#creating the tropes I wish to see in the world

[uwudonoodle]

Sometimes I sing to myself while putting my hair up in a bun with one of my hair sticks.

(To the tune of Secret Tunnel from Avatar.)

Secret weapon!

In my hair now.

Secret, secret, secret, secret weapon!

[gghostwriter]

Knots of Yearning

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Reader

Summary: Spencer lies by omission or in which Spencer acts like he doesn’t know how to tie a tie just to get you to do it for him Trope: Yearning/Angst; think season 1 Spencer Reid w.c: 1.3k a/n: when i thought of this idea, i was thinking it would be some cute light hearted fluff but when i started writing it, it became angst, filled with pining and tension so I dunno what happened but i finished writing it and thought it would be a waste not to post my rambly written fic. I might write a part 2 for this just to close it out to a happy ending. Let me know if that would interest you. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💗

Two halves of a whole, the perfect pairing and yin & yang. Those were just some monikers that Spencer Reid had heard describing his partnership with you that started during the academy. He, being a genius in all things academic and psychological but severely lacking in the physical and combat department. You, on the other hand, filled those gaps—acing all physicals and being well known for being a shy but killer shot. Not to say you were lacking in the other categories, no, you came only second during written exams. 

So it came as a no surprise when graduation came and you both were cherry picked to join the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Spencer being chosen by SSA Jason Gideon and you being selected by Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. 

The two geniuses of the BAU and the apprentices were added to the roster of nicknames.

Ever since then, he had traded in his standard issued trainee uniform to a button down and a matching tie—a tie that he badly struggles with or so Spencer made you believe. He didn’t mean to lie at first—didn’t mean it to go this far but by the time he felt the need to tell the truth, it had been too late. Each moment you’ve spent close to his space, invading it really, had become the highlight of his days and fuel for his nights. 

He often wondered if you catalogued his reaction just like how he did yours. Did you notice his staccato breathing just like how he noticed your subtle inhalation of his perfume? What about the reddening of his cheeks and neck in contrast to your trembling fingers? Or how about his eyes that convey his utter devotion as yours focus on any exposed skin in between his tie and collar? 

It seemed like a dance between him and you, to see how the other reacts and to figure out who would cave under the mounting attraction that had been building since the first ‘hello.’ 

With his choice of tie for the day hanging loosely on his neck, you would shyly smile and as if spellbound, he would shuffle to your orbit in silent plea for help that he needed.

Each glide of your finger made his encompassing thoughts about the mundane stutter into a halt. How his mind would then bombard itself with questions as to how the universe created such perfection. Each loop of your hand became vivid imagery of his own nimble fingers caressing your palm and all its engraved lines as if they contain the maps to all hidden mysteries of the world. And each tug to secure the knot transformed into a loud beating of his chest, encased within it’s cavity, with chants of waxing prose on how your very being, mind, body, and soul, call to his in a way that even his expansive vernacular could never explain. 

But no matter how much he wished for time to slow down for these intimate moments to last, it never did comply. So here he stayed, lying by omission—yearning for you to notice him, memorize him, and end his pining for the woman who seemed too unattainable for his clumsy, stuttering self.

———

 You accepted the lie well. Maybe too well.

The first time a blue striped flimsy piece of accessory hung around his neck, a sudden burst of courage took over, bringing you to a stop in front of his lithe, towering body and hands reaching up to whisper caresses on the silk to mold it into a secure neck tie that centered itself on his reddening neck—the color matching the one that bloomed on your cheeks as you realized what you’ve done. 

Your mind had rationalized someone as smart as he knew how to fix a tie but your body had moved on it’s own, having have spotted a once in a lifetime chance to invade his well protected space—the same way he had invaded your mind in every waking and sleeping moment.

That same chance turned into a routine. A blessing that you had come to look forward to, your steps having a bounce in them as you enter the bull pen and spotting a different pattern tie hanging undone on his neck every work day.

You knew, with no backing evidence that Spencer has to be doing it on purpose but didn’t want to spiral much into thought as to why he would leave that intimate action up to you.

Did he take note of every reaction you had to his presence the same way you did? The slight rocking on your heels as he inhaled your carefully chosen perfume? The biting of your lip as you felt his honey dripping eyes on your face? If he felt the same, you wondered why nothing has been done and if you had another burst of courage, would you have acted upon the tension? 

Maybe. Maybe not.

Maybe that was why you settled for accepting his poorly crafted lie of not knowing how to tie a necktie. 

It wasn’t really a lie if the other party knew the truth, right? Or was it a double lie now that silence has stacked between you and him? 

If you were being slightly honest with yourself, Spencer Reid had always fascinated you. Among the sea of gym built muscles during the academy, his gazelle stature has stuck out like a sore thumb and that intrigued you. How was it that a male, younger than any of his peers, that looked like he could grace a runway was in an institution that reeked sweat and masculinity? That very same question answered when you found yourself seated beside him in a profiler career talk. His intellect, that was why and although it seemed to alienate the others, not once did you feel inferior beside him. Rather, it pulled you in more. His quiet, unsure demeanor was the next to capture your attention. It was an invisible coat that he wore everywhere he went, sewn from years of bullying and ostracizing—similar to your experiences of having skipped a grade. Here was a comrade you thought and so, you silently orbited around his gravitational pull until he took notice and uttered the words ‘hello, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid’ in a low, trembling voice. 

You didn’t know when that same fascination turned into adoration. There was never a specific moment in time that you could pinpoint when it all changed. It just happened, one day you woke up and the past truth had transformed into a half truth—and the whole truth now being, you falling and yearning for a man who had a bright future in reading people’s actions but seemed too oblivious to the call of your aching heart. 

———

Morgan and Elle shared an exasperated look as they noted the two youngest members of the team silently flirting in the middle of the bullpen, yet again. They didn’t get how obtuse the two smartest people in the room were with their feelings for one another. 

“You think we should give them a push?” He whispered to his female partner.

Elle scrunched her face. “At this point, we might just have to confess for the other.”

And in that moment, another moniker was added to the roster. The dense lovers of the BAU, a nickname that the remaining members use only behind both the duo’s back as they become bystanders to what could be a match made in heaven. If only one would admit to the other. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[pantherxrogers]

hey! could you write a san version of the sugar daddy/boyfriend smut👀

one-shot: sugar daddy!san x fem!reader ⋆。°  ✮   ⁺

⭐️ pairing: sugar daddy!san (+ boxer!san) x fem!reader

⭐️ warnings: smut (18+ only), explicit language, oral (f receiving), dry humping, swearing, gentle dom!san, slightly sub!reader, crybaby!reader (but they're happy tears), incorrect boxing terminology (boxer!san is just sexy lmao i know nothing about boxing), pet names galore, spit as lube, super fluffy too

also...pee after sex!!

⭐️ summary: sugar daddy!san comes home from Europe with a special gift for his spoiled girl. she's a little bit of a crybaby, but he knows how to remedy that. he may be a boxing world champion but he's devoted on making the reader feel like the winner 😼

⭐️ a/n: lmao, i got carried away writing this one because San is my bias. it's definitely longer than Mingi and Yunho, so i'm calling it a one-shot.

i re-watched the bouncy music video recently, so i had the idea to combine sugar daddy!san with Boxer!san. and also non!idol san. it's a trope salad LMAO. enjoy! 🫶🏾 thank you for the request darling! <3

my masterlist (you can find the mingi and yunho versions here!)

This is a work of fiction and is not meant to represent real events or the actual personalities of any K-pop idols mentioned. All characters and situations are purely imaginary. This story is created for entertainment purposes only, and no harm or disrespect is intended toward the idols or their fans. Enjoy!

"Good job, baby!" You squeal, rushing towards San as soon as he steps into your shared penthouse.

"Thank you, pretty girl," your boyfriend mumbles, weighed down by jet lag, but already feeling lighter in your presence.

"So proud of my undisputed champion! I wish I could've been there," you coo, basking in the feel of him.

"Me too, baby," he confesses, finally content in your arms. It's always nice to win, but nothing beats his greatest treasure. You.

Standing on your tippy toes, you press a firm kiss to his lips. He meets you with a hunger. San traces his tongue along your plump bottom lip, asking for entry. When he delves into your mouth, you can't help the little moan that slips out. The sound makes San's pants feel tighter.

Your heart's beating faster now, and you melt into your boyfriend's warmth. The thin, silky nightie barely covers anything. A warm chill goes down your spine when your nipples brush against San's firm chest. As you lift your leg to drape around his waist, you notice his arms are locked behind his back.

"Ummm…" you trail off, breaking the kiss to ask for an explanation. This is your first moment to really get a good look at him, which doesn't help the wetness gathering in your thong.

He's smirking at you, and he's just so sexy. The chandelier lighting of the foyer reflects from his thin, gold chain. You notice that he's dressed comfortably, likely still wearing whatever he wore on the private jet to get home.

He's wearing his own merch, Choi San (K-Rocky) World Champion printed across the front of the gray hoodie. It makes you beam with pride every time you see it. Trailing your eyes down, you're met with his matching sweatpants and growing bulge. More pride surges in your chest, happy to know he missed you as much as you missed him. As a result, a girlish giggle slips through your lips.

"Something funny, pretty girl?" he chides, playfully raising an eyebrow at you.

"Is there something in your pocket or are you just excited to see me?" you grin, loving the ways his eyes light up at your cheesy joke. He crowds your space again, smiling down at you before he whispers in your ear.

"Well, I'm definitely excited to see my baby, but I also have a little surprise for her," he grumbles, sending warmth to your lower belly. He steps back again, arms still locked behind his back.

You're fighting back a smile, remembering the promise he made before leaving to reclaim his title.

"Close your eyes, sweet girl," he murmurs. You can't see him, but he smirks again, cock stirring in his pants at your obedience.

"Are you ready?" he teases, chuckling softly at the furrow in your brow. He can't ignore how cute you get when you're feeling bratty.

"Sannieeeee, c'mon," you whine, growing more impatient by the second.

He feels like a pervert the way his eyes lock on your full breasts, biting his lip when they sway in tandem with your little tantrum. He thinks about how they'll feel in his mouth when he gets you underneath him.

"Stop staring at my tits and let me have my gift!" you growl, knowing how spoiled you sound but you've lost the ability to care.

"Hey, be a good girl," he commands, the serious tone in his voice putting an abrupt stop to your antics.

" 'm sorry, sir," you whisper breathily, clit throbbing at the way he effortlessly switches into his dominant side.

San heart aches a little bit when he looks at you. He knows you love playing rough, but he doesn't have it in him to torment you any longer.

" 's okay baby, open your eyes for me," he coos. He nearly jumps back at the shriek you let out.

"Ah! I knew it!" you cry out, reaching forward to snatch the Hermes bag out of his hands. Reaching inside, you almost burst into tears when you feel the handbag of your dreams.

"Sannie," you whimper, looking up at him with teary eyes. He's on you before you can continue, wrapping his strong arms around you.

"Don't cry, baby," he begs softly, unable to watch you cry, even if they're happy tears.

"I can't help it," you sniffle, "I'm so grateful for you," the words are muffled against his chest, you find it hard to continue opening the bag.

"I couldn't do any of this without my baby. This is the least I could do," he answers honestly, pulling your soft body away from his to look into your eyes.

"I love you more than anything." You tear up again at the sincerity in his eyes.

"I love you too," you whimper, trying to stop the tears that flow down your cheeks. San's hands come up, brushing away the tears as lightly as possible, so you don't feel his rough callouses.

He holds you for a few more minutes, quieting your tears with affirmations and soft kisses. You stand there in silence for a while, calmed by the steady sound of his heartbeat.

"How do you feel now, baby? he asks softly, tracing his hand down your back. Another smirk rests on his face, when he watches the goosebumps raise up on your skin.

"Think 'm good now," you answer him, remembering the task at hand.

You finally open the bag, admiring the heavy Birkin in your hands. As you pour out a stream of thank you's and I love you's, when San catches you by surprise.

One moment, you're standing in the foyer and the next moment, he's scooped you up and into the living room. He gently places you on the vast leather couch, settling in beside you.

Drawn to his warmth, you cuddle up next to him, loving the way his strong arm cradles your waist. He carefully takes the bag from you, placing it on the marble coffee table. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence before the TV catches his attention.

"Are you watching my highlights, baby?" he teases, knowing full and well that you always tune into ESPN when he's away.

"Don't tease me, Sannie. I missed you," you mumble, nestling further into his side.

San looks down at you, enchanted by the exposed skin that the nightie doesn't quite cover. He brings a rough hand to your thigh, tracing the smooth skin, admiring how it feels in his grip. He can hear your breathing pick up, knowing exactly what effect he has on you.

"Missed you too, pretty girl," he sighs, using one arm to shift you onto his lap. San helps you adjust, finally content when you're straddling him.

"I missed you more," you breathe out, finding it difficult to concentrate.

He's so warm and strong beneath you, his muscular thighs being the perfect pillow. His hands are lower now, softly groping your ass through the lingerie. You can't help but to grind down on him, both of you letting out a content moan.

"Not possible," he murmurs, "But you're welcome to try to prove it," he finishes his sentence with a sharp smack to your ass, triggering another moan from you.

"Shit," you huff out, overwhelmed by the feeling of his body underneath yours.

His cock is fully hard now, protruding through his sweats. Your thong is basically nonexistent, clinging to your wet pussy. That sensation combined with San's lazy grinding make it hard for you to think clearly.

His lips are on your neck now, sucking on the sensitive skin. He loves the way you moan out into his ear, harshly grinding his hard cock against your pussy.

"C'mon baby, you gonna prove it to me?" he teases, warm breath against your ear.

His words finally click in your head, knowing what you want to do. You start to shimmy off his lap, trying to get on your knees, but San's arms lock you in place.

"Wanna show you how grateful I am," you beg, hooded eyes staring back into his own.

His head lulls back onto the cushion, finding it hard to concentrate when you look at him like that. Messy curls, hard nipples poking through your nightie, and your lips swollen from kissing. You look fucked out and he's barely getting started.

"Then let me taste you, baby. That's all I really want," he groans, quickly switching your position. Your head spins for a moment, barely registering how you changed places so fast.

You're on your back, San's rough hands pinning your thighs to your chest. The leather couch is cool beneath your skin, helping you think a little more clearly. Raising up on your elbows, you look down at him, eyes almost rolling back at the image.

He's bent over in front of you, gray hoodie long forgotten. He's wearing a white tank, muscles on display for you. As you admire him, his smooth lips trail along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Always the tease, he softly kisses your clit through your thong, your hips bucking in response.

"S-Sannie, please," you moan out, trying to push up against his mouth. He pulls back, smirking up at you, loving the neediness in your voice.

"Tell me what you want, pretty girl," he murmurs, faintly tracing his fingertips up and down your plush thighs. He looks at you expectantly.

"Want your mouth," you whine, hating when he does this. It makes you feel shy, but maybe that's why your heart flutters a little bit. Even if you'd never admit it to him.

"Want me to lick your pretty pussy?" he coos before lowering his head, pressing another kiss to your bundle of nerves.

"Mmmm, yes" you moan, eyes rolling back at the light pressure.

"Such a good girl. What my baby wants, my baby gets," he growls, peeling the soaked fabric away from your pussy.

"Fuck," he groans, eyes locked on the trail of wetness still clinging to your thong. He can't help dipping his tongue in it, eager to have a taste. You yelp, surprised by the sudden contact.

"Y-yes, Sannie, feels so good," you pant, unable to focus on anything but the intense pleasure from San's tongue.

He alternates between sucking on your clit and bringing up a finger to rub figures eights. Your hips buck up, doing anything to maximize your pleasure.

"You like that, baby? Like how it feels against your little clit?" The look of pure ecstasy on your face gives him his answer.

He latches back onto your pussy, using his thick tongue to delve between your sopping folds. Your high-pitched moans spur him on, sliding his tongue into your tight hole.

The lewd noises of your boyfriend tongue fucking you is too much for you to bear, your pussy starts to clench around the wet muscle, teetering on the edge of your orgasm.

"F-fuck, yes sir," you huff, spreading your legs even wider, "Gonna cum soon."

He hums against you, the vibrations adding to your pleasure. He's back on your clit again, flicking the nub with the tip of his tongue. When you thrash against the couch, San tightens his grip on your thighs, trapping you into place.

"You can come for me, sweet girl. It's okay," he soothes you, switching back to rubbing fast circles against your clit.

Your hips have lost their rhythm now, aimlessly bucking into the pleasure of San's thumb. He lowers his head again, lewdly spitting on your pussy.

"C'mon on my tongue, baby. That's it," he hums, gravelly voice going directly to your clit.

"Ahhh, fuck," you whine out, feeling his tongue enter your hole again. The pleasure is too much. His rough thumb against your clit and tongue stretching out your pussy push you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes over you in waves, San coaxing you through it.

He sits back on his heels, taking in your body. He keeps circling your clit, letting you ride out your high and come back down to him.

When you've calmed down, you see your boyfriend hovering over you. That kind smile is on his face now, stretching all the way up to his eyes. You swear you can feel your heart expanding in your chest.

"Hi, my pretty girl."

"Hi Sannie," you whisper shyly, cheeks burning at the way he admires you.

"C'mere," he snuggles you back into his lap, adjusting your nightie and smoothing down your curls. You giggle at the wet kisses he's pressing to your cheeks, loving the way he cares for you.

"Missed my baby so much," he accentuates his words with a tight squeeze, making your heart do the same. You let out a soft missed you too, feeling sleepy in his arms.

Cradling your body, you feel him rise from the couch. He turns off the TV, but alarm bells ring in the back of your head.

"Sannie."

"Hm?"

"Can you take my Birkin to my wardrobe please?" you mumble. San tries his best to hold in his laugh, so he doesn't disturb you. Not even a mind-shattering orgasm could make you forget about your Birkin.

"Of course, baby," Is the last thing you here before your eyes close for the night.

[tls12lessthan3]

i've talked before about how kim dokja struggles to form a relationship with yoo sangah because he sees her as a 'protaganist' figure, slotting her into a role as 'the heroine' which does not fit her but does handily prevent him from having to (gasp) form a connection! and i think han sooyoung initially does the same thing and thats part of why yoo sangah gets so much on her nerves. han sooyoung is the only other character who seems to see the world as tropes and cliches just as much as kim dokja does, and she assigns herself the role of villain and yoo sangah the role of hero and does the subsequent antagonizing expected of such a dynamic. but i really don't think its something yoo sangah is interested in entertaining - she doesn't like han sooyoung initially due to all the violent murder she does, but it's not at all based in this good vs evil struggle that han sooyoung is trying to create. kim dokja didn't really get to see all of yoo sangah until he let her out of that heroine role - similarly, i wish we got to see the moment yoo sangah escaped that role in han sooyoung's eyes.

[neocitycafe]

Home After the Holidays (Mark)

♡ genre: hot cocoa - fluff, sweet and steamy hehe; a bit smutty with too many thoughts; i guess "new year’s time pensive cheese" is a theme for me (here’s haechan’s version from last year) ✎ words: 2.1k ✓ summary/notes: busy idol husband Mark finally returns home :’) and you’ve missed each other. a trope that i love lots. @d-nghy-ck to bronwyn, here’s a slice of pensive cheese(cake), especially for you! this cafe would probably not be here if not for this first customer who came by and said hi! wishing you all the love in the world~

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

It’s that awkward time in late January when you’re not sure whether it’s still socially appropriate to include “Happy New Year” in your greetings. Mark had told you not to come to the airport. The weather was frigid all week and it’d be way past midnight by the time he got out of customs, and then there was the long cab ride home.

But he missed you. 

