#but here i am wanting to get up and write

[ms-boogie-man]

"As we speak, Andrew Tate and this brother Tristan are on their way from Romania to the US. The Tates are suspected of rape (including of minors), human trafficking and money laundering, not only in Romania but also in the UK. Despite the travel ban, they were able to travel to the US under pressure from the Trump administration. This is the kind of people the Trump administration, including their new saint Elon Musk, is protecting. Anyone who condemns abuse of women and minors is "a liberal" and "a retard". This isn't a conspiracy theory like Pizzagate, these criminals are for real. Anyone who corrects fake news, false information and lies by the president himself is a "liberal" and a "retard", even if they are famous historians. The Republican Party, which has become a cult, wants to re-write history for the next generations to come. As far as Imane Kheilif is concerned, she was born as a woman and is still a woman. She may not be the prettiest woman on earth for some and that may trigger real Adonises like Trump and Musk, of course."

@musicandoldmovies … your comment 👆🏼 in the Notes landed in my Activity Monitor so I assume you are speaking to me I will try to keep this short. If not, that will be the only thingy I fail at in here

The Tate brothers are suspected — your wording — of rape, human trafficking, and money laundering. From what I know of the case, there are accusations only, no actual proof has been produced. Too, from what I have heard, the accusations come from corrupt people. Meaning, the accusations began with officials, then the 4 women were produced. That is a little suspect IMO… this coming from a female yo I am not siding with the Tate bros, nor will I argue their case any further until that case has been seen thru to completion. If that never happens, the case never was to begin with. HERE is something though. In this article, 4 women accused the Tate bros. For some reason, the case was thrown back to the prosecutors. That is a bold move by anyone in any country. There must be a reason for it. In the meantime, if it is understood by the brothers that they will return if the case resumes, why should they observe a travel ban? That travel ban is just law-fare, simple. And… it looks to me like the case itself might have been Pizza-gate, on the other hand, is a fact. Every item in the scandal has been proven out as fact. There is not any conspiracy theory to it… only conspiracy fact. There is a mountain of physical, factual evidence. I myself researched this and dug up facts in the matter as far back as ‘013/014… and that is before Trump even announced his first run for president, and that is back then Elon Musk was still a liberal darling to you all The Republican Party (GOP) does not apply here. The GOP is compromised and run by the same people who run the majority of the DNC… also proven fact. Too, re-writing history is the territory of the DNC, so like many other thingys, you have that backwards. We in the MAGA movement are constitutional republicans (lowercase ‘r’) and that means we are of and for the constitutional republic, and not part of the current GOP. Full Stop. We are not a cult. And the facts are on our side. Deal with it

Re: Imane Kheilif… this person’s history and record are built on claims. Even wiki resorts to word salad and virtue signaling to speak of this person, and it all seems to be an attempt to win sympathy while skirting actual issues. Stating someone was born and raised a girl does not prove anything. I can walk out my front door this morning and tell everyone I was born and raised as a dragon … this does not mean anything. You would look at me like, Angie, sorry, you are just a little girl *I find it a little odd that you are siding with 4 women and their allegations of rape — which have remained unproven over the course of several years, then turning on your heel and siding against women when experts have accused a man of getting in a boxing ring and putting a beating on them. When it comes to fact checking services siding with this person, Imane Kheilif and their XY issue, every one of those services has sided with establishment lies in the past and I would not take their word for anything at this point

M&OM, you may want to consider just sticking to the original premise of your blog-thingy: music and old movies. You are good at that. Your jump into the political, socio-economic, and cultural realm is based in about as much fact as those old movies… which are just amusing little stories Too, if you wish to return here and debate me … I assure, you will get much, much more than you bargained for yo

Angie's Current Player Rating Power Exerted: < 25% Accuracy: 100% Damage To Opponent: 75-80% Angie's Life Level: 100% Mode: > BOSS

I am undefeated, on and off Tumblr too, btw

🦇🙃

(bat smiles)

MANIFEST

MANIFEST

[ipushhimback]

Hugs?

pairing: lando norris x reader words: ig around 500? warinings: periods?

summary: you wake up with cramps and your boyfriend comforts you <3

You woke up in the morning feeling like crap. Your whole body was aching and even just the thought about moving just a little made it hurt even more. 

Lando was still softly snoring next to you with his arm wrapped around your waist and his face buried in your neck. You gently moved his arm from your waist as the pain was just intensifying with the pressure. Your boyfriend scrunched his face but didn’t wake up. Luckily.

You didn’t need him to wake up to you being on your period the first time he stayed over at yours. You knew how unbearable you could become when you were in pain and your hormones were all over the place. 

But only a few minutes later you could feel Lando stir next to you as he stretched himself and rubbed his eyes before opening them and looking at you with so much love in them you thought you would melt in a puddle right now.

“Hey, darling. How long have you been awake?”, he asked with a sleepy smile on his face.

“Not long. Maybe ten minutes or so. You slept well?”, you asked as you pressed a kiss to Lando’s lips.

“Yeah. Your bed is comfy. Or maybe I just like having you next to me. You ok? You look a little pale”, Lando said while he furrowed his brow in worry. 

“All good, Lan. Just tired”, you tried to reassure him though you could see that your boyfriend didn’t believe you. 

The next moment you couldn’t pretend to be fine anymore as a sharp wave of pain rolled through you, making you swear under your breath. “Fuck.”

“You are absolutely not ok. Is it your period?”, Lando asked and you just stared at him perplexed. “I have sisters. No pretending here. I did it all. Doing hot water bottles. Going to the store to get chocolate or whatever cravings they had. Buying pads in the middle of the night. Seriously, just be honest. Is it bad?”

You couldn’t help but nod as you felt your eyes well up with tears by how sweet your boyfriend was.

“You want a heating pad? Hot chocolate? Painkillers? Hugs?”, Lando asked again and you nodded while the tears started falling. 

“Oh, baby. No crying, ok?”, Lando said as he wiped the tears from his your cheek. “I’ll be back in a minute”, he continued as he got up.

As promised, he returned only a little later, having a heating pad, painkillers, water, and a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He placed it all in front of you and sat down next to you, wrapping his arms around you again. You leaned your head on his chest and let yourself just be held.

Lando leaned forward a little and grabbed the painkillers that he then held out to you. 

“Here. They’ll help.” He grabbed that water bottle as well and opened the lid. 

You took a sip and placed the bottle back on the table to swap it with the hot chocolate. 

“I hate seeing you in pain”, Lando said as he kissed the top of your head. 

“Well, I hate being in pain”, you said chuckling a little. “But thanks for being here. For taking care of me. I was scared you might be grossed out”, you admitted.

“Grossed out? Never. You are amazing and I won’t leave over something so small. I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too, Lan.”

a/n: something short bc i am planning to write something else but don’t have any inspiration… also, i think all of us deserve a lando in our life who makes us hot chocolate

tags: @strawberryy-kiwii / @a-distantdreamer / @requiemforthepoets / @martygraciesversion381 / @l-vroom4 / @comicalivy / @sid-is-gr8 / @picklesbuddy93 / @sadiemack9 / @f1fantasys / @cloud-55 / @sunny44 / @widow-cevans / @gigicisneros / @mbioooo0000 / @sinfully-yoursss / @bravo-delta-eccho / @rue-t / @mayax2o07 / @alexanderachillesisgay / @maviesamour / @suhchenjun / @pippyth3hippy / @sweate-r-weathe-r / @joannaln4 / @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy / @aleatorio1234 

[iamgonnagetyouback-recs]

SIRIUS BLACK.ᐟ

a little list of my favorite stories ୨ৎ remember to be kind, reblog, and support the wonderful authors who share their magic with us.ᐟ

NOTE ಇ. none of these stories belong to me ♡ if you’d like your fic removed, just send me a message, and i’ll take care of it!

date by @sun-kissy

⁀➴༯ sirius for some reason thinks you have a crush on regulus

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh my god the tension in this had me actually holding my breath, san. sirius being all dramatic and broody while reader is just exhausted with potions?? perfect. but then the confrontation?? my heart hurt for both of them. sirius being jealous and insecure and reader being so confused but so soft when she realizes what's happening. and the james/regulus mention?? peak comedy. the ending was so sweet, i'm actually kicking my feet

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

forever by @/sun-kissy

⁀➴༯ you're cold, and you're in love with sirius

REVIEW ୨ৎ this was absolutely gorgeous. the tenderness, the pining, the way every little movement is soaked in love—it’s stunning. you have such a delicate way of writing sirius, san, i love it! the smoking detail was such a perfect addition—how he doesn’t put it out but still adjusts for you, how you bought an ashtray just for him. it’s intimate in the way that truly knowing someone is intimate. and that cuddle request??? i nearly stopped breathing. the way reader braces for rejection only to be met with sirius’ sure, get over here, babe—it wrecked me. and then the way he pulls her closer, holds her like it’s second nature? absolutely everything. “my arms have no curfew, sweetheart. they’re content to hold you as long as you please.” —i���m going to be thinking about that line for days. i’m in awe.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

right where i want to be by @appocalipse

⁀➴༯ it's only when lily accidentally spills amortentia on you and all you can smell is cigarettes and dog fur that you realize you're in love with sirius — probably the only person in the world you shouldn't be in love with

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh this hurts in the best way. the slow, creeping realization, the way sirius just knows and won’t let her run from it, the tension??? i’m actually losing my mind. the teasing, the softness, the way he says i want you like it’s the most obvious thing in the world??? i need to lie down. no one disturb me, except maybe you amy cause well you wrote this

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

shy!reader by @moonstruckme

⁀➴༯ bf!sirius teasing reader about something, and it actually hurts her feelings quite a lot? maybe she's always thought she's to shy for him, and he teases her about being quiet and it just hurts so much that he sees her just like everyone else does? like she thought he understood her, but instead he's teasing her about something she's really insecure about

REVIEW ୨ৎ this is so soft i could cry. sirius just knows her, and even when he messes up, he listens, he cares. the way he apologizes??? instantly, genuinely, with no ego—i’m in love. and the way he tucks her into his space so easily, so naturally, like she belongs there??? i’m melting. i now identify as a puddle of tears from all this fluffiness

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

clingy!sirius by @inkdrinkerworld

⁀➴༯ sirius being clingy and your friends teasing you guys

REVIEW ୨ৎ this is the most disgustingly adorable thing i’ve ever read. sirius is just so in love and unashamed about it, and everyone else is exasperated but also just accepting of his dramatics. like yeah, of course he buries himself under her shirt like a needy puppy, what else is new?? i am weak

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

kids by @/inkdrinkerworld

⁀➴༯ you are unsure about having kids

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh this is so soft i actually can’t breathe. the way they’re so open with each other and sirius just listens???? no judgment, just love???? and the way he reassures her without trying to change her mind??? “we can keep our family just like this” i’m actually going to cry. and then the stupid little “and a cat” moment like please. and him being like “i don’t think i could put someone over you” like sir. that is the most sirius black thing i’ve ever heard. i love them so much this fic is everything

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

i got you first by @thatdammchickennugget

⁀➴༯ "if i scare you tonight, you'll owe me a kiss." with sirius black but in the end he ends up getting scared

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh, this is delicious. sirius trying so hard to get a reaction out of her, only for her to completely turn the tables on him?? absolutely love. and that moment in the maze? when she flips the game on him, and he just folds under her touch?? yeah. that man is gone. completely and utterly wrecked by her. the way he just stares and then that lazy grin—i swear, i felt that in my soul. also, the fact that their first kiss isn't rushed or desperate, but soft and slow? sirius black, you are in love. and so am i with this fic

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

sober feelings by @lovemenotts

⁀➴༯ bsf!reader with him out of the blue suggesting 'what if we kiss but not in a dating way?'

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh my god. oh my god. this was everything. the casual suggestion like it’s nothing while my heart is combusting?? sirius being all cocky but then immediately spiraling after??? the way he was so worried the next day i'm gonna cry. and then the confession??? i am on the floor. “we should’ve kissed as friends a long time ago” sirius please be serious about me next

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

yellow hearts by @nottswitch

⁀➴༯ the times you put yellow hearts around his name, and the times he put them around yours

REVIEW ୨ৎ this was so soft i’m actually going to cry. the progression from absolute mortification to comfort and love??? sirius teasing but also so gentle???? the yellow hearts showing up again and again??? and the honeymoon bit oh my god. their bickering is so stupid and adorable and so them. the fact that they get their little happy ending and it’s literally framed in yellow hearts. i’m unwell

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

bad dog by @lupinsversion

⁀➴༯ sirius has a bad habit of flirting with others, especially in front of his girlfriend. has she finally had enough?

REVIEW ୨ৎ oh he DESERVED that bonk on the head. “bad dog” is actually the funniest and most fitting reaction ever. like yes, he’s sirius black, of course he’s going to be a little shit about flirting, but also? he needs to learn. and i love that james and remus are calling him out too because yeah, it’s “harmless” but it’s also not harmless when it clearly hurts his girlfriend. sirius sulking about it and realizing he actually feels bad?? good. let him sit in his wrongness and learn from it. this was so well done, i loved it but ahem mak i think i speak for all when i say part is needed

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

a marauders guide to siblings by @ellecdc

REVIEW ୨ৎ this was absolutely delightful. james potter and his love for love, his pure dedication to making this triple date happen—it’s so him. the way he just won’t take no for an answer, and how everyone else is reluctantly dragged into his chaos, is peak marauders energy. and the dialogue? oh mama. i love how everyone interacts here, from sirius being completely against it because of the “googly eyes” problem, to remus and regulus just being exasperated with the entire situation. and the moment james finally gets what he wants, only to immediately start overthinking it and worrying about the sibling connections?? absolutely hilarious. and sirius being all soft for reader, saying she was worth the nonsense? perfect. this was so fun to read, i adored every second of it!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ୨ৎㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤmain blog ￫ @iamgonnagetyouback

[captain-hawks]

i wish you would write a proper follow-up to reader and roommate!kuroo's aphrodisiac fiasco because i MUST know what happens next !!!

(continued from)

18+

>>: kuroo........

groaning in frustration as your vibrator dies a pleasureless, low-power death between your legs, you text kuroo before you can think better of it.

your roommate answers faster than you were expecting, the message hovering on your lock screen as you rifle around in your nightstand for a charging cord. kuroo: .........yes

the tangle of miscellaneous cords in your hand falls onto the carpet, and you groan at the hot, swollen ache that pulses below your navel, sending your ability to think straight wholly off kilter.

>>: what >>: the fuck

the typing indicator pops up and disappears several times before he finally answers.

kuroo: am i politely pretending i don't know what you're talking about or are we making this weird

>>: we accidentally ate viagra chocolate my vibrator is checked out and i need you to talk me out of pathetically relapse texting my ex we are past weird

and yet it only occurs to you after you hit send—

>>: wAIT are you >>: nvm

something inside of you burns hot at the thought that kuroo's probably got a hand wrapped around his cock right now. he hightailed it out of the living room before you, after all. he's got to be just as affected—

the typing indicator dance ensues.

kuroo: chances are very high i will punch him if that asshole sets foot in our apartment

>>: bokuto's been replying to all of my selfies with fire emojis lately >>: should i text him

kuroo: this is really effective at killing my boner actually keep going kuroo: but also please don't

>>: i heard lev's back in town

kuroo: please no more have mercy on me kuroo: i'm doordashing you a vibrator

you choke out a laugh.

>>: my knight in shining armor<3 >>: but it probably won’t come charged though so >>: square one

dots. more dots. more dots that appear and disappear.

>>: wait are we sexting right now

the door to your bedroom swings open suddenly, and for a brief moment, you forget that you're lying in bed naked from the waist down, tits spilling out of your tank top, your purple vibrator slick with arousal sitting forgotten on the sheets beside you.

you forget, because kuroo's standing there in your doorway shirtless, hair askew in every which way like he's been running his hands through it repeatedly, face and neck flushed, sporting an erection tented at the front of his gym shorts that leaves your throat dry.

kuroo's eyes go a little wide at the sight of you, but he recovers quickly, approaching the foot of the bed and placing his hands on the edge of it, leaning down to meet you at eye level.

"you're not calling your shithead ex-boyfriend."

you nod.

"and you're not calling bokuto."

you nod again.

"or lev."

you have to stifle a laugh at the last one—you weren't going to fucking call lev.

"you're going to look me in the eye and pick one of two options."

you swallow, a sharp swell of arousal cresting inside of you at the intensity in his gaze as he holds up two fingers.

"you can sit here waiting for your vibrator to charge. and i'm going to politely act like i don't hear you whimpering while you fuck yourself with it once it is—like i do most nights, by the way. like a good rommate. and then i'm going to put my phone on do not disturb and jerk off in peace."

he puts a finger down.

you might pass out.

"or, i fuck you until you're satisfied. with my fingers, my mouth, my dick. whatever the hell you want. until we get this out of our systems. and then we don't have to talk about it ever again."

he puts his other finger down, and your own fingers clench the sheets painfully tight. your cunt aches.

-

four orgasms later, you're too fucked out to think too hard about the way you're more than satisfied, but you're still curled up beside kuroo. still slotting your spit-slick lips against his, whimpering and moaning into his mouth between slow, deep kisses as he lazily fingers your oversensitive cunt, teasing your wet hole until you're trembling through yet another climax.

(he pretends like he's not aware that this is far beyond whatever the chocolate's done to both of you, that every desperate, needy sound you're making now is for him and because of him—and him alone.)

and you're rubbing your slick folds up and down his shaft until he's hard again, climbing into his lap to straddle him and gasping as he slides right back into your messy hole, fucking his cum right back inside of you.

[fireladyofink]

Oh God.. uuhhhh.. been a minute since I tried one of these..

Skipping 1, hate first person, just can't do it, not even read it.

2 is 100% Andlàtkyn. There's some issues here and there but it will always be my pride and joy.

Due to not posting on AO3 (even though I really should be), 3 is mostly ineffective. Except Wattpad has tags. I'd say UTAU, dragons and crossover.

4, lol. Literally. Lately I keep using that (only when texting others) and it's bothering me. I feel like a simpleton because of how much I'm saying that, eugh.

5 I've honestly learned a lot while researching fics. For one, I found out lantana berries are toxic to humans yet taste like blueberries, and I have them growing in my backyard. They're actually my favorite plant! I love their flowers; so pretty, and they have such a uniquely funky smell as well. Part of why I adore them, it stands out so much without being a bad smell. And the leaves have a sort of citrus smell? I love lantanas.

6 I don't know. I've thought about requests due to the money, but I feel like I'd either struggle to start writing it or get carried away with it- or straight up not finish in a reasonable timeframe. Commissions? Like art commissions? Maybe in a few years when I'm more confident in my skills and also somehow have a drawing tablet to properly draw digitally. Something like that.

7 Either or. I love making sickeningly sweet coffee or various different teas.

8 Is honestly hard to decide! Off the top of my head I can think of Dust initially meeting Killer with the hilariously absurd question of "What do you mean you don't have a mouth? How are you speaking right now? Your ass?"

9 Believe it or not it was basically when I first got a phone and commented a short story in the comments of a YouTube video. Someone replied with a suggestion of Wattpad. The rest is history, lol.

10 Off the top of my head I can't think of anything beyond something very specific for the fic I've been thinking about again lately, Ninjagaësia. Only time I've written outside of the UT fandom too, I specifically want to get around to writing that version of Zane more. What I had planned for him is fun as hell. An absolute badass.

11 Lots of comments, votes and people enjoying it. Which, continuing the above mention, Ninjagaësia doesn't qualify for. Pretty unsuccessful, but for once I don't really care.

12 Undertale AU's. I doubt I'll ever leave, either.

13 No. Hell, my ultimate fic of Andlàtkyn was written throughout the later half of highschool. I am technically working on an original story on the sidelines, I call it my worldbuilding project because I'm building up so much lore in this world before I actually touch on the story itself outside of a vague idea. About 60-ish different species of people, including the were-diseases. Last I counted, anyway. I'll be working on it for years, I know it, and I don't mind that either.

14 Comments talking about my fics on said fics. Actual interactions! It brings me joy. 🧡

15 My family is well aware. I don't bring up a lot of details but the last time I went into vague detail with my mother it was over a scene in Andlàtkyn (no direct spoilers) and she interpreted it weirdly and now she teases me by asking if I'm killing babies again! A bit awkward..

16 Actually finishing a damn story. I don't mind the periods of no writing until I get inspired again, but what annoys me is when I can't seem to finish anything. Only ever finished Andlàtkyn. I still have yet to write anything for the sequel to it, either! Zeradelsída is still just a bunch of loose plot points..

17 I am semi successfully writing benevolent eldritch horror. It doesn't intend harm, but it is truly.. horrifying nonetheless. The uncertainty of someone knowing he died, feeling his own heart stop beating, and feeling something OTHER seep inside and force it to start again, pulsing in his veins, fusing with his anatomy, permanently altering both him and itself into something completely unknowable.. I'm rambling. Anyone who hasn't seen my Wattpad, read Awakened. If you don't mind ridiculously long fics, read Andlàtkyn too!

18 I have at least 7 I mostly expect to finish, with at least 4 others just kind of.. there. I don't think I've posted any of those, either. I also have ideas inspired by dreams that I'd love to write down someday, though don't really expect to actually codify.

19 I kind of just don't. I work on different projects as the inspiration hits, take a backseat for a month or so, then come back to either the same project or a different one.

20 Hmmm.. Hard to think of something specific. I'm leaning towards stuff in Andlàtkyn. I don't really have a favorite kiss scene because I don't do romance. I write adventure! Andlàtkyn has some side romance though- not that any of it is my favorite. Platonic stuff, though.. I'd say my favorite is honestly Lust and Alter incidentally befriending each other and becoming venting buddies. It's the cutest thing, their friendship is adorable and wholesome despite the background angst. I didn't write nearly as much of them as deserved.

21 Honestly it's mostly lack of inspiration that I'm pretty sure stems from depression. If I could get an ADHD prescription or depression meds I'd probably be a lot better but like. I am completely broke. So much so that those issues aren't even in the top 10 of pressing problems solved with money.

22 Given I've literally only done it once.. not really. I guess I post it around everywhere I can think of in excitement?

23 That one continuous dream I had that went on over a month centered on a Nightmare that was freshly corrupted. He was honestly so nerdy and adorable despite putting on the brave and mildly "evil" front. The boy. Him. Goddamnit I want to write that at some point.

24 Honestly I can't think of anything for this one.

25 Oh yeah, I can't think of anything off the top of my head but there's a lot I'd like to fix in all of my stories, lol.

26 Kind of? It's a more recent development, did it for Zeradelsída which still has yet to be written, did it for that Ninjagaësia too. A little bit of a broad, even vaguer outline for things I want to happen in Awakened, too? More like events, no particular order or connection.

27 A few of those WIP's that haven't been posted... Okay technically just one. There's also the very first fic I wrote that is subsequently the only one I've ever deleted.

28 Angstiest often coincides with cursed for some reason, so I'll just go with the ending of Andlàtkyn for the Apple Twins.

29 I kind of just.. don't. If I do, I start hating everything, and because I'm not THAT bad at spelling and grammar I think it's mostly fine the way it is.

30 Oh absolutely. It's particularly obvious when one looks at Andlàtkyn, which I wrote over the course of 4 years. Really neat transition, if I ever manage to do it, I'd rewrite the beginning a little to match the rest when crossposting to AO3. If I ever get around to that.

31 Again, Andlàtkyn. That fic is my baby, man. It's so precious to me.

32 Honestly I don't know for this one, which is weird.

33 100% Ink of Awakened. My little boy. I have some friends that would rib the hell out of me if they ever found out, lol. Thankfully the main one doesn't even remember that he has a Tumblr.

34 I was not expecting how hard of a question this is! I thought it was Andlàtkyn, but thinking about it.. I don't think so? It might simply just change depending on which one I'm currently fixated on, but at the moment I think my favorites to get that on is Awakened and Ninjagaësia, second of which already has basically nothing to begin with.

35 I don't have anything, oof.

Fanfic/Author Ask Game

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[gf2bellamy]

hello again <333 i loved what you did with my other request btw

i was wondering if you could write a fic where reader is late night baker. so spencer comes home near like 2am expecting reader to be asleep but instead finds them goofing off in the kitchen while waiting for their bake goods to be done?

- 🦔

cookies — spencer reid

pairing: sencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: nothing i think a/n: hi hi 🦔 !! i'm glad you liked the other one <333 hope you like this too :) ( i'm craving cookies now )

Spencer opened the door as quietly as possible, careful not to let it creak. After all, it was nearly 2 AM, and the last thing he wanted was to wake you. But before he could even set his bag down, he heard a sudden clatter from the kitchen.

His brows furrowed. That wasn’t the sound of someone asleep.

He hesitated for only a second before shutting the door behind him, placing his bag on the ground, and slipping off his shoes. As he hung up his jacket, more noises drifted through the apartment.

Spencer slowly stepped closer, rounding the corner to the kitchen. The sight that greeted him made him pause.

You were sitting on the counter, legs swinging absentmindedly, a book open in your lap. The kitchen was a disaster—flour dusted the countertops, sugar spilled in little trails, and an open bag of chocolate chips was dangerously close to tipping over.

Spencer’s lips twitched. “Should I be concerned?”

You tossed your book onto the counter, grinning as he stepped closer. He chuckled, settling between your legs and resting his hands on your thighs as he glanced at the oven. Through the glass, golden cookies were baking, chocolate still glistening from the heat.

“Cookies?” he asked, amusement clear in his voice.

You hummed in confirmation, looping your arms around his neck. “Midnight cookies.”

Spencer tilted his head. “It’s 2 AM.”

“Fine, late-night cookies,” you corrected. “I got bored.”

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his thumbs brushing against your skin. “So your solution to boredom was turning the kitchen into a crime scene?”

You scoffed. “First of all, rude. Second, it’s controlled chaos.”

Spencer glanced at the counter. “That sugar bag is on the verge of death.”

“…semi-controlled.” You grabbed a spoon from beside you, holding it up to his lips. “Taste.”

He eyed it warily. “There’s raw egg in this, isn’t there?”

“You solve murders for a living, but this is where you draw the line?”

Spencer sighed but leaned forward, taking a small taste. The second it hit his tongue, his eyebrows lifted. “That’s… actually really good.”

You smirked. “Exactly.”

You reached up, brushing your thumb across his cheek, taking in the faint shadows under his eyes. “You must be exhausted.”

“I was,” he murmured. “But this is… nice.”

Your smile softened, and before you could stop yourself, you pressed a quick kiss to his forehead. “You should go to bed,” you murmured. “I’ll clean up and—”

Spencer shook his head. “Not tired anymore.”

You shot him a knowing look. “You’re lying.”

“I’m just delaying the inevitable,” he corrected, squeezing your thighs lightly. “Besides, if I go to bed now, I won’t get to steal a fresh cookie.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s your priority right now?”

He nodded solemnly. “Absolutely.”

Before you could respond, the oven timer beeped, breaking the moment.

Spencer stepped back as you hopped off the counter, grabbing an oven mitt and carefully pulling the tray out. The cookies were golden brown, the chocolate still slightly melted. The smell alone was enough to make Spencer’s exhaustion momentarily fade.

You pointedly ignored his comment, instead breaking a cookie in half and blowing on it dramatically. You then held it up to his lips. “Here.”

