his head. "We walk."

"I could fly," Wooyoung raised his hand. "It's been a while, my wings haven't had air."

"You have wings too!" Yena was surprised. Wooyoung grinned.

"I'm able to fold them so nobody sees them. Not a lot of people know about this."

"We don't want to see a shirtless Wooyoung flying right now, thank you very much," San held Wooyoung by the arm, glaring at him, "We're walking, come on."

Yena pouted, falling in step with Jongho, watching the two bicker. She folded her arms. "I want to see a flying, shirtless Wooyoung."

Jongho choked, "Please don't say that in front of Wooyoung. He'll get rid of his clothes in a second!"

Yena laughed silently. "Is he the only one with wings? I mean among you Princes."

"Prince Seonghwa and Prince Hongjoong have wings too," Jongho was smiling. "Seonghwa looks like a bat though."

"I'm sure it's not that bad," Yena waved her hand at him, "It makes sense for the Prince of Air to have wings. Does the Prince of Water have gills then?"

Jongho looked at her in horror, before the both of them laughed, realising that she was only joking. "The image that came in my mind was horrible."

"I imagined such things when I was little and heard the stories. Does the Prince of Fire breathe fire too?"

"That's like saying San spits soil," Jongho laughed.

"Or you spit fruits," Yena added.

"I'm better at 'splitting'," Jongho smirked.

"I've heard all about the youngest prince who's physically the strongest," Yena smirked back.

"Don't fan the flames," San said out loud, making them giggle like kids. 

They reached the outskirts of the lake, the house across it. Wooyoung sniffed the air, nodding. "I wish Yunho was here. Have you ever heard that water has memories?"

"No," Yena raised her brow.

"It's like when I sniff the air, or San or Jongho touch the Earth, we can feel the 'memories' of it. I caught a faint smell of dark magic here. It's because the air still remembers."

"Oh," Yena nodded. "So Prince Yunho can touch the water and feel...?"

"Something like that, yes," Wooyoung said, and they started walking around the lake, the house becoming clearer with each step.

Yena stared at the house- it looked like it was made in a hurry the way it was so worn. She didn't feel anything familiar about it, but her magic was roiling.

"Magic has memories," Yena said out loud, to her surprise. San looked at her.

"Do you feel- or remember?"

"Not yet, but I can feel the block in my mind go crazy," Yena's eyebrows furrowed. "I guess it remembers."

Upon reaching the house, finding that its entrance was at the other side, Jongho said he would keep watch while the rest of them went inside. They circled around, skipping the door and going further until they came upon a window. 

San stood in front of the window and faced the view in front of him- the mountains surrounding them made it impossible for light to reach down, so there was only the faint glow of purple-

"This is it, isn't it?" Yena was standing beside him, looking at the mountains in front of her.

"I think so," San's voice was almost a whisper. He squeezed her shoulder in assurance and she nodded before going inside.

The damp smell hit their nose first, and it took a moment for them to adjust to the darkness. Wooyoung opened the door to his right- a small kitchen, and another door with it- a bathroom. It was completely empty. 

Yena stood in front of the door that led to the room, and with her hand on the door handle, she breathed once before opening the door.

A small bed meant for a child. That's all it had.

Her eyes scanned the room until it fell on the spot where she had been sitting in her memories- on the floor next to the window.

She was here.

This was the place where she had been since the moment she gained consciousness as a child, this was the place where she had spent her life as a captive while the monsters rid her of her memories and everything she held dear.

Yena found herself going to the window, touching the window sill, dust collecting on her fingers. She was at loss for words. She turned around to see San touching the ground where she had often sat.

"It's you," he said, "This is the place, after all."

Yena was about to respond, but it was like an eye in her mind opened, and several images flashed across her mind; the food she got- tasteless porridge, the shackles on her hand- black like a pit of darkness, the man-

The man. Tall. Pitch black eyes and the same dark hair that had grown to his shoulder. A scar running from his left eye down to his mouth. A moon shaped scar on his neck. His dark smile whenever he found her helpless.

And the little boy- the boy he had used to implant the block in her mind. The boy with black hair but familiar amber eyes- were they familiar because she had gotten used to them? It somehow felt like she had seen him before- which meant after she had left this place. 

"Junyoung, my son, come here," the man said, "Your father would have been proud."

The little boy didn't flinch as the man squeezed his shoulder- an act of affection. The both of them stared at Yena.

"Soon, the wheels will be put in motion. You won't be able to avoid it- no one will," the man laughed- it sounded like a roar. "This world doesn't need 8 princes. It needs a single king."

"It's because of people like you," Yena found herself saying, "that we were banished from the Earth in the first place."

"And what a shame it was!" The man's eyes were furious, "If General Lee and the others had just listened to me when I said that we could not leave Earth, maybe we would have been ruling it by now. Maybe we could have ruled it together. But the Generals, including my own brother, were too humble for their own good."

The man pushed the boy in front of her, "Junyoung will have to do it now. The princes could never expect this- because I intend to attack from within. They'll never see it coming!"

The images in her mind changed, and another image took form-

The door to her room opened slightly, and Yena saw the man open the door- he hadn't fully opened it when he was stopped by a voice.

"Do you intend to get rid of her, Joon Hyuk?"

"Yena? No. I'll just dump her in Fomalhaut and have Junyoung make sure the block stays strong. He should stay close to her for the first few years, and then we'll put our plan into action."

"Isn't she too big a risk? What use is she to you now?"

"She's too powerful to just kill and waste the potential that I could use for myself," the man grinned. "Imagine if she can master her powers. Imagine if she can travel not only time but worlds!"

The other voice tsk-ed, and the man's expressions grew dark. he mumbled something lowly- a threat, probably, but then she heard the other man say:

"The princes are like brothers. They won't fight one another."

"Oh they will," the man assured him. "Because of Junyoung, they will. And I'll start from the very top, just you watch."

Yena gasped, and the man turned suddenly, as if forgetting that she was awake. He smiled darkly as he reached her and touched her forehead, knocking her out into unconsciousness.

"Yena! Yena!" 

San was shaking Yena by her shoulders. She seemed to be in a trance, cold sweat covering her forehead, and with a jerk, she came back to reality.

"Are you okay?" Wooyoung, who was standing next to San with concerned eyes, asked.

Yena felt her knees go weak and San brought her to the bed, seating her down as she breathed. Wooyoung let fresh air pass around Yena, helping her steady her breathing.

"I saw something," Yena told them. "The boy- Junyoung-"

"Junyoung?" Wooyoung looked at San, and San nodded, explaining to him that this was what he wanted to talk about with Wooyoung. Yena told him how the man had called General Lee his brother and how the boy had black hair and copper eyes.

"Was his name Joon Hyuk? Did the man have a moon shaped scar on his neck?" Wooyoung asked, dreading the answer. Yena nodded, saying he also had a scar that ran from his left eye to his mouth.

Wooyoung stood up, covering his mouth in disbelief as he paced. "The moon shaped scar is a family birthmark- much like Yeosang has a family birthmark. The boy- if he really is Junyoung, that means..."

"That the Junyoung we know had died wasn't actually him," San completed- "that he is still alive, with powers of a prince and scheming something."

"Did you see the moon shaped scar on the boy too? He must have it anywhere near his neck or shoulder."

Yena shook her head, "Of all the memories I've had, he was always wearing something that covered his neck."

"To hide the scar?"

"Or maybe it's because it's so cold here, and he was a little boy who could catch cold," Yena said, and they nodded. "I remember his face now- he had amber eyes with black hair."

"Amber eyes! That just confirms it," Wooyoung said, "Junyoung is alive."

They heard Jongho enter, saying, "Junyoung is alive?"

"Alive and ready for revenge with his uncle, it seems," San looked at Wooyoung. "Didn't you used to meet General Lee's brother annually at his death anniversary?"

"I used to, until they moved without an address a few years ago," Wooyoung bit his lips in thought. "I should have been able to smell Yena on him- Yena smells like Yeosang, so I should have. How did I not?"

"From the men that came earlier, they probably have someone with incredible masking powers," Jongho said, "Plus, General Lee's illusion power can make one think anything- make you think he smelled just fine."

"True," Wooyoung shook his head. "He's thought this ahead, hasn't he?"

"He has," Yena began. "He said he intends to attack from within. Like, he wants to drive the princes apart, but he knows you all are like brothers, so he's going to use Junyoung somehow- he said Junyoung will do it. He said he will start from the very top- I don't know what that means."

"Is that it?" San asked, his hand still on her shoulder, his magic soothing her.

"He said that he wanted to use me too- he said if I could master the powers, I would be able to travel time and worlds. And he said that he was going to dump me in Fomalhaut, but he was going to make sure Junyoung stayed with me for a few years before he put the plan in action. But... that didn't happen, did it? I don't remember ever seeing someone like that boy, though I did feel he was familiar..."

"Illusionary magic- he would have made you see something else," Jongho said, "And if he had stayed in his actual form, it would have been a risk- you would have remembered."

Wooyoung nodded, and San suddenly jerked, as if a thought had hit him, looking from Wooyoung to Jongho then back at Yena.

"What?" Yena asked.

"He said you would be able to travel time and worlds but haven't you already done that?"

Yena tilted her head in thought, "I don't remember going back in time."

"You didn't go back, Yena, that's the thing. You went forward."

Yena stared at him for a few seconds, convinced he had lost it, until she opened her mouth in surprise, Jongho and Wooyoung gasping in surprise too. 

"That time when I got lost... I thought it had only been a few minutes... a week had passed..." Yena, distraught, threw her head in her hands, staring at the floor, "I didn't get lost."

"You didn't," San breathed. "Wooyoung, this just confirms it-"

"No," Wooyoung said, shaking his head in belief. "Only Yeosang has the right to confirm it. Let's go to the castle now. We leave for Antares tomorrow. It's time we tell Hongjoong everything."

They climbed up in silence- each lost in their own circle of thoughts.

Yena. The possible lost twin- there was no other explanation. The only thing left was for Hongjoong to remove the block from her mind- which would make Yena remember everything, and Yeosang to meet her and make sure if she was indeed his sister.

Yena felt burdened now- there was the matter of her, and then of what was going on with Junyoung. She put her matter aside, thinking of all the possible people she had met in Fomalhaut, anyone that would remind her of Junyoung.

There was no one with black hair and amber eyes with a moon shaped scar on their neck that she knew of. Plus, everyone she knew of her age had been either in the orphanage or in the shared house, except for Seoho- but he had red hair and brown eyes- or was it amber? 

But it couldn't be him. He had an affinity for Earth magic.

No one she had ever met had even a hint of dark magic. So how had the block stayed in her mind for so long if not for someone making sure again and again that it was in place?

She suddenly wanted to go back to Fomalhaut- back to her boring life, the only good time of the day when Cheetah trained her or when she treated the kids. She really, really wanted to see Cheetah and hug her. 

After reaching the mountain from where they could see the plain area of Rukbat, San said- more like ordered Yena to make a portal and transport them to ground level, despite Wooyoung's insistence that he could just fly.

"We don't have time to waste, Wooyoung," San insisted. "And I really, really want fresh food and rest. So we're portaling. By now, Siyeon and Jeongin should have arrived with a carriage near the mountains, isn't that so?"

Wooyoung just groaned, nodding, and Yena opened a portal, the four of them holding hands so they wouldn't lose each other. She stepped through and suddenly, warm air instead of the cold air that had frozen their faces hit them, and Yena sighed in relief.

"I will never get used to the feeling," Wooyoung exhaled. "Just how many times have you portaled that you look so relaxed?"

"In a span of a minute, five times. Or was it more?" San shook his head. "Nothing can faze me anymore!"

Yena chuckled at how dramatically he had said it, and they walked a few metres west until they spotted the carriage awaiting them.

Siyeon and Jeongin bowed to the princes, and said hello to Yena. Jeongin was going to ride the carriage himself, so Siyeon sat inside with Yena. 

"I hope my Prince hasn't bored you much," she looked pointedly at Wooyoung, and he rolled his eyes. Yena immediately knew that this was a friendly remark.

"If one wasn't enough," Yena pursed her lips, looking at San and Jongho, who were sleeping leaning on each other in front of her. Siyeon stifled her laughter.

"How did you become Prince Wooyoung's Right Hand?" Yena asked, curious. 

Siyeon pushed back her long black hair, "I used to train him when he was still a little brat," she laughed. "Somehow, I became someone he could talk to about anything- state affairs, personal problems- you name it. He ended up naming me his Right Hand without my permission."

"You like being my Right Hand," Wooyoung smirked.

"You wipe that smirk off that face, young man, your flirting doesn't work on me," Siyeon glared at him, making Wooyoung laugh. "He's always been like this. I wish I was in Prince Seonghwa's court instead."

"Why is everyone in my court obsessed with Seonghwa!" Wooyoung looked accusingly at Siyeon. "You're all traitors!"

"It's because he's my type," Siyeon winked, making Yena laugh.