Closing the front door gently, he looks down to find his old lace-ups where he usually left them, as if he were home this whole time. Your favorite pair is set neatly next to his, and a smaller set of shoes next to those. Ones with velcro and lights that he bought a couple months back, but it felt much longer ago so quickly. You’d replaced the original laces with neon green ones, and all of Mark’s teammates cooed at how cute that was. 

The lights are dimmed and Mark finds you on the couch in a pile of blankets, where you cozied up while waiting. His heart suddenly aches thinking of you with only a little cup of chamomile tea to warm yourself and get to bed. 

He had been so busy working lately, loving what he did, creating music, making crazy new connections, show after show, press conferences, collaborations. Had he done anything for you lately? His mind races.

From where you’d dozed off, you find Mark frozen by the door. After years of knowing him, you could see his raised brows and the running thoughts behind them. His lips pressed into a thin line and his eyes shifting to the side meant self-doubt. You want to erase those worries and pour love into all the spaces where he thought he was not enough. 

“I wanted to get you flowers.” His voice cracks and you get up to close the distance between you.

“Oh Mark... I have you now.” The cold from outside has clung on to his coat, but you ignore it and wrap your arms around him more tightly. “It’s the middle of the night, silly. I don’t need flowers.”

You feel him shake his head against you, “And I wanted to be home for the holidays,” he says with a bit of a whine. 

“You’re here now.”

Looking into his eyes, you brush the hair away from his forehead and peck him on the nose. The end of the year meant holiday tour stops, special shows, concerts, and awards nights. The holidays meant the opposite of holidays for entertainers like Mark. It meant he couldn’t really be with family until afterwards. He follows you into the kitchen where you set your mug in the sink. 

“Did you miss me?” You turn when he wraps his arms around you from behind. 

You’re momentarily caught off guard by his boyish smile and a pang of longing wells up, an emptiness in your chest that had been there behind your smiles when he had video called. The answer is a thousand times yes, but you bite back the truth in favor of not worrying him. You shake your head playfully. “I don’t have to. I get to see your features in our son’s face every day.”

Mark breaks into a grin that you can’t help but match. “Is he asleep?”

“Yeah, but he sure begged to stay up! He can be a little headstrong sometimes. Like someone.” You give Mark a long look and he pouts in response. “But he finally fell asleep a couple of hours ago.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being my home.”

“You’re sappy, Mark Lee.” Nonetheless, you’re more than willing when he tilts your head for a deeper kiss. He runs the tip of his tongue along the seam of your lips and you part them to let him taste you. A familiar heat stirs in your belly, and you reach your hands up to tangle them in his hair and pull him closer. He groans into your mouth and presses you back into the kitchen counter. From this position, he places pressure where your bodies are connected, where you want it. He rocks against you once, twice, slowly, fluidly, and you pull him even closer. 

Mark’s hands knock into the stacked pots and pans behind you on the drying rack, and you’re grateful for your husband’s quick reflexes. He steadies a pan, preventing what would’ve been a huge clatter. You both freeze for a moment. 

“Easy, tiger,” you tease while throwing him a wink. “Or baby lion or cheetah or whatever small big cat you are.” 

He responds with a playful growl that is both adorable and sexy, his nose scrunching up. 

A delicious thrill runs through you as his gaze locks on you again. Knocking your legs apart and then lifting you onto the counter, Mark reminds you of how he wanted you everywhere when you were newlyweds. A tender bite between your neck and shoulder reminds you of how he wants you now. You make a mental note to call Jaemin for some babysitting this coming weekend, because you wouldn’t mind some more alone time like this. 

You tug on Mark’s hand and he knows what you mean. You slip off the counter and try not to trip over each other as you eagerly make your way to the bedroom. It’s a familiar but exhilarating path, like a choreography that your bodies move to automatically once the music starts playing.

When he finds a towel already laid out on the bed, he raises a seagull of a brow, and you can’t help but laugh. He teases, “Oooh, so you were prepared!”

You lean in to whisper in his ear, feeling cheeky and bold, “Well, my husband gets messy.”

The look in his eyes and how he kisses you next is the response you were hoping for. When you fall back into bed, it’s easy and slow. You take your time wriggling out of your clothes, and you laugh at his cute shimmy while pulling his jeans off. The both of you sigh in content when his body is above yours, skin to skin. 

Mark’s fingertips trail patterns along your sides, his left hand’s calluses from guitar playing are a little rough, but soothingly so. You map out the constellation connecting the mole on his neck, on his cheek, the tiny one on the corner of his mouth. He spends his time with his lips on your neck where you crave them, wet kisses with a slight bite that have you feeling hot all over and in want, and then you’re grateful they’re chasing paths over the crests and valleys of your body. 

Mark travels down until his face is settled between your thighs, his warm breath causing you to shiver in anticipation. He takes your hand and kisses your wrist, your palm, your fingertips, slowly and thoughtfully. He moves to do the same with your other hand. The love in his gaze staring up at you is too much for you to handle, so you close your eyes and lay your head back. And then he’s lacing your fingers together, holding your hands as his perfect mouth dives in eagerly. 

Mark isn’t shy about playing with your wetness and giving you what you crave. He laps at you with the intent of pushing you to the edge, like there’s nothing else he wants but for you to feel good, and you can’t help but arch up towards him. 

When he tires, he keeps stroking your clit with his fingers, keeping the contact consistent and insistent, and then switches back to working you with his tongue. He keeps going even when you cry out his name, your thighs close around his head, and your hips lift off the mattress as you succumb to the overwhelming pleasure.  

When he comes back up to face you, he’s surprised to find the tears falling down your cheeks and into your hair. You don’t notice it yourself until he starts worrying. 

“You okay? Did I hurt you?” 

You shake your head. “No, that was amazing.”

He rolls to his side and pulls you into his chest carefully. His eyes search your face.

The words are tumbling out before you can stop them: “I missed you. Mark… I missed you.”

You finally let yourself go.

Going to your son’s first winter concert at his school alone. You’d even saved a seat for Mark, but his filming schedule got delayed that evening. Opening holiday presents with Mark’s parents at their home, without him there. Counting down to the new year by yourself while his team celebrated their album of the year win. How you never wanted to burden him. How you understood his career and wanted to be his steady support, and yet... “I missed you so much.”

“You know you can tell me that. I’m not afraid of how you feel.” He pauses to dry your tears with gentle hands and a kiss on your cheek. “I want to know. I want to love you better.” He holds you tighter, as if capturing every bit of the emotion pouring out of you. It’s like Mark knew the exact words you needed to hear. While being laid bare and vulnerable, you feel safe and known, and now, ever grateful that your relationship is one you are both committed to growing and working out together. “Let’s talk more in the morning after some rest, yeah?”

“Thank you, Mark.” You gaze up into his shining eyes. 

“For what?”

“For being home.”

“Look who’s being cheesy now,” he teases back. 

You tug on him beneath the covers in response and Mark lets out a surprised moan. 

“Mmm, in the morning’s okay too… ah, babe. I mean, do you still want to make love now?”

You nod against his chest and laugh at his insistence on calling it lovemaking rather than sex or anything else. “Do you?”

He nods too and the boyish grin you love so much is back. You push at his shoulders and move so you’re seated above him, your thighs settled over his.

I love you, I love you, I love you. He seems to say, and you feel it in your soul. 

When you sink down onto him, you fill his presence with your closeness, as he fills yours with his. And it’s like the time and space between you disappears. All you hear is Mark, whispering sweet nothings in your ear as he loses himself in loving you, and you him. He aids with your rhythm with his hands holding your hips, and then makes the switch so you’re under him. 

There’s the softness of the sheets, his lips, your fingertips, the moonlight shining in, the sound of rustling and sighs pulled from deep within. The flush of his cheeks, your parted lips, the thrum of beating hearts, and later, the patterns slowing steadily into dreams together.

──────── °∘❉∘° ────────

You’re gladly surprised by the warmth in your bed when you wake up in the morning. Mark kicked off his side of the covers in the middle of the night as usual, leaving a mountain of blankets on top of you, so you pull them up to cover his bare chest. You probably should have showered after last night, but it was too comfortable being cuddled up. Mark’s discarded shirt is closest, so you pull it on, mind reveling in everything for a moment: his scent, his return, his closeness, your shared love. 

Your thoughts are interrupted by the bedroom door swinging open. Little hands, messy morning bed head, and eyes shining as they peer in. (You’d have to remind your son about knocking on the door again.)

He’s quick to spot the lump next to you under the blankets. “Dada!”

You smile and hold a finger to your lips. 

“Mm-hmm, yes dear, come here.” You sit up better and he clambers into your lap. “Shhh. He’s sleeping.”

His eyes are wide and he whispers rather loudly, “He’s snoring.” You cast a wistful gaze over the relaxed expression on Mark’s face, not knowing when the last time it was that he slept well. 

“Let’s let him sleep more.” You ready yourself to sneak out of bed. Your son was really getting too heavy to carry. He’s squirmy and ticklish, and of course he starts giggling almost immediately when you try to lift him, the sound bubbling out uncontrollably. Someone else you knew laughed just like that. You’re trying to get up quickly when you feel Mark’s arms wrap around you from behind. 

“Come back....”

The way he holds you tickles, and the added weight of your son makes you lose balance, so you fall back onto Mark’s chest, effectively making your family a little sandwich. Mark lets out a small grunt from the weight but he doesn’t really mind. His heart is as light as can be. His eyes are bright and his smile mischievous. He wriggles around and declares, “Love attack!!!”

There are lots of kisses and shared silliness, and you laugh until there are tears in the corners of your eyes, little crystals breathlessly kissed away too in the moment. 

—

"And at last, I open my arms wide again to give you warmth. I'll do anything to make it right. Those stars are shining on us. I'll cherish this moment, all of it, my baby. I’m gonna love you… Love doesn't come easy, girl, but loving you is easy.  Every day without you feels hollow. Because our memories refine even our imperfect moments into treasured times, I reflect, calling love a beauty."

[showtoonzfan]

Now that the episode is out officially, here’s my rant review of Oops!

PROS:

- Fizz and Ozzie were adorable and I honestly love them. Despite the sex jokes, you can tell they love each other for who they are OUTSIDE of sex. While I did wish we would have seen more, (like how Ozzie took him in and fell in love) they’re still adorable to watch. They’re the better version of Stolitz, can the show be about them instead?

- Brandon’s voice acting holy shit, he really knows how to sound like he’s in tears or is broken. As much as I hate the character and feel no sympathy, he displayed genuine and broken emotion very well.

- Alex Brightman Alex Brightman

Okay that’s it. Moving on to the Cons. Bear with me, it’s a lot and I go back and forth a bit. 😭

CONS:

So for a quick short summary, this episode:

- Once again puts more focus on the filler plot rather than actually focusing on the relationships between the characters, so all we're left with is a 10 second clip of Fizz being burned while the rest of the episode is surrounded on sex jokes/petty bickering and Stolas and Ozzie sitting around.

- Completely erases what made Blitz and Fizz's dynamic interesting in the first place because it retcons it with a dumb miscommunication trope about how Fizz actually wanted to see Blitz and Blitz tried reaching out to him. Not only does this feel like a cheap attempt to make Blitz out to be sweet/sympathetic and NOT the one in the wrong so Fizz can suck up to him, but this also makes no sense within the narrative.

- Has Fizz forgive Blitz despite him being the last person anyone would think would forgive him. (So honestly ruins Fizz himself because it turned him into a soft boy who's forgiving compared to the asshole he was in Ozzie's) All because Viv would sell her whole soul before she even remotely considers painting characters like Blitz and Stolas out to be the one's in the wrong.

- Takes Stolas out of the hospital completely, erasing all the drama/tension Western Energy had and proves that that episode was utterly pointless.

- Turns Striker from an interesting complex villain to a Saturday morning cartoon goon.

- Proves to us that Crimson is just a flat tool and gives us more prove that the world building rules Viv set up in season 1 legit don't matter.

-Ruins Blitz/Barbie's feud now because now you're making Barbie look like the one in the wrong since the fire was an accident. God forbid a female characters emotions in this show are justified.

But if you want my more in depth rants, it’s under the cut! (There’s a lot so bear with me lol)

- As usual WAAY too many sex jokes and swearing. It gets annoying and repetitive at times and some of them distract from the main plot. There’s a long and I mean LONNG dragged out joke of Fizz talking about Ozzie’s dick, then later saying he’s hard when Striker has a gun to his head, as well as Blitz making a joke about him and Fizz making out once they hug. Again, Viv can’t be serious for 2 seconds without an unfunny shitty gag. I genuinely wonder if Hazbin is ganna be like this, where a character is in a life threatening situation or a deep dark serious scene happens only for the next scene to be sex related.

- This is one of those “shit happens because the plot demands it” and it shows. Crimson and Striker COINCIDENTLY meet up with each other, and Fizz and Blitz just so HAPPEN to be in the same exact area they are. Viv wonders why we call her shit a fanfic and this is what we mean, when she creates wild wacky plots and focuses more on THAT rather than the actual character writing. This entire episode hinges on a useless poorly last minute planned kidnapping plot that didn’t need to happen. Also way to once again make the characters idiots so the plot can happen, cause Fizz KNOWS Ozzie worries for him and that the Greed Ring is dangerous, yet purposefully puts the spotlight on him.

- Stolas did NOT need to be in this episode. The plot completely ignores the fact that he was in the hospital the last time we saw him, and he’s only here for Stolitz banter. You’d think that a character admitting they have feelings for someone would be a big deal but he just flat out says it and it’s so underwhelming and feels half assed with no weight to it. Fan comics have made more dedication to this than Viv has. We're supposed to believe him too despite the show failing to actually SHOW us this. Same for Blitz ranting about how “nice” Stolas has been to him, laughing at his jokes and liking his posts…hey Viv, can we actually SEE that on screen so it’s more believable? Or are you only determined to show them sexually flirting? 😑

- Once again Viv felt the need to shove a B plot into this episode and this one sucks because it’s just two characters sitting and doing fucking nothing. It felt like Viv had no idea what to do with Stolas and Ozzie, and I refuse to believe that Ozzie just sat there knowing Fizz was in danger. If anything he would have said “fuck the paperwork” and went to save Fizz himself. Way to show that gif of Ozzie getting mad as a sneak peak to get fans excited, only to see that Ozzie spends the rest of the episode sitting in a dark room LMAO what a let down.

- Ozzie is weirdly chill and cool with Stolas and it’s something I don’t get. While he did say that Stolas had the real “spirit of Lust” in S1E7, it still gave you the impression that he was also more poking fun at Stolas rather than respecting him. The whole point of House of Asmodeous was that Ozzie outs him and publicly embarrassed him. Stolas literally was intimidated just by Asmodeous’s mere name, and hid his face around him. It seemed like Stolas certainly didn’t want someone like Ozzie to know about his private life especially since they’re both part of the Ars Goetia. Now here Ozzie is just cool with him and it feels like a missed opportunity for their dynamic.

- Stolas confessing his feelings about Blitz also makes…no sense narrative wise. I thought the whole point of The Circus and the ending to Western Energy was that he was realizing that Blitz didn’t like him that way and was finally waking up. I thought that’s why he was doing this whole crystal deal in the first place, so he can let Blitz go, yet the show keeps flip flopping and insisting that these two love each other and are good for each other. It’s really making you realize how this season and the previous stuff set up is becoming nonsense because the writers retcon EVERY damn episode. Also….why the hell is Stolas telling Ozzie his feelings for Blitz? Out of all people, why is it Ozzie, the person who outed Stolas and embarrassed him. Why is Stolas even respectful of Ozzie? He has no reason to, and he’s not under the impression that he’s dating Fizz either. I get that he needs the crystal but mentioning his love for Blitz makes no sense.

- Striker and Crimson teaming up to kidnap Blitz and Fizz was such an ass puller last minute decision. It feels overwhelming and underwhelming at the same time, more because it feels like Viv has no idea what to do with these two villain characters other than give them something evil to do to start the plot. Also…why…are they working together? It feels so random.

- Striker’s character especially is all over the place. First he’s working for Stella, then he’s painted as the best assassin in hell, and now he’s…looking for more work I guess and working for Crimson? Why? Does this guy even have a motive anymore? It feels like his character is just dangling around until Viv wants to use him for another wattpad kidnap plot and it ESPECIALLY shows when Striker escapes for the THIRD fucking time. Can this character/storyline actually GO somewhere or are you just going to keep introducing him and have him run away. 🤦🏽‍♀️

— How did Crimson not know who Striker is despite him being labeled as “the most popular assassin in hell”, and how the hell does Crimson know Ozzie and know all the information about him being in a relationship with Fizz?? Oh right because we needed the plot to happen somehow. Still, even if Crimson did know that Ozzie was the "weakest" and loved Fizz, (which….what about Beezlebub?)) he still should have known he was playing with fire. I get that he's supposed to be evil and intimidating but how could he have predicted that Ozzie would actually stand down and fill out the paperwork? He could have immediately came there and killed Crimson for all he knew. It's just distracting how..not planned this shit was.

- Fuck this episode for calling Striker a supremacist. It makes no sense?? Viv is trying SO hard to villainize him despite him being the one in the right and it pisses me off. He has every right to be mad at the upper class, he’s part of the lower class that we’re said Hell takes advantage of, but god forbid we call out Rich and powerful Stolas because that would mean he’s a b-bad person and we can’t have that complex morality! This is so not a “eat the rich” story and it shows bc Vivzie is rich as hell. Striker as a character deserves so much better man. Congrats writers, you had an interesting character and motive set up for him, now he’s nothing but a silly goon that you might as well kill off already cause you clearly don’t care about him. Crimson meanwhile is just a piece of paper, a boring plot device I could give less of a shit about. I thought his motive was to go after Moxxie, now he’s just doing fuck whatever because this show desperately wants a bad guy for their filler fanfic plots.

- We get more world building issues, Ozzie and Fizz are so determined to hide their relationship for obvious reasons, but then at the end of the episode just say “fuck it, no one would dare tell anyway”. So now they’re being open about their relationship and lmao I told y’all the newspaper scene of Ozzie being called out for being a hypocrite wouldn’t go anywhere. Even if Ozzie did threaten his workers to not tell, they can’t be so sure that someone wouldn’t see or snitch, it’s kinda a retcon too cause they were pretty lovey dovey in Ozzie’s. Still, it makes the characters look dumb and it makes the rules Viv set up for Hell once again not mean anything.

- We finally get to see Fizz’s backstory in action and it’s executed in the most underwhelming way possible. It’s literally a fucking 10 second clip of what went down, and rather than experiencing the event for ourselves, it’s in flashback mode but with Fizz’s voice talking over it. That’s it. I’ve seen fan comics/fanart that built this shit up better than Viv did, that actually took the slow time and dedication it needed, and here it feels like such an afterthought, like Viv could care less. Maybe if this actually was a character driven show like Viv claims, Stolas, Striker, and Crimson would be taken out of the picture and then that would leave us with PLENTY time to actually explore and develop Blitz/Fizz, bc most of this episode is just them pettily bickering and Stolas and Ozzie sitting around. But nah, we gatta have our fanfic kidnapping plot. Same goes for the reveal of Blitzo’s mom dying in the same fire. Glad to know that she got the same treatment Moxxie’s mom did, where we don’t even know her and yet we’re supposed to feel moved and care about her death. You nailed that one Viv. 👍

- I predicted that this episode would victimize Blitz and have the fire incident be an accident, (because Viv is a pussy writer and can’t make her characters actually do bad things like god forbid) but I never thought they’d actually have the balls to have Fizz forgive Blitz immediately in the same episode and pull the “actually turns out that horrible thing you did to me helped me in a way”- trope. Biggest flaw of the episode, fuck you Viv. I was actually going to applaud Blitz for taking accountability, but then the dialogue reminds you that an abuser wrote this, and he shifts his apology to “okay but I lost something too see so it’s not all about you” as if he’s fucking dismissing Fizz’s trauma and making it about himself. “I love flawed characters” my fucking ass. I would have smacked a bitch if I was Fizz because Blitzo loosing his mother in the fire too isn’t an excuse?? Fizz lost his fucking ARMS AND LEGS, and at the end of the day Blitzo STILL KNEW HE WAS HELPLESS IN THE FIRE BUT LEFT HIM BEHIND. He could have gotten help and came back, but didn’t. If this were a good show Fizz would have threw that apology back in Blitzo’s face and said “I don’t care if it was an accident or not, you still left me there and then proceeded to loathe me for years”. This is why Helluva will never be Bojack cause at least characters in that show who got treated horribly by him knew when to say “no, fuck you.”