Spencer leaned in, taking a bite. The warmth of the cookie combined with the rich chocolate made a pleased hum escape his throat. “Okay,” he admitted, chewing thoughtfully. “This was worth you staying up.”

You beamed. “Told you.”

Spencer reached for the other half of the cookie in your hand, but before he could grab it, you popped it into your mouth, grinning mischievously.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, but the fondness in his voice betrayed him.

You giggled, grabbing another cookie and pressing it into his hands. “You deserve a whole one, Dr. Reid.”

Spencer shook his head, laughing softly as he took a bite. He hadn’t planned on staying up much longer, but if late-night baking sessions with you meant stolen bites of cookies and laughter in the kitchen, maybe sleep could wait just a little while longer.

[izcoupshrt]

can you make a scoups fic wherein it's their s/o first time meeting his parents and brother and he fell in love more because of the closeness of her and his family (or something like that) i am willing to wait honey no rush

First meeting C.SC

Summary: You always knew Seungcheol was a family guy and you adored him for it. But when it came to meeting his family, for you, not as fun. But Seungcheol just fell deeper and deeper in love with you the more he saw you getting along with his family.

Wc: 0,3k (They call me the short queen for a reason ❤️)

Authors note: Currently writing this half asleep at 1am so it is what it is 🫣 I know that 70% is the nerves talking but I hope you’ll enjoy it anyway✋Thank you for requesting, I hope you like it !!

” I’ll love you til the day that I die”

You knew that Seungcheol was a family guy and that made you admire him even more. But now you were sitting in his car on your way to his parents house and you felt like you were going to choke on your own saliva any moment.

”You alright?” Seungcheol questioned, with a mix of concern and teasing in his voice. The couple made eye contact, one pair of eyes saying ”I’m going to pass out” and the other pair saying ”you’ll be fine”.

”Maybe we can wait a little with this…” You said with the little last of hope that was left in your body.

”Too bad honey, we’re here now. You can do it!” He announced. Gosh in this moment she really wanted to melt into the car seat.

Now they were both standing infront of the door to his, Seungcheols, house and you were on the verge of running away.

At first when you walked into the house you thought that this may be it and you’re getting a heart attack, you’re supposed to be talking with the people who birthed, raised and grew up with him. How scary!

But when you started talking with his family, it all went away. Imagine Seungcheol, but a lady. That’s his mother. She was the sweetest soul someone can ever meet. It was honestly a surprise at first. Idk what you were expecting… Then Mr Choi. He was such a sweetheart. And at last his brother. It definitely showed that they were brothers the way they were talking and interacting.

While you were interacting with his family Seungcheol couldn’t help but think, how did he get so lucky? The way you and his family were interacting made him want to put a ring on your finger at that moment.

In your opinion, the best thing was hearing Seungcheol talk baby with his mother. Adorable!!!

Requests are open!

[redjaybathood]

That's probably because deep down you are tankie-adjucent or just not that good at judgment, maybe your own colonial past influences things, but you don't want to admit it. I recognise this manner of talking over Ukrainians ✨ for our own good✨ or ✨for the fairness ✨ , completely disregarding the current dynamics or how russia utilizes it's culture as a tool of imperialism and colonialism.

But Idk, I'm not your therapist or your priest. Face your idiosyncrasies yourself. Do some soul-searching. Read some Ukrainians. Idk.

I speak two Slavic languages, freely read another, learning yet another: believe me, speaking a Slavic language doesn't make you a tankie. Scaremongering and spreading pro russian misinformation about Ukrainians does, tho, depending on your motives

Where did I say it's good or bad for Ukraine? I said I will not support anyone who does learn russian in our god's year 2025, voluntarily, because it's fun, like I wouldn't support anyone voluntarily walking into a gas chamber because they have a kink for asphyxiation. But that never happened, and people are really learning russian and sometimes even proudly so.

Am I, a Ukrainian who spoke russian before they ever heard a word of Ukrainian; who grew up surrounded by russian language - at home, on the streets, in school, in books, TV, radio, movies; who grew up being told that I'm a russian because Ukraine doesn't really exist, but also that I am less than russian, because I am not really from russia, that I am from small russia, which makes me lessser than the true russian; that if I want to speak Ukrainian, read Ukrainian, watch a TV show in Ukrainian, I'm at best laughable, a village person, but I'm probably a Nazi and should be shot for my language of preference; I, someone who lived under russian occupation where people disappeared for just wearing wrong colours, much less speaking the wrong language; I, who is living under russian terror of rockets and Shakheed drones - and I am the lucky one, I'm far away from the front line, it's just won't help me to get even one night of sleep because my city under attack daily; am I allowed to feel a certain way about this, or do I need your permission?

And I dunno about russian breeds being cancelled. Maybe you are talking about Caucasian Shepherd, restricted because it is categorised as a dangerous dog, long before 2022 or even 2014 (but be for real, nobody cared about Ukraine in 2014). It's restricted by Belarus, too - what rusophpbia is this??? That's sarcasm if you don't get it.

I do know about cat and dogs shows that allow russian breeders to participate, giving them publicity and new clienttele. Like here, 2023, Geneva, World Dog Show: https://www.onlinedogshows.eu/Content/Catalog/v2.8/#/menu/breedDogs/ru/2548/2847

You can go look through the full catalogue, I spent literally 5 seconds to find the first russians:

What long dead Ukrainian poets mistaken for a russian - except someone like Hohol, who was misappropriated as russian and never was a poet to begin with? And yeah, his surname never sounded russian. It sounded more like a slur on Ukranians if anything. What poets with russian sounded surnames cancelled? Unless you mean canceled as in killed by russia for, despite the surnames, not being russian like Mykola Zerov?

Or, from recent examples, Maksym Yemetz, or Oleksii Bezpaltzev, Yevhen Ponamoriov, Maksym Kryvtzov? And more, and more, and more: See for yourself in the "Nedopysani" project, to remember every poet and writer russia cancelled, permanently, for not being russian, for not speaking russian, for not writing in russian

What the actual fuck, really. Like, what?

there's literally no justification for giving people shit about what languages they've chosen to learn btw. some of you might not have dealt with it the same as i have, but it's been an annoyingly consistant theme in my life.

[finelinevogue]

Heyyy! I adore your writing, it's so soft and ahhh just obsessed, I can never get enough! Could I request something with shy!reader (maybe non-bau) and Emily where they had a meet cute and are maybe on their first date? xx

meet cute

OMG AN EMILY REQUEST YEASSS!! hopefully this is sort of what you wanted…?!? 💛💛

pairing - emily prentiss x reader

word count - 2.1k

Why did no one talk about the horrendous anxiety that came with first dates?

Your heart felt like it was beating so hard that it might as well be trying to escape your chest and the rest of your body was so shaky.

Normally when you were anxious you could never really pinpoint why, but this was different. The root of your anxiety was so easy to pinpoint and it was because you were going on a date with the prettiest girl you had ever seen.

Emily Prentiss had come into your life like a page out of a meet-cute novel.

She had mistakenly taken your coffee order for hers, even though it said your name on the side of the cup not hers. As shy as you were, you had not been ready to give up your morning coffee. Turns out confronting someone for taking your coffee can lead to exchanging phone numbers. Then phone numbers can lead to arranging a date.

And that date was today.

<.><.><.>

“Why are you in such a rush?” Morgan asked as he watched Emily clear her desk and pack her bag.

Normally Emily was here well past everyone else. Well… Maybe not Hotch, but definitely later than anyone else on the team.

Tonight was different though.

It was already 5PM and she was stressing that she hadn’t left herself enough time to get ready.

“There’s somewhere I need to be.” Emily answered.

Morgan chuckled because he should have anticipated a cryptic answer from his partner.

“Oh yeah? Where?” Morgan crossed his arms.

Spencer popped up from his desk, “I think I know.”

“Go on then pretty boy.” Morgan said.

“Emily rarely leaves work before 7PM, except today she’s been watching the clock countdown the seconds until she can legally leave work at 5PM. That tells us she has somewhere really important to be. Considering there’s no immediate family involved and we haven’t been invited I would suggest that Emily has a date.”

Emily scoffed, both annoyed and impressed that Spencer had managed to deduce all of that.

“Combine that current look she’s giving us with your theory Reid, I’d say you were right.” Morgan smiled and leaned forwards in his chair. “So…?”

Emily raised her eyebrows at Morgan, silently challenging him.

She didn’t deny anything though. Mainly because she knew she had been caught and there was absolutely no point in lying to a duo of profilers. However, that didn’t mean she needed to divulge in the details of her night.

“You two need to get a life and stop spying in on mine.” Emily said.

“You know that’s not gonna happen.” Morgan argued back, Spencer giving an understanding nod of agreement.

“Worth a shot.” Emily shrugged and left it at that. Not only was she eager to get away from this conversation, but she was also really determined to not screw this date up and so that meant leaving now.

“Details tomorrow, Prentiss.” Morgan shouted as Emily left the room.

<.><.><.>

The nerves had gotten ten times worse.

You had felt confident leaving the house, but now you felt somehow both underdressed and overdressed. You felt like you weren’t really meant to be meeting up with Emily this evening, like this wasn’t something that happened to you.

Maybe you’d made a mistake? Maybe this had all been a dream? Or maybe she thought she had been messaging someone else this whole time?

At least you were meeting in a neutral location, so if anything did go wrong then you could both leave and return to your own homes.

You let your shaky hands reach for your phone to check your messages again.

1 hour ago - From Emily Prentiss:

Looking forward to seeing you tonight : )

30 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

Me too xx

25 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

I am at the restaurant now xx

10 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

It was ‘The Olive Bistro’ that we were meeting at right? x

2 minutes ago - To Emily Prentiss:

Just checking you’re okay?

Then your phone started vibrating and you could see that Emily was calling you.

You took a deep breath before answering.

“It’s okay!” You blurted out before she could say anything.

“Y/N?” Emily answered, her breathing sounding laboured.

“Yes, it’s me.”

“Sorry, it just sounded like you said ‘It’s okay’.”

“No - I-I mean yes. Yes, sorry, it is okay.”

“What’s okay?”

“I’m assuming you’re calling to cancel?” You questioned.

“Not at all. Why would— Will you please stop walking so slow!”

Who was she yelling at?

“Sorry?”

“Y/N, I swear… Wait, have you been standing outside the restaurant this entire time?”

Emily’s question made you stand alert. Surely the only way she would know that is if she could see you right now.

“How do you…” You said, before being cut off by watching Emily walk really fast paced down the street towards you.

Emily must have hung up the phone so you did too, putting it into your coat pocket. Your attention was solely on her now and you didn’t want any distractions.

And gosh was she beautiful.

Emily was wearing dark boot-cut jeans, a high-neck black jumper and black boots. Her hair was styled perfectly around her face and her makeup looked the same as it had the other day.

You suddenly felt very okay about what you’d chosen to wear; similar jeans, also boots but a white shirt instead.

Your hands got more and more shaky as she approached.

“I’m so sorry.” She said as she stood a few feet in front of you. “You must be freezing.”

“I’m okay.” You gave her a nervous smile.

“I swear I’m not normally like this. I even left work early to avoid being late, but Sergio would not let me leave and then the car park… What?” Emily smiled when she saw the look you were giving her.

You shrugged your shoulders, “You still came here, even after a long day at work plus cat troubles?”

“Yes. Of course.” Emily looked wounded that you’d ever consider anything else.

“That’s kind of… romantic.”

Emily stepped closer to you and held out her hand for you to take. Your hand stopped shaking as soon as you held hers. She grounded you and reminded you that you were completely safe with her.

“No, it’s just basic human etiquette.”

“Not to me.” There was a hint of sadness to your tone, which Emily quickly picked up on and wiped away with the softest kiss to your cheek.

“Shall we?”

<.><.><.>

You hadn’t laughed like this in ages. The kind of laughing that left your belly stitch and your jaw ache. The kind of laughing that came from getting along with someone really well, which was interesting considering you’d only known Emily for a couple of weeks.

Dinner had gone really well.

You remembered to go for something that wouldn’t slop everywhere and drink something you knew was safe. Pesto pasta and a limoncello spritz. You had unintentionally impressed Emily with your choices too, which you were counting as a small win.

“Well I’m glad he’s okay.” You laughed.

“Him? Honey, it was me who was under attack.” Emily feigned shock.

“Yes, but he’s a cat. He doesn’t know any better.”

“Wow. Cannot believe you’re taking Sergio’s side over mine.”

You would have fallen for her pouty lips and her sad face if it wasn’t for her hand that held yours across the table. She had reached for your hand after dinner and hadn’t let go since.

It was really nice.

That sounds silly to say that holding a pretty woman’s hand was ‘nice’, but that was the truth. This was new to you and so you were taking everything in moment by moment.

“I’m sorry. How can I make it up to you?” You asked.

“Oh I don’t know.”

“How about…”

“A kiss? You’re so right.” Emily jumped in before you could.

You blushed. She made you so nervous it was ridiculous. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” Emily squeezed your hand.

“Okay.” You said, unsure.

You looked around the busy restaurant and thought about how uncomfortable this room would make you as you tried to have your first kiss.

Emily must have noticed though, because she squeezed your hand again to direct your attention back to her.

“I’m not kissing you here.”

“No?”

“No. It’s not the end of the night yet.” She smiled and your whole body relaxed. You actually felt your body return to the moment with Emily, knowing you could peacefully admire her under the warm restaurant glow for a little longer.

<.><.><.>

The end of the night came quickly.

You stood at your front door and Emily was there with you. She insisted that she came home with you, knowing exactly what kind of creeps are out there late at night.

The night had been so perfect and you could feel yourself becoming slowlh more comfortable with her. She laughed at your jokes, which told you you weren’t making a fool of yourself, and she listened to everything you had to say, which made you feel important. Emily had made you feel special all night.

“I had a good time tonight.” You said, picking out your keys from your coat pocket.

“Me too.” Emily smiled.

“Are we going to see each other again?”

“I hope so. If it wasn’t clear from sharing a lemon dessert with you when I actually hate lemons, then I really like you and I’d love to go on a date with you again.”

“Emily…” You pouted sadly.

“What? Are you upset about the dessert?”

“Yes!” You exclaimed.

“It’s okay.”

“No it’s not, because now when I kiss you all I’m going to think about is how I probably still taste of lemons and you’re going to hate every moment of it.” You frowned.

If you didn’t get your kiss off Emily then it wasn’t literally the end of the world, but it sure would feel like it.

“I don’t mind.”

“But…”

“Y/N, love, I don’t mind.” Emily cut you off firmly. “Okay?”

She took a step towards you, closing the distance, and cupped a hand over your cheek. She hesitantly guided your lips towards hers, ghosting over them to give you the chance to pull away if you wanted.

You closed your eyes as she got close and allowed your other senses to take over.

When Emily kissed you it felt weird.

You’d heard so often you would feel butterflies or fireworks, but in reality it wasn’t anything like that. It just felt natural, like you’d been doing this forever.

You felt right together.

She tasted of lemons so no doubt you did too, but that didn’t stop either of you from kissing each other. She felt so warm against you and you moaned a little in delight at the feeling.

When she pulled away you whined - like, actually whined - from the loss of contact. You watched Emily laugh as you opened your eyes again.

“We have time.” She said softly.

“Yeah, but… we have time now.” You said, trying to initiate another kiss.

“Where’s Little Miss Shy gone from earlier, huh?” She teased.

“You’re mean.”

“And you’re impatient.”

“This is unfair.”

“But it’s the end of the night.”

“Does it have to be?” You whined, probably sounding a lot more desperate than you were hearing.

“Yes,” Emily laughed, pinching your cheek, “C’mon.”

Emily walked you right in front of your door and motioned for you to open it with your key.

You had this intrusive thought that you could just kidnap her and keep her inside your house all night, just to spend more time with her but even that seemed a bit far-fetched.

Right?

You opened the door and stepped inside, leaving Emily standing on your doorstep.

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me.” You said.

The way you were acting all clingy would no doubt cause you to have an anxiety attack as soon as you shut the door, because you had only been on one date and were already acting like you loved her.

No doubt it wouldn’t be hard or long before you did love her, but after one date seemed a little unreasonable.

Emily might even be thinking that you were coming on a bit too strong and this could be it…

“For today.”

“So unfair.” You muttered to yourself.

“Y/N.” Emily said, causing you to look at her seriously.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you, for tonight.”

“Of course. I enjoyed spending time with you. Just don’t make me wait too long before the next one.”

[larkingame]

so, it's 2025...long time no see.

I'll skip they hi, how are yous and get down to the real meat and potatoes of what I'm here to say. TLDR: Larkin is still being worked on (screenshots + such below) and it's always going to remain a free game, but it's under heavy construction atm. thanks for checking in 🫡

for the two people who want to hear the long sob story that usually comes with these type of posts from online creators: I fucked up my back majorly and was out of work for a long time. I went back to work pre-maturely and! I've fucked it up again. the stress of this, lack of income and the fact that i've been taking a lot of meds to help the injuries (but mess with my ability to stay coherent) has made it really difficult to consistently focus on larkin, writing, social media in general, but it is still getting worked on in bits and pieces.

that said, some back story: I started working on larkin in 2019/2020 and it was really really fun! loved it. had a great time. but then i started posting about it and showed it to other people (and to my surprise they??????? liked it????) which made me put a very large amount of pressure on myself that made it not so fun any more. over time i would go through cycles of it's fun! to it's not fun! and so on and so forth. throughout this time I also had pressure from a lot of people around me (irl) to somehow like. strictly monetize larkin somehow, and as someone who was like VERY INSECURE and obsessed with people like mishka making like insane funds off of her game of the same type?/genre? i gave in to that pressure (if you could not tell by all my occasional dirty deletes of shade towards twc. truly pathetic and if any of yall saw. apologies and thanks for ignoring it.) addressing that: i liked twc when it came out, it was fun for what it was and larkin would not exist without it. so thanks for that miss jenkins and i will probably still passively engage with it on my own time.

but, back to larkin. anyways, the looming pressure of this need to monetize made me hate everything that i was doing and constantly feel like i needed to re-evolve and rework and just, overall not have a fun time with it. throughout the months of november, december and january when i was really missing the days of larkin's existence as an idea when me and my sister would just like walk around our neighborhood and i would just infodump to her about my cowboy vampire ocs. so i found my old larkin notebook and the stickies i made planning plot stuff and avoiding tumblr i just. had fun working on my little cowboy vampire game. like not really thinking about other stuff. and that's essentially it.

so I came to a conclusion: larkin is something i love, and i want to continue loving it. so essentially, i won't be monetizing the game itself. episodes/chapters whatever they end up being in the end will always be free. yay. if you want extra content/want to support me in some way monetarily, feel free to join the patreon, however, I won't really be active on it until i have something substantial to show you game wise. that being said, you can still subscribe for access to the backlog of short stories and art etc. I'm turning off charges each month until i have like a real game for you to play that doesn't make me sick to my stomach to look at or think about. another note: pc players are going to be priority until it's finished. I will have a mobile version but i can't promise you she will be all that pretty.

another note, because larkin is free i can't promise quick turnarounds on anything but what i'll be offering on patreon when i start charging again and additionally: i'm back to making larkin a game for me. i really lost a lot of enjoyment for doing this stuff when i thought about that pressure i put on myself like i mentioned above but also, when i started writing it for other people in mind. first and foremost i am making larkin because i like cowboys, i like vampires, i like horror and religious trauma themes. i'm writing this for me: kc, so i can go on my computer and teehee at all the kissing scenes and make a cool cowboy character with fights. i'm going to make it gay and self-indulgent and basically just have fun with it because it's my game and i am making it and i said so.

all that said here are some of the major things i've done with larkin over this past little while:

updated the website so that it is now useable :)

done a lot of work on the ui:

and i have been rewriting a lot of stuff because I FEEL like it was not good and was not fun for me. THE DEMO FROM LAST JUNE ESPECIALLY. it hurts my stomach to look at.

visually, dan (@tapeworrmart ) has been on his fucking a-game with the art even through my crisis. here's the male ace portrait he put together for me last fall and the art for the main menu:

we also have some more art in the works that i am very excited for because they are in pursuit of new fun features :D

all that said. thanks for the continued support if you're still reading this, appreciate any interest you have in my game.

[fairyhaos]

oh wow! wow!!!! thak you so much for this comment oh lord my jaw dropped this is SO MUCHHH nd i absolutely adore it :((

giggling pls im so honoured you loved yeoubi this much! if i could then i'd definitely gift you a book ver of it just to begin to show my gratitude for this comment of urs </3

"ASFHSAD the fact that he was down bad for her from the moment he opened his freaking eyes makes me kind of feral. I love it. I love it. I love it. And the fact that he only seems to fall deeper and deeper for her? I am so soft for Vernon."

love at first sight is THEE CUTEST THING EVERRR i just had to put it in. vernon is definitely the kinda person 2 fall in love just like that, especially when it comes to kind and caring people yk :((

"I screeched! I love Seungcheol but he was really testing my patience in this fic (even if his intentions were noble) and when this scene came, I quite literally cheered. Yes, Vernon, freaking tell him! Protect your girl's honour! (Did I mention I love this portrayal of Vernon?)"

I LOVE THIS SCENE SMMM mostly bc i love the imagery of cutie yokai vernon building a book fort in yn's library but also bc THIS. i knew i wanted to have a scene of vn standing up to cheol bc someone had to knock some sense into him, and who better than the yokai who has quite literally been in love with yn since day one?? also i love the idea of vernon with a very strong moral code because 1) he really does have a strong moral code, and 2) it goes against everything cheol thought he knew about yokai, so it's alovely contrast to make! also. it makes y/n fall for him just a little bit more (tho... she doesn't know that's what it is quite yet wink wink :P)

"Listen. I've read like 20 romance novels since last summer and this scene lowkey tops all of them. Oh, to have a gorgeous sweetheart of a man compare me to spring -- the season of beauty and youth and warmth! I am weak at the knees! I am melting!"

"What if I told you I squeaked in delight??? Like actually???"

"He's just an affectionate guy, your honour! Nooo but this was so cute! And so funny -- I swear I spent like half the fic laughing and the other half kicking my feet and giggling. Also did I already mention this is my new favourite, most beloved portrayal of Vernon?"

honestly im so happy u love my portrayal of vernon cz im gonna b so honest. hes one of the HARDESTT svt members for me to write so i had a LOT of worries when writing yeoubi but i'm so glad the response has been so positive <33 vernon's sincerity coupled with his unintentionally sappy ways have yielded THESE lovely scenes u picked out and tbh full credits go to him for how sweet it is hehe

ALSO OMGGG THE PARTS WITH THE KIDS !!! in my head it was alwayssss gonna be the kids who acted as the bridge for vn to finally be accepted by the villagers and im SO GLADD people loved it sm! vernon would be so good with kids i'm so serious. he'd literally be theee best cz he's just perfect like that and it's totally unfair

"The fact that the 'you're the prettiest person alive' thing came full circle??? The fact that they're so in love? That it feels so sweet and natural somehow? Like it was meant to be?"

full circle metaphors/endings/iconic lines r my most fav things ever so ofc i had to put it here teehee ^^ i had this in my plan from the veryy start and i'm glad it managed to be pulled off so well!!

"And can I just say that your descriptions of the magic is so incredibly beautiful? Like I was in freaking awe. I am obsessed with it."

thank you so much!!!! i feel like i didn't get to put as much stuff ab the magic side of this universe so i was a bit disappointed by that, but hearing so many people say it was still perfect makes me so happy!!

thank you for reading, and thank you so much for this comment. this made my day. seriously. soft silly gentle fics like this r actually my vibe these days so fingers crossed i'll manage to write another long fic like this soon! <3

yeoubi. // chwe hansol

여우비 (yeo-u-bi) : noun. literally “fox rain” — when sunlight filters through rainfall, creating a golden shower.

PAIRING : vernon x f!reader

INFO : east asian historical fantasy(ish. i kinda made up my own mythology), fox demon!vernon, silver!vernon, immortal!witch!yn, fluff, magic, strangers to lovers

WORD COUNT : 22.3k+

WARNINGS : blood mention, injuries, slight discrimination against yokai, cursing

NOTES : for the @camandemstudios winter with you collab! i had so so so much fun writing yeoubi and it's genuinely one of the best things ive done this year. writing a fantasy au soft vernon fic was never something that i thought i needed to write, but now i have, and i love him and i love this and i hope everyone loves yeoubi just as much as i do too <3

SYNOPSIS : living as a magic, immortal healer in a rural, human mountain village means most of your existence has been rather peaceful. that is, until one cold winter when an injured yokai stumbles into your life; and though everyone else is terrified of him, you take him in, nurse him back to health, and show the others that some demons aren’t that scary after all. (...and maybe, just maybe, you end up falling for the pretty fox yokai too.)

For the first time in years, the river freezes over.

During winter, it’s often a lot harder for you to notice things like this, as the cold dulls your senses and numbs your fingers, so you’re only informed of this fact when the village children come to your cottage in the morning, their high-pitched voices blending with the mismatched beats of their fists knocking against your door.

“Miss Witch! Miss Witch! There’s something wrong with the river!”

“The river is all solid, Miss Witch!”

“Miss Witch, we can’t play in the river! Can you fix it for us, Miss Witch?”

Blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you open the door with a groggy smile, squinting down at the children on your doorstep.

“Hello, little kids. What are you doing here?”

“Miss Witch!” one of the children chirps. “Good morning!”

Despite being half-asleep, you can’t help but laugh a little at their chipperness. The children are, undeniably, your favourite people in this entire village.

“Good morning,” you say, bemused. “How may I help you?”

Their voices rise in volume again, all of them clamouring to be heard over each other. It can’t be any later than five in the morning, and your fingertips prickle with the cold grey of the mist as you blink down at them, surprised at their energy.

A girl tugs at the end of your blanket, wide-eyed. “Miss Witch, the river is all hard. We don’t know what’s going on.”

“Ah,” you say gently. “I see.” Crouching down so you’re at eye level with the kids, you ask, “If the river is hard, solid, and cold, what do you think that means?”

The children blink at you. 

“What else is hard, solid, and cold?”

One of them brightens. “Ice!”

“Exactly,” you say, smiling. “The river has turned into ice. It’s nothing to worry about, but it does mean it’s very, very cold right now, so why aren’t any of you wearing any hats or scarves, hm?” 

You ruffle the hair of the nearest child, and she shakes her head, giggling. “We were helping the grown-ups, of course! Something happened at the river, an’ they told us to go away.”

“So we came to you,” another boy pipes up. “They said something’s wrong!”

You tilt your head. Whilst it’s certainly been several decades since the river last froze over, it’s no reason for the villagers to worry that much about it. It’s also not something that your magic can fix, or something that needs to be fixed, so—

“Y/N!”

You look up at the call, and see a man in the distance, jogging down the pathway towards your cottage. It’s still far too dark to see clearly, but you smile at the familiar voice.

“Soonyoung,” you call back. “Good morning! Are you here to tell me about the frozen river, too? Don’t worry, it’s completely normal and not dangerous at all.”

His reply, if he has any at all, goes unheard as one of the children suddenly cries out, as if he’s had an epiphany.

You look down at him, amused. “What’s wrong?”