"Your type?" Wooyoung scoffed. "All you've seen him do is scowl!"

"Sexy scowl," Siyeon corrected, making both Yena and Wooyoung gasp in horror.

"I can't wait to see that," Yena said, and Wooyoung slapped her shoulder.

"Not you too!"

Siyeon and Wooyoung started bickering, Yena smiling at the friendly sibling-like relation they had. It warmed her, knowing each prince had such friendly court people by their side. She couldn't imagine anyone disrupting this peace.

Wooyoung opened the window by his side, letting Yena see the trees and the buildings. The Kingdom of Air had tall buildings in the main city of Rukbat, and the buildings grew more elegant as they neared the castle.

"This reminds me of Fomalhaut," Yena told Wooyoung. "The buildings- the architecture."

"I should let you know that our city planner retired to Fomalhaut- it's probably thanks to him that Fomalhaut is developed like this."

"Really? That explains..."

"Wait till you see the castle," Wooyoung grinned.

And indeed, what a sight the castle was. It was all tall glass towers that reflected the purple and the orange suns brilliantly. Yena had to suck in her breath as she took the sight in. It looked like something out of fiction.

"I am in awe," she said, "I didn't expect this!"

"Welcome to the Palace of Sagittarius!"

Though the Palace of Sagittarius was all glass outside, it looked quite humble inside. Faeries had always preferred magic over technology- so they kept their old ways. Inside it felt warm even though the interior was all cool tones. 

The dining hall was probably the best part of the castle- it was built such that glass surrounded them and they could see everything outside- the rest of the palace, the gardens, the people. The glass didn't let warmth come in so it was pleasantly cool, all the while glowing.

After the royal dinner, much like she had in San's and Jongho's castle, with a variety of everything, they decided to just sleep- they could plan tomorrow. Yena was more exhausted because of opening the portals as well, so she gladly let Siyeon guide her to her room.

Dumping her bag in a corner where the other bags already awaited, she cast a glance around. Apart from a window in the corner, the room had a glass dome on the ceiling, which reflected purple beautifully, since it was dark. Lying on the bed and watching the sky from the dome, Yena fell asleep.

-----------------

"I'm having major deja vu," Yena said, looking at the endless sea in front of her, "It's like I'm going to Altarf from Fomalhaut all over again."

"At least you have better company now," Mingyu scoffed, looking back at the three Princes who were playing a game with dice that Yena didn't know of. "Pretty sure you never imagined you'd find yourself in a boat with three faerie princes."

"Maybe I dreamed big, Mingyu. Maybe this is underwhelming rather than overwhelming," she winked at him, making Siyeon, who was right next to them, laugh.

"Yes, Mingyu, not everyone dreams small," Siyeon tsk-ed at him and he raised his hands in surrender. Yena smiled, looking at the sea in front of her again.

Wooyoung had taken a break to replenish his magic, so he could speed up the ship again. Apparently his idea of break was to fool around with his friends- the three were playing intensely, loudly, and it looked like they were in their very own world in that instance.

Hyungwon and Changkyun were in charge of setting the sails and they could be seen walking around the ship with compasses in their hands. Jeongin and Seokmin were in charge of food, and Yena was pretty sure they were going to run out of food because of that decision- they couldn't stop grabbing a fruit or a chicken leg every few hours. Seokmin caught Yena watching him pop cherries in his mouth, and he raised his hand, as if to offer her. She just shook her head.

The princes had taken two members of their court each- and Yena was glad Siyeon had accompanied them. Apart from the fact that she was the only other female company on this ship, which Yena was grateful for, she was sassy, funny and quite friendly. Yena, Seokmin and Mingyu had immediately warmed up to her after a game of charades, which they had to stop in the middle because they were afraid one of them was going to burst a lung laughing. Probably Seokmin first- the man’s laugh was loud, and it was contagious.

Yena's attention drew to the princes as they laughed loudly. It seemed like Jongho had won whatever they were playing. They shook hands and got up, stretching. San found himself walking to Yena, and she didn't notice Mingyu and Siyeon giving them space.

"How do you like the Ruby Sea?" 

"It's... a sea," Yena said, making San laugh, "It's definitely different from the Diamond Sea, I can feel that alright."

"Did you know the seas here were named after our birthstones? Our parents really were creative with that," San smiled, showing off his dimples. Cute, Yena thought.

"So your birthstone is a ruby, and the diamond..."

"Both Seonghwa and Yunho," San completed. "You've seen the Diamond Sea, right?"

"It looked like a million stars were on the surface of the sea at night," Yena smiled at the memory.

"Just wait till night, you'll get to see rubies too," he said, exhaling as he turned to face the sea, looking up at the orange sun, then turning his head a bit to the right to see the purple sun- the moon, like he called it.

Yena found herself watching him- his sharp angles that hid the softness he possessed. "You have neck freckles," she noticed.

"Oh, this," he touched his neck, smiling rather shyly. Yena was tempted to put a finger in his dimple. 

"You're cute, you know that?" Yena laughed, looking at the sea. 

San was glad she wasn't looking at him, because he was positive his face had gone red. Get yourself together, he told himself. He ruffled her hair as a revenge for flustering him with that remark, making her close her eyes like a kid.

"Tell me about Prince Hongjoong," Yena said, making puppy eyes at him. It seemed like it had become a thing between them- San smiled at the thought- her asking these questions. He liked this comfortable relationship they had.

"Prince Hongjoong," he inhaled. "Where do I start?"

"What is he to you?" Yena asked. 

"An older brother," San smiled. "If I had to choose a king between us, I'd say Hongjoong without a thought. He was born a leader."

"That sounds nice," Yena said, "What is he like?"

"He's a busybody, but he cares about us a lot," San grinned. "He cares about his people a lot. He's always doing something for them- you'll see when we get there."

"He sounds like a great person," Yena nodded. "So you guys gather sometimes, what do you do?"

"Just catch up on our lives, take that time to relax, and spend that time as normal faeries instead of Princes."

"You don't get to do that often, do you?" Yena turned to look at the other two princes, and in that instant, they really did look like normal faeries relaxing instead of princes with a burden of a kingdom on their shoulders. "You all are too young for the responsibility you have on your shoulders."

"Young we may be, but that's who we are," San smiled as he answered. "I do wish our parents had lived longer and ruled these kingdoms before us. But what they did for us, complaining about this would sound petty, don't you think?"

"Doesn't mean you aren't allowed to feel tired," Yena told him.

San passed her a pointed look, "You really don't want to see us complain."

"I'm sure that's a sight I'd love to see," Yena smirked.

"Mingi set the forest on fire because he felt tired." San said and Yena snorted, choking on her laughter. 

"You never told me that!" 

San was laughing too, "But I must say, having you around was like a breath of fresh air, no matter what the circumstances were. And at this moment... I feel relaxed."

Yena smiled. "I should be the one thanking you for all you have done for me, San. Can you promise me one thing?"

"What?"

"No matter what happens next, no matter where I go, don't forget me," Yena said, and at that moment, San felt like she was thinking about her past too. Of the people who possibly knew her but never looked for her- either because they couldn't, or because they chose to forget her. San put an arm around her shoulder, patting her.

"Of course, I won't! I'm not sure I could, ever."

"I won't either!" Wooyoung's voice came from behind them, startling Yena as he joined them. Yena shook her head at him, earning a pout. 

They watched the sky get darker, Jongho joining them as well. The suns were starting to glow rather than shine, and what looked like rubies glittered on the surface of the sea.

"Things are going to change for you, Yena," Wooyoung said in a low voice, sounding serious, and even San looked surprised at his sudden warning. "I see the truth right in front of me- the truth that makes sense. But I can't tell Yeosang anything- he is my brother, and I don't want to hurt him by giving him false hope. So this one week that we have at Antares- stay strong and fight through the barrier in your mind. I will help you- we will."

Yena was touched, and she glanced at San, who seemed equally surprised. "Thank you, Prince Wooyoung. I will not forget all you've done for me, you three. And I will give it my all, knowing you guys have my back."

"That's Wooyoung for you," he winked, making her laugh. "Hongjoong and Seonghwa- they will heal you, I just know it. They reach tomorrow, probably before us. We relax tomorrow, and start the day after. There's no time to waste."

"Of course," Yena said, "What are Prince Seonghwa and Prince Yunho like?"

San burst out laughing, muttering 'again', and Yena just looked at Jongho and Wooyoung with puppy eyes.

"Yunho's my cousin," Wooyoung smiled, "He's very, very friendly-"

"Not a shameless flirt, I presume," Yena said, making Wooyoung fake a gasp of hurt.

Jongho laughed, "Definitely not."

"He's very easy-going, you'll probably become good friends with him too," Wooyoung said.

"And what about Prince Seonghwa?"

"He," Jongho began, "looks very intimidating. He'll even feel like that until he warms up. There is no one who cares more than Seonghwa, once he warms up to you."

"Oh, I was the most excited to see him," she admitted.

"What changed?" Jongho asked.

"I've heard enough stories about Prince Mingi that I really want to meet him and ask for a few favours," Yena looked pointedly at San and Wooyoung.

"I'll help you with that," Jongho laughed, and Wooyoung and San immediately gasped, going to hug each other as they muttered about betrayal and all.

Yena watched the sea reflect rubies and she smiled at the beauty of everything around her.

------------------------

San was positive that one of the fireflies lighting the city of Antares was going to get in Yena's mouth if she didn't close it any time soon. She was beyond astonished ever since they had landed in Antares, and her mouth had been gaping wide the whole time.

San pushed her chin up, but Yena didn't even notice her own mouth fall open again as she looked around her. "Yena, you might have swallowed a firefly by now."

"Have I?" She asked, not hearing Wooyoung snorting beside her and Jongho stifling his own laugh. San shook his head, looking behind him for help.

Siyeon saluted and slapped Yena lightly- but not lightly enough on the head. "Come back to your senses, woman."

Yena finally laughed, shaking her head. "It's just, it's beautiful!"

"You've only said it about a hundred times now," Seokmin sighed. "At this point, she must be thinking Prince Hongjoong glows too."

"Oh, he can make himself glow," Mingyu assured them. "One time, he made his-"

"Shut up," San warned, and Mingyu tried not to laugh.

Yena had been in awe ever since they had landed in Antares. It was the city of light, alright. She was glad that they had landed during the night- she wasn't sure the city was as glorious in the day. The highlight of it was the thousands of fireflies that lit the streets, illuminating the city.

The palace was not too far from where their ship had landed, and they had ridden in the carriage sent by Prince Hongjoong, only Jongho suggested they walk half the way by foot, since Yena couldn't stop peeking out through the window. Yena had thanked him, and had been walking with her mouth hanging open in astonishment ever since.

"The city does live up to its name, huh?" Jeongin commented. "I've only ever heard stories, but now that I'm here..."

"It does," Yena smiled at him. "I always dreamed of visiting here one day!"

"If you talk like this in front of Hongjoong," Wooyoung finally said, "It's gonna get to his head."

"It should!" Yena waved a dismissing hand at him, "He deserves all the praise."

"I don't remember you flattering us with such praise," San narrowed his eyes at her.

"Each city had its charm, San," Yena glared at him, "Is it too wrong to have a favourite?"

"Ouch," San put a hand to his heart and bent closer to Jongho, who patted his back in pity. 

The scene in front of them changed as they took a turn- several trees lit by the fireflies on the wide passage led directly to the huge residence of the Prince of Light. Walking through the passage, Yena wished she could capture this scene in her memory, or a painting. The palace was majestic, similar to Wooyoung's in the sense that there was more glass on the exterior, which reflected the lights of the city.

Upon entering the palace, a majestic fountain stood in the middle, between the gates where they stood and the entrance to the residence. The fountain looked like it was spewing gems. Moving further, the guards bowing at the Princes, they finally reached the wooden door of the entrance.

A tall man with pale skin and a pleasantly handsome face greeted them with a bow. "Welcome to the Kingdom of Scorpio."

—---------------------------

"Welcome to the Kingdom of Scorpio."

"Long time no see," Seokmin said, moving forward to hug the man. Mingyu, Changkyun and Hyungwon did the same, and Jeongin earned a ruffle to his hair- he was the youngest here, and indeed, their baby. Siyeon gave him a fist bump.

"You grew taller," Wooyoung commented, smiling.

"You look shorter than last I saw you," the man said, and Wooyoung shouted 'hey!', making everyone laugh. Yena's heart warmed at how the princes had such a friendly relationship with not only their court members, but also the ones of the other princes. It truly seemed like a big family.

"I am Yugyeom," the man bowed to Yena in greeting, "Prince Hongjoong's Captain of Guard."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Yena," she curtsied. He smiled at her, asking them all to follow them.

The palace was quite modern inside, Yena observed, and the bright tiles reflected the beautifully lit ceilings and the several chandeliers. Yugyeom said that the other two princes had already arrived and were awaiting them in the dining hall. 