- The episode retcons again, this time they make it out to be that Blitz TRIED contacting Fizz the years they were apart but no one would let him see him. Then they say that Fizz actually WANTED to see Blitz but assumed he didn’t want to, so their entire feud was solely because of miscommunication?? Number one, show don’t fucking tell omg. And number two, that makes ZERO sense. Blitz talked badly about Fizz in Loo Loo Land, and when they finally reunited in Ozzie’s, it was clear they fucking loathed each other. You got the impression that Blitz was petty and jealous just because Fizz was more popular, and Fizz not only loathed him for the accident, but liked to rub in his face about how much of a big shot he was. They literally do that in this episode too, so the episode is literally contradicting itself. Blitz and Fizz had multiple chances to meet up with each other, you can’t just say “oh they couldn’t because no one would let them”- So which is it? Did they hate each other because of bad blood, petty drama, or that they thought the other didn’t want to see them? Pick ONE Viv and stick to it, but she never does. Their feud was interesting and now you ruined it just to have some sweet happy ending. “Adult mature show” my ass lol.

-Bottom line is Fizz shouldn’t have forgave Blitz so easily, or forgave him period. I find it funny how he says “it’s hard to just forgive you” and then he literally does lol. I feel so bad for Fizz fans, him and Blitz’s feud was honestly interesting, so to see all of this go down in a half-assed piss poor way as if this was Care Bears is….wow. The fan interpretations had more thought and care put into this storyline but what else is new lol.

- I’m really tired of these shitty annoying songs. If you’re going to get Broadway actors, please put effort into your songwriting and actually have them sing something good, not something that’s literally nonsense. This Fizz song sounds like it took less than a minute to write and Sam Haft was just thinking of anything he could think of at the top of his head. Also Why the fuck are Striker and Crimson just STANDING there while Fizz sings. They look like idiots, just SHOOT them omg. If this were a funny show, Fizz would have started his first note and Crimson just rolls his eyes and pulls his gun out.

- Fizz and Ozzie kill the lawyer but not…Crimson? Despite Fizz knowing what ring he’s in and even Ozzie knowing what he looks like? Same for Blitz, he doesn’t try to make sure Striker is dead. I get that the plot demands for these two to still be around, but there’s a way to keep them alive without making the main characters look like fucking idiots. Also Stolas just leaves without doing or contributing anything to the plot yay.

- Fizz: “Let him have it, you could say he’s earned it”— Uhm….Nope. Blitz did NOT earn shit. He didn’t even earn Fizz’s forgiveness. Last time I checked, the moment Blitz cried and said it was an accident, Fizz forgave him, knowing he didn’t mean it. What effort did Blitz do to “earn” that as well as the crystal? Because he saved Fizz and didn’t leave him behind for the SECOND time near the end?? Cause if so than the bar is extremely low. That’s the bare minimum, just because Blitz cried and felt bad about it doesn’t mean he should be let off the hook Viv. I hate this so much, what a shitty conclusion, it feels forced just so Blitz can have the crystal and just so the writers can once again paint him as the one in the right. It’s almost insulting that they make it seem like Fizz was in the wrong for assuming Blitz starting the fire too, same for Barbie.

God what a shitty day it is to be a Fizz fan, I’m sorry. The episode did NOT do him justice. Fizzarolli deserved better than that half assed gaslighting apology for someone who lost their arms and legs man, and I’m tired of the show letting every character suck up to Blitz and Stolas for their horrible treatment just because they feel bad. Not only that but the episode (as most recent HB episodes) was a huge time waster. Everyone was really hoping for an in depth walkthrough of his character/backstory but again, when he’s not with Ozzie, the rest/most of his screen time is dedicated to him being helpless and pointlessly arguing with Blitz, plus a long dragged out nonsense song that didn’t need to happen. It felt like SO much time was wasted when we could have used the runtime we have to dive deeper and see more, like….again it would have been nice to see Fizz’s life AFTER the accident and how he became well known as well as how he fell in love with Ozzie, but his backstory is briefly scratched upon in a single scene and that’s it, all because Viv wanted this filler plot and wanted to dedicate more time to THAT rather than actual character expansion/development, something we could have got had you took out Stolas and Ozzie’s B plot and Striker and Crimson.

Viv is so on her way to murder/ruin every character that isn’t Blitz and Stolas and I won’t be here to watch further. I’ll check out the Mammon music video thing but that’s it man, this show is going off the rails, Adding Fizz to the character adoption list!

[writingwithcolor]

Dark features/people as blessed, white and light people as sick

ladyoftheseastuff asked:

I'm writing a fantasy story where the world is permanently covered in snow & ice. The people share a common culture & are loyal to their city states, but they are not homogeneous in appearance; there will be many, many characters coded as PoC. The main religion centers on the sun, & those with dark features are 'favoured' by the sun god, while pale people or anyone who has white/blonde hair are thought vulnerable to "snow sickness", a disease caused by environmental factors (1/2) & have other rules and customs to gain religious approval. It's dangerous & infectious but not well understood. It affects social standing and opportunities, but it's meant to be tied with ideas of youth, vitality, & fear of aging & sickness: it's not limited to those coded as white. This is a cultural detail and not part of the main conflict, but I want to avoid unintentional allegories/parallels & fetishization. Is this a concept that's too close to crossing any of those lines? (2/2)

This feels less like a means to show dark skinned people in an empowering light and more like a weak attempt at subversion. My primary concern (which you have not specified) is how do the "blessed" class treat the "sickly" so to speak. We have fantasy stories like The Grisha Trilogy and Girls of Paper and Fire, which deal with magical ability/feature-based segregation and conflict.

In both cases there is a sense of entitlement which comes with hailing from the "favoured" class, quite obvious, since there will always be an inherent othering metaphor whenever you create such a division, whether it was meant to be a source of conflict or not.

However, the two mentioned series use the "magical people are blessed, non magical people are to be pitied" arc which is somewhat more subtle than divisions created just on the basis of skin colour.

Disclaimer as I do not have albinism or vitiligo: The latter can be extremely harmful, and not just in a racial context, but in cases of albinism, vitiligo etc.

~Mod Mimi

The pitfalls of subversions

While it is always lovely to see dark features considered in a favorable way, there are some issues you may come across. Such a story could easily end up dressing those you wished to uphold as bad guys in the readers' eyes, even if the story's society and the sun god etc. thinks they're amazing, and white and light people as the victims of dark people, deserving reader sympathy. This may especially be the case based on how these groups get treated in the story.

These sort of subversions lean dangerously into "reverse discrimination" plots which are not overall accurate or favorable allegories for your real, human audience. There being diversity on both sides doesn't necessary fix this issue or remove racial or ethnic implications. On that note, and as Mimi mentioned, being demonized and ostracized particularly for skin and genetic disorders like albinism is already a thing. What does your concept say of them?

I think Dark/Black as good and Light/white as bad is a doable concept. Your concept differs a bit from simply subverting black/white tropes. This is not just Black good guys and night skies being peaceful or neutral. It's not just white/light villains (as opposed to victims) or snow symbolling death or sickness.

White and light people are quite blatantly being declared as sick and unfavored and they may very well be victims in the reader's eye with the dark people being the villainous, unsympathetic bunch. Is this your intention?

More to consider

Such a concept requires thoughtful, careful planning and intentional writing. You should have an understanding of what your story implies to the readers and the real-life takeaways.

I think it's possible to make dark skin the favored skin of the sun god without it meaning white/light people stand in a negative light and are sick or unworthy.

Consider what it is that you like about the concept of your story. Can you keep the essence of whatever it is that excites you about your ideas, without denying a whole group of people favor? If not, how will you go about telling such a tale that is not meant to symbolize a sort of reversal of roles discrimination?

Why does the sun god get to determine what is good?

Are there other gods that might have different strong opinions? Perhaps who is favored varies by time of day, season, region, culture, god?

Can dark skin get its favor without white and light features being deemed unfavorable as a whole?

How big of a deal does this favor have to be? I advise reconsidering it being the point of discrimination to white/light people for all the reasons already described.

No matter the directions you go, please research and get the appropriate beta-readers for feedback on the in-depth concepts and story.

~Mod Colette

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

Forbidden Crown - IV

Summary: Your dreaded twentieth birthday has finally arrived, and you and your parents set off to Tir Asleen for one final time to plan your wedding to Prince Airk. However, at the celebration dinner, Sorsha delivers some shocking news, sending Kit into a spiral and creating conflict within the castle.

Pairing: kit tanthalos x princess!reader

Contains: angst, fighting, kissing, non-explicit mention of vomiting, forced marriage trope, mommy issues

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: this was supposed to be the smut chapter, but I decided to divide the two, since it seemed odd to add sexy time to such a dark chapter. Apologies in advance for all the angst, I promise it won’t last forever!

Ever since your mother’s announcement of your engagement, each birthday after your fifteenth seemed to creep up, startling you out of nowhere and filling your stomach with existential dread. The once joyous celebrations now felt like ticking time bombs, every well-wish serving as a countdown to a life you never wanted.

On the morning of your twentieth birthday, you woke up to nothing but nausea. When your handmaiden entered your room to get you ready for the day, she found you kneeled over your chamberpot, heaving up the shallow remains of your stomach's content. Needless to say, your twentieth birthday was spent hidden under your covers, drinking ginger tea and being waited on hand-and-foot.

Alas, it was only a matter of time before you began to feel better. After several days of sickness, your body had nothing more to heave. The moment some color started to return to your pale cheeks, your parents ushered you into the carriage and set off for Tir Asleen, where you would stay for two months while preparing for your wedding to Prince Airk Tanthalos.

As usual, the road to Tir Asleen was long and slow. You tried to numb yourself to your parents' endless chatter, but your mother decided to fuss over your appearance throughout the entire trip, as if you were a child again.

“This is the first time you’ve seen your fiancé in five years,” she would say. “You’ve grown into a lovely young woman since, it is important for Airk to notice!”

Your cheeks instinctually puffed out at the word ‘fiancé,’ but your stomach was so empty from the long illness that nothing could come up even if it wanted to. Instead, you opted for tucking your head in between your knees, closing your eyes and muffling all unwanted noise from the outside world.

Eventually, the gentle clip-clop of the carriage horse faded as you reached the front of the Tir Asleen castle. You uncovered your head and allowed your parents to exit first, using the extra seconds to let your blood flow redistribute itself.

After hearing the sound of your mother squealing pleasantries from outside, you decided to make your presence known. You stepped out of the carriage to see your mother engulfing Airk in a bear hug, showering him with words of flattery while he chuckled nervously and tried to mask his discomfort. Your father, who had been exchanging formalities with Queen Sorsha, was now gently patting his wife’s back, attempting to subtly pry her off the poor boy.

While you stood watching the amusing display from your family, you didn’t even notice Kit approaching you from behind, wrapping her arms around your waist and leaning into your ear.

“Good morrow, beautiful.” She whispered, her warm breath against your neck causing you to shudder involuntarily.

“Beautiful?” You giggled. “Be careful, our parents' eyes could be upon us.”

“Nonsense,” she replied, planting a soft kiss on your jawline. “They’re much too focused on my brother. It’s just one of the benefits of being the black sheep of the family.”

Sure enough, Kit was right. Your father had managed to successfully pry your mother away from Airk, and now both your parents were bombarding him with questions about his life the last five years while Sorsha stood proudly beside him.

With one final squeeze, Kit loosened her grasp until you could turn around to get a good look at her. She had always been pretty, at least in your eyes, but over the years had grown into a stunning young lady. Her hair was no longer a muddy indigo black, but rather restored back to her natural chocolate-brown, and styled akin to the tresses of woodland sprites. She had grown into herself, with her face defined by striking cheekbones and eyes that seemed to get bluer with every visit. The fabric of her tunic clung to her skin, accentuating every new curve as well as the definition on her upper arms, muscular from combat training.

Before you could even begin to speak, Kit placed her hands on either side of your head and ran them through your hair, gazing down at you lovingly. “Truly, beautiful.”

“I do apologize for her appearance, Prince Airk! She doesn’t usually look this dreadful! She’s been terribly ill!”

You turned around to see your mother leading Airk over to you, speaking loudly about your demeanor. Any confidence inspired by Kit vanished at her harsh remarks, and you drew into yourself.

“Good morrow, Princess,” Airk greeted you with an awkward bow and a tight-lipped smile. Ever since you audibly gagged and ran off after taking his first kiss, the two of you hadn’t necessarily spoken.

You cleared your throat, offering back a perfunctory curtsy. “And to you as well.”

“My, my! Someone has grown quite slender!” Sorsha’s voice called out, approaching the four of you with your father in tow.

You looked down at yourself. Sure enough, your ailment had withered you away, making your once perfectly-fitting gown now hang off you like the tendrils of a willow tree. Your mother noticed this too, because she immediately inserted herself between you and Airk to resume nitpicking your appearance.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, Airk and Sorsha! My daughter has had an illness. She’s feeling well now, but she still looks absolutely dreadful! I’m sure her gowns will fit right in due time, but…” she turned her attention towards your face. “…darling! Your complexion! You resemble a ghostly wight! Couldn’t you have bothered to apply a touch of rouge?”

“You’ve raised a beautiful daughter, your highness.” Kit stepped to your side and snaked her arm around your waist. Your breath hitched at her touch, and you worried your parents may catch on to your secret with how bold she was being. Still, you tried to hide the blush that crept onto your cheeks after she stood up for you.

Your mother looked between you and Kit, and you could've sworn you saw her eyes flicker with a hint of suspicion. However, she simply grimaced in Kit’s direction, offering pleasantries purely for display. “Yes, well, much obliged, Kit.”

Kit responded with a grin that was polite, yet cocky. Your mother cleared her throat, quickly recomposing herself before taking your hand and joining it with Airk’s.

“I must say, you two, I am absolutely elated for this union! A royal wedding, why I don’t believe I’ve attended one since my own! The two of you make a very attractive pair.”

Airk forced a grin in your direction, looking down at your conjoined hands instead of at you. As your mother continued to ramble on about the party planning, you peered over Airk’s shoulder and noticed a blond girl standing in the distance, carrying a serving tray, and glaring daggers into your soul…

“That would be Muffin Girl,” Kit explained later that day when you asked about the mysterious blond. The two of you had managed to break away from the group long enough to take a leisurely stroll through the Tir Asleen gardens.

“Muffin Girl?” You inquired.

“That or Miss Muffin, whichever you’d prefer.”

You shot her a quizzical expression, causing her to chuckle heartily. “Well it’s not her real name, clearly. She’s one of the kitchen maids, and her signature dish are these buttered muffins she serves at breakfast.”

“She was glaring at me earlier while my mother discussed wedding plans,” you said. “I almost thought she would break her tray in half.”

Kit hummed in agreement. “Jealousy. It makes sense. She is my brother's latest lover.”

“Pardon?” You froze in your tracks, eyes wide and mouth agape.

Kit leaned back against a tree, crossing her arms and gazing at you with a pointed brow. “I hate to inform you, Princess, but my brother has become quite the ladies’ man since your ‘dalliance’ in the courtyard. Muffin Girl is just his latest conquest.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. Sure, you didn’t love Airk, or were even remotely attracted to him, but he was still your betrothed.

Kit smirked at your stunned expression. “Surely you’re not jealous, are you?” She moved closer until her face was mere inches from yours. “I can’t imagine it would drive you mad. My brother, your fiancé, rolling around in the grass with a scullion? Cheeks flushed, legs intertwined, her leaving little bruises on his…”

You cut her off with a playful smack on the shoulder. “Hold your tongue, Tanthalos.” She giggled at her lighthearted taunts, causing a smile to spread across your face. “I’m not jealous, rather shocked. He’s engaged… to me… and Queen Sorsha is allowing this affair?”

With another chuckle, Kit teasingly ruffled your hair. “Oh Princess… you really assume my mother is at all aware?”

You gasped, leaning in closer to Kit to whisper. “She doesn’t know?”

“I’m sure she suspects something, what with the aforementioned bruises, but knowing my mother, she’d rather stay with the mindset that her son is still a moralistic virgin.”

Kit pulled you in closer, pressing your body against hers until your noses barely brushed together. “I suppose this is just one more secret between us, don’t you think Princess?”

You giggled, quickly making sure the coast was clear before wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for a sweet kiss.

That evening, the six of you gathered for a hearty supper to celebrate your reunion. Servants bustled about carrying various dishes, including the mysterious ‘muffin girl.’ You couldn’t help but observe the longing glances exchanged between her and Airk, lingering between each course like a seed caught between teeth.

Just as you and Kit were stifling a laugh over their latest lust-filled gaze, Queen Sorsha rose, tapping silverware against her raised glass. The table quieted, all eyes fixed on the regal woman as you awaited her speech.

“Friends, family,” she began. “I am pleased that we’ve all gathered here this evening to begin wedding plans for the Prince of Tir Asleen and the Princess of Azarenth.”

Your parents clapped excitedly. Airk stared down at his lap while you and Kit exchanged vexed glances.

“Even more pleased,” Sorsha continued. “That the forthcoming ceremony will feature an extra element, making it a profoundly rare occasion!”

Her words puzzled you, and a quick look around the table confirmed that the twins seemed just as confused. Your parents however, shared knowing grins, clearly in on the secret.

“The King and Queen of Azarenth have graciously agreed to turn their daughter’s wedding into a double wedding!” Sorsha turned to meet her daughter’s gaze. “Kit…”

You whipped around to face Kit, who stared at her mother, frozen, her expression a mixture of confusion and fear. “You remember when we discussed the Prince of Galladoorn, don’t you?”

Kit nodded. “Sure we discussed him, but then he fell out of a tree and died, right?”

“Kit!” Sorsha scolded before quickly recomposing herself. “It’s true, Dermot Hastur had an untimely death,” she held her glass to her heart solemnly. “However, it appears Galladoorn is still interested in an alliance, and King Hastur has a younger son, Graydon.”

Your heart dropped as you realized what Sorsha was saying. Glancing back at Kit, you saw her face now stricken with terror. “Mother… no…”

Ignoring her daughter, Sorsha simply raised her glass again. “It’s my pleasure to announce the engagement of Prince Graydon Hastur to my daughter, Princess Kit Tanthalos!”

“No!” Kit exclaimed.

“What?” The shriek came from a disembodied voice. Only after you received shocked expressions from each member of the table did you realize the voice was yours.

Your mother squinted at you, the corners of her mouth flickering sardonically. “My dear, I didn’t expect you to be upset at sharing the limelight! After all, you and Kit are such good… friends.”

You glared at your mother head-on, suppressing every urge to lunge at her from across the table. She said nothing more, instead turning away to innocently sip her wine.

Kit was in the midst of her own altercation, arguing her case with pleading eyes. “Mother, please… I cannot marry Prince Graydon!”

“And just why not?” Sorsha demanded. “Prince Graydon is an esteemed young man, his parents speak very highly of him.”

“I’ve never even met him!” Kit’s voice wavered in stifled sobs.