“I just remembered, something else happened at the river,” he says brightly. His remark makes some of the other children perk up too, as if they also remembered this other thing that had happened.

The kids are all at the age where something like a leaf falling onto their heads would be remarkably significant, so as you wait for Soonyoung to come closer and deliver the actual news, you decide to humour them, smiling and tilting your head interestedly. “Oh, really? What was it?”

 “There’s a man in the frozen river, Miss Witch!”

“A—” The smile turns to stone on your face. “A what?”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung says. He’s finally reached your doorstep now, and you notice that his usual easy smile is nowhere to be seen. He frowns down at the children, displeased. “What are you all doing here? We told you to go home, not to Y/N.”

“They thought I could help,” you say placatingly. “It’s okay. And if there’s a man stuck in the river, you might need my help after all.”

“Not a man,” Soonyoung repeats, his face darkening. “It’s not a man.”

You raise an eyebrow at the graveness in his tone. “Well, then you certainly do need my help, it seems. What is it?”

Soonyoung sighs. His exhale clouds the air, and your fingers prickle even more at his next words, like invisible icicles piercing through your skin.

“It’s a demon.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You are not exactly a human.

Certainly, you look and dress like one—and you have to eat and sleep like one too, otherwise terrible things happen to your energy levels—but that doesn’t mean you are human. There are some things which make you slightly different.

One of those things being that you live forever.

“What do you mean you don’t know if it’s hostile?” Soonyoung demands, struggling to match your strides as you hurry towards the river. “Of course it’s hostile. It’s a fucking demon!”

“When you’ve lived as long as I have, you come to realise that some yokai aren’t hostile,” you respond, frosted-over leaves crunching under your feet. Soonyoung squawks back something unintelligible, too out of breath to make an argument. 

After encouraging the children to return back to their homes and sleep—since it really is five in the morning, and none of them should be awake—you and Soonyoung began making your way to where the rest of the villagers were. 

The river flows down from the mountain that the village is located near. The further up you go, the more dangerous the terrain becomes, and you pause on a jagged rock to frown down at Soonyoung, who’s gasping as he tries to keep up.

“Did you really find the yokai over here? Why were any of you up here in the first place?”

“We didn’t,” Soonyoung said hoarsely. “I’ve been trying to tell you for ages. The demon was found near the edge of the woods.”

“Oh.” You blink. The two of you had marched past the woods a decent while ago. “Okay.” And then you float down from the rock, lightly hopping over frozen patches of land, past Soonyoung again. “Come on, let’s turn back, then.”

Soonyoung sighs, turns around, and begins his clumsy, human descent. “You could at least use your magic to help me down too, you know.”

And that’s the other different thing about you. Magic. It’s such a flimsy, weak word for what you can do, but it’s also the best way to describe it. There are certain things about you, certain things you’re capable of in the way that no human can ever truly be.

Without even looking back, you wave a hand, and a glowing stream of wind nudges Soonyoung’s feet towards the easiest path down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And hurry up before those villagers aggravate the yokai even more.”

Demons, or more traditionally, yokai, aren’t something you’ve encountered in countless decades. As technology and weapons developed, and the human population expanded, many yokai simply faded out of existence, unable to sustain themselves in the less wild, less natural environment that humans created. Others were smart enough to recognise they now had less of an advantage over humans, and tended to stay away from densely populated areas, preferring to target any lone travellers who ventured too far into their territory.

Yokai values and morals are vastly different to humans, and they are so incomprehensible to mortals that yokai gained a reputation for being vindictive, vicious, vile, and all other negative ‘v’ words. That doesn’t necessarily make them so, however, and over your lifetime, you’ve encountered some who don't quite fit the stereotype that humans are all too eager to place on them.

It takes you and Soonyoung long enough to get to the river that the sky has lightened ever so slightly, but the lacey edges of morning mist are still blurring the edges of your sight, and you can only barely see what the villagers are looking at, especially with them all crowding around and pushing against each other to get closer to the river.

You crane your neck, standing on tiptoe, before huffing. Scratch that, you can’t see anything.

“Move out of my way, please,” you say sharply, adding a little volume magic to your voice so that it carries over the whole crowd. 

Most of them instantly look back at that and clock your presence, eyes widening. Some of them begin rushing towards you, looking almost like their children as they begin talking over each other all at once.

“Y/N, there’s a demon—”

“Absolutely vile creature, is there any way—”

“—river’s all frozen, how did it even get here—”

“Okay, okay, okay!” you interrupt, adding even more volume to your voice to be heard. “Minah, yes, I know there’s a demon. Soonyoung told me. And no, Joongseok, we don’t know if it’s truly vile yet. And Woongri, yokai often work with magic, so it could’ve gotten here in a variety of ways. But if you want me to do something, you have to let me through. Yes?”

You’re tired, and cold, and dealing with stressed adults is not the best way to start the day, so you're more blunt than is perhaps necessary, but it gets your point across. The villagers look sufficiently contrite and finally shuffle to the side, making way for you to get through. Seungcheol, the village leader, nudges his way through the crowd until he’s by your side, face solemn.

“Good morning,” he says. “Sorry about the chaos.”

“Good morning,” you say back, voice now normal volume once again. “It’s okay. Everyone’s scared. You don’t call me at ungodly hours unless it’s serious, so I don’t mind.”

Seungcheol nods, looking both grave and apologetic. “We only ever want you to use your magic for good.”

It’s a terribly human thing to say, and you  smile dryly. “Of course. What can I help you with this time?”

“Well… You can help with that.” Seungcheol points to a mound of warped ice a little ways down the river. “How can we get rid of it?”

You squint in the direction Seungcheol’s pointing at, peering through the tendrils of mist, and then gasp. Half-buried into the ice of the river, you can make out a blurry, pale-coloured figure clothed in pale silk. Dark liquid pools in all directions surrounding the motionless body, and anyone can tell the yokai is very badly hurt. 

“It’s already bleeding half to death, so it shouldn’t be too hard to finish— wait, Y/N!”

Ignoring Seungcheol’s shouts, you step onto the frozen surface of the river and rush towards the yokai, and your blood runs cold as you take in the sight before you.

The yokai is a fox demon, you notice, with white ears and soft silver hair and a gorgeous white tail, which is partially being crushed by a river’s worth of ice. He’s waist-deep in the frozen water, and a thick layer of more ice has begun to form around the yokai’s torso from where he’s slumped against the surface of the river at an almost unnatural angle, causing his poor tail to be twisted and buried both in the river and the new ice.

“Oh, darling,” you whisper, kneeling down beside him, tracing a finger across the yokai’s cheek. Your finger comes away stained dark with blood, and you swallow thickly, heart constricting.

The crushing ice isn’t the end of the damage: there’s blood pouring from seemingly unknown sources, matted into the fox demon’s hair and streaking down his neck. He must have been in some sort of fight before getting stuck in the river. 

Gently, you thumb over the yokai’s cheek, taking in the pale skin and delicate eyelashes. This fox demon is devastatingly pretty, and seeing him so badly injured makes your heart hurt even more.

Something rustles near the riverbank, and you look back to see some of the children hiding amongst the leaves, peering curiously at you as you kneel next to the yokai. Further up the river, Seungcheol is approaching you, wanting to know your thoughts on the demon, and his eyes widen as he also notices the children in the bushes.

“What are you doing here?” he says in their direction, the disapproval clear in his tone. “It’s dangerous! You shouldn’t be looking at this. Where are your parents? Didn’t Soonyoung tell you to go home?”

“But we wanna see Miss Witch,” one boy says, eyes wide. “Please, can’t we stay?”

You frown and open your mouth, preparing to reprimand them, but then the yokai makes a soft, pained sound beside you, and you instantly return your attention to him, bending down even closer to his face.

Seungcheol cries out, this time in your direction as you lean towards the yokai. “Y/N, what are you doing? Stay back!”

You ignore him, reaching out a hand to brush matted hair out of the yokai’s eyes. “Hello? Hello, can you hear me?”

The yokai scrunches his eyes up, whimpering in pain. The moment he’d returned to consciousness, he’d started shivering intensely, struck by the cold of the river. 

“Hello?” you repeat, gentle. You move your hand away from the yokai’s face, directing it towards the ice surrounding his back instead. Silently reciting an incantation, the ice begins to glow orange under your palm, slowly beginning to melt away. “Can you tell me your name?”

The yokai shivers, mumbles something unintelligible. Then he looks up at you, golden irises shuddering in fear, every movement of his face telling you it hurts, it hurts, it hurts. 

One of the children lets out a shriek, and you whip your head up in alarm. They don’t look hurt, but the yokai notices the sound too, raising his head to look at them with wide, unsettling eyes, and the children shriek again, all of them frozen in fear. You can kind of understand why: the fox demon is covered in blood, and anyone unacquainted with the supernatural would find his slitted golden eyes petrifying. 

But before you can say anything, do anything to reassure them, the ice around his back makes a cracking sound as it melts under your hand, and the yokai’s mouth drops open in pain. He coughs, splattering blood over the ice, more of the black liquid dripping from the corners of his lips as he starts writhing and scratching against the river, hauling himself up onto his elbows, eyes fixed on the children in the distance, and all hell breaks loose.

The children are screaming, ear-piercingly loud, and Seungcheol is screaming too, and the yokai starts writhing even harder, yipping and gasping like a distressed fox, his hands sticky with his own blood as he tries to push against the ice. 

“No, it’s okay— don’t do that—Cheol, let me think!” 

It’s obvious Seungcheol wants you to kill the demon, especially with the way he’s screeching at you right now, but the yokai looks so pitiful, ears shaking, eyes wide, still bleeding from gashes all over his body.

“Think about what?” Seungcheol yells, children cowering behind his legs, and he shields their eyes from the river. “Y/N, please, you have to get rid of it!”

You look at him, and then down at the helpless yokai beside you, and really, it takes you less than a second to decide what to do.

“I’m so sorry,” you say, getting to your feet. Seungcheol tenses, sensing something wrong in your tone as you look down at the yokai again, leaning down with your hand outstretched. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Your fingers come into contact with the yokai’s forehead, and there’s a golden glow before his eyes flutter shut and he freezes up, before collapsing against the ice.

Hidden safely behind the village leader, the children stop screaming. Seungcheol also doesn’t make a sound, still staring wide-eyed at you, and now the yokai is no longer moving, the early morning air is frozen still once more. You look back at Seungcheol, and he blinks, his face unreadable.

“Please tell me you killed that thing.”

You smile weakly, dried-up demon blood on your fingertips. At your feet, the yokai’s shoulders move up and down ever so slightly with every shallow breath he takes, unconscious.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Bad idea,” Seungcheol admonishes loudly from outside your window, and even though there’s a whole wall and a thick pane of glass separating him from you, his disapproval is crystal clear. “This is a bad idea. Y/N, let me in. We have to talk about this.”

You don’t look up from the boiling pot on the stove, simply lifting a hand and giving Seungcheol the finger.

“How dare— Y/N, you cannot let that thing live. It’s a danger to us. Especially the children! Y/N, think of the children, please, it could hurt the children.”

Seungcheol raps against the glass insistently, but you ignore him, humming to yourself as you ladle some of the boiling concoction into a wooden bowl. Gently, you blow on the steam, inspecting the lilac colour of the liquid before nodding, pleased, and heading over to the yokai asleep on your couch. 

It’s been some hours since that moment on the frozen river, where you’d decided to save the yokai trapped in the ice rather than kill him. None of the humans agreed with your decision, however, so you’d had to make the tiring trek down the mountain yourself, a heavy, unconscious yokai in tow. That’s partly the reason you’re so tired right now, arms aching as you set the bowl down on the coffee table, where you’ve laid out bandages and various dried bags of poultices and face towels to help clean up the yokai. 

Said yokai is still unconscious and bleeding all over the fabric of your sofa, the golden threads of magic you’d used to briefly staunch his wounds already beginning to fray open once more. You sigh, settling down beside him, and begin inspecting the more serious injuries on his forehead and down his arms.

“What happened to you, hm?” you say softly, ignoring Seungcheol still rapping against your window. “Why are you so hurt?”

Living as the only magic user-slash-competent doctor in a rural village means that you have plenty of experience in patching up the particularly nasty injuries that the villagers sustain, and your hands are careful and practised as you dip a towel into the warm, disinfectant potion you’d made, swiping it over the yokai’s skin. He’s injured practically everywhere: deep gashes are scored along his arms, his hands, and there’s one slashed across his chest. Not to mention his definitely-broken tail, the still-bleeding head wound and, judging by the way blood had been pouring from his mouth out on the lake, some internal injuries you can’t see. 

You wince, taking a towel into your hands. “Sorry,” you say, heart twinging in sympathy for the yokai. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. But don’t worry, I’m here to help.”

Ideally, you’d run a bath first and scrub the yokai clean of all the grime and blood before getting to tending his wounds. But he’s a fox demon—ridiculously tall and with a fluffy tail and delicate ears, so he won’t fit in your tiny tub and it’ll end up being more troublesome than anything else.

So, you’ve resorted to magic, dipping a cloth in the potion you've made to melt and dissolve all the dirt into thin air.

The wounds are all worryingly deep, most notably the still-bleeding one on his forehead, and if he were human, you’d be concerned that he’ll suffer a serious concussion afterwards, along with an inability to use his hands for a long while. But as it is, the ancient demon-magic that he’s made of will mean that he’ll heal pretty quickly, and there should be no grave threat to his life.

Hopefully. As long as he doesn’t develop an infection from the open wounds. 

You finish cleaning up the blood and then wipe down his face with a cool cloth, frowning slightly at how his skin still feels unusually hot. Infections will make his healing process much longer and much more arduous. The poor yokai looks like he’s already been through more than enough, so you really hope the fever dies down soon.

Seungcheol is still yelling at you from your window when you finish your preliminary clean-up, and you sigh heavily, beginning to develop a headache from how annoying he's being. So you walk over to the window, wrench it open, and jab a bloodstained finger in his direction.

“Seungcheol. Kindly, please, fuck off.”

Seungcheol blinks, both startled by your abrupt confrontation and a little affronted, but before he can say anything, you carry on. 

“Currently, this yokai is injured, and it’s my job to take care of injured people, regardless of who they are, so you can take any thoughts of me killing him and shove them up your ass. It’s not happening, and it’s never happening, and you’re also disturbing my patient with the racket you’re creating, so please go away.”

If it were anyone else talking to him like this, Seungcheol would have blown up with anger a solid thirty seconds ago—as it is, he simply stares at you, still looking affronted, before he sighs, and all of the energy drains out of him. He knows how headstrong you are, and when you get like this, he knows there’s no way he can sway you. He’ll have to wait until you’re no longer brimming with obstinacy to get his thoughts across.

His gaze drops from yours to your bloody finger, and then he sighs again, folding his hands behind his back.

“Give the demon my wishes for his speedy recovery,” he says at last. “But we still have to talk about this later, Y/N. Okay?”

You huff, and lower your hands. “Fine. Later.” With a resolute swish of magic, you shut the window once again and turn your back on Seungcheol to return to your patient.

As village leader, you can understand why Seungcheol may have concerns regarding a yokai entering a human village, but that doesn’t mean you like how he has no qualms with telling you to just kill it in an instant. Discrimination against magical creatures is half the reason they’re so hostile to humans, anyway, and you’d know firsthand how painful it is to be targeted and attacked purely for being who you are.

It’s not like you ever asked to be magic. And yet, people end up hating you for it.

You look down at the unconscious yokai, with his silver-white fur and gentle eyelashes and those heart-wrenching injuries. Then, wordlessly, you pick up one of the poultices and get to work.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Hansol wakes up to the strong, warm smell of chrysanthemum.

It’s an unusual scent to wake up to, and his ears prick up, alarmed—only for him to cry out a few seconds later, upon realising the action sends a sharp bolt of pain throughout his entire body.

“Oh!” 

A voice sounds from somewhere above his head, and he startles even more, trying to open his eyes and locate the sound, before realising he can’t see.

He cries out again, panicking at the pitch black that surrounds him, flailing around before realising that that action also causes him debilitating pain, and he begins panicking even more. How did he end up here? What happened? All he remembers is being chased through the forest and then tripping and crashing into a river, and then hard ice and the cold water and the throbbing in his head and then— and then—

Something damp and heavy gets lifted from his eyes and he gasps, freezing up as bright white light almost blinds him.

“Sorry, sorry,” the voice from before says, sounding terribly apologetic. “I’m sorry. I should’ve warned you before doing that.” 

Hansol scrunches his eyes, and then squints, vision all blurry from having been unconscious and now being blinded by bright light. He can’t see who’s speaking, but whoever they are, they carry on, the words steadily flowing out faster and faster as the person rambles. He can barely keep up with the onslaught of noise, twitching confusedly and trying to see what’s going on. The world feels like it’s spinning. He’s pretty sure the world isn’t meant to spin this fast.

“That was probably really scary when you woke up, huh? I’m so sorry. The towel slipped from your forehead and covered your eyes, and I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I didn’t expect you to wake up now, but I guess that’s a good thing, ‘cause you’ve been out for a whole day, and any longer and we’re veering into coma territory, which would mean that you were really, really hurt. Which is, like, definitely not good, you know? But you did wake up, thank goodness, so that means there’s a chance you’ll get better very soon. Plus, your fever isn’t that bad anymore, so it seems you really are on the road to recovery, which is all very—oh, wait. Sorry. It’s still too bright, isn’t it?”

Another wave of chrysanthemum hits Hansol’s senses and a hand comes up to his face, creating a shadow over his eyes so he’s no longer squinting furiously up at the disembodied voice.

“Sorry,” the voice says, apologising yet again. “Is that better?”

Hansol blinks, slowly opening his eyes fully to look up, and then, the whole world abruptly stops spinning as he finds himself looking at the most beautiful being in the entire history of the universe. He doesn’t say a word, mouth falling open in shock.

You smile down at him, made anxious by his silence. “Hello,” you say, hand still shielding his eyes from the brunt of the winter light. “My name is Y/N. What’s yours?”

Hansol squeaks, a small, high-pitched sound that instantly floods him with mortification when it accidentally slips past his lips, and he screws his eyes shut and curls into himself, knocking your hand away hurriedly in his rush to hide his face. He tries to bury himself into the couch, shaking. 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” you say, gently, worried you've scared him. “I promise. I want to help.” Perched on the edge of the couch, you lean over and slowly lower the yokai’s hands from his face, coaxing him to look at you again. “Can you please tell me your name?”

You smile, again, and Hansol feels a little faint as he looks up at you. His vision is still slightly blurry from his eyes being shut for so long, and the way you’re backlit by the light makes you look like you’re glowing, a gentle halo of silver light surrounding your form. That, coupled with the way you have the prettiest smile he’s ever seen, is making him feel all dizzy. And a bit warm. The air feels like it’s suffocating him, actually, but all of that is made irrelevant by how pretty he thinks your smile is.

There’s a possibility he’s still in the process of getting rid of his fever, because he blinks slowly, focused, and when he opens his mouth to speak, the next words spill unbidden from his lips.

“My name is Hansol,” he says, “and I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Your eyes widen at his words, a flush rapidly creeping up your cheeks. Hansol looks at you, worried that you’ll suddenly hate him for what he’s just said, but you just laugh, flattered, and bring your hand up to his forehead. The touch is cool against his skin, like a soothing balm.

“Thank you, Hansol,” you say. “Your fever seems to still be pretty high, if you’re saying stuff like this, huh? I’m currently brewing some chrysanthemum tea, and I think it’ll be a good idea for you to have some too.”

Hansol blinks slowly again. “Chrysanthemum tea,” he muses. He looks up at you. “That must be why you smell so warm and pretty.”

You laugh again, flustered, subconsciously brushing his hair back from his forehead and cupping his cheek, your fingers feather-light. “Perhaps. So would you like some tea?”

“Yes, please,” Hansol says. “I’ll have anything… you… give m…” His eyelids and ears slowly droop, and before he can even finish his sentence, he drifts back off to unconsciousness once again, head leaning into your hand.

Open-mouthed, pink-cheeked, you look down at the one-more unconscious yokai in your hands. 

“Wow,” you breathe out. And then you smile. “You’re adorable.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Over the next few days, the yokai—Hansol—constantly drifts in and out of consciousness, his fever fluctuating in intensity the entire time.

It’s difficult to pull coherent sentences out of him, and anything he says is a mixture of your name, his name, and also how pretty he thinks you are.

You chalk it up to his fever.

His demon-magic must have taken a serious blow from the extent of his injuries, as it takes him a lot longer than you’d like for him to finally shake off the infection. A whole excruciating week goes by, and you almost cry with relief when, as you get up to check his temperature in the middle of the night, you find that his fever has finally broken, and he’s able to breathe easily once more.

When the weak sun finally peeks out from over the horizon, you enter your spare room to check on Hansol. Sometime after his first bout of consciousness, you’d gathered enough energy to move him from your couch to the spare bedroom in your cottage. It had taken a lot of work, and a lot of magic—weakened by the stress of taking care of a dying fox demon and trying to fend off any curious and judgy villagers, it takes a lot of energy for you to do anything strenuous lately—but you managed. And it certainly seemed to help, as he slept a lot better in an actual bed.

Humming absentmindedly to yourself, you make your way over to the guest room, fingers dancing and causing golden threads of magic to tidy up the state of your house as you go along. 

To your surprise, the yokai is wide awake when you enter the room, and he startles when you noisily open the door and step inside. The moment you make eye contact with Hansol, you freeze, the song dying off your lips at the same time as your magic drops a partially-fluffed up cushion in the living room.

“Um.” You blink, hanging off the door handle, staring at the yokai picking his bandages in bed in the middle of your guest room. “Good morning?”

Hansol doesn’t respond, continuing to stare at you, wide-eyed.

You cough, feeling terribly awkward, attempting to adjust your stance and take your hand off the doorknob in the most natural way possible. “Hello. I’m, uh, Y/N. How are you feeling?”

There’s another beat. Then Hansol finally opens his mouth, only to completely ignore your question to say, “You’re the one who smells like chrysanthemums.”

“I— Sorry, what?” You blink, taken aback by the abrupt and unrelated question, before nodding. “Oh, yeah. I guess you remember the chrysanthemum tea I made you?” You smile slightly. “I can’t believe you remember that. That was when you were the most unwell.”

“Oh.” Hansol’s ears twitch, and he continues to look at you with his golden eyes, somewhere between bewildered and amazed. (Amazed by what, you aren’t entirely sure.) “I do remember, though. I remember you.”

You blink rapidly, trying to push down the blush that threatens to rise up your face. Having a handsome yokai stare at you with such focus, saying that he remembers you even when he was deep in the throes of a fever is such a heart-fluttering thing to experience early in the morning. You aren’t nearly awake enough for this conversation. If you aren’t careful, you could accidentally fall in love right then and there.

“That’s nice,” you croak, and then shake yourself. You have a job to do. Hansol’s a patient under your care, and you need to check his condition. “Um. Sorry. But, uh, I do have to check if you can remember anything else,” you say, slipping into healer mode as you step further into the room, walking towards the bed. “Do you remember your name?”

Hansol nods, intently following your movements as you draw closer. “My name is Hansol,” he says.

You smile, relieved by the coherency of his answer. The fact that the yokai remembers his own name is a very good sign. “Yes, you are. Do you remember how you got here?”

“Yes,” Hansol says obediently. “I was in a river. Trapped in the ice. And you… saved me.”

That makes you smile a little wider. “I took care of your wounds, yes! It’s really good you’re finally awake and able to answer questions, ‘cause it’s a sure sign there’s no lasting internal damage. I do have to check your bandages, though, so… may I?”

You make a gesture towards Hansol’s bandaged arms, and the yokai obliges, raising his arms to let you see. 

You take Hansol’s hand in your own, preparing to lift his arm up higher—but the moment your palms brush, you gasp, fingers tightening around the yokai’s at the sudden sensation. Hansol, too, lets out a small noise of surprise, looking up at you.

The yokai’s hands are firm, strong, and perfectly healthy, but they also thrum with magic. You can feel every spark and fizzle of the magic as it dances under his skin, spinning and zipping back and forth like a cloud of hyperactive fireflies. Like the magic can talk, and when it noticed the magic that lives inside you, it seems to yip with recognition, spinning itself around in excitement in the yokai’s hands.

“It’s so strong,” you say, amazed. “I didn’t realise magic could be this powerful.”

Hansol’s also staring up at you, similarly in awe. “You’re magic too?” he asks, looking like he’s never fathomed such a thing is possible. “You’re like me?”

You laugh slightly, made a little giddy by the feeling of how alive the magic is under Hansol’s skin. “Not exactly,” you say, releasing Hansol’s hand to finally reach for the bandages, feeling around to see whether his skin is still tender underneath. “I don’t have the ears or the tail, do I?”

Hansol’s ears flick. You’re decidedly focused solely on the yokai’s bandages, but you can feel Hansol looking at you intently as you work. 

“But you’re very pretty,” Hansol says. “Are you sure?”

fuck. Hansol has to stop saying things like that, because they’re very bad for your poor heart. Very bad.

“I’m sure,” you say with a smile, straightening up once again. “I think all your wounds are healing nicely. Now your magic’s come back to its full strength, it’ll help you heal the rest of the way in no time.”

You can’t help but reach for Hansol’s hand again, once more feeling pleasantly surprised by the light zap of magic when your hands touch. Now you can feel the thrum of it under Hansol’s skin, it’s easy to realise how unwell the yokai was before, when his hands had been deathly cold with no fizz of magic in them at all. You’re just endlessly relieved that you can feel that fizz once again.

Hansol looks down at your intertwined hands, and then up at you, a smile lifting up the corners of his lips. “Thank you,” he says, so very sincere that it melts your heart. “Thank you for looking after me.”

You can’t help but smile back, squeezing Hansol’s hand once. “Of course. It’s my pleasure. Really.”

Hansol smiles even wider, ears twitching pleasedly, and you once again have to try and valiantly fight away your blush. fuck. This yokai really needs to stop making you blush so easily, and fast, else you’re going to start having problems.

───────────── ‘✽, 

It turns out, the blushing thing ends up being the least of your problems, because later that day, Hansol tries to leave.

Sometime after bringing Hansol a breakfast of soup and chrysanthemum tea (since he really seemed to like the tea), you’re drying away the breakfast dishes when a blast of cold air slices through the cottage, and you look over to see Hansol holding open the front door, looking like he’s about to step out.

“H—wait! Hansol, what are you doing?”

The yokai looks over at you, still holding the front door, confused. The bottom half of his tail is still bandaged, making it difficult for him to move it around, but it still sways from side to side unsurely as he blinks at you.

“I’m leaving,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “You took care of me. And I’m now better. So I’m going to go.”

You gape, jaw almost dropping to the floor at the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard.

“Like hell you are,” you say, marching over to the front door and firmly shutting it with your still-soapy hands, and then ushering Hansol back to the guest room and into bed. “You are very far from being better, Hansol. Your tail is still all bandaged up! I’m not letting you leave until you’re back to full health, so don’t you dare think for a second that you get to go before then.”

Hansol makes a noise of confusion as you fussily tuck him back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his head and arranging the covers around him. “What? Why would you let me stay?”