The huge wooden doors to the dining hall were opened by the guards at their arrival, and a man stood, his ginger hair catching Yena's attention, which made the freckles on his cheeks stand out on his bronze skin. He smiled widely at the sight of the princes and they ran to crush him in hugs, the man laughing in obvious pain, yelling at them to let go so he could hug them one by one.

Everyone else bowed at him, and he greeted them politely, Yena among them. They excused themselves, starting to go to the other table set in the opposite end of the room, Yena following them until Wooyoung stopped her by her arm, saying she was going to dine with them. Yena gulped, casting a quick glance at the other two men already standing and coming towards them.

"I'll join later, I feel like an outsider-"

"You're not," Wooyoung assured her. "Come on."

While San and Jongho went to greet the other two men, Wooyoung said, "Hongjoong, this is Yena, the one we told you about."

His blue eyes twinkled as he scanned Yena. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Hongjoong. I must praise your creativity with the fireflies. City of Light, indeed."

Hongjoong smiled and Wooyoung said, "She couldn't shut her mouth the whole way!"

"Glad you like it," Hongjoong winked at her, and the other two men drew near. One of them was tall with strawberry blonde hair and a very friendly face so Yena assumed he must be Prince Yunho, while the other...

Handsome, Yena thought. All of them were, but him- Prince Seonghwa, he was striking, with his black hair that covered one of his grey eyes.

Yena bowed once. Prince Yunho was smiling but Prince Seonghwa just stared at her blankly. San slapped the Prince's arm, telling him to loosen up.

Prince Hongjoong led them to the dining table, and San kept a seat for her next to him, which she was glad for, silently thanking him. Wooyoung was on her other side, Hongjoong at the head, and the other three were seated in front of them. Hongjoong said that while they talked, she could refer to them simply by their names and skip the formalities so she could feel at ease. But Yena was extremely tense, having met three princes at once. It didn't help that Prince Seonghwa was in front of her, staring at her with a blank face.

After she silently drank the juice served to them, which tasted like a mixed fruit cocktail, Yena sat clenching and unclenching her fists under the table. Hongjoong finally turned to Wooyoung, asking him about their journey and updates after he had received the letter.

Wooyoung started to tell them all about their journey- beginning from Prince Jongho's castle. San, noticing her clenched fists, put a hand over Yena's, allowing his magic to soothe her. She breathed, shifting so she could hold his hand.

Wooyoung asked Yena to tell them about what she had seen, and Yena began, much calmer than before thanks to San, telling them about General Lee's brother. Wooyoung interrupted once to tell that he had sent men to trace his whereabouts but to no avail. She told them about Junyoung, about what they had told her about her magic, and what their apparent plan was. 

After she finished, they all looked sombre. Yunho was the first one to speak, "Doesn't this mean we may have the Lost Princess right in front of us?"

Yena's heart sank at the words and she tightened her grip on San's hand. Seonghwa only tilted his head.

Say something, Yena begged him internally. She hadn't heard his voice this entire time. 

"I'll let Yeosang make that conclusion," Hongjoong said, "Though I must say, it makes sense. And if she is indeed who we've been looking for this entire time, there are people we need to find and punish for this act."

"Let's start with the healing first," Seonghwa finally said, "I am curious to see what's inside her mind."

San almost rolled his eyes at how bad Seonghwa was at talking- saying one thing and meaning another. He knew that Seonghwa meant he was curious about the magic that was inside Yena's mind, but the way he had said it... Yena's face, which looked like she was trying her best not to throw something at him, said enough.

"We'll start tomorrow, you can relax for now," Hongjoong, noticing Yena's expressions, attempted to calm her. "Dinner has arrived! Please enjoy dinner without talking any further about this."

Yena thanked San for helping her, digging right in. No one, not even dark moody Prince Seonghwa was going to ruin her appetite.

During dinner, the friendly banter between the princes made Yena smile and they looked more like friends and brothers than princes in that moment. Even Seonghwa laughed- to her surprise. Not that he couldn't, of course, but the way it changed his face made her pleased.

Yena participated in the conversation too, passing witty remarks every now and then, usually in a teasing manner that made them amused. The older three princes had to admit she sounded quite like Yeosang during those moments.

After dinner, a broad man with narrow eyes but a friendly smile greeted the princes with hugs. He introduced himself as Jaebeom, Prince Hongjoong's Right Hand, and San told her he had been with them the longest. Everyone knew him.

Jaebeom called for a guard to escort Yena to her room, and Yena thanked them for the dinner and company as she left. Her room was marvellous- shades of gold spread through the room, making it feel royal. It was quite luxurious, with a big bath tub that Yena happily went in as soon as she saw it. After washing up and changing, she lay down in the bed, staring at the small fancy chandelier on the ceiling.

What a turn of events, she thought.

A nobody from Fomalhaut, now in Prince Hongjoong's guest room, just befriended (not sure if she would put Seonghwa in that category yet) three princes.

Wooyoung's words rang in her mind. Everything was going to change tomorrow.

-----------------------

When Yena awoke in the morning the next day, her body was sore from all the travelling they had done, as if it was finally catching up to her. She rolled around in bed for a good few moments, until she heard a knock, and a feminine voice asking if they could come in.

Yena answered yes, sitting now, and a woman entered, waving awkwardly, making Yena smile internally. She was quite pretty and had a gothic vibe to her, her hair tied in twin buns, her makeup dark on her black clothes.

"I am Seulgi," she introduced herself, and Yena thought she had seen her conversing with Jaebeom last night. She must hold an official position at his court. "How are you feeling?"

"Exhausted," Yena said, "Did someone call for me?"

"Not yet," Seulgi took a chair near her. "But the Prince said I was to help you out with anything. I'm actually one of the healers here, and the Prince's assistant healer."

"Oh," Yena nodded. "When are we... beginning today?"

"Well, after breakfast, the princes are going to hold a meeting, then they'll call for you. You look... worried."

"I'm assuming you heard about my... condition?"

"Bits of it, yes," Seulgi sighed. "The princes will personally be overseeing your healing. I'll be present too."

"I'm glad for the female company," Yena laughed, Seulgi joining her, and Seulgi said she should get ready for breakfast, the other court members were waiting for her.

Seulgi helped Yena pick a mauve dress, and Yena washed her face before letting Seulgi lead her to where the rest of the court members were. She told her the Princes had stayed up most of the night chatting, so they won't be joining anyone for breakfast. Yena could only imagine what chaos they would have caused during the night, stifling her laugh.

As they entered, Yena spotted everyone who had arrived with her, plus three other new faces apart from Prince Hongjoong's court members she had seen last night. Yena took a seat between Seokmin and Siyeon, and they introduced her to Ryujin and Woosung- from Prince Yunho's court, and Soyeon from Prince Seonghwa's court- Jinki had come too, but he would be skipping breakfast.

Yena looked at Mingyu, who was sitting next to Siyeon. "Is that the same Jinki you thought you saw when we went to the food court back in Altarf?"

"Yes," Mingyu nodded, "You haven't seen him, have you? I'll introduce you to him later."

Breakfast was quite lavish, and Yena debated whether she should eat now or later- what if she threw up during her healing process? And in front of the princes? She was feeling mortified- San had already seen her throw up but that didn't mean the rest of them had to as well. Seokmin suggested that she eat- she didn't want to miss the lavish breakfast. So with a shrug, Yena agreed.

After the breakfast and a discussion on how the kingdoms were running, Yena excused herself, exiting the dining hall to go back to her room and calm her roiling nerves. She was walking in a hurry, making a sharp turn when she collided head on with someone, a shriek of pain escaping her as she looked up to see who the unlucky person was.

"Seoho?" Yena was surprised- she had never expected to see Seoho, her friend from Fomalhaut here, of all places. "First Altarf and now here? What a surprise!"

"Yena? What are you doing here? First Altarf and now here? Explain yourself," he laughed, patting her shoulder in greeting.

Yena thought about what excuse she should make- she wasn't sure if she could tell him the whole story. "You do remember how I always wanted to visit Antares, right?"

"Looks like you have been travelling a lot," he smiled.

"I don't know if Cheetah ever told you about how she wanted to get me checked out because of the block in my mind," Yena said, and Seoho told her he had visited Fomalhaut a few days before Altarf so he knew. Yena sighed in relief because she wouldn't have to make up a whole new story now. "I somehow befriended Prince San, and he helped me come here- the healers here are good, I've heard."

Seoho ran a hand through his mahogany hair, "I guess you just had breakfast with the court members then."

"Yes-"

"I have to tell you something," Seoho said, casting a quick around him, "Can you keep a secret?"

Yena frowned. "Sure, what is it?"

"Remember how I said I was working in the Kingdom of Aries?" Yena nodded and he sighed, continuing, "I'm Prince Seonghwa's Right Hand."

Yena's eyes went wide and she smiled, "That's amazing! No wonder you never told me before..." she trailed. "You're Jinki?"

"Yes," Seoho laughed at the face she made, "I wanted to leave my past behind- leave everything back at Fomalhaut and start fresh. You know what I mean, don't you?"

Yena pursed her lips. She knew that Seoho didn't have the best relationship with his family so he had always wanted to leave Fomalhaut. "You must be quite something if Prince Seonghwa made you his Right Hand."

Seoho shrugged, "I earned his trust, that's a story for later. Anyways, can you not tell anyone about me being Seoho?"

"Of course," Yena assured him. "Jinki." 

Seoho narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't mock my new name."

Yena grinned, "So that time you were in Altarf- the errand you were running for the boss, that boss is Prince Seonghwa?"

"Yes," Seoho nodded, wiping his forehead. 

"When are you inviting me to Hamal then?" Yena said, wiggling her brows, "I must see your new workplace."

"Soon," Seoho grinned, but Yena thought it looked more like a smirk. "I-"

"There you are!" Seokmin's voice boomed, and Seoho jerked in surprise. "I see you've already met with Jinki!"

"Ah, yes, I bumped at him on my way to the room," Yena said, "Were you looking for me?"

Seokmin cast a wary glance at Jinki, who only smiled. "Prince San is looking for you, let me escort you."

Yena nodded, saying goodbye to Seoho and joining Seokmin. As soon as they were out of sight, Seokmin said in a low voice, "Only me and Mingyu know the story- and that's not even whole, so please refrain from telling anyone about your healing until the princes say so."

Yena almost said Seoho already had an idea, but she realised that as 'Jinki', this would have been the first they met. "Of course."

Seokmin patted her back. "It's best if no one knows for now. Try to keep your food in while you're there," he laughed, and Yena glared at him, shaking her head as he led her to the Prince's private chamber.

—-----------------------------

"Don't tell me you all are going to watch while they do their job," Yena said in despair. Wooyoung snorted. She looked at San for help.

"I'm sorry if you feel uncomfortable, but in case anything goes wrong, we have to stifle your powers without anyone’s knowledge," San pursed his lips as if to say 'nothing you can do about it'. "You don't want to cause another power surge here. Everyone would feel it."

"It would be better if they could just stop laughing," Yena looked pointedly at Wooyoung, Jongho and Yunho, who burst in a giggling fit. "How princely of them."

San laughed, "Ignore them, just focus on us three, okay."

Yena looked at Hongjoong and Seonghwa who were discussing something in a low voice, clad in white and black, a stark contrast to each other. "I don't think Prince Seonghwa likes me very much."

As if he had heard, Seonghwa glanced at Yena once, causing her to abruptly turn and face San, who stifled another laugh. "He doesn't dislike you, don't worry about it."

Hongjoong clapped once, grabbing everyone's attention. "I want you all to stay alert- in case you feel that her power may explode, create a barrier. Since she's used to San's soothing magic now, San will be with us so she doesn't feel sick, so it will be just you three."

"Alright, captain," Wooyoung saluted. It seemed like San had already told them how bad it could get.

"Yena," Hongjoong looked at her, rubbing his hands. "Shall we start?"

Yena nodded, and Hongjoong patted the sofa where she would lie down, the three on chairs near her, San holding her hand and letting his healing magic soothe her while Hongjoong went in her mind first.

Hongjoong's magic- it was a brilliant gold, almost white. That's all Yena saw before fear gripped her mind and a scream escaped her mouth, making Hongjoong immediately exit out of her mind.

Yena gasped, "What was that?"

"That," Hongjoong said, "Was the black thread's fear you felt. Seonghwa, take a look."

Seonghwa nodded, locking eyes with her, and she didn't shut her eyes this time as she watched him put his fingers on her forehead- quite gently, shutting his own eyes.

Seonghwa saw it then- her magic, identical to Yeosang's. The Lost Princess, he immediately thought. He saw the pitch black thread wrapped around her power too, and it roiled as it saw Seonghwa's silver magic.

Something about the pitch black magic felt familiar to Seonghwa- he couldn't quite put a finger on what it was, but he had a feeling of dread. The feeling changed to surprise when the black thread began to unravel from Yena's- only slightly, extending to reach Seonghwa' magic.

Seonghwa couldn't react and the black thread grabbed him.