“You will before the wedding, now that is quite enough! It is your duty to your kingdom. I don’t want to hear another word about this until the alliance is signed, and that is final!”

Kit slammed her hands on the table, tears falling as she ran away. Sorsha screamed after her until the sound of her bedchamber door slamming reverberated across the room. The table fell silent, none of you knowing where to look. After a moment, Airk cleared his throat, breaking the tension as he rearranged the silverware on his plate.

“May I be excused, mother?” He muttered.

Sorsha sighed, dismissing him with a wave of her hand. He got up quietly, exiting the room and making a beeline for Kit’s door. The remaining four of you resumed picking at your food, the sound of silverware scratching against glass dishes only deepening the stillness of the room.

As you pushed your food around, you couldn’t help but steal glances in the direction of Kit’s door. You turned to your mother, wanting to speak.

“Let it be a passing thought,” she denied your unspoken request, not bothering to look up from her plate.

Fortunately, dinner didn't drag on much longer after the commotion subsided. Once everyone had hastily departed from the table, you made your way to Kit’s room and positioned yourself outside her door. Kit’s muffled sobs mingled with Airk’s whispered words from the other side of the wooden barrier, causing you to pause before entering, afraid of disrupting them.

Just when you were about to throw caution to the wind and grasp the handle, the door swung open, revealing Airk. He startled at your unexpected presence and closed Kit’s door behind him.

“Uh… hi…” he muttered lamely.

“Hello there,” you replied softly.

The two of you stood silently in front of Kit’s door, a multitude of unanswered questions hanging in the air that neither of you knew how to ask.

“She’s, uh…” Airk broke the silence, jerking his head towards Kit’s door. “…having a difficult time coming to terms… with everything.”

You nodded slowly. “Were you… able to get through to her? At all?”

“Inconsolable,” he admitted regretfully. “I haven’t seen her this distraught since… our father…”

You winced, recalling the initial heartbreak Kit faced when her father’s letters stopped arriving ten years ago.

“I understand…” he continued. “I also know what it’s like to be forced into a loveless marriage.”

His gaze bore into yours, carefully chosen words that riddled you with guilt. You knew you had no right to hurt feelings after that night in the courtyard, but you couldn’t help the sharp pang that hit your chest like a piercing arrow.

“Airk…” you sighed, overwhelmed with remorse. “Please let me apologize for that night…”

“No need,” he interrupted coolly. “It’s really quite alright…”

“It’s not,” you insisted. “My reaction… I assure you… had nothing to do with your character, or your appearance, or anything, really. It wasn’t about you, it was never about you, it…” you took a deep breath, your secret weighed on your shoulders as if it was carved from stone. “Airk… I’m in love with someone else.”

Airk looked taken aback. “Pardon?”

“My hand belongs to you…” your voice trembled. “…but my heart belongs to another.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. You shut your eyes tightly, the burden of your secret lifting but replaced with overwhelming fear. Airk stood, silently, his expression cycling through shock, relief, confusion, and finally… sympathy.

“Likewise…” he whispered, causing you to look at him again. “There’s this… local maiden, a quiet beauty who carries herself with the gentle elegance of a dove. She may not have been born into privilege, but she’s captivated me. My heart belongs to her.”

He looked at you, expecting a reaction. You attempted to feign surprise, but ended up failing miserably. He smirked. “Was it that evident?”

You chuckled. “With all of your enticing stares at dinner, it almost felt as if I were intruding on something private!”

He laughed airily along with you, long-standing tension finally broken. You started to relax, feeling a weight lift as you and Airk came to an unspoken forgiveness. He smiled warmly, genuinely at you before his expression turned serious once again.

“I hope you know I would hate for my mother to receive word of this,” he said in a low voice.

You nodded in agreement. “You needn’t worry, my lips are sealed. I understand what it’s like… living with secrets.”

He waited for you to continue, but you simply folded your hands in front of you and smiled, silently refusing to speak further.

Airk departed soon after your conversation ended, leaving you once again face-to-face with Kit’s door. You raised your knuckle to the chestnut wood, giving it two gentle raps.

No response.

With a shaky hand, you turned the handle and opened the door with a slow, steady creak. Kit lay flat on her bed, motionless, staring at the ceiling. She made no indication of noticing your presence, so you stepped inside and carefully closed the door with a click.

No response.

Stars studded the now-blackened night sky through a small window in the corner. The room’s only light source was a flickering candle that cast shadows over Kit’s unmoving body and danced along the wrinkles of her garments. You stood near the entrance, watching the subtle rise and fall of her chest with each breath.

“Which is worse?”

The sudden sound of her voice startled you. “Pardon?”

“I’m wondering…” she sat up, dangling her legs over the edge of her bed. “…which is worse? Spending half a decade counting down the seconds until you’re forced into an unwanted marriage, or having it thrust upon you without warning?”

She met your gaze, expecting an answer. You had none. She continued.

“On the one hand, the first option reads torturously, like sitting on death row waiting for execution,” she contemplated, deep in thought. “But on the other hand, it allows for processing time, providing an opportunity to numb yourself to the situation.”

She looked back over to you, her expression stoic. “What do you think?”

“I think I won’t ever be numb to the situation,” you replied with a half-smile.

Kit gave a halfhearted chuckle, staring down at her feet. You moved to sit next to her on the bed, resting a soothing hand on her back. She sighed. “You don’t know how fortunate you are.”

You furrowed your brow. “How do you mean?”

“You’re betrothed to my brother,” she answered. “Someone you grew up with, someone you trust.”

You frowned. “Kit, Airk and I may have history, but I’m still being forced into a loveless marriage. You and I suffer the same plight.”

Kit’s eyes seemed to glaze over as she began to speak in a small voice. “You truly believe our situations are at all similar?”

You removed your hand from her back and leaned slightly away from her. “Kit…”

“Do you?” Her fingers clenched the bedsheets as she finally met your gaze. “I am marrying a man I’ve never met, so I can help form an alliance with a kingdom I’ve never visited! My entire life is conforming to the whims of my mother, do you have any idea what that’s like?”

“Have you observed my mother?” You shot back, standing up from the bed. “Sometimes I wonder whether or not she cares if I live or die, just as long as I marry Airk to keep up appearances like a performing minstrel!”

“Cry me a river, Princess!” Kit growled, also abandoning the bed. “My sincerest apologies that you have a mother that gave you fifteen years to become accustomed to her chosen spouse, and a father to give you away at the altar!”

You softened your gaze, realizing a large part of the reason for Kit’s distress. “Kit, I didn’t…”

“I’ll have to walk down the aisle with Airk!” She interrupted, angry tears now streaming down her face. “There was enough prattle when news of my father’s disappearance spread, and now all of Galladoorn and Tir Asleen combined is going to witness me being given away by my own brother. So don’t you dare stand there and claim that you and I ‘suffer the same plight!’”

“Kit!” Your voice wavered, a tightness in your chest threatened to unleash a flood of tears. “That was not my intent, and you know it. You're hurting, and you have my deepest sympathies…”

“I don’t need your sympathy…”

“Then don’t take it!” Your voice cut through the air, sharp and defensive. “All I said is that I share your pain in being forced into a marriage with someone you don’t love. I don’t understand why you’re so angry with me.”

Kit bit her lip, sniffling and wiping away tears. Her red, puffy eyes struggled to meet yours as she searched for more words to use as a line of defense.

“Because marriage isn’t about love, Princess,” she finally replied. “And frankly, your lack of realization is troubling.”

Her words brought a lump to your throat, like a boulder lodged within a narrow cave. Without another word, you spun on your heel and walked out of Kit’s room, making sure the wooden barrier slammed shut behind you before giving into the tears that had been threatening to fall.

Tag List: @chloepricesgirl @canmargesimpson @yourelliewillms @valenftcrush @camilleee222 @prettygirlfemme @slaytillieswooo @love4lyn @joanvisitsrome @athenalive @mih11 @j-pacifica @everybodyhatesari @vii-ofswords @sophi4v13 @detmarmalade

[coralinnii]

I have a request for the villainess AU. For Ace and Deuce, what if it was a love triangle between the MC? I just can’t imagine them being separated because them fighting over the Mc is much funnier!

❋ Being Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy ❋

↳ Love Triangle scenario(?)

feat: Ace and Deuce

genre: humour, budding romance, friends-to-something more?

note: part of the “Reincarnated into a New World as the Bad Guy” series or the Villain/ess au, part of the 2.7k followers event, references to other villain/ess au works (specifically Riddle ver.), Ace + Deuce + reader are old enough to drink, no pronouns used with reader, minor mention of death

I don’t usually do the love triangle trope because real life ones hurt alot and it brings up some bad memories, but I’ll consider it for this, just for y’all~ I genuinely tried but rather than a love triangle, I may have accidentally created a… (seriously was not my intention)

Villain/ess au Series Masterlist

2.7K Followers Writing Event

Before the oath of the sword, the three of you made an oath of your own. One of unquestioned trust and camaraderie. No matter where the string of fate would take either of you, the promise made one drunken night between you, Ace, and Deuce was stronger.

That night was fuelled with unrestrained emotions, with shouting and tears, most coming from you. Especially when you awoke one day with strange visions flooded your dreams, vivid images that spoke of a horrible future for you.

Memories of a strange novel, one that eerily resembles your current world down to each royal family member and even your friends’ lives. But while a hero’s glory awaits your dearest ones, you were left as a tragic minor antagonist.

A mere childhood friend of Ace and Deuce, you became jealous of a former baron’s daughter suddenly turned Queen when she grew close to your friends as her knight escorts. You turned to petty acts in response, spewing nasty rumours among the townfolks of the new Queen but like an angelic protagonist, she revealed your misdeeds but forgave you for your childish taunts. Nevertheless, you lost the respect of your only friends and you were left behind.

But despite the Queen’s pardon, King Riddle heard of your disgraceful behaviour against his beloved and called for your immediate execution, which became the final push for Ace and Deuce to join in the Queen’s rebellion against her own tyrannical husband. Because that’s all you were, a mere catalyst for the story to continue on.

You couldn’t imagine yourself turning into a cliche bully and admittedly, the idea of your untimely demise left you shaking in fear on occasion. But the worst of your premonitory dreams was the predicted end of your friendship.

The looks of disgust and disappointment that painted Ace’s and Deuce’s face seared into your mind, your heart shattering like glass at their wishes to never see you again. The fear of abandonment stings you like a crack in your heart which never healed, it scared you to the point that the moment you saw them happily enjoying the night, you drunkenly cried out.

“I love you so much, please don’t leave me.”

Unceremoniously, your body slumped onto the tavern’s table as you blacked out into an alcoholic slumber. How evil of you, conveniently unable to explain what you meant by your slurred confession, or to whom you were referring to.

Ace and Deuce were visibly distracted during their knight training the morning after, one of the few times that they must separate from you. Your words looping over and over in their heads like an endless echo. Your voice pleaded so sincerely with tears cascading down your cheeks.

“What should we do, Ace?” Deuce broke the awkward silence during their water break, finally taking a step to mention the elephant in the room. Your words that resembled a wistful confession struck him with worry (and a hint of budding hope). But unlike him, Ace was quick to look for possible excuses for your actions.

“Don’t be dumb. It was probably just the alcohol talking. Don’t you remember how much we all drank?” The reddish hue of Ace’s cheeks however betrayed his true emotions. In truth, he was just as frazzled by your words as Deuce was. He kept trying to convince himself that you meant nothing by it, to not get his hopes up. But the little devil on his shoulder whispers in his ear, “but what if you did mean something by it?”

Since then, you felt that your time spent with the duo increased since your last outing. Instead of staying back in the knight’s barracks right after training, Ace and Deuce visited your hometown more often that was not the most convenient travel destination. You felt at least one pair of eyes, either sea blue or rose red or both, watching you before turning away when you tried to catch their gaze.

But it seems that some people did noticed something different with the two young men, specifically their family. Deuce’s mother would smile knowingly at you whenever you drop by to offer some assistance in her business, occasionally mentioning how much her son has grown. Funnily enough, Ace’s older brother mentioned something similar about the redhead, though it was more laced with a teasing tone than one of filial affection.

But you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. You enjoyed the frequent visits of your best friends, especially knowing they will be even busier when the announcement of a new royal member would take your precious moments with them. Rumours were spread about the town of a mysterious figure locked in a tower which were not part of your memories, but your wary heart kept you mindful of the possible news regarding the imperial family.

Your worries intensified when Ace and Deuce announced their new task once dawn breaks, they were to escort the newest addition to the royal family back to the palace. In an attempt to quell your unease, you made an embarrassing request.

“You want to do what?” A bright red hue on Deuce’s face heavily contrasted with his raven blue hair, but you were no position to tease him as you could assume that your embarrassed complexion was no better. “Y-You mean…you…and us…”

The three of you lost track of time chatting and goofing off in your quarters and didn’t realize how the sun has long gone to rest for the night. Instead of returning to their own home, you asked if the two knights were willing to stay over the night, like in your younger days. Back when you three were more used to wooden swords than ones of steel, when your only worry was if your parents were going to cook your favourites that night.

Back when you three shared the same bed together.

“It’s not that crazy of a request…” you pouted but you supposed it was rather absurd to ask your friends, who old enough to be considered men, something so childish. Perhaps those carefree days are truly long gone.

“I’m not opposed to it” Ace gave his signature cheeky smile as he naturally wrapped his arm around your shoulder, slightly leaning his weight onto you. “If you just can’t help but miss our company, we can have a good ol’ slumber party. Just like old times~”

You’re starting to reconsider your request.

But Ace wasn’t done. “Well, it’s not exactly like old times. We’re definitely bigger than back when we were kids”

The redhead was obviously right. The three of you were nothing like the tiny versions of you in the past, and your best friends have certainly bulked up since they started their journey into knighthood. You tried your best but you couldn’t help but gaze in appreciation of the hard work the two of them did to build the stamina and muscles to protect their kingdom, respectfully of course.

“I doubt that all three of us can fit on your teeny little bed.” the scarlet-eyed knight exaggerated his point by squinting his fingers to describe your bed. “I guess Deucey’s just gonna have to go home for tonight.”

“Hey, wait a minute! Why me?!” Deuce snapped out from his flustered daze to glare at Ace, pulling his shaggy-haired companion by the neck of his shirt. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

Ace remained unperturbed, too used to the blunette’s burst of anger “It’s nothing personal, buddy. But you grind your teeth real loud at night. How is any of us gonna get any sleep?”

“Well you’re a pain to wake up in the morning!” Deuce angrily countered. “Don’t make it our problem to get your ass up tomorrow.”

You watched your best friends bicker and argue, as if you didn’t already know of their terrible sleeping habits. Sure, Deuce grinds his teeth but you always tried to gently soothe his jaw hoping to relax him. Ace may sleep like the dead but his cute little pout every time he finally wakes up makes the effort all worth it to you.

They were idiots, but they were your idiots.

“Will you both stop fighting already?” Ace and Deuce immediately paused as your voice caught their attention, like it always does. “No one’s gotta leave. My bed is not that small, you know?”

To prove your point, you took each of the boy’s hand and led them without issue. For someone as tall and built as them, they were so easy to pull and push as you please. Carefully, you pressed your hands against their chest to push them backwards onto your bed. You then crawled onto the bed yourself between Ace and Deuce, the men automatically shifting their bodies to make space for you.

Satisfied, you laid onto your back and you took the hand of both men, each of your hand snuggly holding their warm, calloused ones. You smiled brightly at the fuzzy feelings of nostalgia bubbling in you, pressing your joining hands to your chest, atop of your beating heart.

“See, no one needs to leave.” your bright eyes looked up to your favourite people, cheeky joy evident in your gaze.

A rare occurrence, the two chatty troublemakers were left speechless. In their defence, they were too busy trying to contain the burst of happiness in their hearts to reply back to you, barely pushing the redness of their cheeks at bay.

[onyourhyuck]

SHALALA. | L.TY

— Prologue: “Lay low lay low lay low, baby, keep it low-key.”

— Summary: Where you have to design an outfit for Lee Taeyong a famous fashion model but it leads to you both stripping off your clothes.

— Genre: Smut minors dni. SHALALA is such a bop. Model!taeyong. dom!taeyong. praising praising praising. sneaky link trope. Pussy eating. Overstimulation. Many orgasms. Almost caught (?) Makeout. Female fingering receiving.

— Notes: I love Shalala album so much.

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You’re a designer who’s now working with the most viral and talented fashion model Lee Taeyong.

It is truly an honour you stand in front of the most handsome man in the entire world you’ve laid your eyes upon. You feel almost self conscious about your eyes laying on him. It’s like you thought, you wonder if you even deserve to have such a good moment to watch him. To look at him.

But Taeyong was a friendly guy. He welcomed you. He heard good things about your work and he feels like it fits into the concept he puts out there. The most neo person to live. He bleeds neon green to you. He’s perfect for your work.

You smile. “It’s honestly my greatest accomplishment to have you model for my clothes.” Taeyong smiles back hearing you say this. Every designer tells him this; ‘it’s an honour. I am so glad you allowed me to design this for you.’ But your words seem to have a different meaning and tone to what he usually would hear from other brands.

You spoke with the most raw truth about your work. When Taeyong looks at the clothes you make, they tell a story, they tell a story about every single thought and aspect you make in your head while creating these beautiful things for people to wear.

Taeyong couldn’t wait to see what you will create for him. He can’t wait to see the story you will make for him to see and read. To tell the world and wear it on his sleeves.

“I look forward working with you, Y/n.”

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You’re sat down designing on the paper. The hardest part of being a fashion designer it’s that you have to sketch the idea. You have to brainstorm every part of your muscles to figure something unique, something worth making and trying out. You don’t want Taeyong to wear the most banally shaped and boring designs — because it’s not his concept firstly. Secondly you wish to catch the attention of the public and have people want to scream to wear what Taeyong will wear on that fashion walk.

You want people to look at a certain clothing and think: ‘Wait What! That looks like it’s made by Y/n.’ And you want to get the point across that you want to make your work the most outlandish and outstanding piece of clothing like it is an artwork that must be hung up in a museum somewhere.

This was your goal and you knew the moment you needed a model to do the right job it would have to be no one else but Lee Taeyong.

He has your vibe. He has style and the body you need. And most importantly he has the face and personality that fits right into your branding.

You sketch on the paper many designs various sizes and shapes; a shirt in a shape of a triangle? Pair of trousers with rectangle stitching ends? You did anything you found to be fitting. You let your mind run wild.

“Y/n what colour do you want the first stage outfit to be?” Your co-worker Johnny who worked for you for many of your fashion shows and such. He was another designer too, and without him you’d be a lost cause you thought.

You trail busy looking at the pieces of papers checking out the outfits you have sketched. He was behind you holding many blocks of colours and he saw you were too far looking at the papers than at him. “Hmm…I have a vision… but I can’t seem to see it clearly.” Johnny hears you say that with a sigh.

His eyebrows rise up on his face. “How come? What’s your vision.”

You hum putting the papers down on the desk as your chair turns around. You’re now facing Johnny. “I want the audience to go wild when they see someone like Taeyong; I mean he’s handsome. He has a face that anyone would want. I want his clothes to equal that.” Someone with Taeyong’s face would want to be shown off.

Johnny can understand that your points coming cross may be from your stress and overthinking though you have a point, when he looks at Taeyong he imagines something weird. He wants a weird outfit.

“I think we should make something weird. Something out of the norm-you’d-usually go in the direction of.”

You squint your eyes as you hear this. The sudden wave of realisation puts you into a trapping reality like you were dreaming out of nowhere so you’re now going to be through a lane of ideas trafficking at your fingertips. You turn around quickly, “You’re a genius Johnny…” Johnny had no idea what you were now drawing. But it seems like he made you tick in a different direction now. As per usual his guidance always makes you bring out the best ideas out of yourself.