“Why wouldn’t I let you stay?” you counter, patting down the duvet and absentmindedly brushing away the strands of hair that fall in his eyes. “I want to take care of you. I want you to get better. I can’t exactly do that if you go off into the woods all by yourself and get up to heaven knows what, can I?”

Perched on the edge of the bed, you smile and pat his head. 

“I’m not letting you out of my sight for a long while yet, mister,” you say, the faux-scolding adding a light playfulness to your tone. “You’re going to stay with me and get better until I say so.”

Hansol looks up at you, tilts his head, and scrunches his nose just slightly as he smiles, shy. “So you’ll let me stay as long as I like?”

“Obviously,” you say, smiling back. “However long it takes you to heal, and then some, if you want. Of course, unless you have somewhere else to go.”

The yokai hesitates, ears flicking unsurely. “Not really,” he admits, lowering his gaze. “I’ve never actually had anywhere real to stay.” He looks back up at you again, golden eyes glinting hopefully. “So if it’s okay…”

“Oh, of course you can stay here,” you rush to reassure him. And then you pause, deflating a little. “Although…This is a human village, so they don’t really like… your kind. It might make life a bit difficult, but since you’re with me, they shouldn’t bother you too much. Though I understand if that makes you hesitant to stay.”

Hansol shakes his head, smiling slightly. “That’s okay. I like it here, so I don’t mind staying with just you.” 

“I’m glad,” you say sincerely. “Seriously, you can stay here for however long you want.”

Hansol ducks his head shyly. “Thank you. Genuinely, thank you.”

You awkwardly pat his hand where it lays on the covers, a little embarrassed in the face of his obvious gratitude, and instruct him to rest up before exiting the room. You’re glad that the brief misunderstanding had been cleared up, because you don’t want Hansol to feel anything less than welcomed. Being a yokai, he won’t have received similar acts of kindness in the wild, and as a magical being yourself, you know how that can feel. No one deserves to feel unwanted, least of all an injured yokai who’d obviously been hurt intentionally before you found him.

Unfortunately, though, the trials of Hansol’s first weeks of consciousness do not end there. Some days later, at some point during the afternoon, Seungcheol comes knocking on your door.

You hadn’t intended on inviting Seungcheol in. But afternoons are always a miserable time during winter, when the sky darkens far too early for anyone’s liking, and it’s difficult to find one’s way through the cold, barely-lit paths. That’s why you often get people coming to your door during the late afternoon, lost or confused or panicked because they’ve lost their way, and your cottage, shimmering with gold magic and warm lights is the only beacon they recognise.

So that’s the only reason why, when Seungcheol turns up, you accidentally open the door for him. Not that you have anything against the village leader, but—Hansol’s only been awake for a week at this point, and you don’t have the mental capacity to deal with a talk about getting rid of him.

Unfortunately, when Seungcheol already has one foot in a door, he will not go. Literally.

“Get your foot out of my door,” you say exasperatedly, struggling to push the door shut as Seungcheol pushes back. His foot is still wedged in the doorway.

“Let me in,” Seungcheol says. 

“No. You’re gonna tell me to hurt the yokai again.”

“I’m going to tell you to get him out of here.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes,” Seungcheol says, finally giving up on the little game and pushing his way through the door like it’s no difficulty at all, making you let out an indignant hey!. “We need to talk about this, Y/N. You cannot harbour a demon in our village without discussing this with anyone. He needs to go.”

“He’s hurt,” you say. “He can’t go anywhere! And he won’t hurt anyone, I promise.”

“You can’t know that.” Seungcheol furrows his brow, his tone grave. “He’s a demon, Y/N. You don’t know what he’s capable of. You can’t keep him here.”

“Yes I can,” you insist, “because he’s a fucking real-life being with feelings, not this scary, evil harbinger of doom that you’re making him out to be, and I know this, because he’s been here with me, in my own home, and he’s quite possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

Over the last several days, Hansol has been healing rapidly, so much so that most of his bandages have been removed and he practically glows with magic every time you see him. It’s incredibly relieving to see, and it’s also allowed you to get to know him better: sometimes unintentionally, as a natural side effect of living with him now, but also, sometimes quite on purpose. Because he’s pretty, and he’s interesting, and you want to know who he is.

Turns out, one of the key things about Hansol is he’s the most adorable being you’ve ever met.

He’s adorable, in an awkward sort of way, from the way he hovers hesitantly in doorways to the way his tail always fluffs up with contentment when he feels the tendrils of your magic brush across the room.

Unlike yokai, who simply have ancient magic embedded in them from birth, you are born of magic and made entirely of magic, so the stuff practically spills out of you wherever you go. The magic can’t only be felt from under your skin, but extends out and away from your being. You’re not used to having guests in the cottage, so you weren’t aware of the extent of how much you let your magic run free when in the safety of your home, until you noticed how Hansol reacted. He always blinks in surprise, lifting his hand palm-up, fingers curling inwards, as if your magic is some elusive silk strand that constantly evades his grasp. It’s as if he can truly feel it, and he always seems to like it.

“Can you actually feel my magic?” you ask one day, and he looks up from his hand, surprised. His tail is all fluffy and big, lazily waving from side to side and creating static against the decorative pillows on your couch. You’re sitting on an armchair next to him, smiling at him amusedly from over the book of hexes you’re reading. He doesn’t even seem to notice what his tail is doing, too occupied with the invisible tendrils between his fingers.

“Yeah,” Hansol says after a moment, closing his hand and resting them both back in his lap, a little awkward. “It feels warm. Nice.”

“Really?” 

You can’t help but smile at that, oddly flattered. To you, your magic is just… yours. It doesn’t feel like anything in particular, nothing more than a familiar tingle in your hands and a weight against your skin. Though you like describing it as gold, in reality, your magic doesn’t have any colour or any real tangibility to it apart from a fleeting pressure. The idea of it being “gold” is just how you feel about it. It never occurred to you that others could feel it, let alone feel differently about it—living amongst humans, your magic has always subconsciously curled tighter around your arms when you interact with the villagers, not wanting to weird them out with your abnormality or make them feel intimidated by you.

Hansol nods, tail swishing once more. The static has caused all his white fur to stand on end, making him look even more fluffy and adorable. “Yeah,” he says again. “It’s so much calmer than the way my magic feels. It’s really cool.”

He’s looking at you earnestly, as if expecting you to totally agree that your magic is “calmer” than his. And even though you’ve only felt his magic twice before, you nod along in agreement anyway, and Hansol nods back, satisfied with your assent. Then he lowers his gaze back to his lap, opens his hand again, and goes back to playing with your magic.

An endeared laugh bubbles up into your throat, and you smile at the top of Hansol’s head before turning back to your book. Goodness, Hansol is so ridiculously cute.

That interaction only happened some days ago, and whenever Hansol smiles at you or stiltedly asks if he can help you around the house, the surge of affection comes back even harder. So you cannot stand Seungcheol standing here, right now, frowning at you like you’re being unreasonable in your decision to treat Hansol like a normal being.

Seungcheol continues to frown, and you simply stare defiantly back, arms crossed. You don’t let him walk further into the cottage, and a stare-off commences there in the front hallway, neither of you willing to back down.

That is, until there’s a loud crash from further inside the house, and both of you flinch in alarm.

“What was that?” Seungcheol asks, and you look back to where the sound had come from. Connected to the living room, behind a door disguised as an unassuming bookshelf is your own personal library, filled with all the tomes and books on magic and alchemy you’ve collected over the centuries. That’s where the sound’s originated from, which is definitely a cause for concern, but you don’t say so, lest Seungcheol uses this to fuel his argument against Hansol.

“Probably nothing,” you say, though you still glance over in the direction of the library. “You know my cottage. Everything’s old and falling apart.”

Seungcheol looks at you suspiciously. “That’s a lie. You always keep everything in perfect condition.” He begins to move past you. “I bet it’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“No, I—” You try to stop Seungcheol from investigating, but it’s a futile effort. “Cheol, come on, you shouldn’t go see him, he’s still unwell and you could end up distressing him—”

Hurriedly, you trot after Seungcheol through the bookshelf door and into the library, only to end up slamming face-first into his back when he stops abruptly, stunned at the sight before him.

You’re quite proud of your library. It’s an open secret that the bookshelf in your living room leads to it, which is cool all by itself, but your library is also made of magic. What appears as a normal, small study behind the bookshelf turns into a large and sprawling library with high ceilings and mahogany shelves and rows upon rows of books when you step inside. 

You’d allowed Hansol access to the library when he’d asked what was behind the bookshelf, and as far as you know, he’s been peacefully situated there the entire day. But, as you peer over Seungcheol’s shoulder to see why he’s suddenly stopped, you realise you can’t see the yokai at all.

In the middle of the floor, there’s a large… fort of books. A book fort. With four walls built of books piled on top of each other, complete with battlements made of upright books and towers with open books as turrets, it’s actually quite amazing to see. The only drawback is how some of the walls are falling down, books tumbling from where they’re piled up. 

Also the large spread of ice coming from under the fort, that’s very slowly continuing to pool further and further outwards.

Seungcheol blinks. “Uh… Y/N… you wouldn’t happen to be doing this, would you?”

You shake your head. “Weather magic is my weak point.”

Suddenly, two white ears and a head pop up from behind one of the crumbling walls, and Hansol’s eyes widen when he realises you’re here with a guest.

“Oh!” He ducks his head down, and then straightens once more so he can fully see over the walls of the fort. “Hello. I was just building a castle. One of the walls fell down, ‘cause I sneezed, but I can fix it.”

The tip of his nose is slightly dusted with glittering frost, but he doesn’t even seem to notice that or the ice that’s creeping across the wooden floor. His eyes are shining as he looks at you, infinitely more relaxed than when you’d first seen him, and he inclines his head respectfully in Seungcheol’s direction, looking as humble and polite as possible even when half his face is covered by his book fort. 

“Hello to you too. It’s nice to meet you.”

You’re not sure what Seungcheol is most flabbergasted by: Hansol’s gentle manners, or the book fort he’s quite amiably making in your very respectable-looking, very grandiose library, or the circle of ice that’s very clearly coming from the yokai. Hansol is very close to giving the village leader a heart attack any time soon, it seems.

“I— This is— You’re using Y/N’s books to do this?” Seungcheol eventually manages to ask, looking both confused and horrified. “She let you?”

Hansol’s ears droop just slightly, but there’s no obvious change to his expression. “Well… no. But none of the books are damaged, and I’m going to put them back once I’m done with them.”

“It’s fine,” you interject. “I could probably fix a few ripped pages. You can do what you like.”

You couldn’t, probably, fix a few ripped pages, because each book is nearly as old as you. But you’re not going to say that, because you don’t want the confusion on Seungcheol’s face to turn into grim disapproval, and you also don’t want Hansol to feel guilty for what he’s doing.

“Although,” you say, looking down pointedly at the floor, “do you think you could stop the ice?”

Hansol peers over the wall, eyes widening when he realises what you’re talking about. “Oh, sorry. It just happened when I sneezed, I think. Everything is still going haywire… I think I’m still sick.”

The movement of the ice slows to a halt, until only a spattering of frost manages to creep over to where you and Seungcheol are standing. It covers the whole expanse of the floor, now, and there’s not a single patch of the warm brown that’s not frosted over, but it’s okay. That is definitely something you can fix.

Ignoring Seungcheol, who’s still standing there like he can’t believe he’s looking at a walking, talking yokai, you move forward and make your slippery way over to the fort. Hansol moves away a column of books, allowing him to step out of the fort and meet you.

“Is this one of the humans?” Hansol asks in a low voice before you even say anything. The sweetness in his face has disappeared, replaced with an icy look of anxiety. “He’s one of the mortals who don’t like me, isn’t he?”

You try not to wince. “Yes. He’s Seungcheol, the village leader here. He… wants me to get you out of here.”

Hansol regards you for a moment. “You make it sound a lot nicer than what he actually means,” he says. “He wants me killed, doesn’t he? At the very least, badly injured and banished from here.”

“Well… no,” you try to say, but yes, that’s actually exactly what Seungcheol wants. “He doesn’t want you badly injured. He’s just… scared. Of your kind.”

“Hm.” Hansol nods, expressionless. “Same thing, really. He wants me out.”

“Okay, Y/N, stop whispering with the… him,” Seungcheol says, and you look up to see the village leader making his slow way across the ice towards you. “We need to talk. Discuss what you’re going to do, because you are going to do it, for the safety of our village.”

You frown, frustrated. “Hansol’s not a threat to our safety,” you argue. Seungcheol continues to slide gingerly across the ice, and he sighs and shakes his head as you carry on. “He doesn’t have anything against humans. And if he did, he’d have been dead long before we found him at the river, because—Hansol. Tell him why you ended up there.”

Hansol hesitates, looking at you unsurely. The other day, you finally managed to ask him why he’d been so injured and how he’d gotten trapped in the river. It was nothing unexpected, but it still had broken your heart, and hopefully, hopefully, it’s enough for Seungcheol to feel a little bit of empathy towards the yokai. Seungcheol’s a good man, a kind man, and all he needs to do is realise Hansol’s not evil, and he’ll warm up to him faster than anyone could think possible.

“Some other yokai attacked me in the forest,” Hansol says slowly. “Really old yokai. Older than me. And… I got hurt.”

Seungcheol raises an eyebrow, looking at you like he doesn’t get the point of this. You simply glare at him, silently telling him to continue listening.

“It wasn’t bad. Just a broken tail and some scratches,” Hansol says, and Seungcheol blinks, surprised at Hansol’s nonchalance. “But then some demon hunters found me, and tried to get me to… attack them? I dunno. They were picking a fight, and when I didn’t give it to them, they also hurt me.”

Almost imperceptibly, Seungcheol’s face softens a fraction, and you feel a flicker of hope. You know he’s weak in the face of innocently victimised stories like this.

“And so I was trying to run away from them, but everything is kind of in pain at that point. So I end up tripping down the mountain and into your river. My magic goes haywire when I’m sick,” he adds, “so that’s how I end up accidentally freezing ice all over me, too. It kind of responds to my feelings I guess? So when I’m scared, it starts acting up even more, which is why the ice was so thick, too. Like it was trying to protect me, ‘cause it knew I was scared of someone hurting me.”

It’s the most that Hansol’s said in one go, uninterrupted, before. Seungcheol’s face softens even further, and he straightens slowly. He’s been standing still, a few metres away the entire time Hansol’s been talking, like he’s been frozen by his tale.

“And yeah,” Hansol finishes awkwardly, ears twitching. He’s sensed the change in atmosphere, Seungcheol’s empathy tangible in the air. “Then I ended up here.”

“After several, painful weeks of healing,” you add, and Hansol nods jerkily.

“Yeah.”

“Oh,” Seungcheol says gently. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise you were so scared. But…” And then he sighs, straightening up further, the softness melting away from his face. “That doesn’t mean you’re not a harm to the others, now you’re all better. Who knows how you might feel when you’re hungry, or angry. You said your magic acts up according to your feelings, and I can’t have it acting up and hurting people here.”

Hansol’s face scrunches up in confusion. “When I’m hungry?”

It’s a bit absurd that’s the thing he’s focusing on, so you feel indignation over Seungcheol’s whole speech on his behalf, crying out at the injustice.

“What do you mean?” you argue. “You’re saying that like he’s some mindless beast.”

“He may as well be, for all I know,” Seungcheol sighs. “He’s not human, Y/N. We don’t know how he’ll act. And I need to think about the villagers. They’re… they’re like family to me, you know that.”

“I’m not human either,” you point out angrily. “And yet I’m also a part of this village. What are you saying, Cheol? Do you not consider me family?”

Seungcheol’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head instantly. “No, you are. But still, you’re more human than he is. And… there are days where I’m a bit wary of you too, Y/N.” At your outraged look, he rushes to continue, “Because you’re so powerful! But you’ve been with us for so many years, during the time of my father and his father, and his father before that, so I know you’re good. You’ve saved their lives. Saved everyone’s lives. Hansol, on the other hand…”

You scoff, beyond furious. “That’s absurd. There’s no such thing as being ‘good’, just as there’s no such thing as being ‘evil’. We don’t live in a fucking fairytale, Seungcheol.”

“I know. Maybe if you’d made different choices, I’d think of you as less good, too, but…” Seungcheol trails off, shrugging helplessly.

You stare at him, eyes so impossibly wide that it’s actually hurting your eye sockets, astounded by what he’s just said. Seungcheol? Thinking of you as evil? Just because of your power? 

Beside you, Hansol stiffens just slightly, and during the course of the conversation, he’s somehow ended up so close to you that you can feel his magic simmering frantically under his skin. You don’t know why he’s so worked up, and distantly, you wonder whether it’s on your behalf.

Seungcheol, noticing how irate you’re getting, takes a step forward to try and placate you. But he misjudges his balance on the ice surrounding the fort, leg twisting and his eyes widen and he yelps as he falls forward, on course to crashing face-first onto the hard, frozen ground. Your eyes widen, and you reach out to him, before then—

There’s a blur of white fur and Hansol catches him before he falls over and breaks all the bones in his knees, gripping him loosely around the torso, getting to Seungcheol before you can even blink. He gingerly helps him back into an upright position, and you wave a hand to whisk away the rest of the ice with streams of gold before another accident like that happens again. Hansol’s still holding Seungcheol when you’re finished, but by the shoulders now, looking the village leader right in the eye, golden irises soft and determined at the same time.

“I get you have a responsibility,” Hansol says. “I used to have one too, in the wild. To keep myself alive. But my rule, and this should be yours too, is to not hurt anything that doesn’t hurt you first. I haven’t hurt you. You shouldn’t hurt me. And Y/N—” He looks over at you, eyes flashing, before looking back at Seungcheol. “Y/N has never hurt you. So don’t act like you’re preparing for the day she one day will.”

Seungcheol’s face doesn’t change, but you’ve known him long enough to detect the minute shifts in the air around him as he digests Hansol’s words and, grudgingly, accepts it.

“I apologise,” he finally says, reluctant but sincere in the way only Seungcheol can be. “That was cruel of me. To you and Y/N.”

He looks at you, and Hansol’s hands fall away, allowing him to walk towards you.

“Sorry. But you have to understand where I’m coming from,” Seungcheol says, almost pleading, and you realise that, whilst his stance on Hansol’s existence has wavered, his overall reluctance over him being here hasn’t changed. “At least don’t let others see him, if he’s going to stay. They’ll be terrified.”

“That doesn’t sound like Hansol’s problem,” you retort. “I know these villagers, Cheol, and they’ll warm up to him, they really will.”

You look over at Hansol as you say your next words.

“Hansol is sweet and kind and really rather funny, and it breaks my heart to hide him from others because he might be seen as scary. That’s just people’s prejudice talking.” You smile. Hansol’s eyes are wide, lips parted slightly, and a fluttering warmth unfurls up inside you as you continue to smile at him. “Because I’ve seen Hansol, and he’s the sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

Hansol’s entire face goes pink, and he looks away.

“Maybe so,” Seungcheol says heavily, and you look back at him. The warmth in your chest fades at his tone, dropping to the depths of your stomach. “But I can’t risk them being near him. Don’t let him out.”

You sigh, disappointed. “No. He can leave the house if he wants to, Seungcheol. He’s not some kind of housepet you can impose rules on just like that and expect me to follow through with them.”

“Y/N—”

“Get out of my home,” you say, evenly. “Go. You can take your rules and go piss off out of my sight.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

You stew in your anger towards Seungcheol for several days. 

He comes to your door every so often, either with a letter or a plea to talk through this, but you refuse to let him in and instead tell him to, not so kindly, fuck off. 

Hansol looks at you with a mixture of affection and disappointment each time you do so. You don’t really understand why he looks at you like that—neither the affection nor disappointment—but he doesn’t say anything and goes back to what he was doing soon after, either playing with your magic, or his own, or reading your books.

Having him around the house is quite like having a very adorable, very shy, fox. You might’ve gotten furious at Seungcheol for treating Hansol like a pet, but you don’t mean it like having a pet fox: it’s just like having an inquisitive, cute being around the house who quite likes following you around as you go about your day.

It’s cute. He’s cute, with his swishing tail and his sudden bursts of frost when he’s fiddling with his fingers, and the way he stays perfectly still whenever you gain the courage to slowly inch closer to him on the sofa until you’re laying on his shoulder, at the perfect angle to peer down at the book in his hands so you can read it with him. They’re all your books, of course, so you know what they’re all about, but it’s quite nice leaning against Hansol, feeling his warmth through the silk of his clothing, and the pleasant hum of his magic under your ear.

He never initiates physical contact, but he seems to like having you near. He’s never protested when you’ve held his hand or laid on his shoulder or (very, very gently) touched his ears, so.

He’s quite like a fox, in that way. But he’s like a fox in other ways, too: namely, how it appears that he’s a bit nocturnal.

Sometimes, you’ll awaken at three, four, five o’clock in the morning to someone clattering around in your house. It always turns out to be Hansol, trying to occupy himself without waking you up, but always failing to do so.

“Hansol?” you murmur blearily, shuffling into the kitchen where the flurry of clatters had emitted from earlier. It’s dark, and all the curtains are drawn; nevertheless, his dim silhouette looks distinctly guilty as he whirls around to face you, pots and pans in his hands. “What’re you doing?”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically. “I read some potion in your book, and I wanted to try it out.”

“At three in the morning?”

“Five,” Hansol corrects. You fix him with a look, and he winces, demon magic-enhanced night vision meaning he can see you perfectly clearly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. It’s cold in the kitchen, and being exposed to the chilly night temperature is gradually waking you up. “It’s okay. I guess you don’t sleep a lot, huh? You’re wide awake, even though it’s so early in the morning.”

Hansol shrugs. “Dunno. But I always just feel like I have so much energy. Like it doesn’t have anywhere to go, and I can’t sleep for too long before it tells me to do something.”

“I see.” You purse your lips thoughtfully, pondering why Hansol’s feeling like this and what could cause it. And then, a realisation strikes you and your eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, I get it. I understand why you’re feeling that way.”

The yokai tilts his head. “Really?”

“Yeah, and it’s totally okay,” you reassure, nodding your head. “Totally understandable, too. But don’t worry, it’s easily fixed.”

You wave a hand and turn all the light fixtures on so you can see Hansol properly. The yokai literally does look like he’s vibrating with extra energy, holding your cooking utensils in his hands, ears perked upright and tail fluffed up to the max. Yeah, he’s definitely understimulated and frustrated with it right now, even if he doesn’t realise that’s what it is.

You smile. This is a good way to help him and piss off Seungcheol at the same time.

“Come on, Hansol. Let’s go outside.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Not even an hour later, you’re making a trek up the mountains in your warmest clothes, lagging behind Hansol even with your magic-aided agility helping you up the hardest of the steps. The yokai is bounding on ahead, nimble and quick-footed even in the darkness of the early winter morning, and you can hear the light crunch of snow under his footsteps as he moves.

This is what Hansol needed. Some time outside, where he can finally breathe.

Some minutes later, as you’re sitting on a log on the path to catch your breath, Hansol comes back down the mountain to meet you, settling down by your side.

“It’s so quiet,” he whispers. The air around you is lit with a faint glow, courtesy of a visibility spell you conjured so you wouldn’t fall flat on your face as you walked. It makes Hansol’s face look golden as he smiles at you, eyes shining. “Everything is so quiet out here. I can hear the animals.”

You smile back, finding joy in how relaxed he looks. “Doesn’t that make it noisy?”

Hansol shakes his head, and then looks away from you, ears cocked to the side, listening. “No. This is like a familiar buzz of noise, so familiar that it becomes silent.” He looks back at you again, smiling. “Down in the village, it’s so noisy because of all the people, but up here, it’s all gone.”

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” you say with a smile, and Hansol nods so quickly that you laugh, endeared. “I’m glad. You can go off for a bit, if you want, and I’ll wait for you here.”

Hansol beams. “Okay.”

And like that, he’s off, nothing more than a faint swish of a silver tail before he disappears once more.

He doesn’t come back to you for some time, which gives you a chance to sit there and breathe in the cool air. It’s so cold that it feels like inhaling clouds of peppermint, but it’s… relaxing. 

You haven’t had a chance to properly rest this winter. Winter’s a tricky time for you: the cold numbs your senses and makes your magic more sluggish. This year feels much colder than usual, and now the prolonged adrenaline that came with bringing Hansol back from the brink of death is fading, you’re beginning to anticipate feeling more worn out more often, the warm fizz in the tips of your fingers not as present as it ought to be.

Strangely, though. It hasn’t happened yet. Maybe being around Hansol and his frost-related magic has built up your resistance to the cold.

Or, he’s just so lovely and comforting that you don’t feel the effects of the winter.

That’s always a possibility. You look down at your hands, still glowing slightly with the visibility light you’ve put on yourself. It hasn’t faltered even once, a brilliant gold, and when you think of the colour of Hansol’s eyes, the light seems to glow even more.

You breathe in, and then exhale, kicking your feet out in front of you, looking down the dim mountain. You’ve been up here, thinking, for so long that the weak sunrise is beginning to peek its head above the horizon. Hansol still hasn’t come back. Though, you find you’re not too worried about that: somehow, you know that he will come back to you, though you can’t find ears nor tail of him while he’s gone.

It’s incredible how much you’ve come to trust and believe in Hansol, though he’s only been with you for several weeks. He’s been so reserved, anxious and afraid at times, especially during the early days, when he’d been bandaged up and newly healing in an unfamiliar environment, but now it’s clear how earnest and gentle he is. Something in your chest tightens and then relaxes with happiness whenever you see him smile. He’s just so—genuine, and you really like that about him.

You like him. A lot. He’s certainly an unexpected new part of your life, but now he’s here, and you can’t imagine living without the silver-furred fox yokai by your side.

There’s a rustle in the evergreen bushes to your left, and, as if he’s here answering your summons, a familiar silver head of hair pops out, golden eyes shining when he sees you. 

He blinks at you, ears flicking curiously, twigs in his hair like he’s been rolling around on the forest floor. His tail is out of sight, but you can imagine how it’s waving from side to side in contentment, the morning dew slowly turning into frozen crystals in his fur. You smile.

“Hey,” you greet, the moment you see Hansol’s face. “Are you gonna come over?”

Instantly, he stands up, hops over the bush and makes his way to you. His footfalls are light, looking like he’s dancing over the rocks before he settles next to you once more, looking like he never left your side.

“Hey,” he says. “There are so many rabbits in these mountains, you know? Like I’ve never seen so many rabbits gathered in one place before, because normally they get killed by hunters or there’s just not enough food in that area to sustain so many. It’s actually insane how many rabbits you have up here.” When you just smile, his eyes widen, ears pricking upright. “Oh, is it you? Do you do something to help them stay alive? With your magic and all that?”

Hansol then launches into a flurry of questions for you, so eager and animated that it surprises you a little, before melting your heart.

At the sight of sunrise, you’d taken down your visibility spell, but Hansol is still glowing, looking so alive with his cold-dusted cheeks, shining eyes, wind-fluffed hair and the frost dusting the tip of his nose, which must have accidentally happened when he’d gotten too excited and lost control of his magic.

Hansol’s positively lit up, now he’s surrounded by all this nature. He must’ve been so cooped up and nervous before, when he was just in your house, barely anything to do. Now he’s healed, and outside, and you can tell that being out of the house is where he’s meant to be.