Yena clenched her eyes shut, and Hongjoong, noticing that something was wrong, immediately put a hand on Yena, going back in her mind, surprised to see Seonghwa fighting against the magic and he sent a flare of light, scaring the black thread away. 

Yena was trembling due to the pain now, and San did his best to calm her. Something was wrong- this hadn't happened before.

Seonghwa opened his eyes with a gasp, jerking away from Yena, looking at her trembling figure with an astounded look on his own face. Hongjoong patted the eldest prince to comfort him. 

"Why did that happen?" Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong, who was lost in thought too.

"It may be because your magic is similar in nature to that black magic?" Hongjoong scratched his chin in thought.

"It recognised you," Yena said, and Seonghwa looked at her. "It didn't get scared of you, like it does with the healers or anyone else, even San. It went to embrace you."

"Why?" 

"I don't know," Yena wiped the sweat off her forehead. "You tell me, Prince of Dark."

They glared at each other, and San shook his head. "It must be because the illusion magic that General Lee- now Junyoung has, is similar in its properties to Seonghwa's magic, but Yena, Seonghwa's magic isn't dark in nature. It's like... how do I explain it? Dark is good and black is bad."

"The bad likes the good, huh?" Yena scoffed.

"I have an idea," Hongjoong said, "Seonghwa, you're gonna wrap my magic in yours when we enter the next time. That should make the black magic stay at its place- it won't try to grab yours, but it won't cower away from mine either."

Yena was impressed at the idea. "The healers suggested that you start at the core- the memory block. Are you gonna start there too?"

"We'll grab the weakest link and work from there," Hongjoong said. "Let's continue."

Seonghwa hesitated for a second but agreed, going in first, Hongjoong coming a second later, and like he had instructed, he wrapped his silver magic around his golden one so it was like the two were intertwined threads. Seonghwa let his magic move forward, slowly, taking his time until he reached Yena's power.

The black thread wasn't moving this time, as if anticipating- or was it because it didn't want to take a risk? Since magic had a consciousness of its own, Seonghwa wasn't sure what the reason was, so he gently touched Yena's blue thread, a cool wave washing over him. Yena's blue thread tried to break free from the black thread, trying to hold onto the silver and the golden light, but the black thread held it back.

Seonghwa heard Yena groan in pain. He ignored it, circling around the two threads until he reached the core- now broken, like they had told him. It was like a black box with a broken top, but the contents were still inside. Seonghwa took a risk and decided to go inside.

Hongjoong called Seonghwa's name in warning, but he let his power dive in until it was submerged with the blue memories, and suddenly he could see her life flash past his eyes, seeing several scenes through her eyes-

Cold. So cold. She wore nothing and her feet and hands were swollen from the cold. Her bones were cold. Her body was on fire.

The scene changed, and suddenly Seonghwa felt a sharp pain-

Not in his head, but Yena's.

The boy- amber eyes. The man- black eyes with no mercy. The boy touched her forehead and she was screaming and screaming until her throat was raw.

Suddenly, she was lying on her stomach on the bed, her back on fire, while a man healed her back- it had been beaten raw.

The cycle repeated- she was beaten, she was healed, but she would not give in- not because she was determined, no, she had given up already. But because...

"She's useless," a voice said, "She can't master the power of time."

"Maybe if you had been a bit softer on her and used other methods-"

"I don't have time to be her uncle and give her candies so she can learn," the voice roared. "I want her to go back now!"

The scene changed again, and she was alone in her room, muttering her name.

I am Kang Yena. I am Kang Yena of Space. I am Kang Yena of Space. 

The image clouded, until another image formed, and she was muttering something again-

I am Yena. I am Yena. I am Yena.

Her face was wet- she had forgotten her surname, forgotten everything, but she was touching her shoulder blade, and she turned to look at her back, but it was too dark and she couldn't see. So she just kept touching her shoulder.

Seonghwa was lost- he couldn't get out.

It was like he was living through all these memories himself- like all of this had happened to him, not her. He shouldn't have dived in-

Hongjoong, who had no idea why Seonghwa couldn't get out, and had been shaking Seonghwa without receiving a reaction from him, took the matter in hands and pushed Seonghwa out of the core, pushing him back and back until he was out.

Yena's face was wet with tears now because she had been sobbing in pain- she had seen all of that as well and her memories were fresh like she could still feel the pain- as if she had just re-lived those moments. She got up with a gasp, breaking apart from Hongjoong and Seonghwa, and rushed to the bucket they had placed, throwing up. San immediately got up, holding her hair and rubbing her back, but she flinched from the touch- she felt like her back was still raw from the beating.

Yena scooted back, surprising San, as she muttered in a frenzy 'don't touch me, don't touch me'. A flash of hurt passed San's face but he realised she must have seen something- must be reliving the trauma. As she curled in on herself, sobbing and muttering, San turned sharply back to see that Seonghwa was hyperventilating as well.

What the hell had happened?

Wooyoung calmly approached Yena, letting a cool breeze envelope and soothe her as he wiped the sweat off her face and gave her water so she could rinse her mouth. She did, exhausted, wrapping her arms around herself-

Just like she had, all those years, San realised. Wooyoung nodded at him, telling him he had it handled. Hongjoong was helping Seonghwa out, whose nose was bleeding now too. San put a hand on the eldest prince's back, healing him like he had healed Yena when she had a similar reaction.

As soon as he was normal, if you could call it that- he was still pale and had a pained expression on his face- San glared at him. "What the hell was that?"

Hongjoong looked at San as if to scold him, but San was not having any of it. "You could have taken it slow, Seonghwa."

"I know," he shook his head. "I know."

San sighed. It looked like he hadn't expected this as well. "Did you... see something?"

Seonghwa only nodded, and Hongjoong told San that he had no idea what had happened. It seemed like only Seonghwa and Yena had seen it.

"I'm taking Yena back to her room," San said, not waiting to hear their response as he gently approached her. She had her head buried in her knees, her arms wrapped around herself.

"It's fine now, Yena. You're fine now," he touched her arm, and when she didn't flinch, he let some of his magic pass through his hand. It took her a minute to relax.

"Let me take you to your room," he said, and Wooyoung helped her stand up, but it looked like she had no energy. San picked her in his arms, asking Wooyoung to help him.

"Take her to your room," Hongjoong called out, "People will start asking questions if they see her in this state."

San nodded, and they stepped out of Hongjoong's study, going to one of the guest rooms in the Prince's chamber that San and Wooyoung had been using. Wooyoung opened the door, and San gently laid her on the bed.

She was awake but had no energy- she couldn't even move. Wooyoung sat on the corner of the bed, San bringing a chair so he was in front of them.

"Are you feeling better?" San asked, and she only nodded. He looked at Wooyoung, who still had her wrapped in the cool breeze. 

"Do you want to talk about it?" San asked. 

Yena breathed, "I- I will, but not today."

"Take your time," San assured her.

"You should sleep," Wooyoung said, and Yena put an arm over her eyes.

"I don't think I will be able to."

Wooyoung and San looked at each other, helpless. San suddenly wished he had seen what had happened so he could have helped her, like all those times before. It pained him to see her like this.

"Can you... can you call Seonghwa? If he's okay," Yena asked, her eyes weary.

"You still want to see him after all that?" San shook his head, "You're too kind."

Yena smiled faintly, Wooyoung and San internally sighing in relief, "He must be in pain, San. I know he is. Call him, please."

"I will," San assured her, putting a reassuring hand on her head, "Do you want anything else?"

"Chocolate," Yena suddenly said, making Wooyoung snort, "I'm out of energy."

San tsk-ed at her, telling her to wait while he called him, Wooyoung leaving to search for chocolates. Yena felt a trickle of tears roll down her face.

She had seen the memories, yes, but she had seen something else too. And it was not good.

And she wasn't sure what to make of it- she wanted to check if Seonghwa had seen it too.

—----------------------------

"She's calling for me?" Seonghwa asked in surprise.

"Yes, she is," San said, "So you should go. She wants to talk to you. And please try to be polite when you are in there- she's already in the impression that you're an intimidating sadist."

Hongjoong and Yunho burst out laughing, Yunho saying, "Are you sure she said that?"

"Something along those lines," San smiled. 

Seonghwa, confused, looked at the younger princes around him. Hongjoong nudged him to just go and get it over with. So with a sigh, he said he would.

When he opened the door, he was surprised to see Wooyoung and Yena having a friendly chat over chocolates- but she still looked exhausted. They must have grown close during their time together, he thought. He hadn't missed how relaxed the three princes- Wooyoung, San and Jongho were, around her. They weren't the type to make friends easily.

Of course, it must also be because her power felt so familiar- like Yeosang's. So naturally, they let her guard down around her. Still... 

Wooyoung noticed Seonghwa, offering him a chocolate. He shook his head, standing in the doorway. "You called for me?"

Yena nodded, asking him to take a seat. "Wooyoung... thank you for the chocolates. Can we talk alone?"

"Sure," Wooyoung said, surprised because he, San and Jongho knew everything. She hadn't hidden anything from them, so what changed now? 

He just winked at her before leaving. She said she would tell them later, so he could wait.

Inside, Seonghwa sat, awkward, watching Yena as she closed the box of chocolates and faced him. "Are you feeling better?" 

Seonghwa nodded. "Are you?"

"After chocolates, yes," she said, pleased to see the uptight prince smile. "I'm assuming you saw everything too."

Seonghwa inhaled. "Kang Yena of Space. The one and only princess."

Yena pursed her lips. It was true then. 

"It's been 19 years since I last saw you," Seonghwa said, surprising her.

"You remember me? I mean, the me from before?" Yena asked, eyes wide in surprise.

"I do," Seonghwa admitted, "Hongjoong does too, but he doesn't realise it yet. It's why I couldn't stop staring at you- my mind was tugging at something. You looked like Kang Yena, but I couldn't say it until I was sure."

"So I am.. Kang Yena. Yeosang's twin..."

"You are, and not one day goes by that Yeosang doesn't think of you or searches for you."

Yena almost cried. "I don't remember him. I don't know if I ever will."

"You were only two when they took you," Seonghwa said, "I'm sure you don't remember him- he doesn't either. But he didn't forget."

"Neither did you," Yena looked at him pointedly. "Did you see... everything?"

"I felt everything. I feel like my back is on fire," Seonghwa admitted, his face falling as he sighed. "You've been through hell, Yena. I'm sorry we didn't find you earlier."

"No, don't think like that," Yena was utterly surprised at the emotions on Seonghwa's face, and she knew he was seeing her not as the Yena he had met a day ago, but the Yena he had searched for and remembered for all those years. "You couldn't have, you all were too young."

"Our parents tried their best," Seonghwa's head was down. "But it's like you disappeared right off from existence- even your scent was subdued. We started to fear a rogue faerie killed you- or worse, took you to Earth so we couldn't find you. It was only because of Yeosang's connection that we knew all those years you were still alive."

"That's understandable, please, it's no one's fault. Don't beat yourself over it. Look at the bright side- I'm here now. San found me. I think it was destiny- who would've thought things would turn out this way?"

Seonghwa only sighed. "I'm sorry for the pain I caused earlier."

"It's fine. It would have happened sooner or later," Yena dismissed him, "Can I ask you... what you saw?"

Seonghwa looked at her, frowning, but he began, "Junyoung and… General Lee's brother. Junyoung's magic always caused you pain. The man had you... beaten and healed over and over again... You started forgetting everything except your name... and the birthmark on your shoulder."

"You know about it?" Yena asked, surprised. Had he seen it?

"It's the Kang family birthmark. Only Hongjoong and I know about it, other than Yeosang. He has the same as yours, except it's on his face- here," he said, touching the left side of his face, near his eye.

"Ah... so that's what it was," Yena exhaled. "I never knew why I always thought my birthmark meant something important to me. I had forgotten... Is that all you saw?"

"Yes," Seonghwa said, and Yena slowly nodded. He doesn't know.

"I haven't told anyone what I saw yet..." Seonghwa continued, "Do you want me to tell them? That you're Kang Yena?"

"Not yet," Yena said, "I want Yeosang to confirm it first. I want him to recognise me first if I am indeed his twin. If he doesn't... then I'm not."

"Yena," Seonghwa looked at her in disbelief, "I know. I remember. You don't have to wait for his validation, because even if he doesn't recognise you at first- and he will, because of your twin powers- I do. I remember, Kang Yena."

Yena held in her tears. Almost 15 years, and finally someone remembered and recognized her. So she took his hand in hers, squeezing gently. "Thank you, Seonghwa. But I... I don't know if you will understand, but I want to meet Yeosang first. I want him to say my name. Until then, I'm just Yena."

"I don't understand why," Seonghwa said, squeezing her hands back, noticing the faint bracelet-like scars across both wrists, "but okay. I won't tell them about this. If Hongjoong asks, I'll only tell him that you saw bad memories."

"Thank you," Yena looked at him gratefully. Seonghwa's heart ached at the sight. Yena let go of his hands, sighing. "I want you to go all in with the healing. I don't want to wait anymore. You and Hongjoong, go all in and rip that black thread out of me. I can't bear it anymore. Can you do that for me?"