In a few minutes you’ve drawn the perfect picture of what your vision actually was. Johnny was brought in closer to the desk next to you leaning down with one arm stretching out to hold the table. He looks proud. He looks satisfied and it’s a lot better than what he expected from you. You smirk looking at the design of what you will be making Taeyong wear; on his first stage fashion walk. You can’t wait but you can already imagine that he will look so good, that he will have no choice but to take people’s breathes away and leave them unable to look away from him. As if he was a siren possessing anyone in his reach.

“It’s perfect.” Johnny told you satisfied.

You grin. “He’s going to be the centre of everyone’s attention now.” You we’re sure of it. You were confident and you could already tell in the future it will be like that.

“What are you going to name it?” Johnny now said asking you and you raise an eyebrow humming.

Your eyes sparkle when you click your fingers in the air as if you finally found the perfect title to name this outfit design you have created.

Something weird for something weird to wear.

“I am going to name it,”

“Shalala.”

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Taeyong would be in the fitting rooms awaiting for your arrival. It was early morning and he was surprised to have been called in so early. You had a great chance to be making many finalists decisions for the cat walk designs but it seems like you had made something so special that you told him to come to your studio this early in the morning. He was excited he won’t lie. Taeyong loves your work and he meant it when he told you he loved every single piece you have created from the beginning of your uprising career. There was never a moment where he disliked any piece of your work and he can proudly say this that he will not be left ashamed. He’s bewildered with anticipation.

He has no idea of what you will be showing him today; no idea what you have called it. No idea what it could be. He just knows you made something and he’s about to find out what.

He’s alone in your studio waiting until you come inside with a welcoming smile. The moment you strut forward to give him a greeting hug from you, in which he gladly accepts, the whiff of your sweet fruity perfume attacks his nostrils in the most pleasant way possible. You smell so good he couldn’t resist from wanting to smell more of it but he restrains himself. Surprised by your beautiful smile too, you pull away from him first.

Letting the hug go you beam happily. “It’s so good to see you again Taeyong. Did you get here safe?” You ask mentioning a polite voice. Taeyong was starstruck watching you. He wasn’t expecting you to be this happy to see him. But he was glad you were happy because your smile truly did something in his stomach. Something special.

“Yes I got here safe.” Taeyong smiles gently as he nods. “My managers are getting us coffee. I told them to get an americano for us both. I hope that’s okay?” He wasn’t sure what to give you because he wasn’t sure what you’d like or not so he got the same drink as what he would get hoping you wouldn’t mind.

You were surprised he was buying you coffee anyways; it’s your first time getting offered a cup of coffee from a model.

You smile at him, though your heart skipped a beat by his compassionate gesture. “Ah yes Americano is perfect thank you. You didn’t have to.”

‘Thank god. It would’ve been so awkward if she didn’t drink coffee…’ Taeyong trails to his own thoughts.

You now decide to trail to the fitting areas where the outfit you have created. You spent so many all-nighters making the design of the outfit you created with Johnny; secondly you would like to say it’s the most Neo-thing for someone like Taeyong to wear and at this point you know it’s good. Because Taeyong quite literally would bleed Neon Green if he had to. You know that his favourite colour is green so you cooperated that into the outfit.

The only thing you need to do now is to reveal it to him. Your heart’s chasing miles from what you wanted it to be. You were nervous and panicked. You were confident in the outfit but you care so much about Taeyong’s opinion too. He’s the one who will make it go viral. He’s the key and you’re nothing without his good impression on the outfit.

Taeyong’s eyes widen as he was met with your hands revealing the outfit. It was a simple puffer jacket with puffer pants. It gave this most comfortable down to earth look but at the same time it looks so stylish there wasn’t a single bland thing about it even though it was just a puffer jacket and a pair of pants puffer out in the same material. He feels like this was the most beautiful piece of thing he’s seen made perfectly adjusted to his needs; he won’t be cold wearing this that’s for sure. He will be able to walk around and do all the poses models do on the cat walk. The material is soft and fun. It wasn’t boring which is what he finds amazing about this whole thing. You managed to turn something so simple — into something so unique and weird. Which is what he loves so much.

He knew you wouldn’t disappoint him.

“I am now introducing you to: Shalala.”

The jacket was a bright green; vibrant as heck it could blind everyone’s eyes from countries away. Your designs on the jacket was black squares similar to checkers making it compliment the bright distracting green. The black squares made the jacket somehow more tame. Which is what Taeyong found to be the most important part. Balance.

Your work has the perfect balance that many brands should learn from you. Taeyong sticks by these words. Famous Brands should learn from you.

The pants were wide and flown out. Taeyong saw the way the pants were following the black and green patterns now like it was an illusion. He was impressed, mind blown in a way.

He looks back at you with his mouth wide open. “I love this Y/n. Truthfully it’s nothing else I’ve ever seen before but I love that about your work.” He states with genuine emotions.

You smile. He likes it and that’s what matters to you the most. “I’m glad you like it. Honestly I tried to think about your style in general… you have a unique style and I like that.” You softly add. “I wanted you to wear something you’d want to wear.”

“No one else has done that for me.” Taeyong reveals as his eyes were glued on your face now as if they were unable to let go off you in the sight. You turn around with your eyes widen as you saw how intensely he’s been watching you. Somehow your heart starts to beat even more.

‘Why am I feeling so nervous suddenly?…’

Taeyong comes forward watching you as his hands slowly lift themselves to feel the hem of your shirt attaching on your body so nicely. His fingers wrap themselves around your perfectly shaped waist and his gaze lows down to your kissable lips. Somehow he always knew you were attractive but seeing you more and more. Working with you was a pleasure he enjoyed the most. You’re the first designer to make him feel this way. You catch his breath to become hitch.

You knew you shouldn’t be this close to Taeyong. You know how much this can become a scandal if anyone saw you how close he’s closing into your body the gap between you both shrinks and now you could feel his chest pressing on your body with the same amount of intensity your heart was pumping out of your chest. Your eye could pop out their sockets. It definitely feels like it.

You whisper. “Taeyong…we can’t be doing this.” He knew you were right but, the moment feels too good to stop and he can’t help but want more. More of you. More than anything else he’d ever want before. “Shh…” he tells you slowly.

His deep voice was so powerful yet so low and deep you couldn’t help but think perhaps you’re addicted to hearing his deep voice speaking like this to you. And now you don’t want him to stop when he was looking at you with so much emotion.

“Lay low lay low lay low, baby, keep it low-key…”

Your lips crash into his passionately moving in each others shapes. The kiss leaves you feeling more and more detached from reality than before and you never thought getting kissed by the famous Lee Taeyong would make your skin crawl with so many compliments towards him. He was not only so handsome and talented — but he can kiss so good. You never expected to have been able to see this for yourself. To have yourself experiencing such pleasure given to you by Taeyong. The man drags you on top of a desk. The outfit you created was put on the side out of your minds.

What was important now to him was you getting pinned by his tongue in your mouth dominating yours with so much ease it was like an easy game for him. You weren’t sure if this was reality. Or if this was virtuality.

Hearing your moans escaping out when Taeyong pulls apart from your ruby red lips that he could kiss on and on without a singular boredom irking him. Now your neck was begging to be kissed, held, loved and marked by him so much he couldn’t help but launch down to your soft skin. Biting on it carefully leaving beautiful marks behold like you were rewarded.

You shift on the table with your thighs trembling. The way your neck was your most sensitive part; Taeyong was in awe at the effects it gave you.

It made your tremble already and he hasn’t even gotten to the part where he fucks you.

Your eyes were dilated so much. Taeyong could stare at your pupils for hours on end. The way your Iris pupils reflect the light so beautifully proved that you’re light itself.

“Oh god… Taeyong…” you groan when your shirt was pulled off by the model stripping you clean. You couldn’t help but join in pulling his expensive branded clothes. Though you were careful not to rip it. You both succeeded in getting yourselves naked in their arms as Taeyong’s mouth lap on your breasts. Hands condoling your chest with a light squeeze there and then.

The tongue playing by your nipples finding your head hanging back as your shoulders clench up tensing together. Your stomach pressing inwards at your pelvis because of how good it feels to have his warm saliva paint your breasts with it. Like he was a painter and you were his one true canvas masterpiece.

“You like that, Y/n?” Taeyong murmurs against your beautiful breasts he finds them to be the most attractive part of you but he would lie if you weren’t completely attractive head to toe. Because you are. You’re someone who has it all.

And he wants all of you. He strives to be better for you all along.

You nod softly in his response unable to find your words to answer him back but nonetheless he didn’t mind. He prepares you by stretching your wet folds with his two fingertips. You gasp when you feel him watching you, no, he was staring at you as your clenching round his two fingers tightly. Each meaningful movement as stretching you so far you could feel your tongue coming out with your moans. He loves watching you become a mess, from such simple touches, he loves the effect you give out.

You muffle your moans with your palm as Taeyong stops pulling away he leans down to give a soft kitten lick on your clit that makes your hand slide off your face. It was nearly impossible to be quiet when you were getting devoured head on by Taeyong. His hands stretching out your thighs. You feel them greatly and sharply pushing you down and down which only makes your pleasure stronger than your muscles could take.

You couldn’t even tell where you were anymore because you were so lost in the moment feeling your high coming closer that both you and Taeyong couldn’t hear the front door knocking. The voices behind the door belong to the managers, indicating they came back with the coffee they had been waiting to get for the two of you — Taeyong doesn’t stop eating you out as if he was starved unable to get any self control back.

So now you’re on the desk with your thighs spread wide over getting yourself eaten out by your model. And you try not to make any loud sounds that can get you two caught. Somehow his gaze was watching you as the managers call out your name on the other side of the door, while they keep knocking.

“Miss Y/n? May we come in?” The manager asked finding the silence quite hard to ignore.

You juggle your own moans and your voice trying to separate them. You deeply breathe out and your voice is very muffled and strained by your lacking sinful thoughts of how good Taeyong’s mouth on your wet soaking pussy is. “N-no! Me and Taeyong are doing something— v-very important right now…!”

The managers stood there quiet reacting to your response. Maybe they should leave you two alone to discuss your work process?

The snapping motion of your stomach finally lets go and your pussy juice spews down from your aching wet hole into Taeyong’s mouth who didn’t waste a single drop. He darkly muffled. “That’s it… such a good girl…” he whispers keenly against your folds and you shudder at how hot he absolutely sounds. It’s so difficult to not be moaning out his name; heck you’d chant it not moan it loudly. You’d be chanting it as if it was a holy hymn meant to be sang to the world how good he ate you out.

You whimper. “G-gosh I can’t do this anymore Tae…” You say as your fingers fiddle in his hair and he murmurs softly kissing your overstimulated pussy humming. “Just a little bit more hm?”

You can’t say no when he’s so persuasive with the way his voice has his power over you. Taeyong knew you cannot reject him when he’s having so much fun controlling you right now.

“Miss Y/n but the coffee is getting cold? Will you and Taeyong be okay with that?” The managers come back asking as if they were worried more about the coffee meanwhile Taeyong was busy trying to destroy you from inside and out.

He’s loving this fucked out version of you so much, it’s impossible not to fall in love with you.

You wanted to tell the managers to already go away and do something with their life than to disrupt your time together, but then again, deep inside the idea of getting caught makes this even more thrill seeking to you in your opinion.

You muffle your groans out. “T-that’s fine— leave the coffee outside the door…!”

Taeyong smirks as he finally sees you getting closer to your second orgasm and this time you didn’t bother to hold back you simply let it run over you taking your first hand pushing it down to his head grinding his face on it. He loves it when you start to fidget with yourself and force yourself on his face — you love face fucking him when your orgasm was reaching its peak washing you both down with your juices spilling down your thighs and on the desk now. Your moans was incredibly strong that Taeyong had to reach up putting his hand on your mouth covered by your own lubricant from your orgasm, so your moans don’t come out.

Your eyes roll back slightly as you feel your orgasm washing away and soon Taeyong let’s your mouth become free from his mouth as he deeply kisses you. You feel your stomach panting in and out.

He whispers leaning down. “I like the name by the way.”

You raise your eyes up at him dazed and confused. “What name?”

He smirks. “Shalala.” Taeyong’s eyes never leave yours because he finds them to be the prettiest little orbs of life he ever dreamed to see. “I like it, Y/n.” You couldn’t help but smile in response, overwhelmed with pride and joy to know he likes it.

“I am glad…”

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating and copyrighting my work thank youu! Reblog this fic and follow me for more updates it helps a girl out. <3

[dr-spectre]

honestly the only thing i wish now since team past won is that we don't get a great turf war game.

A more past based aesthetic sounds inherently cooler for a game no matter what people say.

I think i was being a little too harsh and mean towards Team Past and I was riding the high of the Grand Fest....

At the end of the day, what makes Splatoon's world so special is that it's world follows our time, a year passes in our world, a year passes over there. Stopping the timeline would be a bad idea and I think the developers know better. I have faith in them.

I dont think we're gonna get a great turf war game because Splatoon 4 was most likely already in pre-production before the Grand Fest, and they are just choosing what aesthetic to wrap the game in. They probably have a bunch of storylines planned out too and now they can get to work on the next game. That's just how game development works, especially Nintendo ones where gameplay is first and story is second.

The results of the final Splatfest of each game do make an impact but not THAT big of an impact. Callie vs. Marie decided who was gonna play the villain role in the next hero mode as they already placed down the set up for that story line in the songs Tide Goes Out and Bomb Rush Blush, as well as the Splatfest dialogue creating tension between the two.

Marie won so the developers gave Callie some angst, and she strolled down to Octo Canyon, said to good ol' Octavio "Hey I wanna be evil and stuff." And Octavio was like, "aight sick yo. But you gotta wear these hypnotic shades first tho." And Callie was like "COOL! :D"

Chaos vs. Order impacted what the next game was gonna look like aesthetic wise, and even then it's not as extreme as a lot of people envisioned. Splatsville is Inkopolis but basically... a little bit more chaotic and clearly not as wealthy of a city as Inkopolis. Deep Cut's aesthetics and personality were based on the theme of chaos, we would have probably gotten a three person Idol group regardless but what team won in Splatoon 2 impacted what they were gonna look like. The rest of Splatoon 3 is just regular ol' Splatoon. It's not a crazy Mad Max chaotic land like what some were expecting and that Inkopolis was gonna be up in smoke.

And, of course, the losing team was yet again the central theme of the villain, this time, the idea of Order itself and even then its different from how Callie vs. Marie played out. Marina becomes Marina Agitando at the start of the story to get it out of the way and to subvert expectations. And then the real villain, Overlorder takes centre stage.

I dont think we're gonna see the whole "losing team becomes evil" thing because its a tired old trope and it created so much just.... bullshit in the community, I'm gonna be so real. Like you know this already and my stances on Hypno Callie and what people say about her but... I digress!!

I wanna end off my rambles by saying that the best part of Team Past winning, is that Callie and Marie got to win TOGETHER! It feels like the perfect cap to their arcs and it feels... good.... you know? It just, makes me happy that these two girls are just finally happy and are on each other's wavelengths so well. They even show that in Blushing Tide but ive already gushed about that song.

I feel like thematically Team Past/Squid Sisters winning feels.... perfect? It feels... right? I guess? Starting off in darkness and hate, fighting each other, coming together after being reminded of the good times they've had, healing their broken bond, finally winning... as a team...

I think im taking the loss pretty well LMAO! I mean I was on the winning team of Chaos vs. Order so I'm perfectly fine with coming in second place.

[soobnny]

summer strike — hwang hyunjin.

trope. strangers to lovers. found family. comfort fic. heavily inspired by the kdrama

synopsis. having had enough of your life in the big city, you head to a small town where you meet a local librarian who feels a lot like love

word count. 23k words

warnings. drinking alcohol, curse words, mentions of loneliness

note. it’s out it’s out! this kdrama might be my favorite and means a lot to me so i just had to write something inspired by it. it’s basically the written form but condensed with a few changes so credits to the kdrama. i’d rly appreciate any feedback :)

one.

It happened without warning.

As you stand behind the glass doors of the building you work at, rain splits before your eyes. Drip by drip, and then a downpour. You suppose you should’ve checked the Weathers app before deciding to work overtime tonight.

You ponder over waiting it out, but there is no place to go but the train station before it takes its last trip. It’s urgent to get back to your empty apartment where it isn’t rainy and it isn’t windy and the world isn’t ending. So, you run towards the only direction you know in this city, even as rain pours over the streets.

Your soles feel heavy by the time you arrive, but you don’t allow yourself the moment to rest as you swerve through the crowds of people to get to the train doors before it closes. You wish to see a time when silence ghosts the usually busy station, but you don’t have the time. You never do. Always rushing. Always tired.

The watch on your wrist reads 8:21, and it’ll only be a few minutes before a wave of office workers litter the narrow space of the train. When they finally do, the first thing you discern is their terrible body odor—dried up sweat with a tinge of alcohol. It no longer surprises you, so used to the fuckery that is your life.

Instead, you plug in your earphones to drown out their voices, listening to the kind of music that drags you back to a childhood memory. It sounds like popsicles, like wind blowing through your hair as you’re being pushed from the swing, like running on concrete barefooted, like the laughter of someone you love.

Now, you live in a city of strangers.

On the next stop, an old woman walks in. No one makes a move to give up their seat—too tired, too selfish, looking anywhere but the old woman. You think of how small humanity really is as you get up and gesture for her to take your seat instead. She has gone through too many years of her life to stand stuck between the terrible stench of office workers.

She holds a sweet smile as she thanks you. You don’t remember the last time someone smiled at you like that. Silver linings.

When you finally make it home, it’s nearly 9pm. This is what working 9-6 is like in the city. You live off your co-workers taking advantage of your work ethic, your boss’s bad breath yelling into your ear, and never coming home on time.

This has happened yesterday. It will happen again tomorrow.

It’s always the same. The same routine, over and over without progress. You feel like you’ve messed up somewhere. You used to have ambitions, but now you’re just a fragment of the person you used to be. The city was supposed to lead somewhere. It was supposed to be promising. But, the same tired eyes walk down the same path everyday in a dead end.

You don’t know where you went wrong.

You lay in your bed, still soaking wet, with a painful cry waiting to erupt from your throat. You hate that there’s no longer time to create happiness. It’s too late, and minutes from now, you will be asleep.

You stare at the ceiling, as you do every night before you fall asleep, and the only sounds that accompany you are the loud honks of the cars outside and your stomach grumbling. No one calls you to dinner. No one holds you to keep you warm.

It’s so lonely here.

The feeling of a hug is something you don’t see yourself remembering so you press your back further against your bed to mimic the feeling of an embrace. It doesn’t feel right, but it’s the closest thing you can get after the mistake you made of thinking you were made for the city.

Though, as you keep staring at the ceiling, you start to feel sick. You don’t think you can handle this rotting anymore. You refuse to believe this fate is by design, not when you feel like this. With tears you didn’t even notice dried up on your cheeks, you make a decision. There is nothing else you can do here, and this will be your last night in the city. So, you do something you have not done in years, you pull your backpack that’s been collecting dust and throw in as much clothes as you can.

You feel you’ve been cruel to yourself for allowing this to happen for years. The next day, you don’t wake up at the usual time. You spend the night in, and you quit your job once they call. They don’t deserve you there.

As for your belongings, you decided to only keep what could fit in your backpack. Cleaning up the house, you realized that you bought a lot of things; mugs you bought on a whim just because they were pretty, dishes that you only used once to host a house welcoming party, clothes you forgot even existed. The selection process was much more difficult than any job interview. Useless items got sold as soon as you posted them online.