“It’s not me,” you admit after Hansol’s finished conjuring up crazy theories. “Well, kind of. I messed around with the mountains about eighty years ago and did something by accident so we get a lot more winter flowers than normal. The rabbits love eating them, so we get a lot of them too.”

“Oh,” Hansol says, amazed. “That makes so much sense. I saw so many flowers. I thought that was a little bit weird, but I just chalked it up to Mother Nature having fun, or something.”

You laugh. “Yeah. I guess Mother Nature was having fun,” you say, gesturing to yourself, and Hansol grins too. His eyes crinkle as he does so, the corners of his lips spread wide so his pearly whites are fully visible, the tips of his yokai fangs slightly on display. Even his big, bright smile is as cute as he is. You’ve never seen him smile this widely before. It’s… pretty.

Even though he’s all warmed up to you now, even though it’s clear he trusts you, it’s obvious he’ll always be most at peace out here in the big, wide world.

His gaze slides away from yours, looking at something behind you, and he gasps.

“What is it?” You turn to look back, trying to find what had caught his eye, but Hansol doesn’t respond. He jumps up, diving into the bushes without a word.

A moment later he emerges, and in his hands is…

“A daffodil?” you say, amazed. “What’s this doing here? Spring is very, very far off.”

“I guess it’s because of you,” Hansol says, handing you the flower. 

You accept it gratefully, tracing the edges of its buttery yellow petals, such a warm, golden colour in your hands, in stark contrast to the cold white of the snow around you. It’s so pretty, so pristine, and it’s amazing it managed to survive in the freezing winter temperatures. Must be due to your magic, like Hansol said.

“It looks like you,” Hansol says suddenly, and you look at him in surprise. 

“Really? How?”

“You look like spring, to me,” he says. The frosted tip of his nose looks pink, as do his cheeks. A decidedly warmer, blushier pink than they’d looked before. “All warm and gold and pretty. Like the daffodil. And I…” He pauses, and then seems to change his mind, shutting his mouth and blinking at you like he wasn’t about to say anything else.

You smile, so endeared that you’re practically glowing with it. “Thank you,” you say, touched, and look back down at the daffodil in your hands before raising your eyes to the definitely-blushing yokai once more. “That’s so sweet.”

Hansol shrugs, a little bashful, before standing up abruptly.

“I’m gonna go find the rabbits again,” he says, and before you can even reply, he’s disappeared.

You laugh, breathing in the crisp air and then releasing it in a sigh, feeling warm all over despite the cold. You shake your head, fond. Hansol is just so…

That’s it, you decide. You’re not going to let Seungcheol dictate where Hansol can and can’t be. You’ll let Hansol do whatever he wants, and encourage him to do whatever he wants. 

Whatever makes him smile.

───────────── ‘✽, 

From that day on, you make it a point to take Hansol to the mountains as often as you can.

He loves it—he’ll never say it in so many words, extremely shy when it comes to voicing his preferences for reasons you cannot discern, but it’s so obvious that those few hours he gets to spend with you, in the fresh air, away from all the people, are his favourite hours in the day.

It’s another one of those mornings when you’re up in the mountains with him. You can’t come here every day: you’d collapse from exhaustion if you had to wake up at four in the morning every day, but today, it’s a particularly clear-skied day, and you wanted to watch the sunrise with Hansol.

He’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with you, looking silently down at the village below. It’s still not sunrise yet, but the sky’s beginning to lighten gradually, and you can see some of the windows beginning to light up with orange lights, everyone slowly waking. Hansol hasn’t said a word for a while, so you haven’t either, content to just look down at everything in silence.

The entire experience is rather humbling. From the mountain, the village looks so small, like it’s merely a miniscule dot in existence, something that could be missed in a single blink. Like each mortal is worth next to nothing. Like each could be destroyed in a second.

That’s what a lesser immortal would think, anyway. For you, however, rather than how fragile life is, being this high up makes you marvel at the intricacy of it. Every person, every soul, despite being so small, is filled to the brim with so many unique experiences that no one else can ever live through as that person did. They live, and they die, but almost magnificently so. Like a one-of-a-kind snowflake that melts as soon as it lies in your hands.

You look at Hansol next to you. His eyelashes flutter thoughtfully as he looks down at the village, delicate against his pale skin. 

Every life should be cherished, you think. Because if even the fleetings lives of humans are that complex, then what of the immortal creatures, who live forever? No one should tell them to hide themselves away.

“I can hear you cursing Seungcheol in your head,” Hansol says abruptly, pulling you out of your thoughts. He’s staring at you, now, no longer focused on the village, and he tilts his head bemusedly when you meet his gaze. ��You’re still mad at him, aren’t you?”

You blink, and then smile. You were kind of cursing out Cheol in your head, you admit, and it’s kind of funny that Hansol picked up on it.

“I am,” you sigh, looking down. “Well, now I’m more annoyed, really. I know I should be glad that he’s not going to extremes, like some other people in the world, but…”

Hansol nods slowly. “I get where he’s coming from, though,” he admits, and you look up. “What? Seungcheol cares for his village. These people… they all mean a lot to him, and he doesn’t know me, so I guess it’s natural for him to be cautious.”

You roll your eyes. “That’s no excuse. These people all mean a lot to me, too. I watched them all grow up! And Cheol should know I wouldn’t suggest anything that puts them in danger.” You frown. “It’s frustrating. It feels like he doesn’t trust my judgement, even though he’s literally known me his entire life.”

The yokai hums, and reaches over to pat your hand placatingly where it rests in your lap.

“Also, it pisses me off that he’s saying all this without ever making an effort to get to know you, and see if his judgement is right,” you say, looking at Hansol, catching his hand in your own when he begins to move away. “You’re just—you’re just so lovely, and how dare Seungcheol try to hide you away, like you’re something taboo, or something to be ashamed of?”

Hansol’s eyes widen, and he blinks rapidly, before averting his gaze to your intertwined hands. “Oh,” he says, after a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sincere compliments. “That’s… nice.”

You laugh, fond, squeezing his hand comfortingly. “I’m always nice,” you tease. “I’m the nicest person in the entire world, actually.”

To your surprise, Hansol doesn’t smile back at your joke, and simply ducks his head shyly. “You are.” 

And then he keeps lowering himself down until he’s laying in your lap, the tips of his flickering slightly at the contact as he adjusts himself until he's practically lying down in the log, head in your lap. You stiffen in surprise, and Hansol slowly shifts so he can blink up at you with innocent, gold eyes. 

“Can I lie here?” he asks, even though he's clearly very much lying there already, and you smile, relaxing. 

“Yeah, I guess,” you say, and Hansol smiles, closing his eyes as your hand goes to his hair and begins to gently run through the strands with the tips of your fingers. 

You stay like that for some time, running your fingers through Hansol’s hair and over the soft fur of his ears. Abruptly, he playfully flicks his ears as you trace a finger through the fur at the base of them, making you yelp in surprise, and he smiles, pleased at having made you jump. You lightly tug at a few strands of hair, teasing, and he smiles wider, eyes still shut, the slight points of his canines visible.

Too distracted with Hansol’s face, you end up completely missing the full sunrise, and eventually it becomes late enough in the morning that the village fully awakens, bustling with noise as people go about their day. But curiously, you can’t hear a single thing. It’s like your world has narrowed down to you, your hands, and the yokai laid comfortably in your lap.

He really is very pretty. You notice the small spattering of snowflake-like freckles on his cheeks, and smile. He’s so pretty that it isn’t even fair.

You trace a thumb over his cheekbones, opening your mouth to comment on them before Hansol’s eyes snap open, and his ears suddenly tilt towards something down the mountain, listening. Your hand freezes, and you let him turn his head, alert.

“What’s wrong?”

Then, you hear it: the crunching of twigs underfoot, and the telltale huffing and puffing of a human making their way up the mountain. Your hand falls, and you get ready to stand up before—

“Y/N?”

Soonyoung, clad in winter furs and holding a woven basket in his hands, blinks at you in confusion, and then he glances to the yokai in your lap, and shakes his head, his expression becoming even more mystified than before.

“What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” you ask back, equally confused as Soonyoung. “You literally hate climbing the mountains. What are you doing?”

Soonyoung looks at you oddly, lifting up the empty basket. “I’m here to collect wildflowers for you,” he says. “I asked you the other day if you could make some of that non-dangerous magic fire you did last year. You said you needed wildflowers harvested at sunrise to make that potion, so I’m here to get those.”

“Oh. Did you really ask me that?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “You said you’d make them for me. And also complained for like five minutes because I tried to pay you, and you wanted to refuse ‘cause you said I was paying you too much. As if there’s such a thing as being paid too much money.” He rolls his eyes for emphasis, and you laugh.

The conversation comes back to you now, and you shrug sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry. I forgot about that.”

Soonyoung makes a disgruntled sound, feigning annoyance before his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Don’t worry about it, boo. Just as long as you remember to make the potion, it’s all fine. The children’ll love it for the bonfire tonight.”

Your eyes widen. “You want me to make it for tonight? There’s a bonfire tonight?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says. “I specifically told you when I asked, as well. Goodness, you’re forgetting everything today, huh?” Then he gestures casually to Hansol, who’s still lying in your lap, looking unsurely at the villager. “Don’t tell me, you also forgot you have the injured demon in your lap, too?”

He points to Hansol so naturally, so calmly that you look down in surprise, as if you really had forgotten the yokai was there. Soonyoung laughs, shaking his head as he bends down near a bush, poking through the dirt to see if there are any flowers. He turns his back on you and Hansol, craning down towards the ground to see better as he continues to talk.

“Cheol told me all about the demon and how he disapproves of you keeping him alive,” Soonyoung says. He manages to find a few wildflowers, and lets out an aha! of pride, putting them away in his basket. “Not gonna lie, I agreed with him a bit. But then I come up here and find him in your lap as you pet him like a cat, and now I’m thinking, maybe not so much.”

Soonyoung turns back to face you once again, and somehow, during those thirty seconds, he’s managed to get dirt all over his nose.

“Plus, you seem to like him,” he carries on. “So he can’t be bad, can you? Because you’d kick his ass if he was.”

You quirk a grin at that, proud. Then you nod down at Hansol. “He has a name, though, you know. And he can hear you.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen in realisation, and he stands up quickly, brushing down his clothes. “Oh, sorry, you’re right. Sorry. Hi, I’m Soonyoung, one of the villagers who live here. It’s nice to meet you.”

He extends a gloved hand towards Hansol, and Hansol looks at the hand for a long moment. Then he slowly sits upright again, and grasps Soonyoung’s hand in a firm handshake, the corners of his mouth relaxing slightly.

“Hansol,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you.”

And then he must do something, because Soonyoung lets out a small yip in surprise, withdrawing his hand quickly as Hansol observes him amusedly, eyes glinting. 

“Did you…” Soonyoung starts, wide-eyed. “Did you just. Give me an electric shock? On purpose?”

Hansol cracks the slightest smile, evidently pleased with Soonyoung’s reaction. He’s in a playful mood today, you muse, smiling as Soonyoung stutters, clearly not sure what to do when a yokai plays a prank on him like this. It makes you smile too, amused.

“You have to show me how to do that,” Soonyoung eventually says, going from surprised to confused to full of amazement. “Can you show me? Is that something which can be taught?”

That makes Hansol smile properly, lips curving upwards. “You’re funny.”

“I’m being serious!” Soonyoung says, but something about Hansol’s smile must make him smile too, because eventually he laughs, shaking his head. “Goodness, you magic people need to stop messing with me. One day, I’ll accidentally set myself on fire, and it’ll be your fault.”

“You’d do that anyway,” you tease, and Soonyoung rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I have to get going, I think. Jeonghan’s coming over for a poultice for his back pain, and I need to get to my cottage before he does.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says. “This is a hell of a way up the mountain, by the way. I might go down with you as well, and see if I’ve missed any flowers.”

“Cool.” This is definitely not that far up the mountain, and even though Soonyoung hates climbing, it shouldn’t have taken him more than twenty minutes to reach where you are. It’s clear he wants to walk with you for a moment to tell you something, so you look at Hansol, and offer him the chance to stay up in the mountains by himself for a bit.

He agrees, so you and Soonyoung begin your slow descent.

“What do you want?” you ask, when you’re out of Hansol’s hearing range.

Soonyoung just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing bad,” he says. “I meant it when I said Hansol seems like a cool guy. I just…” He pauses, thinks over his words, and then leans in closer. “Bring him to the bonfire tonight.”

You reel back. “What? Are you crazy?”

“Hey, if you’re worried about him getting hurt, you shouldn’t be,” Soonyoung says placatingly. “Hansol’s a demon. He can hold his own. Plus, the people aren’t as against yokai as you might think. Cheol’s just overly cautious, and the elderly might have traditional views about it, but it won’t be hard to make them like him. He’s cute.”

You raise an eyebrow.

“He is!” Soonyoung argues. “I saw him in your lap, Y/N. He’s adorable. And very… docile? Like, he’s so quiet. But also very silly. The kids would love him, you know. So would everyone else.”

“Even Seungcheol?”

Soonyoung thinks about it for a second. The cold air has made his cheeks all ruddy red, and he looks like a very earnest, very red-cheeked schoolboy as he nods firmly. “Yes. Even Seungcheol.”

You hum, still incredibly sceptical. “Well. I’ll think about it. We’ll have to see.”

───────────── ‘✽, 

Unfortunately, even though you were slightly swayed by Soonyoung’s words and his instant kindness and all-round chillness in Hansol’s presence, you ultimately end up not bringing Hansol to the bonfire night. It’s not your decision, though: it’s Hansol’s.

“Are you worried about the humans?” you ask, when Hansol tells you that, respectfully, he doesn’t want to go. “You don’t have to worry about that. I could blast them all to pieces for insulting you, if that makes you feel better.”

Hansol smiles a little, before shaking his head. “No. It’s actually just… I’m not really a big fan of all the noise and stuff. And how hot bonfires are.”

“Oh.” You soften, concerned. “Have you been… hurt by fire before?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Hansol says. He shrugs. “I just don’t like being too warm. Makes me uncomfortable.”

You raise an eyebrow, amused. Because even as he says this, he’s cuddling up into your side, head on your shoulder, his tail curled comfortably around him. “Really?” you say. “You don’t like being too warm?”

Hansol’s ears flick. “Yeah. My magic originates from winter, as you might have noticed, so…”

“Oh, I hadn’t realised,” you say teasingly, tapping the tip of his nose lightly. “I thought the white fur and random bursts of frost on your skin meant you were a summery fox.”

Hansol scrunches his nose, and you laugh. “Yeah, yeah. Anyway, it does mean I don’t like being all warm, so fires are a no-go for me. Especially bonfires, where there are many people. That’s way too much warmth for me, for sure.”

“I see,” you say, reaching a hand up to tuck some of his silver hair out of his face as he nestles closer into your side. “That’s cool. But I am going to have to go, even if you aren’t. Will you be okay if I leave you here by yourself in the evening?”

“Yeah. Can you make me dinner before you go, though? Last time I tried, I almost destroyed your kitchen.”

“What? When was that?”

“Oops. Did I not tell you?”

Anyway, the bonfire night ends up being a bit of a disappointment. Several of the villagers have cottoned on to the fact you’re housing the yokai, and express their concerns to you over the matter several times over the course of the night. You love these people, you really do, but hearing so many of them advise you to send him back off into the woods for your own safety really wears you down after a while.

“I think Y/N understands what you’re saying now, imo,” a gentle voice butts in, right when you’re in the middle of having a particularly exhausting conversation. This tricky older woman’s insisting you let the yokai go… only, she’s using much more unkind words.

You were very, very close to losing your cool with her—respect the elders be damned because hell, you’re way older than she is—before she’s interrupted mid-sentence by a villager appearing over his shoulder, and you smile in relief as you recognise him.

At the call of “auntie”, she looks up and comes face-to-face with your saviour, Joshua, and all it takes is another gentle smile and some sweet words before he successfully convinces her to leave your side and rejoin her friends on the other side of the bonfire.

“Don’t worry about it,” Joshua says when you thank him for his help. “You know how they are. Once they latch on to you, it’s impossible to get them to leave without using some sort of witchcraft to pry them away.”

You laugh at that. “And yet, it seemed to be you who helped get them off me. Maybe you’re the real witchcraft user out of the two of us.”

Joshua laughs, light and melodious, magical fire reflecting in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything to your joke, however, and nods into the distance behind you, down the darkened paths that lead to your cottage. “You need to bring him out, though,” he says. “Whilst he’s still unknown, they’ll continue conjuring theories that become wilder by the day. They need to see the yokai so their suspicions can be wiped away once and for all.”

“Wh—Hansol?” You blink. “It’s dangerous, Shua. They might hurt him.”

“They’re hurting him now,” Joshua says. “They’re hurting you and hurting him by making stuff up. Just introduce him to them, okay? He can’t become part of our village if he never meets our villagers.”

At your stunned look, Joshua smiles. 

“What? I know you, Y/N. You’re attached. You want him to stay. And honestly…” His smile turns a little more secretive, a little more knowing. “I think he wants to, too. The yokai will stay for you, but to truly bring him in, you have to bring him out to us.”

Joshua smiles again, the colours of his irises swirling together, before he pats you on the shoulder and gets up, leaving you there speechless.

He isn’t… wrong. But hearing it like that sounds insane.

You shake your head. Hansol will have to meet everyone sooner or later, you suppose. You very much do not want to go ahead with Seungcheol’s idea to let him be hidden, like a secret, so of course, you need to bring him out into the open.

You shake your head again, mystified. Joshua’s correct, but how does he know so much?

Honestly, you really do think he’s more of a witchcraft user out of the two of you. His incredible timing, his knowledge of all your thoughts, the fact he’d called Hansol a yokai rather than demon…

Also. How old even is he, anyway? 

Too confused and befuddled by all the thoughts in your head, you end up playing with the children and run through the fire all night instead. It’s a lot safer than having to deal with all the grown-up stuff of thinking about things.

───────────── ‘✽, 

Both Soonyoung’s and Joshua’s words linger in the back of your mind for days after that, and you contemplate how to get Hansol out of the house. Hansol had never really shown signs of wanting to be part of the village, which had made you reconsider this whole thing, wanting to brush away the villager’s words, before you actually asked the yokai, and—

Hansol shrugs. “Yeah. I’d like to get to know everyone. I want to be part of the village.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he says again, smiling at you. “This village is your village, and I want to be with you.”

Oh. You smile back, touched. Hansol smiles wider, brightening at the eye contact, all sweet and lovely and really quite cute, before ducking his head and disappearing back through the shelves of your library once again.

So Hansol turns out to be not as against the idea as you thought, which makes you feel a lot better about thinking of how to get the villagers to trust him and how to get Seungcheol off your back for taking care of Hansol in the first place.

However, it ends up not being you who makes the first steps into getting him known. Oh, no.

Instead, Hansol does that all by himself.

It happens during the first snowfall of the year. You’d woken up to the beautiful sight of the white crystals floating down and covering the entire village with a soft, muffled coat, and the equally beautiful sight of Hansol, who had already woken up, practically pressing his nose against the window to look at the snow in awe.

He’d clearly wanted to go out and be in the snow—as a winter yokai, that made sense—but you’d had some errands to run that day, so you’d told him he could stay only in the front yard of the cottage and go no further.

Hansol had smiled at you, an amused quirk of his lips that acted as all the reassurance you needed.

So he’s sitting in the snow in front of your cottage, legs out in front of him, the silk of his clothes getting damper the longer he sits on the cold ground, but he hardly notices, more focused with tracing a finger through the soft white that is steadily building up.

Snowfall is Hansol’s most favourite wintry thing. It’s a perfect, wondrous phenomenon: the intersection of the perfect time and the perfect weather and the perfect temperature that makes the sky release soft handfuls of the white stuff down on Earth. Even nature falls silent when the snow falls. In Hansol’s opinion, that’s proof enough that it’s something to be appreciated beyond belief.

His robes, his old robes, used to have silver snowflakes embroidered into them, intricate and sprawling patterns that he could run his fingers over and almost feel the cold gust of wind that accompanied the snow. They’re not on the robes he’s wearing now—he’s wearing ones you’ve given him, after his old ones were ruined by his own blood—but he traces his fingers gently over the sleeves, letting frost spread out from his fingers like the feathery patterns that used to adorn the cloth he wore.

He quickly grows bored of that, though, and turns to the real snow in front of him, ears flicking absentmindedly to get rid of the small pile-up gathering on his head. He absentmindedly gathers the stuff in his hands, patting it into shapes and then leaving them out on the lawn. 

This carries on for some time, and eventually there is an army of misshapen snow clumps in your front yard, all frosted over with a touch of his magic, and he grins, satisfied. And then his ears twitch again, and he feels… eyes. Watching him.

Hansol turns around, and some houses away, peeking from over a well-trimmed, leafless hedge, he sees three children clad in fluffy winter clothes staring at him, curious.

He doesn’t have much experience with human children. Or any children, for that matter. But he’s pretty sure that, when a yokai makes eye contact with them, they’re not meant to light up with glee and come running over with absolutely no regard for the icy paths or the danger that said yokai could present.

Surprised, Hansol jumps up to his feet, reaching out hands to steady the little kids as they skid over the snow and come to a stop right in front of him, eyes shining, expectant. He doesn’t know what they’re expecting, and being so close to these mini humans is a very awkward experience for him. He’s not sure what to do.

So he lifts a hand, and waves. “Hello?”

The three children beam, and one of them, the girl, practically vibrates with happiness when he speaks.

“Hello!” she chirps, and waves back. “I’m Yeowon! What’s your name?”

Hansol blinks, taken aback by her enthusiasm. “I’m Hansol.”

“Hansol!” Yeowon keeps speaking in exclamation marks, and it’s honestly kind of amusing. “It’s nice to meet you! This is Junghoon, and this is Minjun!” she says, gesturing to the boys on either side of him, who also give Hansol equally enthusiastic waves.

“Hello,” he says unsurely. How old are these kids? He doesn’t know much about human years, but they look… very young. Where are their parents?

He doesn’t get to voice his concerns before Yeowon starts speaking again, going a mile a minute and he can hardly get a word in edgeways.

“We were watching you from Minjun’s house,” she says, and picks up one of the snow balls that Hansol was making, lifting it up so he can look at his own handiwork. “These are so pretty! We wanted to come over and play with you, ‘cause we’ve never seen you before, but you live with Miss Witch, right?”

Hansol opens his mouth, but it’s apparent that wasn’t an actual question when Yeowon barrels on.

“So you must be a good guy! So we wanted to come say hello and play.”

She blinks big, innocent eyes up at him, as do the two boys, evidently begging him to play with them, or something. He doesn’t know what play entails, but… there’s no harm in entertaining these fun-sized humans, right?

So Hansol nods, says they can play with him, and sits down in the snow again. And then, before he knows it, they’re all shrieking and climbing over him and asking him to make figurines out of ice and snow and patting his hair in amazement and asking if his ears are actually real.

Children are very overwhelming, Hansol quickly learns. But he also kind of likes them: likes the way their eyes light up when he makes them the little ice characters they want, likes their fascinated smiles and the way they very gently touch his ears and accidentally get damp suede of their gloves in his mouth in their excitement. They’re bubbly, full of life, and so friendly with him that it honestly makes him so delighted that it surprises him.

“Make me one too! Make me one too!”

“Your ears look super fluffy! Can I touch your tail?”

“Why are your eyes yellow?”

“Can you make me something out of magic too, Mister Fox?”

“Mister Fox! Mister Fox!”

Hansol doesn’t know how it happens, but he blinks and suddenly he’s surrounded by what seems to be every child in the village, clamouring around him and asking if he could play, Please, Mister Fox, won’t you?

Your front lawn is quickly becoming a gathering place for the little humans who had swarmed towards him so quickly that Hansol’s starting to think they were waiting in the background for his very opportunity, and he makes more ice figures and listens interestedly to their babbling as they conjure stories for the figurines on the spot. They’re all so very noisy, but Hansol smiles, brimming with a similar sort of energy as his magic fizzes and pops with glitters of snow and makes the children laugh.

There’s no other way to describe it. He’s feeling happiness, pure and simple.

Unbeknownst to Hansol, there’s one human who’d been watching the entire scene right from the beginning. Coming down the path, on his way to visit the village’s magic-user, Soonyoung had noticed Hansol sitting by himself and had prepared to go over, extend a hand and a friendly word before Yeowon, Junghoon and Minjun had run over.

As a result, Soonyoung retreated a little ways round the bend to watch from a distance, which is where he is now, smiling at the innocent joy of both the children and Hansol.

From the opposite end of the path, he spots you walking back to your cottage, and clocks the exact moment you realise what’s happening in your front yard. Your eyes widen, and you stop in your tracks, before your eyes slowly lift further and you notice Soonyoung standing there too, smiling.

See? he seems to say with your eyes, meeting your gaze. They love him. 

One of the children shrieks with laughter as she grabs Hansol’s tail and he playfully gasps in shock, scooping her up and lifting her into the air until she’s giggling and burbling for him to put her down. At his feet, one child is patting snow into the hem of his robes, and another is playing with a fox-eared figurine that Hansol had made him.

It looks so natural, and you watch them for a moment before looking at Soonyoung again. Soonyoung smiles even wider. You have nothing to worry about.

You laugh, a little bit in disbelief, warmth spreading across your face as you smile back, looking fondly at the sight in your front yard. Finally, you really do believe that that’s the truth.

───────────── ‘✽, 

“Let’s go out,” you say, and Hansol looks up from his book, tilting his head inquisitively.

“Hm,” he says in reply. “Are you sure?”

It’s been a few days since the first snowfall, but the wintry precipitation has not let up, and it continues to softly drift down from the sky even as you speak. The blanket of snow covering the earth has also blanketed your senses, and your magic is nothing more than a gentle hum beneath your skin. A month ago, this would have stressed you greatly, but with Hansol and his winter-attuned magic singing happily around the entire room, you feel nothing but peace. 

Nodding in reassurance, you smile at Hansol. “Very sure. Let’s go out today.”

Hansol blinks, once, and then smiles back, closing the book and getting up from the couch. “Okay. Where are we going?”

You smile wider. “To make you some friends.”

That was the plan, anyway. Ever since the first snow, when Hansol had been accosted by the children and ended up playing with them for a good part of the day, you’ve had several villagers come to your door, either complaining about the yokai or wanting to know more about him. So, you figure, today you should get him out to the village square so he can finally meet everyone. Regardless of their opinion of him. 

Because you have trust in Hansol. Now, you have confidence he can turn their opinion around. 

Hansol, despite having all the appearances and mannerisms of an introvert, doesn't seem to mind leaving the house for so many days in a row, and eagerly agrees as you urge him to get dressed and head out to the village square. There's the daily market taking place, and most people will be there, so it'll be a good opportunity to introduce him. 

But, like you said, that was the plan. 

Unfortunately, you're whisked away by some of the villagers who need help with their sick relative, leaving Hansol stranded in the village square. 

“You don't have to stay,” you insist to him, as you're rushed off to deal with the medical emergency. “Seriously, Hansol, you can go home. Especially if anyone starts throwing insults, then just go, okay? I'll be with you as soon as I finish.”