Seonghwa wanted to say no, that it was dangerous, but he knew it was her desperation speaking. "Okay. But if I ever feel it's too much, I'm going to stop."

"But-"

"No excuses," Seonghwa waved his hand. "You've been through enough pain. No reason to give you more."

Yena inhaled, pursing her lips. "Fine," she said. Seonghwa nodded, telling her that she should rest now, leaving with a goodnight.

Yena slumped against the bed. 

Seonghwa remembered her. Hongjoong remembered her.

God.

But... her feeling of happiness was drowned by the secret she had kept from Seonghwa. She had wanted to tell him, but the way he talked to her- as if he saw something about Yena that she couldn't, made her stop.

When Seonghwa had been in her mind, somehow she had seen a snippet of memory- she wasn't even sure if it was a memory, but her magic told her it wasn't a memory yet.

She had seen something in his mind- a snippet of the future.

How it had come in his memories in the first place, she did not know. She didn't know who to talk to about this- maybe Seonghwa, but... it wasn't something she could just say.

What she had seen... Seonghwa, kneeling in front of Hongjoong.

Hongjoong- blank, expressionless, with a sword pointed at Seonghwa, as he stared down at him without mercy.

Seonghwa, confused, betrayed, looking at his friend.

It couldn't happen- Hongjoong would never do that. Or would he?

Yena shook her head. He wouldn't. She had seen how he looked at Seonghwa- with love and adoration. He couldn't do that.

Yet... 

Yena needed to find answers, asap. She was just thinking about how she would sort this situation, when a knock sounded and San and Wooyoung entered.

"Are you feeling better now?" San asked.

"Much better," Yena assured him with a smile. 

"Is Seonghwa the reason for your much better mood?" Wooyoung wiggled his brows and San slapped his arm. Yena laughed.

"No, I just... talked to him. He saw some bad memories of mine. He felt the pain too, so I wanted to make sure he was okay."

"We passed him out there. He was smiling and shaking his head... It was weird."

Yena laughed at Wooyoung. "I should go to my room," she got up. "You both should sleep."

"Since you said you won't be able to sleep tonight," San smirked, "We had plans."

Yena looked from San to Wooyoung. "What are you both scheming?"

That was how they ended up playing a bunch of board games all night, sprawled across the bed, telling each other funny incidents from the past. Yena was glad for the two- they really made her forget about everything else.

"There was this one time when we were having a dinner, and a heated discussion," Wooyoung began, grinning, "San got a drink from the other table-"

"Not this, Wooyoung-" San interrupted but Wooyoung ignored him.

"He drank, but he didn't like it, so he spit it back in the bottle-"

"Ew, San!" Yena looked at San in horror, who told her the best part was yet to come.

"So San passed it to Hongjoong after a few seconds, who, unaware, drank from it proudly."

Yena gasped in horror, the two bursting into laughter. "What's worse is that Seonghwa saw all of it but didn't stop Hongjoong from drinking!"

Yena laughed in horror. "That's evil!"

San wiped the tears of laughter from his eyes, "It was the way he drank from the bottle in the air to avoid the spit-"

Yena burst out laughing, unable to control herself. "You guys are so evil! Does Hongjoong know?"

"Don't tell him!" Wooyoung laughed, and Yena promised that she would tell him.

"Seonghwa... he's not what he looks like," Yena laughed. "I thought he was an uptight strict prince, but he's just like you all inside, isn't he?"

"We all lived together when we were younger, so you'll see that we all have much in common," San smiled. "He's the most cautious though- he doesn't let people get close to him easily enough. It's just how he is."

"That's why we were surprised when we saw him all smiley after exiting your room," Wooyoung said, "He must have liked you enough."

Yena felt a pang of sadness within her. "If... If I'm really Kang Yena..."

"You are," Wooyoung assured her, and Yena looked at him in surprise. "We all feel it, Yena. We just don't want to say it until Yeosang does. But we know you are."

Yena smiled sadly, "If I had never been... kidnapped, would I have lived with all of you and made such memories too?"

San looked at her sadly. "You would have," he said, "We all would have."

"It's not too late to make some now," Wooyoung said, "I mean, look at us. We made some pretty good memories the whole night, I'd say."

Yena smiled, putting a pillow on Wooyoung's leg and resting her head, playing with the dice on the board between the three. "Tell me about Prince Yeosang."

The two of them smiled, but Wooyoung began. "Him and I lived together for a longer time together. He's shy at first, but once he relaxes... he makes us question our friendship, that brat. He's got a pretty savage humour."

"He sounds nice," Yena laughed, her eyes drooping.

"He cares a lot," San said, stretching across the bed, "Also, one thing you both share is the love for chicken and chocolates."

"Good to know," Yena yawned. Wooyoung began to tell her more, but she was already asleep, and so was San. So Wooyoung smiled at the prince, patting the princess' head as he closed his eyes. 

-----------------------

The next morning, Hongjoong woke up early, and after breakfast with everyone except San and Wooyoung, he wondered what they were up to. He decided to go check for himself.

He went to their room, knocking once, but he could hear the light snoring. So he opened the door, and was about to start clapping loudly to wake them up when he paused.

Sprawled across the bed like cats were San and Wooyoung- and Yena, the board games still in the middle of the bed, the three lying in circles around it. He scoffed- it looked like the three had enjoyed staying up all night and playing. They must have slept quite late.

He shook his head at the sight, wishing he could capture it. He peeked at Yena, who was sleeping quite peacefully now, debating waking her up so they could start the healing.

But... he decided to let her rest.

Yena... Princess Yena. Of course he recognised her, from the moment he saw her. And it looked like Seonghwa had too, though he hadn't spoken about it. But he remembered the little girl from years ago, now all grown up and in front of him. 

Somehow... somehow she had found them all before they had. Ironic, really, how it all worked out.

Smiling at the three in adoration, Hongjoong quietly left the room, making sure no one would disturb the three.

—------------------------

"You don't have to stay on guard, you know," Yena said to Yunho, Jongho and Wooyoung, "I admit that I'm unstable, but I'm not that unstable. Or am I?"

Wooyoung let out a pfft and Yunho said, "We're not taking any chances."

"What's the worst that could happen?" Yena rubbed her chin.

"If you're talking about the worst that could happen, need I remind you what Mingi did-" Jongho was cut by Yunho saying, "Or what San did in Seonghwa's library-"

"Accidents happen!" San shouted from the other corner of the room.

"Or that time when Yeosang sent an army of dead souls for Wooyoung-"

"That was so mean of him!" Wooyoung shouted, and Yena laughed in disbelief. An army of dead souls!

"You did provoke him," Yunho laughed.

"He deserved it," Yena said, and Jongho agreed.

"Great. Now you're all ganging up on me. San, help me out!"

They turned to look at San's response but he ignored him, sipping casually on his drink. Wooyoung groaned.

"So what's the worst that could happen with my magic?" Yena wondered out loud.

"Accidentally portaling us?" Jongho suggested.

"Accidentally making us time travel? I don't want to relive my past, thank you very much," Wooyoung said.

"Or sending us forward," Yunho thought out loud. "Imagine finding yourself back in your kingdoms, missing all the fun."

"I'm not sure I'm capable of such magic," Yena frowned.

"Oh please," Wooyoung began, "I'm not taking any risks. We're staying here,on guard and ready."

"You don't look ready, I mean," Yena said, "You three always end up distracting each other. Imagine not creating the barrier- if I explode- because you three were arguing about something stupid- like if pineapples are fruits or berries."

"Of course they're fruits," Wooyoung said, and Yena looked pointedly at him, having proven her point.

"They're berries, Wooyoung," Jongho shook his head. Wooyoung gasped, Yunho slapping his arm.

"That's like saying that raspberries and blackberries are not berries!" Wooyoung folded his arms.

"They're not," Yunho sighed. Wooyoung looked at them in horror.

"You're all joking. Next you're gonna tell me that blueberries are not berries."

"But they are berries-" Yena began, interrupted when Hongjoong called her name. She left the three arguing to go to Hongjoong.

"Did you take the potion that Seulgi gave you in the morning?"

"Yes," Yena said. She had gone to her room after waking up, and Seulgi had soon arrived with breakfast, chatting with her and giving her a potion to subdue her magic while Hongjoong and Seonghwa worked on her.

"Let's begin then," Hongjoong said, turning to go to the sofa where she would lie.

"Hongjoong, I-"

Hongjoong turned, raising his brows. Yena sighed. "It's nothing. Let's begin."

Hongjoong frowned but nodded. Yena bit her lips. She really wanted to tell Hongjoong what she had seen in Seonghwa's mind- she wasn't sure telling Seonghwa would be a wise decision. But she kept thinking maybe she had just imagined it, or maybe it had been a dream- a nightmare- that Seonghwa might have had, that she had accidentally seen. 

Seonghwa arrived, greeting them as he took his seat. Hongjoong told San that since her magic had been subdued, they wouldn't need him for healing until after they were done, so he could relax with the others as well. He wished Yena good luck and joined the boys.

"I think," Yena said, lying down, "You don't need to work on my memories anymore. They're already coming back bit by bit. You can work on the other parts."

"Did you get more memories back after yesterday?" Seonghwa asked.

"In my dream," Yena said. She had seen more of her life in that house in Rukbat. She wished she would forget. "Anyways, the important ones have already come, so we can leave it at that. I don't think I'd like all my memories back."

"Interesting," Hongjoong smiled. "So you remember your name?"

"I do," Yena said and something unspoken passed between them at that moment. Hongjoong just smiled.

"You first, Seonghwa," he said, and Seonghwa, nodding, touched Yena's forehead.

Hongjoong followed next, and just like yesterday, enveloping their powers with each other, they went inside- direct offence.

Yena gasped, but shut her eyes in determination. She would fight with all she had. she had had enough. 

It was like Yena could see it too then, to her surprise. She saw her magic glowing blue and the black thread close around her. Seonghwa and Hongjoong's magic was approaching, glaring at the black thread that started to cower away.

Yena took that chance and stretched her magic, stretched and stretched until she was holding on to Seonghwa. Seonghwa wrapped his magic around her too, letting Hongjoong do the same as they began.

Her power roiled, and she could no longer see what was going on anymore because she felt pain and helplessness. She thrashed, and San was about to interfere but Hongjoong held a warning hand. They were in the middle of it and did not want to be interrupted. 

Hongjoong examined the long, long thread of magic that belonged to Yena. It would take them a week- but if Yena stayed strong, it could be over within three days. It was all about uncoiling the black thread and Yena staying strong so it wouldn't be able to intertwine with her magic again, until they would uncoil all of it at which point Hongjoong would dissipate the magic.

They managed to uncoil about 8 turns out of the 50 that Hongjoong counted, and it took them a long, painful two hours- the process was excruciatingly slow. Yena had been sweating through the pain but at this point she was numb. Wooyoung helped cool the air around them- it was all they could do.

Seonghwa was moving on with the 9th turn- but this time the black thread finally started to fight back aggressively, trying to slither in between Yena's magic again. Yena started thrashing and Hongjoong held her by her shoulder to keep the contact from breaking, Seonghwa taking her hand in his free hand too.

"Don't let it coil back against your magic, Yena!" He said, clenching her hand unconsciously. 

Yena heard him, but it was too much- her power was going to explode now. 

"Create the barrier!" Hongjoong shouted, and the four princes got to work right at the moment, putting the defensive shield around the room, and it was a few seconds later that Yena finally screamed, and her magic exploded.

Hongjoong and Seonghwa went flying across the room, San sending a phantom hand to keep them from smashing against something, and a wave of her power flowed through the room, fighting to break free from the barrier and escape. But they held on, not realising that they were no longer in Hongjoong's study.

It was Yunho who noticed the objects in the room floating around first, and just when he was about to point out, everything went dark.

"Guys?" Wooyoung's voice sounded, who was making sure he wasn't dead.

"I can hear you," they all said and realised it was only that they could not see. 

"I can see you," Seonghwa finally added, realising that none of them were able to see.

"How!" Wooyoung’s high-pitched voice called in disbelief.

"I'm the Prince of Dark, you fool," he said, looking around him.

They were in... space. Was it space or a dimensional fold? He went to where Yena was lying, her eyes shut in pain as she thrashed against something invisible.

"Yena, open your eyes," he called but she did not respond. He sat down next to her, placing a hand on her forehead. She suddenly went still. 

"Help me."

"How?" Seonghwa asked, and Yena touched his hand on her forehead, taking control. She was in her mind again, with Seonghwa's magic. 

"You have to do something," Yena said, "It's going to coil back."

"You have to stay strong, Yena, don't let it."

"I can't, Seonghwa, not right now. But you can. Let your magic coil with mine where you've freed it."

"No way," Seonghwa said, "That's like what Junyoung did to you-"

"That was against my will," Yena said, "Now I'm letting you in, and I will let you out when the time comes, and I know I will be able to. But for now, I need a brace. Do it, Seonghwa, before it's too late."