You let go of your apartment and jump on the first train out, leaving behind the bustles and the buildings of the city. Seoul is too much for an unemployed person like you.

The sound of the train pollutes your ears as you step in, the voice of the intercom telling passengers to let people out first before walking into the train. And as the train moves away, you watch the city grow smaller and smaller. You don’t bother looking back.

The little town you're heading to is unfamiliar, but the path before is even more so.

There’s a heartbeat.

two.

Nobody ever visits.

In the city, you learned early on that it was a dog eat dog world. Your kindness can only go so far until it becomes the perfect tool to take advantage of you. They liked to call it survival of the fittest, the Darwinian evolutionary theory. It’s something that’s taught early in high school, often forgotten the year after, yet it’s a theory you continue to use long after everyone else has moved on to other things in life. You’d always found it interesting how it flawlessly captured Seoul’s mechanism of natural selection—the one most adaptable to change is the one that survives.

Nobody knocks on your door to greet you there. Nobody wishes you well. For as long as you can remember, you’d always had to fight, always aboard a ship on rough waters that you’d almost forgotten how a quiet shore sounds like.

You suppose this is why there was no warning when a knock sounds on your door. You hadn’t expected anyone at your door.

The morning was spent carving out a new life for yourself in Angok, running away from the sounds of the city and exploring the place you’d soon call home. There aren’t many establishments here, most of them run by families who have been here far longer than you ever have. You take note of the small convenience store just where you live in case you were feeling too lazy to run to the farmer’s market just by the town center. Small things first, afraid to hear the bustle of buildings follow their way to where you are.

By 2 in the afternoon, you had retreated back to the small apartment you’d rented out. Outside, the wind was getting stronger, making the waves collide harshly with the shore. You think you’d have stayed out longer if the gust of wind hadn’t flapped your clothes around violently. Two in the afternoon, with nothing left to do, when the door knocks.

Knock, knock.

Your heart rate speeds up at the sound. Could the city have followed you all the way here?

With heavy feet, you fight against the voice in your head to greet whoever is at your door. By best case, they’d probably mistaken your quaint apartment for someone else’s.

You twist the doorknob carefully, door creaking when it opens and you’re met with the sight of someone with the most peaceful face and the most perfect set of teeth. His eyes are welcoming as he waves at you in greeting, hair messily swept back with a few strands falling on his forehead almost as if they were designed to be.

“Hi!” You squeak out, eyes nervously wandering back and forth between the man and what you could only assume was his parked truck just by the front of your apartment. “I think you have the wrong apartment.”

“Oh! My apologies. Is this not where (Name) lives?” Your heartbeat picks up its pace again, and your hand around the doorknob starts to feel a little clammy for the fear of his intentions.

“It is actually. Um, how do you know my name?” You try to mask the fear in your tone, but the man easily picks up on it. And if it wasn’t for the situation, you think you would’ve laughed when he comically takes long strides to back up a little bit. He looks silly with his widened eyes and parted lips.

“I’m sorry, that must’ve sounded really creepy. I’m Chan! I live just around here, and my mom just rented you this house? The previous owner ran away with all the furniture, so I brought some so it doesn’t feel so empty.”

Chan flashes you a bright smile, angling himself a little so his truck is in full view.

It solicits a sigh of relief out of you, gripping hand on the doorknob dropping as you feel a little safer. You’d been ready to shut the door. Almost defensive. Almost letting his words fall into mumbles.

“I apologize again. I didn’t mean to scare you.” His tone is soft, genuine even as he scratches the back of his head and bows a little. It’s a strange sight the man with the kind smile. Strange that it only occurs to you now how long you’d gone without seeing a smile so soft in a long time. After all your years in the city, you had almost forgotten the sight of genuineness being directed at you.

“It’s alright. I’m just… a little…” The words fall on your mouth. Frankly speaking, you don’t know how to explain your own behavior. Nervous? Afraid? Defensive? You don’t really know. You feel like a stranger in your own body.

Chan is quick to dismiss it when it seems that you don’t have the intention to finish your sentence. There is no pressure to come up with an excuse here. “Come in. The wind must’ve been harsh on you.”

Pulling the door back a little wider, you invite Chan into your empty apartment, and after asking you twice if it was okay, he finally obliges. As he makes his way inside, he takes the furniture he had brought with him—back and forth, and back and forth from the truck until everything was inside.

He doesn’t even let you lift a finger.

“Sit anywhere.” You make your way to your kitchen to grab him a glass of water, emptying the bottle you had just bought down to its last few drops. You try to take as long as you can in the kitchen in nerve of the small talk that was bound to happen when meeting strangers. Though, your walls start to look at you reproachfully, and you realize you’d been gone far too long to be called disrespectful.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” You hand him the glass, sitting adjacent to him. He simply shakes his head, thanking you instead as he takes the glass from you with both his hands, careful not to touch you in case it makes you uncomfortable.

“I hope this is enough.” Chan motions over towards the pieces of furniture he had brought with him—a couch, a few chairs, and a table for now. “I have some more, but it didn’t really fit in my truck.”

You allow yourself to smile at him, though your eyes fail to meet his for more than five seconds. You don’t know what to say, and something akin to an itch starts to eat at your brain the way a caterpillar does with leaves, one bite then another, pressuring you to say something to satiate the silence.

Chan saves your brain from being chewed away.

“I hope you don’t have a hard time settling in.” He finishes the water you’d offered him before he continues, “I live just 2 apartments away if you need anything. I’ll see you around?”

You nod your head, following him out of the door, and you can only hope you hadn’t scared him away already. You manage to meet his eyes one last time as you move to shut the door, polite smile on your face as he turns back one last time.

“Ah, before I forget… I noticed you had a lot of books with you. There’s a library just a few blocks away in case you were interested.”

“Oh. Thank you. I’ll be sure to check it out.” With one last bow, you gingerly close the door behind you as he finally drives off.

Chan. He feels comfortable despite only knowing him for a few minutes, almost like a caring older brother you never had. You hope to know him more.

As you turn back around, you look at your apartment a little more closely this time, inspecting how the pieces of furniture look, decorating what once was an empty space. It looks more like a home now. You should’ve thanked the man more, you fear you didn’t say it enough.

You brush the thought off and spend the rest of the day cleaning.

three.

It takes you almost a week to go to the library Chan had suggested.

You had promised yourself to finish the book you brought with you first, before committing to new stories and new horizons. Though, it proved difficult as you have always been the type to take more than you can bargain for—purchasing books after books only to leave them behind on a dusty shelf.

But, new places call for new habits, and you vowed to leave that inclination behind.

When you step outside, a wispy curtain of clouds cover the skies. It’s a lovely weather to be outside in, with the summer breeze floating about. Not too cold. Not too sticky.

The air in the city has always been tangled with some form of pollution. Dirty and suffocating. It’s nice to have a change in pace. Being kind to nature, you find, has you reaping the benefits of basking in its beauty. They don’t litter her land with buildings here.

On the way to the public library, you pass by the market where a multitude of people line up, selling more than you can name—fruits and vegetables, homegrown plants, fish, textiles of clothing, brooms, almost everything.

The old and young gather alike, children running around to help their parents, office workers taking a break from their job to buy street food from the vendors. It’s colorful and vibrant, almost fiesta-like that only the people of Angok can radiate.

“(Name)?” A familiar voice has you ripping your eyes from an array of freshly baked cookies, turning towards the origin of the sound to find Chan waving at you.

“Chan, hi!” You reply shyly, yet a little less reserved than when you had first met him.

He looks the way he did a few days ago when he showed up on your door, though more sweaty as he puts down the final box of fruits they had loaded up on his truck. He’s dressed in a loose tank top, you assume to be more efficient in his job, and the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead are more visible the closer he gets to where you’re standing.

Chan definitely stands out with his height, and the way he smiles so easily.

“What are you doing here?” He asks, hands wiping at the side of the shorts he’s wearing.

“I’m actually going to the library… the one you talked about. Though, I’m not quite sure I’m headed the right way?” You try to mask your embarrassment with a short laugh, and his eyes brighten at the way you had taken his suggestion.

His stature lights up in the same manner, clasping both his hands together and replying, “Ah, if you can wait a minute, I can walk you there. I have to deliver a box of oranges there, anyway.”

“Really? I’d really appreciate that actually. Thank you.” You smile politely, and he gestures for you to follow him back to his truck where a man is waiting for him.

The stranger is carrying way more than he should be, about to jokingly boast about his strength to Chan when he takes an abrupt step. An earthquake rumbles in the way a box falls from his shoulders, hitting the pavement and bursting open—almost in slow motion as apples and oranges roll out.

“Shit!” He exclaims with his whole chest, and he immediately bows in apology at the elders around him who look disapprovingly at his choice of language.

“Ah, Jisung.” Chan mumbles, jogging forward to grab the fallen fruits that are still rolling on the pavement. A few onlookers help, much to the embarrassed boy’s dismay, and you quickly bend down to grab at the ones nearest to you.

“Sorry.” His tone is abashed, loading fruits back in the box and setting it aside. Chan simply pats him on the back in fondness.

“Wait, who’s this?” It’s only now he notices you, standing behind Chan with a few fruits in your arms which you hand to him. “Wait, wait, wait. I know, wait give a second.” He continues.

You can hear a faint chuckle from Chan.

“You’re (Name)! Right? You recently moved here?” The sheepish grin on his face is quickly replaced with a look of interest tangled with excitement, forgetting about his ordeal with the fruits in favor of greeting you.

You wonder if news travels as fast as his expression changes in this little town.

“Woah, easy Ji. You’re gonna scare her.” Jisung takes a step back, suddenly aware of how much personal space he’s taking away from you.

“I’m Jisung, Chan’s super handsome and cool friend.” His enthusiasm makes up for his clumsiness, waving at you before suddenly grabbing a plastic container from a big blue cellophane sitting by the side of the box he had dropped. “Here, my mom’s taking up an interest in baking lately. She’s not very good, but please have it as a welcoming gift from me.”

You take the container from his hands, bowing in thanks before meeting his crinkled eyes. Does this boy ever stop smiling?

“Thank you, really. I’d introduce myself but, it seems… you already know my name.”

His unwavering kindness takes you by surprise, just like everyone else in this village. And you’re about to thank him again when he excuses himself to help who you assume to be his mother, who is grumpily carrying a new batch of her baked concoctions.

“So, the library?” And then it’s Chan’s smile again. This time, he has with him a small box of the oranges he told you he’d deliver. You snap out of your far-away look to follow him through the streets.

It’s a short walk, brisker than you thought, and Chan sets the box down on a wooden table just outside of the public library where a young man waits for him—impatience clear on his face.

“Finally. Took you long enough, old man.” The boy opens the box, grabbing an orange from the pile and inspecting it before letting out a satisfied hum when it seems to have met his criterion.

“What do you even need all these oranges for, anyway?” Chan inquires, looking down at the crouched figure of the boy.

“Oranges have vitamin C, which plays a major role in preventing age-related mental decline.” He states matter-of-factly, standing up from his previous position. “Something you can’t relate to, obviously.”

The older boy doesn’t take anything to heart. Instead, you find the same fondness on his face, the one he wore when Jisung had dropped that box earlier.

“Well, I’ll get going then. Will you be okay here?” Chan looks back at you, a huge question mark of an expression decorating his features to ask if it was alright for him to get back now and leave you there.

The younger boy is long gone now, having retreated back into the library with his oranges.

“Oh, yes, yes, of course, sorry. Thank you again.” You smile, and he continues to wave goodbye until he’s no more than a distant figure.

The building is three stories tall, and you have to walk a flight of stairs to get to the library on the second floor. But it’s quiet, and you liked the change of pace from the vibrancy outside to the sudden tranquility inside.

It provides a safe barrier for when you want to be alone with your thoughts, something you never had in the city.

The inside of the library is cold, but the sun reflects through the panels of the windows just right so that it isn’t freezing. It’s as inviting as it is outside, and you’d go as far as saying the friendliness of the library was similar to that of Chan’s warm welcome for you. It isn’t the biggest room, and its run-down nature was particularly striking, but it isn’t something you mind. The cheap furniture and the slight discoloration of wood gave the place a character of its own—like this library has stood for generations and has protected centuries worth of knowledge from the books it holds.

It reminds you of a scene from Avatar the Last Airbender, when they find a lost library with all the knowledge in the world. And the boy with the obsession for oranges can be Wan Shi Tong, the giant owl spirit who’s tasked with collecting information and protecting the Spirit Library.

The door sounds and the floor beneath you creaks as you walk through the room. Though, it isn’t loud enough to catch the attention of the boy you had seen earlier, or as you liked to call him, Wan Shi Tong. He simply calls out an obligatory “welcome”, before going back to the book he’s reading.

The closer you got to the shelves, the more it smelt of books. It’s a nice addition to the ambiance, the scent of pages roaming around and escaping past the ventilation.

You go through the bookshelves, hand moving along their spines. So many books and every single one you wanted to read, even those in foreign languages.

You like this place, you decide. It’s filled with a quiet that allows breathing space, not simply an absence of noise, but a comforting stillness that isn’t easy to replicate. You might come here more often, make it part of a new routine you’re crafting for yourself.

Back in Seoul, you woke up at 6am like clockwork. You shower, eat when you can, go to work, overtime, and go home. Repeat. It’s to the point of exhaustion that the first time you slept in felt like your body was catching up on all the rest it’s been denied, and now it’s being given a space to breathe.

Reaching the end of the shelves, you’re subjected to the sight of broad shoulders and long black hair, standing still as the figure moves to return some books into their slots. They must work here. Should you inquire about how to make a library card? They already seem way friendlier than Wan Shi Tong.

“Excuse me miss?” They give no sign of having heard you. “Miss?”

When he turns around, you’re thinking of all possible ways to move out at this very instant. The boy, whom you had mistaken for a woman, looks at you with slightly widened eyes as if not having expected you to have spoken to him. While that isn’t reason enough to warrant your sudden thoughts of running away, his beauty surely is.

He’s hypnotizing, a beauty that Aphrodite must’ve blessed upon him, the kind that leaves a lasting impression. You’ll meet him once and never forget about him. His hair falls perfectly just above his shoulders, and a mole sits on his face like it was always designed to be there.

You’re embarrassed—if calling him miss wasn’t enough, you’re unsure if the staring did anything to help. Without another glance, you bow and mutter a quick apology before turning to walk away from where he’s stood.

“I’m sorry.” You say, for extra measure even when your back’s already turned from him.

Wan Shi Tong it is.

“Hello.” You speak quietly, and the boy once again looks up from his book. He looks like he’s studying for something.

“How can I help you?” He doesn’t have that false customer service voice, the one that’s overused and far from genuine. Instead, he speaks to you with a sort of passive tone—but it’s not too much that it sounds condescending.

“How do I make a library card here?”

He puts down his pen. “You need an address in Angok for that.”

“Ah, I do have one.” You smile, a little shy, yet relieved that your sudden intrusion of their village hasn’t spread to the entirety of the population yet.

“Did you move here?” He inquires, to which you nod your head in response. “Hm, alright. Hyunjin will help you make one. I’m Seungmin, by the way.”

“(Name).” You introduce yourself back, thanking him for his help as you turn around to only be greeted by Aphrodite’s son, though, you suppose you now know him as Hyunjin.

You can do this.

Hyunjin quickly makes his way behind the desk on the seat next to Seungmin’s so he can hand you a piece of paper you assume you have to fill out for the library card. Though, he still doesn’t say a word. He only points at the parts you need to fill in before going back to another one of his tasks behind the computer screen.

It’s hard not to look at him, and you’d lie if you said you didn’t feel anything when he looked back at you. Though, the feeling is overpowered by the embarrassment of possibly causing him any form of discomfort. You don’t want it to eat away at you until you’re avoiding the library.

You don’t want to avoid the library.

“By the way…” You start suddenly, keeping your voice down. “I’m sorry again for… earlier.”

Silence greets you, as he panics to grab the tiny camera for your library card. “And thank you for helping me right now.”

You seem to only be digging deeper and deeper into your own grave when he still doesn’t respond to you, simply stares as he bows his head slightly to acknowledge you. And it seems that awkwardness spreads like a virus when Seungmin’s head peeks from his book to witness the funny exchange before him. He looks like he’s trying his best to not laugh at whatever the hell is happening.

Then a shutter sounds as you’re filling up your paperwork, unaware he’d already taken your picture. You can only let out a nervous laugh to try and mask the silence that suddenly feels a little suffocating under the prying eyes of Seungmin.

“Here you go.” You hand over the piece of paper, and Hyunjin gives you a printed out library card in return. “Thank you.”

You suppose you can come back the next day to actually start reading. Meeting four new people and embarrassing yourself on top of everything is a little taxing, and you know the weather outside and the pretty cherry blossom trees will help put your mind away enough that you’ll feel better by tomorrow.

The bell rings as you leave, just as it did when you entered and you find yourself smiling at the breeze and the possibility of new friendships.

You told yourself to live a life you won’t regret.

You can do it.

There is excitement when you think of what will happen from now on. Time is all you have now.

As you walk outside, you map out where Chan had led you earlier to make it back to your rented home. If you were gonna come to the library on most days, you might as well have the path memorized until you can guide yourself there blindfolded.

You feel something fluffy just by your legs before you see it, eyes too focused ahead to only now realize you’re being followed by a long-haired Chihuahua. A chuckle escapes your mouth as you bend down to greet the dog. “Hello there, who are you?”

A bark follows, but not a threatening one.

“Come here.” He follows, little paws jumping up to rest on your bent knees with a wagging tail. Almost immediately, you coo at the sight, supplying him with all the head rubs he could possibly ask for.

“Where did you come from, hm? Why are you all alone?” The pitch of your voice is definitely higher, speaking to the dog with a tone similar to one you’d use when talking to a baby. “So cute.”

“I’ll get going now, okay? Go back home too!”

Four padded steps continue to follow you, and the culprit is exactly who you think it is.

“You can’t follow me around. You have to stay here!” Phony scolding, to try and get the dog to stop following you. You don’t want their owner to worry.

“Hey, stop following!” You laugh, starting to jog away from the chihuahua, but he refuses to listen. Instead, he starts running to keep up with you. “Stop it!”

Turns out, it’s hard to convince a dog to stop following you. Especially when he’s made his way into your own home, walking with you for the entirety of your path. The little dog doesn’t have a tag, no owner to contact, and it’s nearing night that you don’t feel safe letting him sleep outside in the inky dark. So, you invite the dog inside who walks around like he owns the place.

You sigh, though never one of indignation, as you sit down on the couch Chan had lended you, and the chihuahua quickly follows to lay himself on your lap. Curled up. Safe.

“What should I call you? Hm? You’re pretty stubborn.” You look down at the dog who’s looking back at you as if having understood anything that you’re saying. “Berry? No?”

It takes you a couple more tries before deciding on Kkami—when the chihuahua’s tail starts wagging aggressively and he attempts to lick your face at the mention.

“Okay, Kkami then. You like that? Hm?”

Your night routine doesn’t change much, there’s just an addition of a curled up Kkami sleeping beside you on your bed. But, you find that you don’t mind it one bit. It’s less lonely like this, and it’s nice to have some company.

four.

You return to the library’s stillness the next day after finishing up some chores—the laundry, the cleaning, everything. Washing your clothes was something unfamiliar to you, as you’d always just sent them to the laundry services near the place you stayed at. There was never time to do them yourself.

It’s a totally new experience when all you have is time now. You keep burning the food you make, but eat it the same. And hanging up your wet clothes outside took forever, but you manage. You just have to remind yourself there’s a book waiting for you in the public library.