Hansol watches you go, head tilted, slightly amused. It's kind of cute that you think he needs protecting. You know, since he's an ancient demon, and all. But before he can say as such, there's a small voice near his knee, and he looks down to see a small child, piping up in favour of him. 

“Don't worry about Mister Fox!” the small boy chirps brightly. “We will look after him!”

And as if out of nowhere (seriously, where do these kids come from?) several children come up to him and cling to his robes, waving at you as you leave the market square. Hansol waves too, mystified by the miniature support latching onto him, but also a bit touched by their loyalty. They're really sweet. 

“So what do you wanna do, Mister Fox?” the first little boy says, and Hansol recognises him as one of the first children to come up to him a few days ago. Minjun. “Are you hungry?”

Without even waiting for Hansol's answer, Minjun and the rest of the children start ushering him to the food stalls, fiercely advocating for their choice of what Mister Fox should eat first. 

“Wait,” Hansol says, interrupting the particularly fierce fight over having hotteok or bungeoppang first. “Kids. Do you have any money?”

There's a short silence, and all the children look down, which is how he learns that they don't, and so they don't end up buying anything at all. Except, Yeowon, who joined the discussion partway through, manages to wheedle some of the stall-owners to give her free food with her big puppy eyes and innocent pout.

It’s like a magic trick, Hansol has to give her that. And when she happily tells the vendors that she’s sharing the food with Hansol, the villagers do nothing other than blink in surprise and then smile, polite and awkward, well. That’s also an incredible magic trick too. 

They sit on the outskirts of the village market, pillowed by the mounds of snow all around them as they eat their steaming hot snacks. They’re delicious, and sticky, and very sweet, so it’s not too long before Hansol has several super-hyper, sticky-fingered children on his hands, who are all practically launching themselves into the snow with the bounding amounts of energy they have.

It becomes very noisy very fast, and Hansol starts panicking slightly, before he loudly suggests they ought to go and make some snowmen, and all the children whip their heads around to look at him, wide-eyed, and then—

“That’s such a good idea!”

“Yes! Let’s do that!”

“I’m gonna make the best snowman!”

“No, me!”

“No! Me!”

And then they go tumbling off into the snow, and Hansol slumps back down, relieved. He can still see them, and he can still sense them, too, so there’s no worry in any of them getting lost. At least he can now have some peace and quiet.

Twisting his lips thoughtfully, he gathers handfuls of the white snow, turning it over. He turns it over again, and then begins patting and shaping it in his hands until he has something that resembles a little snow duck.

It’s terribly misshapen, and the beak is a bit too long to be a duck, but it’s cute, and Hansol’s pleased. He swirls his fingers in the air, and uses some magic to add finishing touches, trying to rectify the wonkiness. It doesn’t work, but he still thinks it’s cute. You’d probably find it cute, too. Right?

Probably. Hansol hums to himself contemplatively. You like everything he does. It’s very sweet, he thinks, that you’re always so receptive to him, and it’s even sweeter that you genuinely enjoy his company. You brighten like a blooming chrysanthemum, spring-like in your warmth whenever he says something to you, and it makes him feel all warm too. Ever since the first time he woke up on your couch, out of his mind with a fever, and he’d noticed your floral chrysanthemum tea scent and accidentally called you the prettiest person ever, you’ve always been so gentle and kind and oh, Hansol likes you so much.

You’re just—lovely. You’re the loveliest being he’s ever met in his entire life, and that’s saying something, because Hansol’s been alive for a really fucking long time.

“Hello.”

He’s startled out of his thoughts by a light, melodic voice coming from over his shoulder, and Hansol looks up in surprise to see a villager bent over him, warm brown eyes glinting and the corners of his lips curving upwards in a seemingly permanent smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you jump. I just saw you, and thought I’d say hi,” the villager says, smiling properly, extending a hand. “I’m Joshua. You’re the yokai, right?”

Hansol manoeuvres his body around awkwardly and shakes Joshua’s gloved hand. “I’m Hansol, and yeah, I am the yokai. How could you tell?” His ears flick pointedly as he talks, and Joshua’s eyes immediately go to them before he smiles wider.

“Yeah, I guess it was a silly question,” Joshua says, and his fur boots crunch in the snow as he climbs over a mound and crouches down next to Hansol. “But I don’t wanna seem impolite, you know?”

Hansol shrugs, but he understands. “Yeah. I get it.”

Joshua smiles.

They say nothing for a moment, and Hansol lifts his head up briefly to check on the children. He can still see all of them, actually, dotted about the edges of the market as they build their snowmen. He watches them thoughtfully, and then down at the snow at his feet.

It only takes a moment for a snowman of his own to begin to form, aided by his magic as the snowballs roll themselves to become bigger and more round.

“That’s really cool,” Joshua comments, and Hansol had almost forgotten he was there. He’s so quiet, feather-silent, but when he catches Hansol’s eye and smiles, there’s a twinkle to his presence that makes him wonder how he could have ever forgotten him. “I’ve never seen anyone other than Y/N be able to do that.”

“Hm?” Hansol looks at the snowman that’s slowly being built. “Oh, well, it’s nothing, really.”

Even as he says so, his tail fluffs up in pride at Joshua’s words, and he begins adding more and more intricate frost details to the snowman. The feathery patterns wind through the body of his creation, like embroidery, and Joshua whistles, amazed.

“It’s very cool. Your magic is very cool.”

Hansol shrugs, bashful. “Thank you. But really, it’s nothing.” As the snowman continues to construct itself, he leans over to Joshua as if confiding a secret. “In the wild, there are yokai who can create literal monsters out of ice. In about five seconds flat. But I mostly just deal with frost and snow, so it’s a lot more difficult for me.”

Joshua tilts his head, genuine interest written all over his face. “Oh. I didn’t know there were differences in yokai magic.”

“Of course there are,” Hansol says, like it’s obvious. “Like there are differences in humans’ skills, there are differences for yokai, too. We are not unlike you, you know.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Joshua says thoughtfully. And then he looks Hansol in the eye again, smiling. Joshua is honestly so friendly, and even though they only met two minutes ago, he feels like he’s known him for years. “So you won’t object to being friends with a human, right?”

Hansol blinks, surprised, and Joshua’s smile just widens. It’s obvious what he’s asking, and Hansol feels… touched, that he’d even suggest such a thing.

“Yeah,” Hansol says, and his magic finishes off the snowman with an intricate flourish of frost. “I’d love to be your friend.”

“Joshua!”

The calling of the human’s name makes both Joshua and Hansol turn around, and they see one of the elder villagers coming over to them, the skirts of her robes swishing as she walks. She’s terribly intimidating, greying hair pulled back into a bun with a pointy hair stick, marching over with incredible grace even through the ankle-deep snow that has gathered. She squints at the yokai and how close Joshua is sitting to him. 

“Mrs Choi,” Joshua greets, apparently oblivious to the sharpness of the woman’s gaze. “Hello. It’s very cold today, isn’t it?”

She eyeballs Hansol for a moment before nodding at Joshua. “Very. Frightful weather, but at least the children are enjoying the snow.” Mrs Choi lifts her gaze and squints into the distance, where the children are playing. “I hope someone is supervising them.”

“Oh, well, Hansol is, so don’t worry about it,” Joshua says with a smile. 

Mrs Choi snaps her gaze back to them. “Is he really?” Hansol nods, doing his best to look as earnest and trustworthy as possible, and she hums. “I see.”

“He has them doing a snowman competition, actually,” Joshua says. “He’s very good at making them himself, too. Look. Don’t you think his creation looks amazing?”

He points to the snowman in front of them, glistening with frost and embroidered with thin ice, clearly a work of his magic. Hansol swallows, expecting Mrs Choi to fly into a tizzy over the presence of such witchcraft, but she just scrutinises the snowman, and then—

She smiles.

“It’s very pretty,” she says, and in the blink of an eye, her expression has turned warm. She’s smiling so nicely at Hansol, and then she leans down and brushes a hand over the top of his head, gently dusting away the snow that had landed in his hair. “Just like you, my dear.”

Hansol blinks up at her, open-mouthed. “I— thank you, ma’am.”

She chuckles, straightens, adjusts the skirt of her robes. “No need to thank me. I’m simply telling the truth.” Mrs Choi nods in the direction of the children, before turning away. “Thank you for taking care of the children, also. Keep up the good work.”

Hansol watches her go, feeling a little dazed. She had looked so sharp and stern at first, but something about him sitting there harmlessly and making a harmless snowman with harmless snow gathered in his hair must have done something to convince her that he’s, well, harmless. Which is good. Very good. Hopefully she’ll let everyone else know, too.

“Yeah, she looks scary, but Mrs Choi is anything but,” Joshua says with a laugh, when Hansol directs his wide-eyed gaze to him.

“She’s terrifying.”

“Her son takes after her,” Joshua chuckles. “Choi Seungcheol. He looks scary, but he’s a right softie on the inside, trust me.”

Hansol’s eyes widen further. “She’s Seungcheol’s mother? The village leader?”

“The one and only,” Joshua affirms. He laughs. “Don’t worry about him. His own mother found you cute. I’m sure he’ll be won over by you in no time. Especially if you keep making snowmen that rival Y/N’s in their intricacy. Seriously, I think yours are the best I’ve ever seen.”

“Shua, I hope I didn't just hear you dissing my amazing snowman building skills.”

Hansol looks up at your voice, and sees you slowly treading over to them, a drawstring bag dangling over your shoulder as you pick your way through the snow. The tip of your nose is red from the cold, cheeks a pretty pink with an amused smile on your face, and the moment he sees you, it’s like you’ve stolen his breath away.

Whilst Hansol’s too busy being starstruck, Joshua laughs, leaning back on his hands.

“So what if I was?” he teases, and nods to Hansol’s snowman. “Doesn’t it look amazing?”

You look away, directing your gaze to the snowman. Humming thoughtfully, you eye Hansol’s creation, and he begins to grow a little nervous under your critical silence, fiddling with his fingers and digging them into the snow, wisps of cold air seeping from his skin.

And then you smile, a lopsided smirk that makes Hansol feel a little dizzy.

“I can certainly do better.”

Before he can say anything, you set down your bag, and with a flick of your wrist the snow begins to swirl and gather itself before you. Under your command, golden streaks of magic begin to press the snow together, creating larger shapes that you obviously plan to sculpt into a showstopping piece.

You look almost relaxed in your movements, the entire process taking nothing more than a slight twitch of your fingers as magic sparks zip around the sculpture that’s gradually beginning to form. Hansol can only watch in awe, amazed at the fluidity and effortlessness of your power. By his side, he thinks he hears Joshua chuckle softly.

After a few short moments, the three of you are staring at a large, smoothly finished sculpture of a winter fox, and you smile and cross your arms, satisfied.

“What do you think?” you say, smug, confident in your belief that you’ve proved yourself.

Hansol’s jaw is on the floor. Delicate pointy ears, a fluffy-looking tail all made out of snow, and wow, are those whiskers? Did you really make whiskers?

“Wow,” is all he can say, staring at this lifelike fox that’s made entirely out of snow. “Wow.”

Just then, there are high-pitched exclamations from somewhere in the distance, and the children that Hansol’s been supervising come bounding over, shouting in amazement at the fox that you’ve made. 

“Hi, kids,” you say when they’re close enough, laughing when Yeowon barrels into your legs to give you a hug. “Quick question, which snow sculpture do you think is better? The fox, or the Frosty the Snowman?”

They all look very thoughtfully at the two snow pieces in front of them, before unanimously pointing to your creation, and you grin triumphantly at Joshua and Hansol. Hansol just smiles back, totally expecting such an outcome. You’d beat him any day when it comes to stuff like this, and he’s totally fine with that.

“That’s not even a snowman,” Joshua protests, but it’s clear he’s arguing just for the fun of it. “Y/N, that’s not a fair competition.”

You shrug flippantly. “I’d win anyway.” And then you wink, pleased, and Hansol feels like burying himself in the snow just to try and get rid of his red cheeks.

“Mister Fox, we wanna play with you now,” Minjun says, and he looks up to see the children standing around him, red-cheeked and damp-haired but still eager to play more. “Can we play a game with you?”

“It’s getting late,” Hansol tries to say, but apparently, that had been a rhetorical question, because they’re hauling him up to his feet so they can play with him. “The market’s already closing. Shouldn’t you all go back to your parents now? Joshua? Y/N?” He looks back pleadingly as he gets dragged away, and you and Joshua just laugh, waving him goodbye.

“Have a nice time!” Joshua calls, standing up from the snow and brushing down his clothes. He stands closer to you, smiling as you both watch him begin to play. “He’s good with them, isn’t he?”

You smile too. “He really is.”

“The best,” another voice adds, and you look over your shoulder to see some of the villagers also watching Hansol. They’re all the parents, and yet they seem perfectly content to let their children play around with the yokai, any trace of hostility gone from their faces. 

That makes you smile wider. “I’m glad you think so, Mrs Lee,” you say, and the woman smiles back. “Don’t worry. He’ll keep your children safe.”

Mrs Lee bows her head in acknowledgement, eyes turning soft as you all watch Hansol let the children punt tiny clumps of snow at him. “We know.”

They stay with you for a little longer, chatting about Hansol’s gentle nature and how wonderfully he gets along with the children, before eventually they disperse and begin packing up the market for the day. Next to you, Joshua is also smiling, looking fond, which is really weird because he barely knows Hansol but there’s definitely a clear look of admiration and affection in his face. Before you can comment on it, though, he pats you on the shoulder, and begins to step away.

 “I better go,” he says. “Cheol’s coming your way. I think he wants a talk.”

He bids you goodbye then trudges back through the snow, and you look over your shoulder to see that Seungcheol really is coming your way. Instead of greeting him, however, you look back out at Hansol, and wait until the village leader is by your side.

“Hello, Y/N.”

“Hello, Seungcheol.”

You don’t offer him anything else, and so the two of you stand there in silence, continuing to watch Hansol play with the children. It is an adorable sight, though, and makes the corners of your lips twitch upwards the longer the silence goes on. He’s totally lenient with them, letting them pull his tail and ambush him with damp gloves and shrieking laughter. His head whips back and forth constantly between the two sides of kids that have inexplicably formed, somehow finding himself in the crossfire as snowballs get flung around him.

It’s cute, and it makes you laugh, heart warming with fondness. You can feel Seungcheol watching you out of the corner of your eye, and when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything until you do, you sigh and turn your back on Hansol at last, raising an eyebrow.

“Well?” you prompt. “What’s up? You didn’t come find me just to say hello.”

Seungcheol pauses, and looks down. “No. I didn’t.” A beat. “My mother actually told me you were here.”

“Okay. And?”

“She talked to Hansol,” he says, and both your eyebrows raise this time, in surprise. “She said to me that she liked him, and she wanted me to open my eyes and finally realise how much of a good person he is.”

Seungcheol clasps his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels. He looks over your shoulder, at where Hansol is undoubtedly doing something silly to entertain the children, and his eyes go gentle. They don’t soften, and they certainly don’t melt, but his gaze becomes a little more mellow, like a layer of hardness has finally given way.

“And he is a good person,” Seungcheol says, looking at you again. “I’ve been watching him all day. All week, in fact, and even if my mother hadn’t said anything, I would’ve sought you out to tell you this, because I think I owe you an apology.”

You breathe a laugh. “You certainly do,” you say, but there’s no real bite. Seungcheol’s actions were understandable. You’ve already forgiven him.

Seungcheol seems to know that too, because his lips quirk up into a half-smile. Nevertheless, his words are genuine when he says, “I’m sorry. I was too rash, and too harsh. Any worries I had over yokai did not excuse the way I talked about Hansol. Do you think you can also tell him how sorry I am?”

You draw in a long breath, cross your arms and lean back, staring down your nose at Seungcheol. His smile wavers, a little, but then you relax, breaking out into a grin.

“You can tell him yourself. He’d love to talk to you,” you say, and Seungcheol smiles too. “I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. You’re just looking out for the village, like you always do. But…” You shrug. “I was looking out for my kind, also. I was frustrated that you were treating Hansol like that just because he was a yokai.”

Seungcheol breathes out, wisps of white spilling from his lips. “I get that. It makes sense that you felt that way.” His eyes lighten with mischief suddenly, his smile taking on a teasing edge. “Especially considering the fact you’re in love with him, too.”

The world grinds to a halt. You stumble, taken aback by Seungcheol’s words. “I’m sorry, what?”

Nothing else gets to be said about the matter, though, because a small child goes zooming past you right at that moment, brushing against your side. And then, half a millisecond later, a fat clump of snow hits you square in the back.

The child continues running off, bubbling laughter fading into the market square. Slowly, very slowly, you spin on your heel and come face-to-face with the culprit.

Hansol’s still frozen in his throw position, one hand incriminatingly covered with snow. The moment he sees your face, his face breaks into a wide grin, that beautiful, big grin that shows the slight point of his yokai fangs. His eyes are glowing, alight with amusement and another, warmer emotion you can’t quite name.

He tilts his head to the side, eyeing the snow gently tumbling down your back. “Whoops?”

“Whoops?” you echo, breathing a laugh. You look at Seungcheol, as if saying Can you believe this guy? before turning back to Hansol, a handful of snow magically making its way into your hands. “Oh, you’re going to be saying a lot more than ‘Whoops’ in a minute.”

Hansol laughs, holding his hands up placatingly. “Now hold on a minute—”

Abruptly, his head jerks back, and he gets knocked off his center of balance by the force of the snowball you’d just lobbed at him.

You burst into laughter as Hansol, sitting on the ground and with snow in his hair and up his nose, wipes his eyes with a grin. “Now you’re just asking for it, I think.”

Still laughing, you snap your fingers, and several more balls of snow float up around you. “Oh, it’s on.”

Cut to several minutes later, and somehow, the snowball fight between the two of you has devolved into a village-wide thing, children slipping and sliding in the snow alongside their parents as Seungcheol yells at his team to close ranks and you yell at yours to focus their sights on Hansol. The icy air stings your cheeks, and at some point it begins to snow again, hard, blurring your sight, but the whole thing still continues, the square filled with the laughter of the villagers.

And throughout it all, Hansol manages to find your gaze no matter where he is, gold eyes seeking your gold magic, and the beautiful sound of his laughter leaves you breathless every time.

───────────── ‘✽, 

All things considered, perhaps it’s totally expected that you end up falling for Hansol.

You don’t get to truly mull over Seungcheol’s last words until much later, when you and Hansol have both changed out of your sopping wet clothes and are sitting curled up together on the sofa, both of you blinking sleepily at the fire you’ve lit in the fireplace.

The snowball fight ended incredibly amiably, with everyone agreeing that Seungcheol’s team had obliterated everyone else’s, despite the lack of magic users in his group. You’d helped some of the villagers dust themselves off, and used magic to dry off the people who had gotten the most wet. Soonyoung, inexplicably, looked like he’d been dunked five times in a swimming pool, rather than emerging victorious from a snowball fight.

Finishing with Soonyoung, you’d looked back, and of course—Hansol was playing with the children, again, as if he had endless reserves of energy to spare. But in between letting the kids climb his legs and play with  his swishing tail, he was chatting with the rest of the villagers, helping them tidy away their things.

It made you smile. 

And then Hansol had looked back at you, as if sensing your gaze, and his entire face had lit up, brighter than the brightest summer’s day, and he’d quickly said goodbye to the villagers before coming bounding over to you, face so open and comfortable and warm and—

Yeah. You like him a lot. And you’re sure that he likes you a lot too.

Hansol yawns, big and wide and content, his tail flicking lazily as he rests on your shoulder. Outside, the snowfall has increased to a snowstorm, complete with howling winds and dark, looming clouds, but inside, your cottage is warm, and you have a sleepy yokai pressed against your side, and life is, admittedly, kind of perfect.

There’s just one thing, though.

You need to tell him.

Lost in thought, you shift around absentmindedly, and Hansol looks up questioningly at the movement. The warmth of your magic prickles softly in the air around you, and when he takes your hand, you can feel his own magic murmuring softly in tandem with your own. 

He continues to look at you, and then smiles, eyes glowing. Goodness, he really is so pretty.

“I like you,” you whisper, the words falling from your lips as if he’s enchanted you, bewitched you into saying how you truly feel for all to see. “I like you, Hansol.”

Hansol blinks, slow, cat-like. He lifts his head up, pulls away slightly from your shoulder so he can sit up and look at you properly. His eyes are shining, slitted pupils widening and rounding in adoration.

“That’s good,” he says. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

It’s almost a direct copy of the first words he’d said to you, almost a lifetime ago, when he had been out of his mind with a fever, red-cheeked and hazy-eyed and fixated on the way you smelled like chrysanthemums. The memory makes you laugh, heart squeezing with fondness, and you reach forward to cup Hansol’s cheeks, smiling wider when his eyes flutter shut briefly and he leans trustingly into your touch.

“That’s funny,” you say. “Because I think you’re the prettiest person alive.”

Hansol’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, showing those yokai fangs that you adore so much. His ears twitch with happiness, light speckles of frost covering his cheeks as he blushes. He’s so pretty, and you love him so much.

Slowly, you inch closer until the tip of his nose brushes against yours. So close that you can count the snowflake-shaped freckles on his cheeks.

“You forgot to say it back, though,” you murmur. “Hansol, you didn’t say you like me back.”

Hansol breathes a soft laugh. “I thought it was obvious.” His smile widens, so enamoured that it warms your heart. “Y/N, I like you too. In fact, I think I’m in love with you.”

You beam. “You know what? I think I’m in love with you too.”

And then you lean forward, and Hansol leans in too, and your lips meet in the softest, sweetest kiss. He tastes like magic, like love, like soft snow that numbs your senses but leaves your heart alive and alight and oh, this is everything you never knew you needed and more.

Hansol’s silver-white hair is falling into his eyes when you pull away, his golden irises shining brightly through them like dazzling, gorgeous sunlight peeking through the translucent colours of snowfall. The sight makes you instantly lean in to kiss him again, dizzy with adoration because goodness, this happiness is for you. He looks like this because he loves you.

And you love him too.

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @doublasting @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @jeonride @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @haodore @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit

[alynnia]

Sylus x Rafayel (x MC) ramblings

The fujo came out of me with this one. After my little karaoke blurb I had an epiphany and had to get it out of my system. I'm no writer but I like to write. The below is litterally brain vomit of ideas and situations spilling out as they come and they're free to the public to play with. These two have quite a bit in common and potentially have chemistry? I dunno, could be my fujo goggles.

MDNI because the last section is lewd. Nothing explicit just options of how I think the sexual part of their relationship might be.

Both bonded to MC

•Sylus, through a shared soul and Raf through an eternal bond. Both of these continue through lifetimes. So imagine Rafayel's shock when courting MC he gets two instead of one. Does he just love half of her soul or all of it? Now we don't know the exact timelines of the myths if they all share the same universe and same Philos, but let's say they did. Sylus' soul sharing with MC came first so when Rafayel bonded with MC, he was unknowingly bonding with Sylus as well. He would be reluctant in this set up, believing that MC was the one he is tied to and only her (this is true of course but we are playing pretend here) but why does he feel a similar pull from Sylus? The fiend is nonchalant about it outwardly but I can see him teasing the fuck out of fish boy. " I guess that makes me your 'beloved' as well but...I don't bow to gods, puppy. I end them. " and then gives him a few smug paps on the cheek. This likely results in a fight MC has to break up and it happens often.

•They would both try and show each other up with showing affection to MC, but Sylus would always include Rafayel in his gifting. If he buys a dress for her, he's buying a suit for him. If she gets a ruby necklace, he gets ruby cufflinks. While MC can have any color jewels she wants, he defaults to red gems. After a while, Rafayel takes notice that the crow boy likes to "mark" them with rubies as a subtle way of telling the world the two of them are both his. It's hard to say if he's doing this as a show of dominance or something more but the way Sylus gives him a satisfied smirk/smile when he sees them both wearing matching onyx and ruby brooches makes his eye twitch and his heart skip. Sensing danger between them, MC would excitedly suggest that Sylus wear one too so all three could match, a subtle way on her part to say they are all equal here.

•When talking to MC about Rafayel, he uses "our".

"I think our husband is throwing a tantrum again~"

" I am NOT your husband. "

" Tch, aaw. Tough luck, you're stuck with us both. "

" Then I want a divorce. There's got to be some way to break out of this, a loophole or a spell to break this curse... "

" You hear that sweetie? Our husband wants to break up with us. Maybe he's not as devoted as he says. "

" N-not her! JUST YOU! You are the curse that defiles our sacred bond and I will not stand for it! "

" And how do you plan to do that? Hm? Rip our very soul asunder? That can't be good for either of us, puppy~ " And he's just smirking the entire time with an arm around MC. " But if you insist, I may know someone who can help you. Very experimental, has not had one survivor yet. But! You seem to be very set on tearing her apart...are you willing to take the risk~? " He just loves challenging gods and seeing Rafayel seething is just too precious.

Both rich as fuck

•As someone else here on tumblr mentioned, Rafayel is spoiled prince rich and Sylus is mafia rich. Raf seeing Sy spend money like it was nothing takes these acts as a challenge on his own wealth. He'll offer to pay for things with a smug smile and Sylus lets him do it without a fuss, merely raising an eyebrow then smirking. Neither let MC pay for anything. This ends up frustrating Rafayel after a while. Why doesn't he say anything? Is he just going to let him pay for it all? Greedy crow. ):< Finally fed up, he confronts Sylus saying that he should pay him back with interest. Raf doesn't need the money but it's the principle of the matter! Sylus is just…

"Alright, if it will shut you up." and points him to a page of restraunts on a tablet he was looking over. Rafayel figures he's being asked where he wants to eat on Sy's tab so he chooses the most expensive establishment. The kind you need to make a reservation for a year in advance. He's already planning to order top shelf, the highest priced items on the menu and exclusive private seating for all of them. Sylus looks over the selected place and scoffs, " Pompous. " A little later when Rafayel is expecting to go out, Sylus just slaps down paperwork in front of him and tells him to sign it. What is it? Essentially the transfer of ownership of that place he chose. Apparently it had already belonged to Sylus and now it's Raf's. " This should cover it, yes? "

Both are mythical creatures

• Raf being a mermaid (God of tides) and Sylus being a dragon (Bringer of Ruin) Gods create, fiends destroy. Sy is for the skies and Raf for the seas. They're both beings of power and forces of nature.

• Being the dragon he is, Sylus would likely keep all of the art he doesn't put away or keep track of. It comes from the need to hoard treasures and because the fish is terrible with leaving his work all over the place. Don't get him started on the paintbrushes he keeps stepping on. Thomas would think him a life saver for keeping things organized and available but Sylus would charge him every time he wanted to retrieve work from him. So Thomas is left with the choice of dealing with Rafayel or paying a stupid amount of money to Sylus to bypass the anguish.

•On the flip side, After Raf has seen Sylus' treasure trove of gemstones, he would also just so happen to pick up jewels from museums to add to his own collection. Ones Sylus possibly have never seen or heard of due to their connections with Lemuria. Sylus would make a comment about Lemurians crying pearls he heard once, baiting Rafayel and of course the mermaid can't help but confirm he's able to do this. (They both know what they are by this point) But isn't that a dangerous thing to admit to a greedy dragon? Perhaps Sylus should lock him up and force him to cry to obtain such beauties. But he figures he doesn't need to. Rafayel himself is enough of a rare treasure to keep after all. He would say this right to his face without flinching, as if it was just common sense. He pins another ruby trinket to his lapel to which Raf would find himself blushing then storming off somewhere. He would like to see those scales though. They sure are shiny and our Sylus likes shiny things.