"Too late?" He had a feeling she meant more than just the fact that the black coil was going to come back at her.

"Do it."

Seonghwa did it then, let a part of his magic separate from him, let it twine with her magic which embraced his silver thread gladly, coiling itself around him. The black thread finally quivered away, hanging freely.

Yena sighed in relief, and suddenly they were back in the study, Seonghwa still holding her. Yena opened her eyes.

"What was that?" Hongjoong breathed.

"That's what I meant when we said we weren't taking any chances," Yunho looked at Yena, who smiled sheepishly.

Yena sat on the sofa, shivering a bit. "I don't know, but somehow, when my power exploded, it brought you all to dimensional space. We should really check how much time has passed."

Jongho took out a pocket watch. "Wasn't it past three just two minutes ago?"

"What's the time now?" Hongjoong asked, his eyes wide.

"More importantly," Yena said, "What's the day now?"

They all stared at her in horror. She just shrugged. "It should be the same day, don't freak out. Just tell us the time, Jongho."

"Half past 5," he said, and Wooyoung swore.

"What went wrong?" Hongjoong asked, and Yena explained that it was a reaction to the black thread trying to coil back to her magic again. He decided they would be more careful, and that they would ditch the magic-subduing potion. If she could do this with the potion in her blood, it looked like it was no use.

Seonghwa told Hongjoong how he had put his magic as a brace, and he nodded, commending Yena on the quick thinking. "Our efforts would have been wasted otherwise."

"Yeah," Yena said, "It seems like this was all we could do. I hope you're... okay with this? I'm sorry I didn't ask earlier."

"Of course I am," Seonghwa asked, "I should be the one asking."

"I'm fine," Yena assured, looking at the other princes who looked spent. "Can we have dinner, like, right now?"

-------------------------

After dinner, Yena went to her room, assuring San and Wooyoung that she did not need them to keep her awake all night. They were already tired, and she said that since she was older than them, she was ordering them to rest. They just laughed at her but went to sleep.

Yena had nothing to do- she reckoned if she should meet Seoho and catch up with him. It had been long since they had a proper conversation- she missed talking about Fomalhaut with him. But it was weird, she thought, how he had left everything behind, even his own name. Quite a contrast to Yena who had held on to her name all those years.

Yena was pacing back and forth in her room, stopping to look out of the window. The fireflies were roaming about in the garden. She decided to go there and relax.

Only the guards stood awake- the palace was silent. Yena asked for directions and went to the garden, sitting under a tree and running her hands through the grass, watching the fireflies.

She didn't know how long had passed when she heard a voice. "Can I join?"

Yena turned. It was Seonghwa. "Sure," she said, and he sat beside her. "Can't sleep?"

"I'm more of a night owl," he admitted and Yena smiled. "What about you? Can't sleep either?"

"No," Yena shook her head. "I want to, but I don't want to end up dreaming again."

Seonghwa realised she must mean the bad memories she saw in her dreams now. "How has your life been, Yena? All these years?"

Yena looked at him in surprise, but quickly wiped her expressions. "I found myself in Fomalhaut as Yena. I grew up in an orphanage- which was okay. Not too good, not too bad, until I started losing control of my power. My mentor, Cheetah, found me and took me to her home, where kids with unusual powers stayed and trained. It was nice, until they got scared of me and started avoiding me-"

"Scared of you?" Seonghwa laughed, "Why?"

"I may have threatened to portal them into another world, but ended up portaling myself and travelling a week further in time," Yena smiled sheepishly, and Seonghwa silently laughed.

"This reminds me of the time when I accidentally made myself look like a shadow," Seonghwa laughed.

"A shadow? How did that work?"

"You'd only see a shadow instead of me," Seonghwa explained, amused as he recalled the time, "It lasted for two weeks before I was able to turn back."

Yena swore, "I'm not sure if I should laugh."

"Feel free to do so," he scoffed, "The others never let me hear the end of it."

"How has your life been, Seonghwa?" Yena suddenly asked, and he looked at her in surprise, "I wish I remembered you. I'm kinda sad that the good memories aren't coming back."

"Do you want to see?" Seonghwa's eyes twinkled.

"See?" Yena wasn't sure she had heard correctly.

"I'll show you," Seonghwa smiled. He scooted closer to her. "I have this ability to show people my memories. They see it from a third person point of view."

"That's cool," Yena smiled in awe. "So you'll show me what?"

"You," he said, scanning her face, "What I remember of you. If you want to."

Yena thought for a second, "Okay, go ahead."

Seonghwa reckoned if he should give her a warning, but he ditched the thought, moving closer and drawing his hands up to hold her face, surprising her. Pushing her hair back, he muttered 'direct contact' and joined their foreheads.

Yena wanted to dig a hole in the ground and disappear- the Prince of Dark could probably see her red face thanks to the night vision he possessed. "It's how it works," he said, and closed his eyes, letting her in.

Yena closed her eyes, their noses brushing slightly, but she didn't have time to think about that. She was suddenly transported to somewhere else-

His memory. 

She saw a small boy with black hair and grey eyes- baby Seonghwa. He was playing with two younger kids that looked alike-

Yeosang and Yena. Yena knew it was Yeosang instantly because of the birthmark- they really did look alike. Twins indeed.

The scene changed, and this time Yena saw baby Hongjoong too, with his messy ginger hair, helping baby Yeosang walk, and Seonghwa helping baby Yena walk. Yena laughed at the scene- they were still so young.

Two adults came rushing in, and Yena felt a jolt of surprise.

It had to be her parents- she looked just like her mother. The blonde hair they got from her, but the grey eyes were their father's. The couple laughed at the sight of the two babies, barely being able to walk themselves, help their babies walk. Yena smiled too.

The scene changed again, and it was now Yena crying and Seonghwa patting her head, comforting her. Yeosang sat near, pouting, his birthmark a vivid red on his face. 

"Ddeonghwa!" Baby Yena managed to say, and Yena burst out laughing at the delight on Seonghwa's face when she said his name. Yeosang pout grew louder.

The scene changed again, and baby Yeosang said, "Yena has red on her back. Why me on face? I can't hide it!"

Baby Seonghwa, who was playing with Yena, peeked at her birthmark which was visible due to the sleeveless dress she was wearing. "She's a girl. It's good she don't have it on her face."

"I want to look pretty too!" Yeosang pouted,

"You are pretty, Yeo, with the red!" Yena said, throwing a dice at him.

"You only say because I'm your twin!"

"You're mean!"

Yena laughed, watching the twins bicker back and forth while Seonghwa looked helplessly between them. Suddenly, she was back- out of the memory, her forehead still joined against Seonghwa's as he breathed.

Yena realised her face was wet with tears- and realised with dread that his hands that were still holding her face were wet with her tears too. She wanted to draw away, but it looked like he was still in that memory. Her heart was somersaulting wildly.

"Seonghwa," she whispered, and he finally opened his eyes, inhaling before slowly drawing away, wiping her tears as he let go of her face.

Yena looked him in his eyes. She didn't remember the memories- but he did. "Did you miss me, Seonghwa?"

Seonghwa shook his head but a faint smile grew on his face. "Can't say I didn't."

Yena smiled, "Thank you for showing me the memories. For showing me my parents. I don't remember them, but what you just did for me- thank you. I will never forget it."

Seonghwa smiled sheepishly. "It was nothing," he said.

"Ddeonghwa!" Yena laughed out loud, Seonghwa looking at her incredulously before joining her, "That was cute."

"It stuck to me," Seonghwa admitted, shaking his head as he smiled, "Somehow, that memory stuck to me."

Yena smiled back, turning to see the fireflies, the purple sun glowing in the distance. "The purple sun- or should I call it moon? It's yours, right?"

"Yeah. We call it the moon and the orange one sun," Seonghwa replied. 

"San told me about it," Yena said, "It's really pretty. When I was in... that house in Rukbat, I began to hate the darkness. But the purple moon... sometimes I could see it. It glowed, always. It comforted me in a way."

Seonghwa stared at her, "I'm glad it did."

Yena smiled sadly at the purple moon, and they sat in comfortable silence for the rest of the night.

------------------------

The next day, and the next, Yena had spent almost all her time in the princes' company. They told her all about their lives in their free time, told her of the memories they had made throughout the years, and helped her with some training in their free time, so Yena could keep busy.

Prince Yunho had trained her on some basic defence and offence- not the kind with magic, but the one with bare hands. He had said it was the most important thing that she should know, showing her how to get out of situations like someone grabbing her from behind, overpowering her, etc. he had scolded San for not getting to this first and going straight to training her magic, leaving him sulking. 

Her magic had become more powerful in the past two days- they had managed to uncoil more of that black thread so it looked like tomorrow would be the day she would finally break free of all the dark magic inside her. She had thanked everyone, especially Hongjoong and Seonghwa, for being so patient with her and helping her out. They only told her that it was the least they could do for their 'princess'.

She had told them then- and Seonghwa had confirmed it. Told them she was Kang Yena of Space. Though the others said they knew that already, Hongjoong had looked especially emotional as he finally embraced her.

"My little sister," he had said, surprising even Seonghwa, "I remember her too, Hwa. More than I told you." 

Yena had almost cried, and looked around at the princes grinning at her.

My family.

Apart from that emotional reunion, it seemed like she had more control over her magic now, and Hongjoong had told her that they could master the time magic too, once they were free from all of this. He said it was necessary so she wouldn't accidentally transport herself- or worse- one of them, to the future, and everyone had teased her about the possibility of waking up one day as an 80 year old. Though it was a joke, Yena knew it wasn’t impossible and she decided she would learn it. For herself.

What Yena still hadn't been able to tell anyone of them was the memory from the future she had seen, involving Seonghwa and Hongjoong. It really did seem impossible for it to happen, seeing how close they all were, yet... she had a feeling of dread every time she so much as thought of it.

Yena was just lost in her thoughts, going to her room when Seoho-Jinki waved at her.

"Jinki," Yena said, smirking. He just shook his head. 

"What have you been up to? I haven't been able to see much of you."

"Just this and that," Yena said. She couldn't tell him anything right now.

Seoho raised his eyebrow. "How's the healing going? Have you had your memories back?"

"Good, actually," Yena said, pushing her hair back, "I remember some of it. I don't think they'll come back so soon, you know? It'll come back slowly, in flashes, so I left it at that. Just focusing on recovering my magic now."

"That's good to hear," Seoho smiled, "The other princes are arriving tomorrow. Will you be here too?"

"It looks like it," Yena said, glancing at Seoho. His face was... blank but his eyes-

"Your eyes," Yena said, frowning, "Weren’t they a different colour?"

She could have sworn she saw a flicker of panic- why panic? "No," he shook his head, "They've always been dark brown. How could you forget!" 

Yena was still frowning, "I remember them being lighter. Maybe it was the sun. Anyways, how is it being the Prince's Right Hand?"

Seoho sighed in relief to see her smile teasingly at him. "Work, work and work. I'm sure you know how boring it is- you've been in the princes' company a lot these days, haven't you?"

"Why? Do you miss me?" Yena laughed. "Let's go to Fomalhaut when you're free, Seoho. We could walk on the beach like old times, instead we'll no longer be talking about leaving Fomalhaut."

"Ah, yes," Seoho sighed, "Let's do that someday."

----------------------------

Yena couldn't sleep.

And this time, it was not because of the memories and the flashbacks keeping her awake. It was because of Yeosang.

She would be seeing her twin brother tomorrow. For the first time.

Would he remember her? Would he recognise her? What if he didn't? Would that mean she's not Kang Yena?

Yena sighed in frustration, kicking the pebble in the garden she was walking in. She heard an 'ouch', and surprised, she looked up.

"I'm so sorry, Seonghwa!" She laughed, rushing to him. The pebble had hit his arm.

"You've got quite an aim," He laughed, muttering that he was okay. Yena smiled sheepishly.

"Can't sleep again?" He asked. 

"No, it's the nervousness this time. I'm finally seeing Yeosang tomorrow." Yena looked down as they walked toward the bench.

"Oh," Seonghwa said, "What are you worried about?"

"It's just," Yena said, sitting down, "What if he doesn't recognise me?"

"Of course he will, Yena, the way we did," Seonghwa said, shaking his head at her, "We just didn't say it. We felt it first."

"Yes, but... I don't know," Yena put her hands in her face.

"Well, even if he doesn't remember," Seonghwa began, "His magic will recognise you. Me and Hongjoong remember you. And you have the birthmark, right?" Yena nodded, and he continued, "That's it then. You're Kang Yena of Space and nothing would change that."

Yena pursed her lips, nodding, drawing her jacket close. Seonghwa noticed that she was wearing a sleeveless dress under. "Can I... see your birthmark?"

Yena was surprised for a second, but she drew her jacket back, turning so he could see it on her shoulder blade. Seonghwa pushed her hair aside and...

There it was. Exactly like Yeosang's, a red burn-like patch. Before Seonghwa knew it, he was lightly touching it, sending shivers down Yena's spine, immediately drawing back.