The walk to the library is easier now, but the commotion you’d caused yesterday still echoes in your head. It engraves itself even as you make it to the door, hand hovering over the handle. But, there’s no point in delaying. You’ll be here most days so it’s best not to avoid anyone. So, without another thought, you open the door and step into the quiet of the library.

The bell rings as it always does.

“Welcome,” is what Seungmin says, just as he did yesterday. You greet him back, smiling politely as you make your way to the shelves. The room is almost empty. There’s only one other person in the library, a book with black hair on his own table, and he seems to be in his own world.

Hyunjin is also seated at a table, books and paper plastered on the wooden surface as he repairs torn pages. An uninterrupted routine he’s probably grown accustomed to.

“Hello.” You decide to greet the boy as you pass by the table he’s occupying. His hair is swept back today, and it looked like it smelt good.

His eyes light up when he sees you.

“You’re hello again.” He tilts his body so he can look at you, bowing a little. Though, his words come out croaked, and you’re unsure if you heard him right.

“Sorry?” Hyunjin doesn’t repeat himself. Instead, his face grimaces at how he had failed to utter the phrase he had practiced—hello, you’re here again.

But it isn’t his choice of words that surprises you, it’s that he spoke to you at all. His tone is soft, and completely unexpected after the silence you had received the day before. It’s the first words he ever tells you, and you find yourself smiling at the small progress.

A voice in your head tells you that you want to know him more.

So, after a few days of fleeting eye contact and small smiles from afar, you decide to come back to the library.

The afternoon air outside is beautiful, as it always has been when you walk outside, and there’s a mental checklist you go through in your head. Forgetting is so easy, so you try not to.

Buying Kkami dog food was first on the list of things you have to do on your way home from the library. The little chihuahua doesn’t seem to mind being left behind. In fact, Kkami loved his little space on the couch. Though, you still promise to be back as soon as possible, wanting to walk him outside while the sun is still up.

Hyunjin is seated at the same table as he did when he first talked to you, books and pages neatly plastered again when you walk into the library.

Today, you’ll try your second attempt at talking to him.

“Do you… repair all the books yourself?” You ask, looking down at the multitude of pages he’s tending to and the stack of books waiting to be repaired in a trolley parked at the side of his table.

“Yes.” He smiles upon answering, and it’s one that radiates pride in the work he does.

Your lips quaver slightly, trying to find words to say to him. You wonder if it’d be okay with him if you wanted to help out. The work looks interesting, and a little soothing. Would that make him uncomfortable?

Fiddling with the ends of your shirt, you stab your hesitance straight in the chest. “Can I try too?”

His mouth falls agape, and then he’s nodding his head, gesturing for you to take the seat adjacent to him. Hyunjin grabs an extra spatula, passing it to you before smiling shyly down at the books and pages.

“You take the spatula, and spread the glue evenly.” Hyunjin looks up at you before grabbing a page and his own spatula so you can mimic his gestures. “Then, you place the page at its original location.”

He closes up the book he’s working on, patting down at the spine so the glue sticks well. “That’s it.”

“Oh.” You look at his work with fascination, smiling as he sets the book aside. “You’re kind of like a doctor. It’s like you’re applying medicine to the books.”

He grins at your words, eyes averting from your eye contact as he shyly grins. You know he has pure love for what he does, and it warms your heart. It’s a sentiment you wish you had for your job back then.

“I think…” You fix your gaze to your hands that are propped on the table, intertwining your fingers together. “I’m in love.”

Hyunjin’s inability to look you in the eyes seems to falter the moment you speak. His mouth falls back into an ‘o’, and the tip of his ears are awfully red.

“Wait, sorry. What I mean is… I think I’m in love with the process of fixing up old things.” With slightly widened eyes, you gesture at the book he had just fixed cartoonishly, chewing on your lips a little embarrassedly.

The boy in front of you nods, fingers pausing over his task; you turn to look at him, and you’re relieved to see his smile returning.

“I see.” He chuckles, grabbing onto the pages that still need to be glued and grouping them together, tapping them lightly on the table so they align.

“Let me help you.” You reach out to the remaining pages, and Hyunjin looks at you with an expression you don’t quite recognize, but you know has no ill-intent. He always looks this way. Always natural, never forced.

As you quietly work on the task, Hyunjin can’t stop himself from looking at you from time to time. He thinks it’s to monitor your work, but does that excuse the way he stares at the small smile tugging on your lips?

“Has anyone told you how you resemble Aphrodite?”

“Me?” He asks, eyes darting you and the book he’s working on. You grin at him, nodding your head.

“Yes. Goddess of Beauty in Greek Mythology. You know her, right?”

“I do.” He smiles back easily, willing the blush that’s obviously creeping on his cheeks away.

“When I first met you, that character came to mind.” You mumble as you stare at the page in your hands, furrowing your eyebrows as you try to match it to its proper book. You pause, catching yourself before you can misplace the page, and Hyunjin looks up at the sudden silence.

“Which one was this again?” Sheepish. You think you’ve embarrassed yourself more times than not in this library.

You don’t notice Hyunjin leaving his seat, sauntering over to where you’re seated so he can peer at the page and at the books in front of you. “May I?”

His tone is kind, and it didn’t seem as if he were upset that you didn’t know where to put the page. On the contrary, he made you feel as if it was okay that you didn’t know. Quick to reassure.

“I don’t memorize all of these either. I only remember the names and places in the books, and I like drawing to keep an image of them in my head too.” He’s arranging the pages now, putting the corresponding paper atop the book they belong to. “Why don’t you try this one?” The way he says it is so full of expectation, leaning down to hand you a page and you can only smile up at him.

“I’ll give it a try.” You sputter out for words to say, taking the page from him gratefully.

Seungmin watches from a distance, lifting an eyebrow in curiosity as he observes his usually quiet friend speak more words than usual. Though, the observation makes his heartstrings contract.

It goes on like this for a while, silence engulfing the pair of you as you work to repair the books together. Hyunjin showed no signs of you being a bother to him, even reaching out to help most of the time—appreciative of your time. No sound follows, just the beating of your hearts and the rustling of paper.

Until a loud bang rumbles in the sky, interrupting the four of you in the room (even the freckled boy at the corner table who is at the library again today).

Your reaction is instantaneous, jumping back in surprise at the sudden interruption of silence, but a smile replaces the initial shock when you see the gentle pitter patter of rain from the windows.

Hyunjin slips himself out of his seat, rushing to close them so the books don’t get wet as Seungmin goes to help, all while you stare at the drizzle.

You’re reminded of the last day you stepped foot in the city.

“Oh!” You suddenly exclaim when the sound of the rain increases in volume. The burst of rain as the sky splits open reminds you of your laundry and how the initial heat they absorbed must’ve been washed off by the rain.

“I have to go.” You quickly excuse yourself from the boy who has just returned from closing the windows, smiling for the last time before rushing down the stairs to start heading home. Though, you falter in your step. You don’t have an umbrella with you. Should you just make a run for it? You think the jacket you’re wearing can help at least a little bit.

You sigh, about to step into the rain when a hand reaches for your shoulder. Warm and gentle, almost feather-like even. You spin around, only to be met with Hyunjin’s goddess-like features.

“Hyunjin?”

He clears his throat, pulling out his umbrella before handing it to you. “Use this. You’ll get sick.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I can just use my jacket!” Hyunjin doesn’t seem to budge at your rejection, simply smiling as he places the umbrella in your grasp.

“I think an umbrella will do a better job than your jacket.” You laugh a little, not knowing he was capable of teasing. It was cute. He was cute.

“Thank you! I’ll give it back to you tomorrow.” You don’t know why your heart is thumping so fast at the small gesture, but you reason it’s because you’re worried about your laundry. Though, a voice in your head is telling you that’s not quite the answer.

He disappears back into the library, and you shield yourself with his umbrella as you sprint back home to tend to your now wet clothes. The rain smelt acidic as you put away your clothes, setting them aside as the sun seems still so far away in the distance. You’ll hang them back outside when the heat returns.

“Did the thunder scare you?” You pick up Kkami in your arms, cradling him as you try to shield him away from the sudden loudness of thunder and lightning. “I’m sorry I couldn’t walk you out in the sun today.”

The rain is louder in your house, and it’s only when your own stomach grumbles do you remember you were supposed to buy Kkami dog food on your way back home.

Forgetting is so easy.

“I’ll go buy you some food, okay? You must be starving.” You rub the back of his ears, setting him down on the couch before grabbing the umbrella Hyunjin had lent you once again. Though, thankfully, the downpour stops just as quickly as it had started. You’re already inside the family-run convenience store near you when the sky clears out and the sun starts to peek behind the clouds again.

“What can I get you?” You turn to find a shorter man emerge from the back of the store, warm smile etched on his face as he pads his way to where you’re standing.

“I hope the rain wasn’t too hard on you.” He continues. His tone is kind as he waits for you to reply.

“Ah, it was okay.” Though initially caught off guard at the sudden presence, you return the smile gently. “I was wondering if you had any dog food?”

“We do!” He heads to a corner, and the way he grabs the bag of dog food punctuates his arms that you can only now see how big they are. His jawline is sharp too, noticing it the moment he turns that his side profile is visible to you.

He leans down to scoop up the bag in his arms, before heading back to you. “You’re the one who recently moved here, right?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” You hand him your payment before taking the bag in your arms, hugging it so the weight isn’t as heavy.

“Chan mentioned. I’m Changbin.” Changbin takes your payment, returning to you the change. “I hope we can be good friends.”

“(Name). It’s nice to meet you. I’ll… get going now!” You motion at the dog food in your hands, to tell him you still had a pup to feed at home before waving goodbye as you hurry back to your house.

There’s almost no rain now, the only sign that it had even drizzled was the acidic smell, the puddles that had formed on the concrete overtime, and the gentle trickle of water from one leaf onto the next.

Kkami is waiting for you at home. No one used to wait for you before.

five.

You come back to the library the next day, just like you said you would. This time, Kkami walks with you to make up for not being able to take him out under the sun yesterday. Though, you don’t expect the handwritten “temporarily closed” sign to be the first thing that greets you as you head for the door.

You place Hyunjin’s umbrella just by the handle, almost in an awkward manner as you continue to peer at the piece of paper taped on the door.

“They both went to Seoul for Seungmin’s test.” A voice behind you averts your attention to the same freckled boy from yesterday.

“Ohh…” You respond, nodding your head in understanding as you walk over to where he’s seated just outside the public library. “I was just gonna return Hyunjin’s umbrella.”

Felix seems surprised, but it only triggers his smile to grow wider than it already is.

“I’m Felix.” You blink slowly, shaking his hand when he stretches it out for you to take. When your hand meets his, he pulls you down to sit next to him. “And who’s this little boy?”

“This is Kkami.”

Felix is a nice guy, pulling Kkami up to cradle him in his arms. The first thing that catches your attention is his freckles—like constellations in the night, littering his face like stars do the sky. You love the stars, though, you don’t see much of them in the city because of the polluted air and the abundance of lights from the buildings that line up.

The boy resembles the very comfort you find in the cluster of stars, a calming quality in him as he smiles down at your dog.

But, just as much as he resembles the stars, he smiles like the sun. Perhaps it's the way his eyes form crescents and the way his lips curve that trigger the sight of the sun. But he’s blinding in the most calming way possible.

“Do you have somewhere else you need to be?” He asks, shots of espresso in the way he speaks. Deep and reverberating. How fitting the way his voice wakes you up like the sun.

“I think I’m just gonna walk Kkami around.”

“Do you mind if I walk with you a bit?” Felix puts your dog down, tilting his head to look at you that radiates so much friendliness. “I don’t really know what to do with the library closed.”

He offers like he’s already your friend.

You knew it was an exaggeration to call him a friend right away, but for you it was just that. Especially when he walks by your side, laughing and talking to you as if he’d known you forever.

“You know, it’s nice to hear Hyunjin talk more.” His lips curl into a lovely smile as he continues to accompany you and Kkami in your walk.

“What do you mean?” You ask, eyes trailing down to Kkami who’s padding ahead of the two of you.

“He doesn’t do too well with strangers, doesn’t even talk a lot with me. I think he’s only ever truly warmed up to Seungmin, so it’s nice to just hear him more.”

You blink in surprise at his words before lifting your hand to where it was staring at Kkami in favor of looking at Felix instead.

“Oh.” You don’t know what to say or how to respond to the sudden revelation he’s laying down on you, and he throws his head back in laughter at your speechlessness.

“Don’t worry, I just felt the need to tell you. You don’t have to say anything.”

It goes on like this more—Felix initiating conversation and talking about almost everything until he has to go home. You end your walk with an exchange of numbers and a promise of ice cream the next time you come to the library together.

When you get home, it’s already 6pm. Kkami falls asleep almost right away, and you’re left to do the little chores you have left for the day. You wonder what you’ll have for dinner.

You’re in the middle of preparing a meal when your phone buzzes where you left it.

Ring, ring.

Your brother never calls anymore. So when you receive a call, you weren’t expecting to find his caller ID on the screen. You thought it was gonna be Felix who forgot to tell you something.

“Hello?” You’re the one who speaks first.

You're a ball of nerves wondering why he’s calling you right now.

“Hey (Name). Are you doing okay?”

“Hey, is something wrong?”

“Hm? Can’t an older brother call his sister to check on her?” There’s a scuffle in the background of his end.

“You never call.” You say quietly, picking at the ends of your shirt as you stare at nothing in particular.

“Oh, hah. Well, the thing is… can you lend us some money? You can sell the ring mom gave you. Itt’s just… our son, all his friends are studying abroad every vacation, but he never went.”

Your brother sounds shameless in his request, as if your mother hadn’t given him everything when she passed. All you have left of her are pictures in your head and the ring she had gifted you. You’ve never worn it, but you kept her going-away present. It’s the only thing you have left of her, and it hurts that your brother even thought of selling it just so his son could go on a trip abroad.

This ring meant something to you. Something more than a trip to him.

“Is this your wife’s idea? Does she want me to sell the ring mom gave me?”

“That’s not it.” He sighs exasperatedly, and you know he’s running a hand down his face at how this conversation is going. “Don’t you feel bad that your nephew is losing confidence because he’s never been abroad before?”

“Hey…” A lump forms in your throat, the familiar hands of pain wrapping around your neck to strangle you into tears. “Do you even… know how I’m living right now?”

Your voice cracks, choking on your own words to know that your brother only calls when he needs something. He doesn’t care. He never has. A sob is brewing in your throat.

“I do! But…” He’s getting defensive now, voice raising so he can try to get his non-existent point across. “My family is short on money right now.”

Family. The word is unfamiliar. It left you the moment your mother passed, replacing itself with loneliness. With emptiness. The unfamiliarity makes your face scrunch in the way it does before a hideous sob leaves your mouth, but you will yourself to get yourself together. Just for another minute, while you’re still on the call with him.

“Am I not family?” You mumble almost incoherently.

You don’t think you can handle talking to him any longer, not when he treats you like a bank account he can solicit money from anytime. Not when the first call you receive from him in years is that of asking you to sell your mother’s ring, not even to ask if you were alright, how you were doing.

The strangers in Angok treat you far better than your own brother.

You hang up before he can say anything else.

He has already caused you unbearable pain, and the reminder of how alone you’ve been. You want the pain to go away, you’ve worked too hard only to let it come back in full force. And there is only one way you know that can take it all away, even just temporarily.

It’s how you find yourself at Minho’s small restaurant, two bottles of Soju empty, and a disoriented haze of the place around you.

Minho doesn’t make it a habit to stick his nose in anyone’s business, but when your wobbly legs attempt to grab a third bottle of Soju, he’s hurrying by your table to stop you. “I’ve just made up a non-existent rule that you can only have two bottles.”

He takes it away from you, and you immediately pout when he does, a whine brewing in your throat. You try to imitate the way Puss in Boots looks, when he widens his eyes to get what he wants, but to Minho—you just look absolutely ridiculous.

“I’ve never heard of that rule before.” You mumble dejectedly, staring at the Soju bottle that Minho’s whisking away and putting back.

“It exists now because you’re piss drunk, and I don’t know how you’ll be getting home.” He says, tone softer than it was when you had first walked in ordering your first bottle, as if not wanting to startle you.

“I’m not drunk!” You blink rapidly, abruptly getting up to which Minho sits you back down so you don’t topple over your own clumsy feet. He mumbles something about getting you water.

“Everything just looks funny right now.” Your words come out in a slur as you look at your surroundings with a curious eye. “But I’m not drunk.”

When he returns, you have your head rested on the table, cheek mushed against the surface as your eyes droop a little in sleepiness. Though, there’s an addition of someone new in his shop. Hyunjin looks at you confused, before he fixes his gaze on Minho as if asking him why you were moping around at one of his tables.

“Don’t look at me. I don’t even know who this is.” Minho says in mock surrender, though, it doesn’t take long before his features mimic that of a Cheshire Cat. “You’ll take her home safely, right?”

Minho quickly ushers the pair of you out, waking you up and pushing you in the direction of Hyunjin who holds out his arms in case your feet decide not to cooperate with you. He needs to close his shop.

“Are you okay?” His arms are still hovering around you, not quite touching you, but prepared to if you ever fall forward.

“Hyunjin? How did you come to find me from so far away?” Your eyebrows furrow together as you stare at the boy beside you, as if there was no way he was real and with you right now.

“I’ll walk you home, okay?”

“I’m a bit drunk. I’m a little bit drunk right now.” You mumble, head still hazy as your eyes blink blearily, feeling the need to inform him. Your legs feel extra wobbly.

“Right. Are you okay?” He pulls you back to his side when you stumble a little too far away, soft tone never changing. He looks at your puffy eyes in curiosity, frowning as he thinks of all the possibilities as to why you had been crying.

“Goodness.” You exclaim in your half-conscious state when you almost trip on something, immediately reaching to what’s nearest to you—Hyunjin’s arm.

“Hyunjinnieee…” You start to sway where you’re walking, clearing your throat as Hyunjin is left predicting what your next move is going to be (on top of wondering why your eyes are red and stingy).

Though, he most definitely doesn’t expect you to start singing.

“Why do you appear before my eyes whenever I’m drunk?” It’s loud, uncharacteristic of the you he’s met, and your arms are flailing around as if to act like a conductor in your own orchestra of sounds.

“You’re going home now, okay?” Your smile is loopy as you nod at his words, continuing to sing the same one line over and over again while skipping in your step.

Hyunjin is attentive to where you’re walking, scooping up a potted plant and setting it aside when you’re about to walk into it. “Careful.”

You tell him all sorts of stories as you head home—how you fell in love with the library, how you never thought you’d own a dog, how you’re glad you’re far away from the city.

He listens. To every single one of your stories, all while making sure you get home safely. He looks both sides before crossing the street, hand outstretched to an incoming car to slow it down as you carelessly walk across without so much as a glance.

“Hyunjin.” You suddenly stop in your tracks.

“Hm?” Hyunjin ushers you to keep moving, hand hovering on the small of your back as you start giggling in your dazed state.

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to ask you.”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay if I ask right now?”

“Sure.” He replies, arms dropping back to his sides.

“Do you think you can like me? I don’t think anyone likes me.”

A silence settles between the two of you right after you get the question out. Hyunjin pauses in his actions, staring at you as you keep marching forward to where you live.

He allows himself to ponder over your sudden question. He couldn’t quite explain how he felt about you, but he knows it’s good. He has surprised himself time and time again for willingly continuing conversation with a stranger, but Seungmin has stressed it was good for him.

You emit a type of radiance, one of comfort. Maybe it was the way you smile at him, so softly when people look at him strangely for not being able to speak to them right away. He has only spoken to you once, but he knows he wants to talk to you more.

He wants to get to know you more.

He gives you a fond smile as he catches up with you once more. Hyunjin doesn’t know the connotation behind your question, and he doesn’t know what premise his answer falls under either.