• Sylus walks in on Rafayel in the bath and sees his mermaid tail for the first time. He's enamored but doesn't show it on his face. The mermaid is squawking, telling him he shouldn't enter when someone is in here without knocking but Sylus just ignores him, grabbing what he needs and is about to head out. The mermaid did catch those eyes looking at him in a particular way, wondering why he doesn't ask about the tail.

" So...you're not going to say anything about this? "

" Should I? "

" You've just bore witness to a rare sight, the scales of real Lemurian in his full glory. You would be a fool not to admire. "

" Oh, in that case do forgive me~ " turning around casually he takes wide steps and looms over the tub, his shadow cast over the Lemurian's form, " Then allow me take a closer look... " That's when Sylus runs his hands over the glistening tail, face unchanging as he studies it's quality. This envokes the wrath of Raf smacking his hand away, " No one said you could touch! " Sylus removes his hand but smirks in response. His gaze lingers on the glittering on the mermaid's face before rising up and heading back to the door, " I've seen better. "

" ......WHAT? Where?! No you haven't! Who else has-! " the door is already shut and he's gone.

• What if Sylus took MC's place in Rafayel's myth? A fiend finally captured, tied up and thrown into the ocean. We have hints that Sylus may not know how to swim so perhaps this is his weakness. Rafayel comes across this strange drowning creature who isn't quite human but curious to know more. He cuts him free and planned to just let whatever happens to him, happen but Sylus is quick, desperate to live and be out of this water. Having heard of the Lemurian tales he grabs hold of his savior and tries to steal his breath with a kiss, biting his lip in the process just like MC did. And you know the rest after that. Would make an interesting AU I think but would divert from the myth a looot from there. Still could be a fun ride. Raf can show him the ocean and Sy could show him the skies.

A weakness and a fear

•I don't think Sylus can swim. There's an Abyssal Chaos situation that hints at this and it's living rent free in my head but he does have a pool so who knows. I'm going with the idea that he can't swim for this. So...Sylus would almost always get the one-up on Rafayel, teasing and bullying him but when it comes to water, the fish finally has the upper hand here. Sylus would never admit this weakness out loud to anyone but MC. If they went to the beach he would just stay out of deep areas and Rafayel would take notice. Being a cheeky one and in his element, he'd somehow get the drop on him and pull Sylus over into the deep side to see what happens. Also for revenge. But Sylus isn't reacting the way he thought? This big tough guy is actually going to drown if he doesn't do something. He could be rid of him finally, let the man drown and have MC all to himself. He watches him sink, feeling a twinge of satisfaction but just as he's about to take off, the mark on his chest lights up. It can't be helped, can it?

After "saving" him, Rafayel tells him it's about time he learned how to swim. It's an essential skill and it's a crime to not beable to appreciate the beauty of the ocean. Sylus, surprisingly to Raf, agrees. " Then you should teach me. It's the least you can do after trying to kill me. " Not that it would work I think. How far does his immortality go anyway? Que montage of the two of them in the water together.

• Rafayel has a fear of cats. Sylus likes cats. After all, their beloved MC is their kitten and he's raised a lion cub before. The Lemurian god is offended that he would call MC such a horrid nickname as it's essentially calling her a demon. Sy quickly picks up on the fear and like the earlier scenario, tries to tease him with it. Though it's to a lesser degree in the form of just bringing strays for MC to take care of in front of him. If she's loving the cats, there's no way Rafayel can say no to her. Sylus knows this and pushes it further holding a kitten to his face, " To think a mighty god could be felled by such a small creature. " This prompts Raf to suck it up and slowly but surely start to confront his fear of cats, Sylus happily "helping". Que montage of the two interacting with cats from kittens to tigers.

Break out?

• Sylus doesn't believe beasts should be in cages and Rafayel hates the way humans treat animals. One night, after getting drunk and arguing which leads to a bet, they set local zoo animals free or something. They will never be caught.

Music

•They would share playlists and talk shit about each other's taste but still give genuine listens. Sylus prefers records and buys one for him just to prove how much better it sounds in this format instead of digital.

•They go to the opera together. Sylus is enjoying himself but Rafayel has some harsh critisms. He can do better. Sylus would ask for a demonstration and he says it would kill him. Crow boy sees that as a challenge because well, he can't die. So perhaps he could be one of the few who could listen to his death song without dying and appreciate it. It'd still probably hurt, but maybe it's worth it? Would be funny to see Sylus wheezing in Rafayel's arms, bleeding from his ears and still tell him his singing was shit just to rile him up. It's a lie, but picking on him is too much fun.

•Singing together. See the Karaoke blurb.

If they were in a relationship (Lewd bits)

•OT3. MC is far too important to them and their own connections would be their shared loved for her. They'd prefer to be seperate with her at first but over time Sylus would be the first to invite him together with MC. Rafayel is going to say no the first couple of times (it's not offered often) but eventually warms up to the idea if only to prove to the other that he can perform better than him. Then it becomes another game of chicken when Sy leans in closer to Raf with MC in the middle. Sylus will give looks, light touches in passing but won't be the one to give in. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he wants Rafayel to be absolutely sure he's into it and he gets a kick at making him buckle. Which he will and of course, Sylus obliges letting Rafayel think he's the one that "won" in this. MC is happy to see them get along.

•The longer this OT3 relationship goes on, the more likely sometimes it would be just the two of them while MC is off on a mission somewhere in the world that takes days to complete. At this point they're used to it and the roughness becomes more gentle and tender. Well, Sylus almost always had been the more gentle one and Rafayel the more agressive and it only took them being alone for Rafayel realize it.

• They would be competative in bed but even when bottoming, Sylus more often than not has control and directing Rafayel. Telling him there's no need to go easy on him. Raf will always fight for control and sometimes "win" but he melts too easily and loses himself in the moment. His most dominant side comes out during a certain season which is a pleasant surprise for Sy. They're both waking up with scars but Sylus more so. He doesn't let them heal quickly just to show off the result to Rafayel when he wakes up.

" Are you not proud of your work? " Oh he is proud. Embarrassed seeing what he's done to him and the memories of the night flashing in the back of his mind, but proud. Another win for the fish, "conquering" such a large man. Snatching Sylus by the chin, he'd give a warning with a hint of slight concern for his bird boy, " It would be wise not to forget what I can do to you. "

" Do what? These little marks? " He brushes them away with his evol, " Oh no. Look, they're all gone. I guess you'll have to try harder. "

And now I wonder if Rafayel could end up leaving a mark on him that not even Sylus can heal through his god mode. 🤔

•Playing with the headcanon of Sylus' draconic habits and urges being active in his current life, I wonder if they would "sync" up. Honestly it sounds dangerous, Sylus may very well eat the guy. Literally. That's for the tragedy enjoyers. For the degenerates…4 swords, eh? Okay on the tamer side of things, I can see them taking it out on each other to spare the worst of it from MC. Locking themselves away just to go all out. But back to degeneracy, she'd probably end up peeking out of curiosity and end up dragged into it. Rest in Peace girlie. 🙏

•So what would a dragon/mermaid kid look lik-

OKAY OKAY I'M DONE. IT'S OUT OF MY SYSTEM. DO NOT PERCEIVE MEEEE!! But really though, this was fun. Is this 1k words? I have no idea.

I think this is how you tag people? @crutoyu @turkeysamwichh

[rcklessheavn]

𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫 ── ★ ˙🏎️ ̟ !!

f1 driver!matt x influencer!reader au

summary: after influencer!reader is invited to give interviews at the grand prix event, she meets matt and everything changes for both of them.

intro pt1 pt2

warning: none

wc: 2.2k

note: i know ive taken so long but i am new to the F1 world and really really wanted to educate myself properly, so i am now writing as a fan!!! i still have a lot to learn so bare with me :)

𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨 ༉‧₊˚.

Three knocks on your door jolted you awake. For a moment, you couldn’t remember where you were—or why you were sleeping on what felt like a giant marshmallow. Seriously, this bed was the perfect level of comfort for any mortal human.

“Y/N! If you don’t hurry up, you’re going to be late for practice!” Hailey’s voice came through the door, sharp and urgent.

“No, Mom, I don’t have practice today. Remember?” you mumbled into your pillow, clearly still half-asleep. But then your alarm—set the night before—blared, dragging you back to reality.

You jumped up with a start, just as Hailey knocked twice more, her hand poised for a third. You scrambled to open the door. “Sorry, sorry! In my defense, I did set an alarm... and woke up.” You flashed her an innocent smile, but she just rolled her eyes. Clearly, this wasn’t her first rodeo with you—which was exactly why you loved her so much.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, unfazed. “Now, we’ve got practice and an official paddock tour, but first—breakfast. Get ready. Chop chop!” She clapped her hands for added drama.

You couldn’t help but laugh as you made your way to the bathroom for a shower.

The first time you stepped into this suite, it felt like you’d walked into a palace. Everything was so elegant, so delicate—it practically screamed luxury. Even the toilet paper felt like it cost a fortune, and that’s no easy feat. You couldn’t believe you were here, experiencing all of this. It was the opportunity of a lifetime, and you were going to make the most of it.

“Okay, I’m done!” you called as you emerged from the bathroom, fully ready to face the day. Makeup done, hair styled, outfit on. You’d kept it low-key—just a casual yet cute look, with a Ferrari hat to show off your passion. No need to go overboard, since you weren’t expecting to run into anyone just yet.

“Well, that was faster than I expected. Eager much?” Hailey teased, glancing up from her phone, probably checking if the Uber had arrived (it had).

You just shook your head, chuckling. She knew exactly how to push your buttons.

You grabbed your phone and double-checked your purse. Wallet? Check. Charger? Check. Portable charger? Check. Camera? Check. Extra batteries and SD cards? Check and check. Tylenol? Check. Various lipsticks, glosses, and liners? Check, check, and check. Powder and extra blush? Check and check. You mentally went through your checklist, sure you hadn’t missed anything... until you froze.

The passes. You mentally smacked your forehead. Almost forgot the very thing that would let you experience all of this.

“Okay, ready to go?” you asked Hailey, who gave you a nod, standing up from the couch.

Time to get this day started.

Arriving at the paddock felt surreal. As you stepped out, you were greeted by the sound of a huge crowd of F1 fans. Polite smiles all around, you made your way through the crowd—but then, you heard your name being shouted. You turned and saw a teenage girl waving at you. You glanced at Hailey, silently asking for permission to approach, and she nodded.

“Y/N! Y/N!” the girl called out, her face lighting up.

You smiled and waved. “Hi! You know me?” you asked, surprised.

“Yes! Yes! Are you kidding? I love your content! I saw your Instagram post yesterday! I swear I’m not stalking you, I just happened to already have plans to be here, and somehow, I low-key manifested meeting you!” She spoke so quickly, her excitement palpable. “Is it okay if I take a picture with you?”

You chuckled, taking her phone. “Of course, we can!” You smiled. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m Emiliana,” she said, her bright smile warming your heart. “Thank you so, so much!”

“It was so nice to meet you, Emiliana,” you said, still smiling. “I’ve never had a fan interaction before. You’ve made this trip so much more special.” You waved as you walked away, and she waved back with a grin.

As you entered the paddock gates, Hailey turned to you with a proud smile. “Wasn’t that your first fan interaction?”

You took a deep breath and turned back to glance at Emiliana one last time. “Yes, it was,” you said, smiling up at Hailey. She pulled you into a side hug.

“I think Monaco is already changing your life,” she joked, and you laughed.

“Maybe I’ll end up on Vogue or something,” you joked back.

You both made your way further into the paddock, and you took a deep breath, pulling out your camera to film some b-roll. As you were filming, a woman approached you.

“Hello, I’m Claudia! You must be Y/N, right? And Hailey?” She asked, and you blinked in surprise. Then you saw her Ferrari badge, and everything clicked.

You extended your hand to greet her. “Yes, hi! It’s nice to meet you, Claudia!” you said, a little too cheerfully, but Claudia seemed pleased by your energy.

“I’m with Ferrari,” she said, holding up her badge, “and I’ll be with you both this morning. Practice starts in 45 minutes, so we’re going on a quick track tour. Our car is waiting, so we need to hurry. After that, we’ll head back to the Ferrari quarters and watch practice. Does that sound good?”

Her words were like music to your ears. You nodded eagerly, and Hailey spoke up.

“Sounds perfect. We really appreciate it!” she said, and Claudia smiled.

“Is anyone else coming with us, or…” you trailed off, your curiosity piqued.

“Well, not really. Each team can select one to three creators they want to sponsor or collaborate with, and due to the connection with Matthew Sturniolo and his brothers—who have huge platforms—they’re usually on board for this. They come every year, so they know the drill.” She led you toward the car.

“So, I was chosen as the third creator?” you asked, a bit surprised.

“Yes, but not at random. At Ferrari, we focus on quality over quantity. We’ve been closely following your content, and your passion for our team really stood out. We knew we could achieve something big with you,” she explained, her tone formal yet warm.

Those words hit you hard, and a warm sense of pride washed over you. You had no idea what you’d done to deserve this, but you were certainly not complaining.

You walked past the garage where all the cars were, sneaking a quick peek. None of the drivers seemed to be around, so your body relaxed a little, saving the anxiety for when you came back.

Outside the track, the car was waiting for you. You climbed in, and the driver, Francisco, introduced himself. Both you and Hailey returned the greeting. You pulled out your camera and started filming for your vlog. The ride was mostly quiet, with Hailey asking a few questions here and there. You knew the answers to most, but you paid close attention to the ones you didn’t know.

Then Claudia spoke up, her voice cutting through the silence. “So, Y/N, why Ferrari?”

You smiled, leaning back a little. “Truthfully, I grew up alongside Ferrari. My dad’s a huge Schumacher and Vettel fan, so when race season rolled around, he’d make sure to explain everything to me and my brother. He thought my brother would be the one to sit down with him and watch the races, but to be honest, I was the one who never missed one.” You chuckled, reminiscing about your childhood. “My favorite movie growing up was Cars, so that probably explains a lot. Yeah, I guess red’s been my color since I was born,” you said with a proud smile. Both Hailey and Claudia smiled at you, and you were pretty sure even Francisco grinned.

As you finished your story, on your way back, you noticed the paddock approaching. Your heart began racing again, knowing that any driver could be there right now.

“Who’s your favorite, then?” Claudia asked as you reached your destination, getting out the car.

“Hard question,” you said, glancing up at her. “I really love a lot of them, but Charles Leclerc and Matt Sturniolo have really changed things for the Tifosi. Especially Matt. He has a talent and passion I admire—honestly, I’m surprised he isn’t a world champion yet.” You said it casually, trying not to sound like a crazy, obsessive fan.

“Maybe this year,” Claudia said with a knowing smile.

“Maybe,” you replied, walking past the Ferrari garage.

You had peeked at it before, but now, standing in front of it—knowing you were about to walk inside—it felt utterly surreal. Everything you’d dreamed of, being in a Formula 1 paddock in Monaco, part of the guests, all of it had come true in this moment.

“Shall we go in?” Claudia asked, coming up behind you with Hailey. Apparently, they were already buddies now.

Too afraid to say anything wrong, you simply nodded. Claudia led the way, starting her tour from the ground floor. You took a closer look at both Charles and Matt’s cars. They were even redder in person than you’d imagined. Claudia introduced you to the mechanics and engineers—everyone was so welcoming. The middle floor had the pit wall, with a slight balcony overlooking the track. Finally, the guest area was on the top floor, and, unexpectedly, there were two familiar figures sitting out on the balcony.

“And here I thought we were meeting later tonight,” you said, a little too confidently, to your amusement.

“OMG! Y/N!” One of the figures jumped up, meeting you halfway at the door.

“HI NICK!” you chuckled, embracing him. “It’s nice to finally meet you in person.”

“I know! I can’t believe we live in the same city and still haven’t hung out!” Nick said, laughing. He turned to introduce you to the person beside him. “Oh! This is my brother Chris. Chris, this is Y/N. I think I’ve mentioned her to you.”

Chris stood up and stretched out his hand. “Oh yeah! You were watching her this morning. Nice to meet you,” he said with a polite smile.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I love your brand! Big fan, not gonna lie,” you admitted casually, and Chris just smiled, clearly pleased.

“Are you excited?” Nick asked, giving you a spot to sit beside them.

“Yes, totally! It’s my first time, so I’m super hyped right now,” you said. Just then, you heard Claudia’s voice behind you.

“Hey, guys!” she greeted Nick and Chris, who waved back. Then she turned to you. “Y/N, is it okay if we leave you here with the guys for a bit? Hailey and I need to talk about some business things, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. I’m not in trouble, am I?” you asked, half-joking.

Claudia chuckled, shaking her head. “No, not at all. Just call me if you need anything,” she said, then left, leaving you with your new friends.

Before practice started, you decided to take a few pictures, handing your camera to Nick.

“Can you take some pictures of me?” you asked, and Nick’s face lit up, clearly excited. Photography was definitely his thing after all.

Meanwhile, on the ground floor, the two Ferrari drivers were getting ready to head out. They were bantering about who was better—Spider-Man or Batman. This definitely wasn’t their first time having this debate. Matt, bored of the conversation, glanced up at the balcony, maybe to wave at his brothers, but instead, he noticed a new figure posing for a photo. Nick was clearly assigned to be the photographer.

“Yo!” Matt said, playfully hitting Charles on the arm, clearly distracted. “Who’s that?” he asked, catching his teammate’s attention.

Charles turned to look where Matt was pointing and shrugged. “I don’t know, probably just one of those influencers they invite every year,” he muttered.

Matt sighed, a hint of curiosity in his voice. “She’s wearing a Ferrari hat.” He paused. “Do you think she’s a fan?” He tried to mask the excitement in his voice, but the hopeful look in his eyes betrayed him.

“I don’t know, man. Maybe she’s wearing it for promo or just as a benefit for her,” Charles shrugged, sounding uninterested.

Matt let out a disappointed sigh but kept it to himself. He wasn’t one to show his emotions so easily.

Charles looked at him, lifting an eyebrow in playful teasing. “Are you interested, Matthew?” he asked, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Matt swatted Charles’s hand away, rolling his eyes. “No. Why? Are you?” he shot back, his tone light but challenging.

“No, bro, I’m taken,�� Charles laughed, stepping back toward his car to get ready. “You should be too,” he shouted over his shoulder, still chuckling.

The sound of Charles’s shout made you turn around, and in that split second, your eyes met Matt’s. You felt a jolt of nervousness before quickly turning back to your conversation with Nick.

Matt held your gaze for a brief moment, a sudden rush of electricity surging through him. Racing cars were an electric sport, but this—this was something different, something he couldn’t quite explain. And he liked it.

“Matt, they need you now, you ready, man?” Nate, Matt’s performance coach, called from behind him, breaking the moment and making Matt drop his gaze.

“Very,” Matt responded firmly, shaking off the unexpected rush.

Chris’s voice pulled you out of the daze you’d slipped into after locking eyes with Matt for the first time. “Ready to experience your first F1 weekend?” he asked with a grin.

You sighed, smiling back at him. “More than ready,” you assured him, eyes drifting to the track ahead.

a story by rcklessheavn

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ series link

⋆˙⟡ tag list

⤷ authors note: ok this was wayyyy too long so i had to divide this, pt. 3 will be out sooner than this one was. i hope the length makes up for my absence!! thank you for your patience :)

@courta13 @matthewsroses @mattswifeyy @sturniolomatthewb @nessabarretswhore @nickmillersn1gf @mattslefttoenail @thecrawlys @tuttifruttixx @obsessedwiththesturniolos @period-queen1 @pair-of-pantaloons @b4by-hon3y @idkwhatthisis2009 @malsmind @matts-247 @baileysturnz @sturniololover1738 @emely9274 @stitchlover324

[weirdgenetic-fuckup]

PLEASE I WANT A PART 2 OF THE STORY WHERE JAMES CHEATS ON READER, IT'S SO GOOOD.

A/n: I AM SO HAPPY PEOPLE LIKED THE FIRST ONE BECAUSE I LOVED IT also I started writing this in class and almost started crying

It shouldn't be too confusing I don't think but it might be trying to read it idk it made sense in my head

Warnings: Angst, reader is in a coma, James cheats on reader, if you think I missed anything let me know otherwise enjoy!

Part 1

James watched you bash your face into the asphalt, the blood pooled around you but you wouldn’t stop, even as he clawed at you, screaming and begging for you to stop, and he knew he was the reason for it.

Eventually you stopped and James laid over you, eyes filled with tears that streamed down his cheeks and soaked into your shirt. He wrapped himself around you, feeling as your warmth slipped from you in the cold of the night.

Unable to take it anymore he got you into his truck, the passenger seat where you always sat when he took you on late night drives. He went around to the drivers side and got in, taking your hand and turning the truck around to get to the closest hospital. Of course he lived outside of town and it was a long drive, he refused to look at you, not even a single glance. He wanted the last image of you in his mind to be your beauty, how happy…

It had been too long since he’d seen you happy, he could barely picture it now. The last time he remembered seeing you happy was a picture you’d taken alone. James was on tour, you were left home alone while he was picking up groupies here and there, and Kirk showed him a picture you’d sent him where you went for a hike. He saw that smile and a little part of him -he wanted to say it lit up but it didn’t, it made him furious seeing you happy. James saw that picture of you and wanted to tell you to leave. He loved you so deeply and knew he wasn’t good enough, he hoped seeing how happy you were without him would make you leave. He wanted you gone.

He squeezed your hand tighter as he drove, sniffling softly while babbling apology after apology, telling you how much he loved, how bad he fucked up. He kept driving, knowing this was goodbye. He wouldn’t look at you, he wanted his last sight of you to be alive. He wasn’t driving to save you, he was getting a declaration. Your hand was cold but you didn’t tremble or huddle up to him like you always did, even when he tried to make you hate him, you’d crawl in bed next to him, find him in his little ‘study’, craving his touch, attention, whatever you could get. Even though he was just yelling at you, it was attention.

He carried you in, he wasn’t moving with determination or speed, you’d be dead either way and he was broken and tired. You’d be dead if he ran and you’d be dead if he stood still. Yet your head rested on his chest, over his heart, listening to it beat. He was alive after everything.

James’s mind was a mess when he reached the doors to the trauma centre, he calmly asked someone for help and you were rushed away. It was his first glance at what you had left of a face; skin would be left torn on the road back home, your blood drying sticky around it. Your hair was matted and muddy, everything was covered in blood, including him, and he just stood there until someone got him onto a bed where they gave him a quick check-up and a change of clothes.

“She’s dead.” He muttered, the resident looking over him gave a wry look.

“Who’s dead?” She asked, looking over his chart.

“My girlfriend.” He said, looking up at the woman. “She’s dead, right?”

She stared at him for a while, trying to come up with anything to say. “We, uh, we can’t share patients' medical information with anyone who isn’t a legal family member.” She said, setting his chart down on the table beside the bed.

“I am her family, we live together, we tour together… her family’s not here, she’s coming home with me, she’s dead, right?” He said. He hadn’t meant to say you were coming home with him, because you weren’t, you were dead and you’d be sitting in the basement until your parents came and he’d have to tell them what happened and why you did it.

The woman looked behind her to another room, James didn’t know what it was and there was only a small window that didn’t show much of who or what was inside. The woman slipped away for a second and peeked her head into the room. The noise was muddled with beeping and people walking around. Everything moved slowly and nothing felt real anymore. James was floating in his mind, watching everything happen behind a screen. He laid his head back on the pillow and could almost feel you under him, thighs holding his head and hands holding his face while you smiled down at him.

The resident came back and lowered her voice to speak. “She’s critical…” She kept speaking but James tuned it out. Critical wasn’t good, but it meant not dead. You weren’t dead.

He couldn’t stop the tears from flowing again, his breathing got heavy and he clutched the thin sheets tight in his fists. “She’s alive…” He muttered, repeating it over and over. The resident got a mask and held it over his mouth, he wasn’t injured but he needed a break, a reprise from this hell of being awake while you were dying in the next room over, where he could do nothing. The door to the room across the hall opened and a gurney was wheeled out right as James’s eyes closed.

“Jamie~” A voice purred. It was echoey and strange, calling to him from afar. “Jamie.” It repeated, clearer now. Your relationship passed his mind like flashcards, your smile, how shy you used to be and how warm you were, the meals you used to make together, how perfect you looked when you were sleeping in his arms. They quickly got darker, the night drives stopped, the face you made when he first started yelling at you -brows knit together and lips parted slightly, tears welling in your eyes as you fidgeted nervously with your hands- and the face you made when you got used to it -empty and expectant, you looked up at him because he got mad when you lowered your head, your shoulders slumped.

"Jamie." The voice came a last time. James finally opened his eyes and found himself in a white nothing, emptiness everywhere. His head was in your lap where it belonged, your fingers running through his hair while you smiled down at him. Even now he was crying, and he couldn't make it stop, he just stared at you, wetness rolling down his cheeks in cascades. "You're not supposed to be here."

James was quiet a moment. You were fine, and here, with him. "Where are we?" He asked, it wasn't what he meant to say, he meant to ask if you were ok, say he loved you, anything.

You looked around at the nothingness and shrugged. "Somewhere." James nodded but stayed in your lap, still crying but it didn't come through in his words, his voice and breathing were fine, he just kept crying. "You're not supposed to be here." You repeated, looking back down at James and wiping away his tears.

James reached up and held your hand to his face, feeling the warmth of your palm on his cheek for a moment. "Are you supposed to be here?" He asked hesitantly, waiting for your nod. He remembered what it looked like when you bashed your face into the concrete, how he reached to stop you to no avail. "You're not supposed to be here." He said, voice wavering slightly and he shook his head. "You-you're supposed to come home with me, alright? I'll take you home." He began to sit up but you pushed him back down, not with much force but it really didn't take much right now.

"I don't think I get to go home, James." Your own voice started to break now, lip quivering slightly. James shook his head again and sat up, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you tight to him, holding your head to his chest.

"No, yes! Yes, you do. You will come home and be my baby, you're my baby!" He cried, using everything he could to hold onto you, every ounce of will and strength in his being. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, slowly losing himself in you. "I love you! You need to know that, I-I have to show you and you have to give me the chance!"

"James." Another voice called. There was a pressure on his shoulder, someone was shaking him. He opened his eyes and it was all gone, every bit of it ruined. You weren't in his arms anymore, instead it was a pillow he held tight, a tear rolling down his cheek and soaking into it again. "James, you're doing it again."

"Sleeping?" He grumbled, shooting a look over his shoulder.

It was a woman sitting on the other side of the bed. Your bed where you'd spent so many nights alone and crying for him while he was out. Out with her. "You scream in your sleep, if I'd known that I never would've agreed to live here." He never told her about you, about what happened and that you were in a coma.

James stared at her a moment longer before getting out of bed, tossing the pillow aside, and went to the closet where your clothes still were. "Do I get to hang my clothes up soon?" She asked, stretching in bed.

"No." He said. "Don't touch anything."