"It's exactly like Yeosang's," Seonghwa said, "You'll see tomorrow. He usually covers it up though."

"Oh, why?" Yena asked, drawing her jacket back over her shoulders.

"Maybe it reminds him of you too much," Seonghwa said. Yena's heart twisted. 

They sat in silence for a few minutes, just watching the fireflies play with each other, the moon and the sun glowing. 

"What's gonna happen next, Seonghwa?" Yena asked, making him look at her. "After all of this. Where do I go from here?"

"Well," Seonghwa said, "I assumed you would wanna go to the Kingdom of Gemini, with Yeosang. Castor is your state, you know."

"Oh," Yena said, "I'd forgotten about that part."

Seonghwa laughed. "But you can go anywhere, Yena. You've been to the Kingdom of Cancer, Libra and Sagittarius. Now you're here, you'll go to Gemini next. You're welcome anywhere, you know?"

"I know," Yena said, "And I thought I'd go back to Fomalhaut. That seems like an age ago now."

"You could come to mine too," Seonghwa smiled, "You'll always have a home with us, no matter where you go. And... I don't know if I'm in the right place to say this, but the burden of a kingdom-half the kingdom on you, you don't have to do that, you know?"

"I don't?"

"You deserve to get to choose, Yena," Seonghwa said, putting a hand on hers, "You can carve your own path. We were born into this, but now you have the chance to choose."

Seonghwa was caressing Yena's hand and she watched him with her mouth parted as she considered what he said. He took her hand, his fingers going over the scar on her wrist. 

"How did you get these?"

"The shackles," Yena said, and Seonghwa looked at her. "I guess you didn't notice? The black bracelet-like things on my wrist?" 

"I never thought they were shackles," he shook his head. It pained him to see the scar. "We could erase this scar, if you want."

"No," Yena said, sitting back as she stared at the moon, "I'd like to keep them."

Seonghwa looked at her, the golden light from the fireflies illuminating her face. He noticed then- the grey eyes with a hint of green, the mole near her eye, the mole on her nose- she didn't have that one when they were young. 

He sat back then too, his hand still caressing hers absently as they stared into the distance. 

—----------------------------

"Do I look presentable?" Yena asked San, glancing down at the ivory frilly shirt she was wearing with black flared trousers. "Should I change into a dress?"

San rolled his eyes, "You look good, Yena, stop fussing over yourself."

"You're gonna end up looking like a zombie once they're done with healing you anyway," Wooyoung said. Yena ended up throwing the pen in her hand at him.

"What was I thinking when I asked you both?" Yena sighed. "Yunho! Do I look okay?"

"For now," he giggled, Jongho laughing with him. "You look okay, Yena. It's only your brother coming, don't fuss."

"Yes, but I should look proper."

"Come on, Yena!" Seonghwa shouted from the study, and she left the boys to go inside, where Hongjoong and Seonghwa were waiting for her.

Her last session. Yena smiled at the thought.

"Do I look presentable?" Yena asked the both of them.

"Of course, you do," Hongjoong said, "Come on, we don't have much time before they arrive."

Yena sighed, wondering if she would really look like a zombie after this session. She reluctantly lied down on the sofa. 

"Don't worry," Seonghwa said, "You look good." Yena smiled, and he smirked, "For now."

"Seonghwa!" Yena slapped his arm, making the three of them laugh. 

Hongjoong came back after making sure the boys were on guard. They continued their healing session then.

Seonghwa had kept coiling his magic around her as a brace, and now there were only a few left to be uncoiled before they could use Hongjoong's light magic to dissipate the black magic. They had gotten used to it now, and were much quicker. But today, since it was the last of the magic, it was going to take some time.

For an hour, they worked on removing the black thread and pushing it away. Yena was in pain, but she held on, Wooyoung's cool breeze in the room comforting her. When it was the last turn left, they called San, who sat beside Yena and held her hands to help with the pain that was going to turn worse now. 

Seonghwa coiled all of his magic around Yena's, protecting and covering it so the black thread couldn't come back again. Hongjoong flared his magic, and Yena screamed-

Her brain felt like it was on fire- it was turning into mush. She thrashed wildly, San holding her hands but it wasn't enough. 

"Yunho!" San shouted, and Yunho came rushing in, holding her legs by the ankles and sending his own soothing magic inside, but it looked like it wasn't working much. He shouted at Wooyoung and Jongho, asking if they could hold the barrier in case her magic exploded. They said they would try, but it wasn't enough.

While Hongjoong worked on erasing the magic, which was fighting back as well, Seonghwa tried to provide whatever help he could while keeping Yena's magic away from the black thread. Hongjoong muttered 'Wooyoung' and San called for Wooyoung, who came inside and held Yena's head down so the contact wouldn't break. 

Outside, alone and worried, Jongho stood, wondering if he could hold the barrier by himself. At this rate, she really was going to cause a big surge of power. He was just wondering if he should call the court members for help when a knock sounded on the door.

"It's Mingi!" The voice called and Jongho sighed in relief, rushing to open the door, surprised to find Yeosang with him too- he really had forgotten that they were arriving together. 

"Listen, I have no time to explain," Jongho said as soon as he hugged them in greeting, "There's someone inside, and the others are healing her- there's going to be a big surge of power- you feel it, don't you?"

They both nodded, and Jongho saw Yeosang pale- as if he could feel it. The familiar magic. 

"Who's inside-"

"You can see later," Jongho pleaded, "Please, create a barrier now."

Mingi nodded, as confused as Yeosang and they began to create the defensive shield around the room as Jongho instructed. 

Inside, Hongjoong was battling the black magic through the pain, his nose bleeding, Wooyoung handing him a kerchief which he kept on his nose, never stopping to take a break. Yena's throat had gone raw from screaming so she just groaned in pain now. 

Seonghwa opened his eyes, his magic still working inside her but he felt queasy. "I think I'm going to throw up," he looked at Wooyoung in pain. 

Wooyoung's eyes went wide with horror, and with his hands still keeping Yena's head down, he pushed the bucket near him, and Seonghwa did throw up then, one hand still on Yena's forehead, but he suddenly felt his magic slip. He wasn't feeling good.

"Call Yeosang," he said, having felt his magic nearby. "He'll take over."

"Are you sure- '' Wooyoung asked but was cut off. 

"Call Yeosang now. I'll hold her as long as I can, I'm slipping."

Wooyoung let Seonghwa take over, one hand still on her forehead, the other holding her down as she began thrashing more wildly. He couldn't take it anymore, and by the looks of it, it looked like Hongjoong was going to be out of energy soon as well.

Yeosang entered, his eyes going wide when he saw the girl-

Her magic. It couldn't be.

He locked eyes with Seonghwa, who nodded, a pained expression on his face. Yeosang rushed to him.

"Is she-"

"Yes," Seonghwa nodded, and Yeosang took a step back as he gasped. He let him be for a moment, before he said, "I need your help."

Yeosang took the seat that Seonghwa had been on, pushing his emotions aside for a moment, though his eyes were lined with silver. "Tell me what to do."

Seonghwa did, telling him that his magic would serve as a better brace for Yena, and that he could cover it while Seonghwa helped Hongjoong. Yeosang shut his eyes as he put a hand over his sister's forehead, and went inside.

What he saw inside... a battle. The black thread wasn't leaving so easily. He quickly went and touched Yena's magic, and her magic automatically started wrapping around its twin strands. 

They were finally complete. 

The two held on to each other, while Seonghwa joined his magic with Hongjoong and they flared their power, surrounding the black thread and deciding to crush it between them. 

Hongjoong muttered to San and Yunho to leave them and help with the shield, and reluctantly they did, and pain, raw scalding pain took over Yena, and it seemed like she still had the capacity to scream after all.

San and Yunho joined hands with Mingi and Jongho, the looks on their faces sombre, and strengthened the shield. Wooyoung joined them a second later, and together they poured their everything into it.

As soon as the last of the black magic was crushed and gone, they saw the core dissipate too, taking some of her memories with her while the rest managed to flow out. And Yena...

She stilled. For a moment. 

Then there was a wave of power that went free- being held for more than a decade, finally free, yearning for a release. The princes next to her only had the time to draw the shield around themselves as Yena’s magic exploded.

A blue wave of power started leaking from her, and the barrier was no good in front of it. San quickly told them to leave the barrier and protect themselves- before it reached them and the wave rushed- free, blowing them away.

Everyone in the castle felt it- a wave of cold wash over them, blowing the trees, rattling the glass, the intensity decreasing the further it went.

Inside, Hongjoong and Seonghwa, panting, looked at each other and nodded. "It's done. She's free."

Yeosang was staring at Yena in horror. "What was that!"

San came inside, rushing to Yena, taking her hand and touching her forehead to check. "She passed out. She'll be okay."

Hongjoong helped them get up from the ground, and looked at Yeosang. "You recognise her, don't you?"

"I- " Yeosang was speechless. He looked at the princes who were present in the room and then at the person lying on the sofa- His twin. His sister. His other half.

Mingi too, stood in front of Yena, surprised, and he turned to look at Yeosang. "She looks just like you."

Yeosang's lips quivered, and Hongjoong took him in as he cried for his sister, for the first time in years. They all huddled close to each other, letting Yeosang cry his heart out, saying it was better he didn't cry like this in front of her, which made him laugh a little.

"How did you find her?" Yeosang asked, looking at his friends, his brothers.

"We didn't, Yeosang," San smiled. "She found us."

"Well, technically, San did find him, but accidentally-"

"Shut up, Wooyoung," San laughed, "Somehow... we met in Altarf. She found us."

"I'll just hear it from her," Yeosang rolled his eyes, "Tell me about that.. magic."

Seonghwa told him about the magic that had been implanted in her, and how they had been healing her ever since she was in Altarf. Yeosang slumped against Hongjoong as he heard about this violation, and about Junyoung. 

"They must be looking for her," Mingi said, "They might even be here. He's the Prince of Illusion, he could have made us believe he's someone else entirely."

"That's a possibility, but I think if anyone can recognise him, it would be Yena, no matter what form he takes," Yunho said.

"And since her magic is now free," Jongho began, "She won't get confused. When she sees him, when she's even close to him, she'll know."

They sat in silence for a moment, Yeosang never taking his eyes off her. "Does she... remember me?"

"A bit," Seonghwa assured him, and Yeosang sighed in relief.

"I'm going to go wash my face," Hongjoong said, getting up, blood still crusted on his nose. Seonghwa got up too, saying he needed to wash up as well after all the throwing up he had done. Meanwhile, San told Yeosang about how he met Yena, how he had been clueless but had felt the familiarity. 

"Wooyoung gave her quite a shock when he said she smelled like you," San shook his head, and Wooyoung grinned. "You should have seen her face."

"In my defence, I thought she was-"

"Don't say it," Yunho kicked his back, making him howl in pain, the others laughing. 

"She's gonna end up looking worse than a zombie when she wakes up," Jongho laughed. "She was so nervous to finally meet you, she couldn't stop asking if she looked presentable."

"Oh please," Yeosang waved his hand, "We're the Kang siblings. We're born beautiful."

San snorted but Yeosang was proudly looking at his sister, "I can't believe that she's here, safe and healthy. I wish our parents had lived to see this day."

Mingi put a comforting hand on his back, "I'm sure they're watching us. They'd be proud."

------------------------------

Yena groaned. She wanted to open her eyes but it was too bright. 

"She's awake!" Yena heard Wooyoung say loudly and she flinched. 

"Water..." she managed to mutter and San immediately came with a glass of water, the two helping her sit up as she drank.

After a few moments, she rubbed her eyes, looking at the two- who were smiling like idiots. "Is there something on my face?"

"No, sorry," San grinned, making Yena look at them with confusion.

"Tell me what's going on," she said in a low voice, "Or I'm gonna-"

"Okay, okay," Wooyoung waved his hands at her, "Don't you remember?"

"All I remember is pain," Yena sighed, falling back on the sofa, pinching her nose bridge, "Wait-" she suddenly looked around, "What time is it?"

"Oh no, you didn't make us time travel this time," San assured her, "Instead, just sent a wave like you did back in Altarf, only this time we weren't able to keep the barrier and probably everyone, at least in the castle, felt that."

"Oops," Yena smiled sheepishly. "What about Hongjoong and Seonghwa?"

"Hongjoong ended up with a nose bleed and he's damn tired so he's sleeping now. Seonghwa emptied his guts out," Wooyoung said, watching Yena's eyes go wide in horror.

"At least now they know what it feels like?" She shrugged and the three burst out laughing, saying they had a taste of their own medicine, literally. 

"Also," San said, smiling, "You're okay, thanks to Yeosang."

"Yeosang?" Yena's mouth fell open in realisation. "How?"

"He kept your magic safe while Seonghwa and Hongjoong fought with it," Wooyoung said, "He came at the right time, thank goodness."

"So he... knows now?" Yena asked and they nodded. "And... what does he say?"