The woman watched him now as he changed, wondering why he'd changed so much. He used to be so fun, going on all night and buying her flowers, chocolates, whatever she wanted, now she was a cage in what was supposed to be her own house. "Why would you move me in here?"

James turned around, having gotten his clothes on now. He looked her up and down, seeing she was still naked from the night before. "You wanted to be my girlfriend, you wanted to live here, this is what it's like." He grumbled as he made his way to the door.

"I'm sure your ex would disagree, she got to hang up her stuff, at least." James stopped for a moment, his hand on the doorknob.

"I'll ask her for you." He bit, swinging the door open and slamming it shut behind him. She had no idea what had happened to you, how your face looked, how James cried, how he visited you every day to make sure you were alright. Today was the day, he would come see you, he would talk to you, and he would beg and beg to anyone and everyone that was willing to listen you'd wake up, and if you didn't -he refused to say when- you would be taken off life support and he'd lose you forever.

[soobinologisttt]

moonlit moments - choi beomgyu

pairing ☆ beomgyu x f. reader

word count ☆ 3.1k

warnings ☆ bestfriends!, switch beomgyu!, camping!, reader drowns but is okay!, tent sex!, overstimulation!, riding!, beomgyu has a dirty mouth!, reader on on birth control!, (be safe guys), very cute!!

guys this is my first time writing non-dom stuff. i tried my best. hope u enjoy!!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"i am so excited!" you say from the back seat. sitting in the middle, you lean up between the passenger and drivers seat.

"i know you are y/n. you've only said it 10 times already." beomgyu pats your head with a smile.

soobin is driving you two and yeonjun is driving taehyun and kai.

you have been waiting for this trip since the beginning of the school year.

you all got together and planned this after finals, you were all going to go camping in the mountains.

you remember telling them that you were going to camp alone, in your own tent.

"i am going to buy my own tent!" you smiled widely.

"y/n? are you sure? it's gonna be kind of spooky up there." soobin asks.

"i am a big girl soobin," you cross your arms and lean back in your chair, "i can handle myself. plus, you all will be next to me."

"suit yourself." soobin retreats as he shrugs.

that night you went home and ordered yourself a pink tent with a pink sleeping bag.

you also made a list of things you might need, such as a light, a portable charger, etc.

although it was months away, you were too excited to not make these lists.

now that is actually happening, you can't help but repeatly tell the two guys how excited you are.

"the next time you say that, you're going into yeonjun's car y/n." soobin says tiredly.

"someone is grumpy." you say to attempt to whisper to gyu.

"i am right here." soobin grumbles.

you turn to him, "do you want me to drive? you seem tired."

"can i trust you?" he says as his eyes stay locked on the road.

"of course. just pull over at the next rest stop. beomgyu, text kai."

beomgyu pulls out his phone and you catch a glance at his lockscreen.

it's you two, when you first met.

you both met as freshmen in high school.

you were the new kid and beomgyu invited you to join his group project.

you came after the project started so you didn't know who would let you join or not.

thankfully for you, two giggly boys asked you join them.

since they looked nice you accepted.

since then, you have been inseparable.

even deciding to go to the same college. and now here you are, heading into your senior year.

you can't help but smile at the memory.

the picture is you on his back as he carries you around the carnival that you begged to go to.

you had just gotten off a ride and you were getting sick. so beomgyu decided to carry you to the car. you're head is barried in his neck and he is smiling widely at the camera.

the guys always swore that you and beomgyu would get together before high school ended but it never happened.

you weren't disapointed about it since, you didn't want to ruin your friendship.

the closest you both got was a makeout when you were both drunk.

once soobin pulled into the rest area, you jumped out of the car. you're bladder was screaming at you. asking for a release and quick.

"where are you going y/n?" beomgyu quicky jumps out after you.

"i have to pee." you call back as you run into the rest stop.

beomgyu quickly follows you.

"i am going to wait for you out here." he says loudly into the bathroom.

you smile at his over protective personality.

it's always been like this. if you were going somewhere alone, he would call after you and offer to come with.

you quickly use the bathroom and wash your hands.

once you're out, beomgyu is by your side. walking back to the car with you.

"you know, i'm a big girl right?"

"i know," he sighs, "you can never be too safe y/n. i dont ever want to lose you."

you can feel the red spreading across your face at his words.

"i dont ever want to lose you either, gyu."

once you get back to the car, soobin is already fast asleep in the back seat. snoring loudly.

"i guess, he was really tired." you giggle to beomgyu as you both get into soobin's car.

"i guess. are you okay to drive? not tired right?"

"i am too excited to be tired right now." you laugh as you start up the car.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

once you get to the parking lot, you are starting to regret your choice of sleeping alone.

nothing but woods are around you. it's a five minute walk to where you will be camping and it's only trees.

you expected there to be even a few people staying in the same place.

but no, there is nothing but trees for miles.

"are we almost there?" beomgyu calls.

seemingly tired from the long walk.

"almost." soobin doesn't look up from the large map in his hands.

you all walk for about five minutes before finding a clearing.

it is a piece of land surround by trees. it didn't help you ease up at all.

if anything, it made you more nervous.

"are you okay y/n?" kai breaks you out of your scary thoughts.

"are you having second thoughts?" beomgyu asks.

you shake your head with a nervous laugh.

"nooo! i was just admiring the.... trees?" you bluff.

"the tree's y/n?" soobin gives you a confused look.

"yeah, they are so large!" you laugh.

"well, pick your spot and get to work! unless you want to sleep on the hard ground tonight." soobin intructs, waving to the empty space.

"okay dad." you roll your eyes.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

it only takes you 30 minutes to set up your baby pink tent.

"about time y/n." taehyun laughs.

you stick out your tongue at him.

"you can't say anything taehyun. you sat and watched soobin set up your tent."

to save money, the guys decided to share tents. soobin and taehyun in one, and kai, beomgyu, and yeonjun in the other one.

"hey, he offered." taehyun shugs and sips on his drink. he is sat around the makeshift fire pit in his camping chair.

before you could think of a come back, kai interrupts.

"according to the map, there is a lake that way," he points to a trail that is different from the one walked, "anyone wanna go?"

you immediately shout out, "i'll beat you there!"

he takes off running and you quickly follow bhind.

"beomgyu, please grab my towel. it's in my tent, in my bag." you yell back as you chased after kai.

"okay!" he yells back.

you keep running, to catch kai, and when you finally do you pull him back.

"hey that's cheating." he laughs.

"yeah, u sure know alot about cheating mr. "i'm not hiding any uno cards."" you snort.

"hey, that was only one time!"

you continue to run before slowing down.

it's gorgeous. a body of water with a waterfall across for where you stand.

you see kai dash by you and hear him yell, "i won!"

but you're too focused on the beauty of wilderness to care.

"it's so pretty." you say to kai.

just then he takes the time to admire the beauty of his surroundings.

"this is so cute." he looks at the waterfall.

"let's swim." you take off your shorts and shirt to reveal your baby pink two piece.

you didn't mind being around them in a bathing suit since once they walked in on you changing.

nothing really happened, you just covered yourself and scolded them on knocking.

now, you could care less. you see them all as your brothers, and know that they see you as their sister.

you walk into the warm blue water and continue until it is shoulder high.

you know that the guys would want to go futher since they are all giants but you went as far as you think was a good idea.

you're not the best swimmer and don't want to drown with just kai here. more hands and eyes means the less of a chance you'd drown and die.

you turn around and watch the water from the waterfall fall. wishing you could go to it. to stand under it.

before you know it, there is a boy throwing you over his shoulder.

"kai! kai! kai, you know i can't swim that well," you panic as he walks deeper into the water, "what are you doing?"

"you're fine y/n. I wouldn't let you drown. beomgyu would kill me." he laughs.

once we get close to the waterfall, he lets you down. but out of reflex (and general scaredness) you wrap youself around the boy.

he flexes up and attempts to pry me off of him.

"take me back kai," you nearly sob, "i don't like this."

just as he is about to turn around you hear a voice call you from land.

"what the fuck are you doing?" beomgyu fums.

you quickly let go of kai, only to slip under the water.

you start to panic as you slowly fall.

you attempt to swim up but no matter what you do, you feel yourself continue to go under.

that's until you feel two large hands pull you up.

you spit out the water in your mouth and begin to sob.

you have no idea who has got you but you hug onto them tight.

"it's okay, y/n. i got you." you hear beomgyu soothe you as he rubs your wet hair.

"i was so scared." you cry into his shoulder.

"i know y/n. i know."

once you feel safe, you pull back to look at beomgyu. he has his shirt and pants still on.

"beomgyu! why are you still in your outside clothes? what about your swimming trunks?"

"you were going to drown y/n." he sighs, "like i said earlier, i never want to lose you. i would do anything to keep you safe."

you blush and hide your face in his neck.

"can we get out of the water now?" you hug onto him.

"whatever you want." he holds on to you.

as you walk out of the water you hear multiple voices speaking.

"i am so so so sorry y/n. i didn't think that would happen." kai profuessly apolzies.

"you're okay kai, i jumped from you." you give him a small smile.

"we can go home if you want." soobin tries to comfort you.

"no, no," you shake your head, "we have been planning this since freshman year."

"i am okay guys," you reach the shore and beomgyu puts you down, "you guys can continue swimming. i need a moment."

they are give you small smiles and hope that you feel better.

beomgyu walks with you, picking up your towel that he dropped when he jumped in.

"don't you wanna swim too?" you look over to the boy.

"no, i need to make sure you're okay." he replies back.

instead of aruging back, you accept his presence as you walk back to th camp site.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

later that night, as you're laying in your tent, you can't help but think about how you felt during the incident.

the feeling of helplessness and fear. you feel it running through you veins.

that's when you hear a sound outside of your tent.

you gather yourself and grab the nearest thing to you, which happens to be a flashlight.

you hear the unzipping of your tent and brace yourself. your flight or fight mode is in full effect.

that's when you hear his voice, "are you okay?" beomgyu asks.

"not really." you huff out in relief.

he zips up the tent and sits on the edge of your sleeping bag.

you both sit there quietly until you speak up.

"i can't stop thinking about it. the way i felt." you feel youself start to tear up.

beomgyu moves to the middle of your sleeping bag, facing you.

although it is dark, you can make out his face. his beautiful nose, eyes full of life, and the frown on his lips.

"i am sorry y/n," he looks into your eyes, "i should of been there quicker."

"no gyu, don't blame yourself."

"i mean, i have no idea what i would do without you y/n. you dont know how much you mean to me."

he brings his hand up to your face and slowly strokes your cheek.

"gyu, wha are you-." you didn't get the chance to finish.

beomgyu's lips were on yours.

once you overcame the shock, you close your eyes. feeling more at peace. forgetting what happened earlier in the day.

he takes his hand from your face and reaches behind you, placing his hand on the small of your back.

you turn you head to deepen the kiss, opening your lips a little to allow him access.

he slides his tongue in in a swift motion.

you moan lightly at the action.

"i've dreamed about this for so long." he confesses as he pulls back silghtly.

you smile on his lips.

"have you now?" you tease him.

he smiles, "yes, for a long time."

he crashes his lips back onto yours, slowly moving to lay you down.

you uncross your legs and send them straight.

beomgyu is still kissing you as you fall back and hit your pillow.

"is this okay?" he looks down at you with his big pretty brown eyes.

"yes, please going gyu."

he doesn't miss a beat to start kissing you again.

when he slides his tongue across your lips, asking for entrance, you groan out.

you can feel beomgyu's cock grinding onto you. causing you to moan out more.

you pull back with a needy moan, "i need you right now."

he doesn't miss a beat as he flips you.

"please ride me y/n." he pleads.

you know you can't control yourself when it comes to him so you slip your hand down to his cock.

"fuck y/n."

"do you have a condom?" you lean down and whisper into his ear.

"i didn't even think about that. i dont, fuck. i'm so sorry y/n."

"gyu, i'm on birth control." you pull back and continue to palm him through his pajama pants.

"i bet you feel so good y/n. i need it so bad, please, please, please fuck me."

you pull down his pajamas pants bring his underwear with it.

he helps you out of your pajamas and underwear.

he runs his hands down the curve of your body. taking in every minute, wanting to remember every second of it.

he knows he'll be fucked after this, he'll want to do it all over again.

you hover above his hard length, slowly lowering yourself onto him.

"you feel better than i ever imagined, fuck."

you sit there stunned at the pure size of him.

"fuck gyu, you're so big." you try to keep quiet. fearing that you'll wake your friends.

"c'mon, you can take it."

"mhm," you start to slowly ride him.

"you can do better than that baby." he grips you hips, guiding you to go faster.

you struggle to stay quiet as his cock hits all the spot that you can't reach.

"gy-u-u, it's too much." you whine as he keeps guiding you.

"you just feel so good princess. please don't stop."

you bite your lip so hard it draws blood.

you watch as his brown eyes roll to the back of his head.

"you feel so fucking good y/n." he groans as he graps your hips harder.

he was surely gonna leave marks.

you attempt to speed up, although you can barely handle it.

"fuck gyu, you're so deep. if you go any deeper you'll be in my stomach." you throw your head back.

"mhmm, you look so pretty riding me. such a good girl taking all my dick." he purrs.

you grip his abs through his shirt as you continue letting him abuse your cunt.

"gyu-gyu-gyu oh my fuck, i'm gonna come."

"me too baby. keep going just like that." he looks up at you before throwing his head back.

you listen as you both chase your highes, getting slopper by the second.

"beom-beomgyu, i'm gonna fucking scream." you warn him.

he flips you both over so he is on top.

"you gotta stay quiet my princess. you don't want then to hear us. i want to be the only one who hears you."

he places his hand on top of your mouth as he thrusts into you.

"fuck, i love fucking you. nothing will compare now."

you moan into his hand, your cunt pulsating around his dick.

it only takes you a couple more thrusts before that feeling in your stomach explodes.

you let out a stranged cry as he continues ramming into you.

"hmm, i'm so close," he whispers into your ear, "please let me keep going, baby."

you give a slight nod and he continues his rampage on your swollen folds.

"so-so close." he says as he finally releases all of his come into you.

you can feel him twitch in you as he collapses on top of your mouth.

you both heave out.

"that was so amazing y/n. oh my god, ive wanted to do that first so long." he rolls off to to lay on his side.

"well... it doesn't have to be the last." you smile.

he brings you close and eventually you fall asleep to his heartbeat.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"guys." you hear from outside your tent.

you roll over and slowly open you eyes. sunlight pouring into your tent.

"where is beomgyu?" you hear soobin say.

"i don't know, the last time i saw him was last night and he wasn't here when i got up."

your eyes widen as you realize the situation you have found yourself in.

"gyu." you whisper as you shake him up.

he groans out, "please, can we sleep some more?"

"we should ask y/n." you hear them walk up to your tent, knocking on it like it is a door.

"are you awake?" yeonjun calls out.

"yeah! one second please." you call out, causing beomgyu to shoot straight up.

"okay, beomgyu is missing. have you seen him?"

you look at beomgyu with wide eyes.

"i'm in here," he says proudly, "i didn't want y/n to get eaten by a bear or something." he comes up with a half assed excuse.

you roll your eyes and giggle to yourself.

"well come out, it's breakfast time."

"we'll be there in a minute." you call to them.

as they walk away you can hear yeonjun tell someone, "i told you this would happen. where is my 50 bucks?"

you giggle and look at beomgyu with his big brown eyes.

you give him a quick peck before getting up and getting around.

"come on. a girls gotta eat. especially after last night." you wink at him.

[astracora]

Drunken Confession - Rafayel

Characters: Rafayel x gn!mc

Warnings: Very Drunk MC and Rafayel, Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2656

Written: 26th February 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship, with Rafayel and the main MC I write for. I am still feeling super soft from Raffy's birthday trailer, so this one is even more sappy.

Masterlist AO3

<- Caleb <-Zayne <-Xavier

Rafayel sulks, all through listening to Thomas talk. He had finally convinced you to come with him to an exhibit not as his bodyguard, and as his actual date. Though he hadn't quite used the words.

You hadn't really taken the offer overly seriously, he supposes the jovial tone he'd used hadn't lent itself to you hearing 'Just be my date for tonight, Cutie' as what he truly meant, 'Stay by my side forever'. You had agreed though, allowing him to pick you out an outfit to match his own.

Normally when you accompanied him, you kept your weapons at your side, and wore the same outfits he saw you fighting in. Too serious, too prepared to actually do the job he'd 'hired' you for. There were times he almost regretted that that was the only idea he could come up with, to keep you close. The first thought in his mind.

He'd had to think of something, after all. He just hadn't expected you to take it so seriously.

He'd be grouchy about his ability to protect himself, and you, if it weren't so delightful seeing you so willing to fight for him.

The moment he'd walked in with you, holding your hand tightly, fingers entwined, joy thrumming through his veins, he'd been excited for an exhibit. An odd feeling, his love for art, often tempered by the fact that it was his job. That his pursuit of inspiration through pain, meant to profit off the agony of his people, of his dying world.

A reminder every day, that he had gotten here off the backs of the lost.

Your presence brought him a sense of calm, he wanted to drown in. It had not lasted long, he'd been pulled away by Thomas to talk to people. Those who wanted to buy his works, those who wanted to talk his ear off over how they felt over his pieces. Those who simply wanted to be seen with him, for their own benefits.

An exhausting way to spend time, when instead he could be showing you his work, asking you what you thought. You'd given him that small uncomfortable smile, and pulled away, disappearing into the crowds, telling him you'd be fine.

He knows you won't be fine. You dislike crowds, the noises overwhelm and you want to avoid events like this. You come because you care, and you want to protect him as his bodyguard. Otherwise you'd rather visit him at the studio, watch him paint, or walk along the beach with him.

Rafayel would prefer that too.

He fidgets and looks around, as people are talking at him, trying to stifle his urge to yawn. He doesn't want yet another lecture from Thomas, that keeps him from your company a moment longer.

It's impossible to spot you, unable to find the flash of red in your outfit like Reddie's tail, or the white hair.

His patience wears thin, already stretched to its limits, fracturing and ready to snap at a moment. He has to get out of this droll conversation, with people he doesn't care about. Thomas is an exception, and even then, there are places he'd rather be. People he'd rather see.

"I need the toilet." Rafayel blurts out. If he wasn't ready to start a small fire just to get out of the conversation, he'd cringe inwardly at his choice of escape.

He really had to work on his spontaneous methods to solve problems.

Ignoring the looks he gets, and the sigh Thomas releases, he escapes. Running away like he's desperate, which he is. Just not for what they think.

Scouring the room, he eventually finds you, hidden away in a corner, rubbing at your arm, draining a glass of champagne you turn your nose up at. As you finish it, you scowl at it, like the taste has insulted you. He passes a waiter, slips him some money, takes the entire tray, and sneaks up behind you.

"Hey cutie, you here alone?" He speaks over your shoulder, watching as you jump, stepping back. You almost slip, before his hand takes your waist, pulling you closer, and steadying you.

When you see him, and see his smile, you smile back. Relieved, and saved.

He preens a little at the expression, at the warmth in your eyes. At the way you're comforted by him.

"I am. My date," You stress the word, turning your face away from him, "abandoned me to be very important." You aren't fully turned away, peering at him out the corner of your eye, unable to fight back the amusement.

He hands you a glass, "Spend some time with me then, I'm far less important. You could have me all to yourself." You take it from him, tilting it up to your mouth. "We could go somewhere quieter?"

It's a serious question, and as he watches you drink, balancing the tray in one of his hands, he gets a small idea. Placing the tray in your free hand, and darting off. When he returns, he's holding a full bottle of it in hand.

You blink at him, and then laugh, almost spilling your drink as you raise your hand to cover your mouth. Trying to muffle the noise, so no one comes to find the both of you, "Are you trying to get me drunk and alone, fishie?"

His grin is buoyed and boyish, he knows that. "Of course, cutie. Come on." He waits for you to put the now empty glass in your hand down, abandoning the tray, but taking two empty glasses, and then he pulls you with him. Out the back of the exhibit hall, into the surrounding gardens.

They're normally closed off when an event is happening, but he happily uses his EVOL to melt through the lock. If Thomas looked he'd figure it out, but the chances of it getting pinned on him, is low enough to be worth the risk. At worst he'd have to pay for a new lock, he assumes.

You still give him a scandalised look, and fight the amusement back as you poke him in the side, "Raffy, if you get in trouble for this-"

"It's fine, cutie. No one will know." Probably.

As he tugs you along, he imagines for a moment, running away from a wedding. His new spouse at his side, his heart thundering in his chest at your beck and call, and finding somewhere you can be alone.

A daydream on a fish's fin, amidst turbulent tides.

It still makes the mark on his chest burn, yearning and desire, keeping his heart alive.

When he finds a sufficient place, he pulls you down into grass, catching the glasses before they fall from your grasp. The two of you sit, surrounded by flowers and shadows, and he snaps his fingers, to call a small flame to light up your face. The shadows cast across your cheeks, the laughter in your face. The slight wavering to your eyes.

You are almost in his lap, close enough he could reach out and pull you into it. To distract himself, he fills a glass for you, handing it over, and fills his own. Downing it quickly, and starting on another, then another, until he feels sufficiently caught up to you.

Alcohol always makes it just a little bit easier, for him to wear out the edges of his grief. To soften the lines of his bitter pain. To look at you and quieten the agony of so many lost memories.

The bottle doesn't last long, as the more he drinks, and the more you drink, the closer the two of you get. His cheeks are heated, and he's glad for the small fiery fish swimming to help you see each other, because it cannot reveal just how flushed he is. Just how quickly the alcohol affects him.

You lie with your legs over his lap, his fingers drift over your leg, drawing patterns on your skin as you talk. Animated, hands moving, occasionally sitting up quickly just to poke at his cheeks.

"I definitely saw one of those really rich guys, spill a drink down himself. He was stood at the side scrubbing furiously."

"Never drink red wine at these things, if you're wearing a white shirt, I learned that the hard way."

You sit up, moving so you can sit on his lap, pinching his cheeks, "Did the fishie make a mess?"

For a moment he can't speak, looking down at you. At how you're sat, pressed against him. One arm draped over his shoulder, as you pinch, and pull just a bit. He swallows, once, and before you can realise how close you are, he pulls you closer. One arm around your waist, one hand taking yours wear it pinches at his cheeks.

His voice is a little shaky when he speaks, and he wants to shake himself to be calmer. Sauve, maybe? Can he be sauve right now?

"All over myself. Right in front of some of the investors Thomas spent weeks wining and dining. Horrible. He lectured me for hours."

You laugh, softly, head falling down to his shoulder, nose brushing against his neck, and his head feels fuzzy. The sensation of your skin so warm against his, that feels like ice. Goosebumps raise at every point you touch. He can't tell what is the alcohol and what is the bond. What is you.

"It's not funny cutie, I was humiliated." He whines, hand tangling your fingers together, so that he can carefully brush your fingertips over his lips. He almost whines for a very different reason. The line between the person he wants to be with you, and the person he is underneath the bravado thinning. "I can't believe my bodyguard wouldn't support me in my agony."

Your fingers pinch his lips, making them pucker, but your other hand runs through the back of his hair, easing into his scalp. His hips jump, jostling you in his lap, and he bites down on the noise he almost lets out. "Who is this bodyguard, Raffy? I thought I was your date."

The word is stressed again, but this time, your eyes are in front of him. Mismatched gaze focusing on his own. Looking in his face for something. Head tilting to the side, hair falling over your eyes.

He doesn't know if you find it, but you lean back on his shoulder again.

"You're right." He speaks through a tight throat, "I brought my date here to show them my work."

"Your date sees your work often."

"Are you bored of it?" It hurts more to ask than he thought it would. There's a feeling of fear lurking under the words. Something that he puts so much of himself into… he doesn't want you to not find worth in it.

Anyone else can think whatever they like about his worth. He just wants you to value him, his pain, his love, everything he offers.

You must hear it, able to see parts of him, even when he hides them. No matter how hard he tries to only show you what he wants you to see, he always seems to trip up. Always seems to leave a crack in the wall. Sitting back up, your hands moving to his cheeks, so you can turn his face this way and that.

"Bored?" You ask, incredulous, eyes widening. You look stunned, shocked and confused. Like the very concept stuns you. You shake your head, overly quickly, as though trying to force the point home. Before you have to steady yourself against him. Letting out a groan. "Shouldn't have shaken my head that much." He moves his hand from your waist to your neck. Easing circles into the back of it, to help with the onset of dizziness.

He really should have brought out some water too. He can feel the hazy heat in his own head, the slight delay in his vision.

You eventually relax again, smile returning, "I could never be bored of you Raffy." Your thumb brushes over his lips, and he kisses it quickly before he misses his chance. "I want to always keep seeing the world you do. Every painting, every sculpture, every song."

Leaning over, you press a kiss to his cheek, and he wants to cry. Barely fights the urge to cling to you and sob. To beg you to stay there forever, and never ever leave him.

He wants to share everything with you, tell you about the pain that shapes his world, share every secret he's ever had, all his feelings, all his thoughts. He wants you to know him better than anyone else ever could hope to.

He wants to never release your hand, for the rest of eternity. No matter how many incarnations of you he has to find. No matter how much it hurts to be forgotten, to be lost, to keep looking for you no matter what, that he has to deal with the bitter hurt and the cold edge of pain. That he would do it over and over and over again, as long as you look at him, and touch him, and love him.

He is bound to you, and he wants you to be as bound to him.

Even if he is terrified of you seeing him, every version of him, and fearing him or hating him.

Even if you could never truly understand him, not really.

Because he will not let you. He cannot.

To be so vulnerable, to the one he loves, is a Lemurian's greatest strength and weakness.

When the moment comes, he hopes you dance through the pyre together, and drown together. He's sure he'll be able to turn that into his greatest painting, his most heartfelt song.

"Keep showing me your world Rafayel. Forever, alright?" You urge, squeezing his cheeks, and shaking him from his thoughts. "As your bodyguard, or as your date." The tease comes back to your voice, but your eyes are steady, your expression serious. You're opening the door for him, so he can step through when he's ready.

"Maybe one day I'll paint you, cutie." He manages on a whisper, leaning forwards, nose brushing yours. So close he might kiss you. Your eyes flutter closed, but he cannot cross the line. Fingers trembling against your skin, so he moves past your lips, chin resting on your shoulder, lips at your ear. "Stay with me forever, and I will."

He clings to you, in his lap, holding you against him, willing you to make a promise that will bond you in the same way as he is bonded to you. His word your chain, like yours are his. Mutual and constricting in all the ways he wants. You're worlds apart, and he wishes for more than anything, for you to be able to cross a line impossible to join him in his, or he in yours. Ever since he was a child, even now as an adult.

"I promise." You speak, and he knows it's a drunken haze, and he knows you'll forget tomorrow, and he knows that you'll forget so much more, no matter how much the knowledge aches.

He knows your promise cannot bind you like his will bind him. He also knows you do not lie to him, as easily as he lies to you.

So consciously aware of every part of the divide of ocean and land. Of human and lemurian. Of everything that means he cannot truly be understood by you, as long as you do not remember everything that mattered before. Even though it aches.

Still, he watches the sunrise with you in his arms, as the both of you ease into slumber.

And he makes a note to paint his heart one day, decorate a canvas with it, even if you never were easy to capture on paper.