"You can hear it for yourself," San said. "Come on, it's time for you to finally meet your brother."

With a gulp, Yena got up, straightening her clothes, forgetting everything else, her mind going absolutely blank. They went to Hongjoong's bedroom, where Hongjoong was half asleep among the others who were chatting. San cleared his throat and they finally looked at them.

Yena saw him then. The blonde hair that turned at his neck, those eyes- he truly was her twin. Even her magic reached out to him.

"Hi," Yena managed to say as Yeosang approached her, his eyes wide. He was a few inches taller than her, making it feel like he was her older brother.

"Kang Yena, of Space," Yeosang managed to say. "My twin sister. Welcome back."

Yena let out a short laugh as he opened his arms and she hugged him. She was home. The rest of them looked at the two in adoration, their hearts full, their smiles big.

Her face was wet by the time she let go, and she laughed when she saw he was the same. "I'm so happy to see you, Yeosang."

Yeosang patted her shoulders, bringing her to the bed, the others making space for them, Hongjoong smiling through his sleep. He seated her in front of him, not leaving her hands. "You made it, Yena. All those years I searched for you, but you found your way home yourself. I'm proud of you."

"Thank you," Yena smiled, looking around her at the princes, "You have to thank everyone for that. I couldn't have done this without them."

"Of course," Yeosang said, caressing the scars on her wrists. "I... I saw some of your memories, while I was inside your mind. I'm... sorry for not finding you earlier. I'm sorry you had to go through all that. I failed you as your brother."

He was looking down, and Yena looked pointedly at Seonghwa. He had said the same things to her too. "You couldn't have done anything, Yeosang, don't blame yourself. Instead, it was the thought of you that kept me going. Because of you, I didn't forget my name. And without my name... I don't think I would be here if not for it."

Yeosang nodded, finally looking up. "I guess I have to thank San for paying attention to you," he looked at San, smiling. "Tell me everything, Yena. How your life was in Fomalhaut, how you got here."

So Yena talked, the 8 princes beside her, telling them about her life in Fomalhaut, about how she met San, how she learned about every one of them and finally got to meet them too. Yeosang told her about his life- ruling a kingdom meant for two, going on thanks to the boys, never giving up on her sister.

They spent all night talking, and when dawn finally approached, everyone was asleep where they sat. For the first time in a while, Yena had a good dream.

She was home.

taglist: @sweethoneykcals @ansko @sincostansan @jjoonggurt @bewitchedinyourhunger couldn't tag: @soliyaa let me know if you want to be tagged!

[dirt-cup-draco]

Tethered- Fred x Reader

‘Don’t ever scare me like that again’ kiss with Fred where he lives (I’ve been crying about it lately) xoxo @starofthedawn

Your chest was tied up in knots, eyes burning and bile rising in your throat. The dust that permeated the air felt like gravel in your airways and you couldn’t help the wet cough that slipped past cracked lips. Even as you blinked away the tears that were running out, the world remained blurry and unfocused. 

After all, how could anything make sense when Fred was face down on the cobblestone. Pieces of the castle you two had called home burying him. 

“Lost in my eyes again, Y/N?” Fred asked, a playful tilt to his mouth. You were in the library, head buried in a book and not at all gazing into Fred’s honeyed eyes. You must’ve not heard him come in so when you looked up and saw him you couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in your chest. 

You liked the way his lips were pulled up by an invisible thread as you finally took notice of him.  It wasn’t quite a smile, but a familiar expression that you held dear to your heart. It was understated, especially for Fred Weasley, but the expression was one of his most sincere. 

“Can’t help the fact you’ve got dreamy eyes, George,” 

“Sod off,” Fred said with no real venom, sitting in the chair beside yours and kicking his feet up onto the table. He was lucky Madam Pince didn’t often come to this corner of the library, otherwise she’d have his head.

You stuck your tongue out at him, even daring to toss a quill at his head- but before you could he caught your hand and held on tight. Your bright grin wavered at the edges but that joy was still blooming in your chest. Suffocation was a sure thing. 

“Everything okay, Freddie?” Voice soft, slow. You understood sometimes he just needed a hand to hold and you wouldn’t let yourself believe it was more than that. What it was, was Fred trusting you and needing you as a friend and that was more than enough. 

He nodded, his eyelids heavy and his demeanor sluggish. He almost seemed like a sleepy cat but you could see the way his shoulders dipped as you posed your question. 

Fred squeezed your hand as he sank down into his chair, knees now drawn to his chest in a protective ball. “Course I am, nothing could ever be wrong when I’ve got you to tether me to what’s good,” 

--

Your knees buckled as you stumbled the last foot to where Fred lay. Unmoving, broken, probably not breathing- You shook your head wildly even as the tears burned and your brain ached. Just like every other wizard, every other soldier at Hogwarts today, you had your fair share of injuries but you felt the pain dull to nothing; Your vision tunneled to the familiar hand that stuck out from the rubble, the feather soft shock of red hair that was visible under all the grey, lifeless stone. 

With a flick of your hand, some of the rubble broke loose and found themselves discarded on the burned and torn up grass ten feet from you. The panic pounding at your ribcage was only eased by the determination you felt to get Fred out of there, alive. There was no other option. 

Waves would stand still without the moon, plants would dry up without water, and you would cease to be anything but a shell without Fred Weasley. 

--

It had been an honest mistake at the time, George had tugged you away after class one day to an empty corridor and nearly begged you to ask Fred and put the both of you out of your “self sabotaging misery”. Problem was, all Katie Bell saw was George whisking you away somewhere private a week before the ball was to commence, both of you dateless. 

By the time you had both gone to the great hall for lunch, your group of friends were deep into speculations. 

“Going to the ball with Y/N then?” Fred fixed George with a look you couldn’t quite decipher but the shock of him thinking such a thing had you missing that usual twitch of his eye when he was aggravated. 

George whipped his head to you in confusion but it went unnoticed when Lee said, “Great! Of course you two got dates before me,” gesturing wildly to the twins. 

All of the confusion had your head spinning but hearing that Fred had a date to the ball made you steady again, the lead pit in your stomach anchoring you. Anyone would be a fool to not want to go with Fred. 

“You’ve got a date?” You said a bit too loudly, eyes narrowed at Fred. 

“Asked Angie,” 

“Yeah, two minutes ago,” She snorted. “Guess he didn’t want George to beat him by too much of a landslide,”  

George let out a too-loud laugh and tossed his arm back over your shoulders. “Take that Lee, we got two of the hottest girls in school to be our dates,” 

“Go with me instead and I’ll buy you as many sugar quills as your heart desires, Y/N” Lee bargained and George swatted him on the back of a head with a faux glare. 

You couldn’t help but snort at Lee’s antics, looking at George with gratitude. You could tell he was trying to talk you up, keep your heart from falling too far. However, his efforts couldn’t completely ease the ache in your chest. You were tethered to Fred and you didn’t think anything could change that. 

--

You’d done your best to completely immobilize Fred when most of the rubble was removed, only some of the smaller chunks of wall now littered over his legs and back. The immobulus charm had to be enough to keep him stable. If he was still alive. 

It was the uncertainty that kept you going in this moment. If there was even a slim chance Fred could be alive, you would do all you could to save him. You refused to lose him and that was that. You wished you could see his chest moving, or any sign of life but he was still too buried and the dust that settled over the battlefield made your eyes unfocused. 

Even though the final battle had ended an hour or more ago, how long had it been since you’d found Fred?, you were shut off from any of the joy that the win could have brought you. If Fred wasn’t going to be there to celebrate then how could you? 

“We’ve got to fix up the shop a-and get butterbeers,” You sniffled, trying to keep your hands from shaking as you worked your way through the rubble. You kept speaking as if holding Fred to his promises would bring him over the threshold and into your waiting arms. 

“You’ve got to give me that birthday present you’ve been bragging about for months, and you’ve got to help me prank Lee for singeing my favorite sweater with one of your fireworks,”

And on and on you went, all of the promises Fred had ever made you falling from your lips as you pulled the last of the rubble from his body. One of his legs and all of the fingers on his right hand were bent at grotesque angles. There was a line of blood that started somewhere behind his hairline and trailed down his temple, dripping off of his jaw and onto the ruins he had nearly become a permanent part of. 

You wouldn’t permit your legs to shake as you stood, the sun being further down in the sky than you remembered. The wave of your wand was light and methodical even as every step towards help weighed you down. 

Time passed you without you taking note, the sun sank beneath the horizon and you stumbled your way through the dark. Eventually, you were taken off guard by the light of someone’s wand. Time caught up to you then as you stared with bleary eyes, trying to recognize the face before you but having a hard time sorting anything in your over exhausted brain. 

“Help him,” Was all you had energy for, before darkness took over. 

--

“...understand how she did it,” 

“...miracle, really,” 

“Poor girl must’ve....” 

Conversations floated around your head as you lay cemented underneath the sheets that you had been securely wrapped in. You wanted nothing more than to swat them away like pesky flies, the voices weren’t loud but to you it was as if someone had put a speaker in the empty space of your skull and turned the volume up as high as it could go. Everything ached. 

“Am I dead?” You croaked, eyelids still too heavy to even attempt opening. 

Immediately, a woman nearly screamed and a cacophony of other voices rose up- both familiar and not. 

“You look like you wish you were,” Someone joked to your left and your eyes snapped open so quickly you became dizzy. You felt frozen in place as honey eyes swept over you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Despite being covered from the chin down you felt as if you were being looked through. A shiver ran down your spine and it was followed by a deep ache that had you groaning despite the emotions bubbling up within you. 

“Damn you Fred,” Was all you had to say before everyone else around you was clearing out. For a split second you felt guilt when you realized your parents as well as the Weasleys had come to stand beside you as you healed. 

“I’ve come back from the brink of death and that’s what you have to say to me?” He teased but his voice was torn to shreds and you had the terrible image in your mind of him screaming for help until he lost consciousness. The blood drained from your face. 

Fred seemed to take notice as he shuffled out of his bed that was right next to yours. He paused at the edge, fumbling for the crutches that were at his bedside. It felt like years the time it took for him to fall into the chair nearest you, his hand stretching for yours. 

You moved pathetically against the sheets but in your weakened state you couldn’t grasp his hand. “Freddie,” You croaked, eyes filling with tears in frustration. You’d thought him dead and now you couldn’t even move a damn blanket to touch him, to make sure this wasn’t a dream. 

“I’m here,” He reassured, moving the sheets on your side gently until your hand was free and you could tangle your fingers with his non-broken hand. 

“How?” 

“I’ve been telling you for years now, you’re my tether. Just when I thought I was going to cross over, I heard you. All the promises we made, and all the chaos we have yet to make, all the things I haven’t said,” Fred’s bottom lip trembled as he brushed his thumb over your scabbed knuckles. You were faintly aware of a needle in your forearm, attached to an IV but all that mattered was the warmth you felt from Fred. 

“You could break them all and I’d still be counting my lucky stars that you’re here,” You cried, falling into a coughing fit. Fred was quick to press a still cold glass of water into your hands and help you sit up even from his place on his chair. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” He promised, hand remaining at the back of your neck as he settled you against your pillows. That genuine not-smile was back and you chewed on your lip to keep from crying again. You still weren’t sure he was here so any reminder that it was really him had you at a breaking point. 

“Can you make me one more promise then?” You caught his gaze but found you couldn’t hold it, the intensity making your stomach swoop and your heart pound against your rattled ribcage. 

Fred had yet to move, his hand steady behind you and his face close. Your noses were nearly touching as he said, “Anything.” 

“Don’t scare me like that ever again,” 

You chanced one more look at him, eyes wide and pleading. You were going to make him promise on everything in him but the rest of your words were lost when you stumbled over the loud adoration in his eyes. As if on autopilot, you removed your hand from his to brush your fingertips against a gash on his cheek. 

“Never again,” He whispered, frozen in place. He didn’t dare move when you let your movements wander over his lips, taking your time before you let your hand fall against the junction of where his shoulder met his neck. Beneath the collar of the hospital gown you could see garish bruising that only served as another reminder you’d almost lost him. 

That was enough to remind you that there was much unsaid between you and the man you loved. You could feel his shaky breath, his hand squeezing yours just enough that you felt the reassuring pressure. When you took your third look at those eyes, you knew. 

You moved at the same time, in tune to one another in a way you always have been. It was with a sigh that your lips met, frightened and curious and wonderful. You were careful of his head would as you played with the hair at the back of his neck and he made sure not to move you anymore than tilting your head to slot your lips against his at a better angle. 

Fred pulled away when his smile dared to take over his face but you couldn’t complain about the loss when you could feel his pulse beating strongly against your fingers, his chest moving steadily with life. 

“I’m just as tied to you as you are to me,” You laughed softly, in disbelief. 

Fred looked surprised for all but a second before he was placing his lips against yours, cautious but deliriously happy. 

Waves swayed with the moon, plants flourished with water, and you were never far from Fred Weasley. Each were tethered to their counterpart and nothing could change it.