Still, he says, “I already do.”

“Oh, we’re here!” You yell out and immediately quiet down when you realize everyone around you must be asleep right now. “Sorry.” Now in a whisper as you look around sheepishly.

“Can you get in safely?” He questions, worry still eminent in the way he speaks, even as you nod your head to answer his question.

“Don’t worry about me. Bye bye!” When you slip into your home, you immediately fall face first on your mattress and fall asleep. Drinking can be so draining when the world around you spins.

You don’t think about the splitting headache waiting for you the next day.

six.

You're fucked.

This much is clear as you finally finish vomiting in your toilet, images from the night before flashing in your mind— the giggling, the stumbling, and poor Hyunjin. You can still hear his voice in your head, telling you to get in safely. You can still feel the way his hand hovered over your back to make sure you don’t fall over.

Well, shit. This is way beyond anything you’ve ever done, moving up to the number one spot of the list you liked to label ‘embarrassment’. Calling Hyunjin miss and forgetting which pages go to which book moves down a spot at the sudden entry of your drunk ass.

“Kkami, what do I do?” You groan, head falling back against the wall of your bathroom as you stare at the ceiling. Will a letter of apology suffice for the way he had to take you home last night despite his exhaustion of driving to the city?

“This is so embarrassing.” Kkami consoles you by curling up by your side, paw resting on your thigh before his whole head drops to lay atop your leg.

Hyunjin is so pretty too. He’s enchanting in the way he speaks, and the way his eyes sparkle naturally when he does the things he loves. He’s unstinting with his kindness too, never losing patience even as you took a long time to repair the books you had offered to help with. You don’t even know if you helped much, but he never made a move to stop you even as time passed and you were making little progress.

It’s easy to fall into your embarrassment, which is how you find yourself with a notebook in hand, thinking of how the hell you were going to apologize to him. You don’t think you have it in you to go up to him face-to-face and have to recall the events of the night.

You might as well write something.

“About what happened last night…” You look at your notebook with critical eyes, immediately scratching it out to think of a better way to start your note.

“I’m sorry, Hyunjin. I don’t know how to say this.”

The second candidate is just as bad as the first one.

With your chin on the palm of your hands, you rack your brain for every possible way to say sorry. It’s not like apologizing was anything new to you, it’s even become a habit in your work life for the past few years. Always doing something wrong. Always apologizing. Even if it was never your fault to begin with. Though, this time, you want it to be genuine. You don’t want to imitate the phony way you’ve said sorry before.

Your eyes are glazed as you stare at the piece of paper.

Hyunjin has a routine fixed, so you make it a point to reach the library at noon when he’s busy pushing a trolley full of books to return them to where they belong on the bookshelves. He only hears the bell ring when you walk into the library, like you always do.

Peering over the shelves, he finds himself smiling to himself when you wander inside the library. He peels his gaze away for a few seconds to return a few books to their spots, though, apparently that’s also the time it takes for him to hear the bell ringing again, to indicate that you had left just as quickly as you had walked in.

Tilting his head, Hyunjin backs away from his work to check his desk where a small note sits.

“I’m sorry…” with a small drawing underneath.

It looks like the work of a child, but Hyunjin could tell instantly that it was a portrait of you and him from the night before. It prompts a smile on his face, eyes flicking from the note to the door. He keeps the piece of paper in his drawer to think about later.

Hyunjin has never had the courage to strike while the iron was hot, but he finds himself walking out the public library in hopes of catching you before you’ve left.

He finds you seated on the bench outside, eyes trained on the screen of your phone with your legs outstretched.

“Excuse me.”

You almost drop your phone when you hear him, immediately standing up to greet him. He looks good, as he always does. His complexion shines even prettier under the sun. The natural lighting highlights his hair in that it looks more dark brown than black. And his smile. It’s a little less shy now, and more open.

“Thank you for the note… and the drawing.”

He sounds like an angel too. You’ve always found his voice pretty, in a different way from Felix’s deep ocean voice. His was gentle, soft, and way nicer than you remember it being.

You try to think of the right words to say, sputtering over whether you should bring back what had happened last night or simply accept his thanks.

Taking a deep breath, you nod your head. “You’re welcome.”

Hyunjin has his hands clasped together in front of him as you speak, rocking himself back and forth on the heel and soles of his feet.

“You must’ve come in safely, then.” You laugh a little at what he says, and it only makes his smile brighter.

“Yeah. I’m sorry again.” It makes you cringe when you think of your behavior, but Hyunjin doesn’t seem to mind at all when he puts his hand up as a motion for you to stop apologizing.

“Not at all. I’m just glad to know you’re okay.”

The statement has your cheeks warming up, staring at him and the bag of ice cream you had initially brought for you and Felix. He had texted you earlier saying he couldn’t make it, and promised that he’d be the one to buy the ice cream next time.

Ice cream can be a good peace offering.

Grabbing the bag, you lift it up and smile coyly at the boy. “Do you want some ice cream?”

Hyunjin’s eyes form into crescents at your offer, lips curling up into an easy smile as he makes his way to sit adjacent to you. It feels nice like this, sitting outside in the breeze with only the two of you as you hand him the ice cream flavor of his liking, the tree just behind you doing a great job at shielding you enough that the sun’s heat isn’t too hot, but is still there.

“You know, I prefer cone ice creams over popsicles.” You mention suddenly, looking down at your cone and peering at the popsicle he had chosen for himself. He hums at the information, eyes softening when you ask him the same thing, like his opinions matter to you. Like you want to get to know him too. “What about you?”

“I’m not a big…” He catches himself before he can continue. Hyunjin isn’t the biggest fan of ice cream, but he finds himself unable to reject your offer. It’s an opportunity to sit in this moment with you.

He’d eat ice cream over and over again if it meant being able to stay in this moment.

“Well, ice cream does taste good, but the apple flavor…” He finds that he has a hard time answering your question, pausing to ponder over his words. It has you giggling. He looks cute thinking his options over.

“You don’t have to answer me.”

“But this one is good.” He lifts the popsicle in his hand, taking a bite out of it to show that he was being truthful with his words.

You laugh this time.

“You know, I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing when I first got here. But, I found myself falling in love with the library.” Hyunjin looks at you when you speak, unlike his previous inability to maintain eye contact with you.

“You’ve actually told me that already.”

You tilt your head in confusion. “I have? When?”

“Back then.” He’s gesturing something with his hands, and you continue to stare at him to try and decipher what he was acting out. Though, it’s pretty quick to figure out once he pretends to drink out of a shot glass, and your eyes widen at the realization of when he was referring to.

“Back then?” You repeat, and he chuckles at the way you roll your head back in embarrassment.

He hums in confirmation.

“What else did I say? When I… you know…” You trail off, looking at him for answers, but not quite wanting to repeat the words. He takes the hint well.

He laughs, before shaking his head. “It wasn’t so much talking, but rather singing.”

“I sang?” You stare at him dumbfounded as you try and recall what exactly happened. “I actually sang?” You laugh out loud this time, and you fail to notice the way his entire face lights up at the sound.

“What did I sing?” You look shocked and confused, yet there’s a smile of amusement on your features when Hyunjin actually starts singing the melody you had the night before.

“Why…” He clears his throat. “Why do you appear before my eyes whenever I’m drunk?”

“Wait, stop! Oh my god. Please stop.” You reach forward, resting a hand on the table and leaning forward to get him to stop singing.

“Can you please forget about that entire night?” You bring your hands together almost begging, and he can only laugh in amusement at the way you’re reacting.

“I don’t really think about it that often—“

“You even sang the song!” You interrupt.

“That’s because you asked.” He lifts a hand to scratch at the nape of his neck, bashfully smiling.

“This is so embarrassing.” You hang your head, a wince of an apology soliciting itself from your throat as you swing your feet back and forth to physically cringe at yourself.

Seungmin arrives at that very moment, his own complaints spilling out and drowning yours out. He pauses when he finds Hyunjin outside with you, squinting his eyes suspiciously before letting it go in favor of complaining once again.

“They’re so annoying! They think they’re so high and mighty.” He drops at the seat next to Hyunjin, and you offer him the only ice cream you have left in your bag. You have no idea what he’s talking about, but it seems Hyunjin knows all about it.

“They won’t do it?” Hyunjin asks, and Seungmin all but sighs as he starts peeling the wrapper off the ice cream.

“I mean, I guess it’s not easy to come down here to listen to old people talk.” Seungmin takes an annoyed bite, throwing his head back. “They might make me write the article, too. And I have to do it tomorrow. Can’t someone else do it?”

An idea forms in his head.

Hyunjin looks at you gingerly, and Seungmin visibly perks up when he follows the boy’s line of sight. You clear your throat, suddenly breaking eye contact and looking anywhere but the two boys.

“Will you please do it?” He grins wickedly, whole body tilted to face you as he reaches out to grab your attention.

“Well, you see…” You mumble. “I only proofread when I was working at a publishing company.” You point out sheepishly between each bite at your ice cream, doing your best to not look at Seungmin.

“The fact that you proofread means you’re familiar with writing.”

"Still…” You trail off with your words, not knowing how to defend yourself any further when Seungmin is clasping his hands and begging you to help them do the work. “I’m just not very confident.”

“(Name).” Hyunjin calls, and you look at him in hopes that he has a plan in mind to save you from Seungmin’s request.

“Why do you appear before my eyes…”

Your mouth drops at his words.

“What did you say?” Seungmin questions, and you look back at the boy to subtly shake your head, as if trying to get him to stop. Instead, he smiles a little mischievously.

“Whenever I’m…” You wince, immediately putting a hand up to stop him. Fortunately for Hyunjin, you’ve been begging him to forget about the night before, so you feel as though you owe him something.

With your head hung lightly and a look of defeat on your face, you finally agree to Seungmin’s request.

seven.

When you arrive, Hyunjin is already waiting for you with a camera slung around his neck. He looks so pretty with his hair falling messily over his shoulder. He’s wearing a white shirt and some jeans, though, what catches your eye the most is the huge knitted sweater he’s wearing.

“Hello, good afternoon.”

“Good afternoon.”

You fail to notice his own reaction, too busy admiring his beauty to realize he’s doing the same. Opposite you, Hyunjin’s jaw-dropping reaction to what you’re wearing is staring at your face with a small smile playing on his lips. He’s fiddling with his camera now, eyes traveling from the clip you’re wearing on your hair to the cherry lip balm you’d applied just before leaving.

What colors was he using painting you in his head? Pastel hues with a tinge of vibrancy.

“Shall we go then?” Suddenly, he can’t look at you, eyes trained just behind you as he asks.

“Okay.”

It doesn’t feel like a far walk with Hyunjin next to you. In fact, it barely takes 15 minutes before you reach the house of the person you’re supposed to be interviewing.

The outside of her home is beautiful, and an older woman you don’t recognize greets you and helps you both inside. Her home is surrounded by a wide expanse of grass, the view of the sea beautiful from a distance. The house itself is built with wood, and the row of vegetable plants lining up behind the low-standing table outside provides a breath of fresh air.

“Good afternoon. We’re here for an interview.” You inform politely, and she nods her head as if finally remembering why she’s letting two strangers into her home.

“Sit down, sit down.” Her tone is welcoming as she urges you to sit down, allowing Hyunjin to set up the camera on the camera stand he brought with him. Never imposing as she asks if you need anything else.

“You’re dressed so nicely.” You smile, the full view of her garden behind her accentuating her features. You’re sure she was quite the heartbreaker when she was younger.

“Just relax, and imagine you’re having a chat with your daughter.”

The interview goes smoothly. You ask her of things big and small—her age, her family, her history with Angok, anything you can think of. Seungmin didn’t give you any specifics to ask, just that you would write about her life. In this way, you’d be getting to know her.

She speaks of her children and grandchildren with so much love, that it almost makes you envious that you don’t have a grandmother figure to lean on. You’re all you really have left.

When you look over at Hyunjin, he gives you a toothless grin, as if to assure you you’re doing a great job. It lasts around an hour, and you’re just about ready to go home when she stops you and Hyunjin from fixing up.

“Oh, goodness.” She doesn’t need to ask for Hyunjin to hurry his way to her, grabbing the huge platter of food she grabbed from inside her house, settling it where you had sat earlier.

“I had no idea it was time for food. You guys must be hungry. Come on, let’s eat.”

“Thank you for the food.” You both say, and she only smiles as she admires the young couple in front of her.

The food is cooked with care, having just the right amount of seasoning. There’s a variety of vegetables which you assume to have been freshly picked from the garden she has. Hyunjin seems to mirror your thoughts, immediately praising her for the food.

“The food is delicious.”

“Really?” She finds pleasure in the way you’re enjoying your food. Perhaps, she was trying to catch a glimpse of her children in the two of you.

“Are you two married?” You and Hyunjin pause from eating, staring at each other before looking back at the older woman.

“No, we’re not.” You answer for him, laughing a little at the accusation she had just made. “We’re not married.”

“Oh, too bad. You guys would make a great couple if you were to marry.” She says light-heartedly, staring directly at the boy who’s refusing to make any eye contact at the sudden topic change. Hyunjin nearly chokes on the lettuce he’s eating, coughing a little as he mutters a string of apologies. She only smiles knowingly, offering up some water to the poor boy.

He swallows down his food, putting on a cordial smile directed at the old woman.

The rest of the time plays out without any more questions as to what the relationship is between the two of you, which Hyunjin is more than grateful for. He’s afraid of tripping over his own feet when you’re mentioned as his girlfriend one more time, as if choking on his food wasn’t enough already.

At some point, while you’d been talking, the sun had started to set which prompts the older woman to send in a flurry of farewells as she ushers the pair of you to get home safely.

Looking at you now, while the orange hues of the sun falls on your face, Hyunjin concludes that he feels something for you, evident in the way his heart starts beating a little faster and his palms start to sweat when you’re around. The awkward atmosphere between the two of you is long gone, and he finds himself hearing the gentle undertone of your voice in his head before he falls asleep.

He’s even more floored after today, after having seen first hand how you treat people with so much kindness—even Seungmin, who’s the number one enemy on everyone’s list in this small village. He admires the way you smile at strangers, and your eloquence in conversations even with the little words you say.

It’s only been a while of knowing you, yet he finds himself thinking about you all the time. From the first day you met that muggy afternoon, to how you helped him with repairing the books, even that drunken night where you had sang for him, and the morning after when you shared ice cream with him. He finds himself repeating these moments with you over and over in his head, like sifted sand, until they’re properly engraved in his mind.

“You know… all I really did today was listen to her stories, but my heart feels at ease because of it.”

Hyunjin looks at you as you walk side by side each other, the sunset’s glow falling on everything around you.

“I’m glad to hear that.”

When the wind blows, leaves from the trees lined up near you float around you. From time to time, you’d hear the crunch of crushed leaves as you step on them. All the while, Hyunjin is walking close to you, watching you and listening to you.

“Thank you for working with me on this.” Hyunjin suddenly says, words softer than expected as he locks eyes with you. He wants you to know he’s genuine in his gratitude.

“I hope you’ll like my writing once you get to read it.” You smile nervously, keeping eye contact with him, and you don’t know how pivotal this moment is for the boy. How your kindness is pulling him deeper and deeper into you, everything about you—your sweet smile and your bright eyes.

“I will.”

Talking to you feels easy and natural.

“You will?” A small smile creeps onto your face at his response, and he nods his head in confirmation.

Silence passes.

“I hope we can keep working on this together.” Hyunjin surprises himself with how straightforward he can be with you, with how easy it is to tell you he wants to keep spending time with you.

“If you buy me dinner tomorrow, I’ll think about it.”

The whole world stops in this pocket of time. While everyone goes about their evening, Hyunjin is stuck on your words. Your eyes glisten with a certain type of glow no one can replicate, and he thinks he’ll always remember your face right now, smiling fondly at him, lit by the setting sun.

“Okay. Dinner tomorrow.”

Heat continuously rises to his face the more you look at him, but Hyunjin supposes he can blame it on the sun for now.

eight.

It is exactly 6:36 in the evening when you meet Hyunjin at the library to grab dinner with him.

When the bell rings, he can’t help the smile on his face when he realizes it’s you that’s walking into the library. He never used to smile this much before. But it can’t be helped, not when it’s you.

“Hello.” He’s the one who speaks first.

“Hi.” You reply, mimicking the smile on his face. His eyes are glossy when you meet them.

“Shall we go to dinner?” He lets out a small breath, hovering just in front of you.

Hyunjin looks like a bundle of nerves. You don’t know that, in his head, this feels akin to a first date. One he hasn’t gone on in a long time. So, on the outside, he’s perfectly composed, eyes dropping on the wooden ground. On the inside, however, he’s sweating and twisting and turning and screaming that he’s about to have dinner with you.

“What? Are you buying dinner?” Seungmin’s nosy ears perks up at the mention of dinner, immediately moving from his place behind the desk to join the two of you. “I was just starting to get hungry. Come on, let’s go.”

While Hyunjin wants to be upset at the sudden third wheeling of Kim Seungmin, he finds that he isn’t.

As funny as it sounds, he’s kind of grateful for the sudden interruption. He’s too afraid that if you were to have dinner together, alone, and his fried brain was convincing him it was a first date—his feelings would become too real. He knows he likes you, but he doesn’t want to act on it too soon. He doesn’t want to scare you off, doesn’t want to scare himself off.

Hyunjin has way too much of a feeble heart, that even walking beside you right now, with your hands slightly brushing against the other, he can already hear his heart beating in his ears.

He has always thought of himself as patient, so he doesn’t understand why there’s a growing irritation at the back of his head for the inability to hold your hand in his. It’s even more confusing as he knows he’s never been the type to crave for skinship, never eager for physical touch. So, what’s changed?

“Yah, Lee Minho!” Seungmin’s voice is loud as he walks into the restaurant, though, a much younger boy greets him.

“Innie, where’s Minho?” Jeongin gestures at the kitchen, immediately setting off to find the older boy at the request of Seungmin.

You hide behind Hyunjin the moment Minho appears from the kitchen. You’re sure the memories from that night are still fresh in his mind, and he’d been the first to witness your drunken, hazy state. When he sees you, his lips tug into a lazy smirk, but he chooses not to say anything.

“We went to interview that old lady yesterday.” Hyunjin feels the need to inform Seungmin who’s smiling, pleased with his ability to coerce you into helping them out.

Everyone finally settles down into their seats, Hyunjin cooking the meat silently as conversation starts. Jeongin joins you not long after, asking if it was alright. Your food sizzles behind the chatter around your table.

“What interview?” Jeongin asks.

“A writer didn’t show up, so (Name) did the interview instead.” Seungmin informs the table, and Jeongin nods in pretense of understanding the situation.

“How did you know how to do that? Where did you work in Seoul?” Minho’s the one to ask this time as he refills your meat, setting down a plate of raw pork just by Hyunjin’s arm.

“She worked at a publishing company.” Seungmin says with a mouth full of food.

“I see. Then you must’ve had a lot of boyfriends.”

You tilt your head at Jeongin’s sudden proposition, like he’s trying to fit two completely different puzzle pieces. There’s absolutely no correlation between working at a publishing company and having multiple boyfriends. It seems Seungmin is wondering the same thing, cogs turning in his brain at Jeongin’s stupid question.

“How are those two related?” He deadpans.

“I’ve always found well-read girls charming and attractive.” Jeongin simply shrugs, shoving down another piece of cut-up meat in his mouth before chewing. “So, do you have a boyfriend?”

You fail to notice the way Hyunjin suddenly leans closer to the table, suddenly finding interest in the topic when he had been absent for most of the conversation.

“Oh, I used to have one. But we broke up.” You laugh a little nervously, quietly thanking Hyunjin who sets a few cooked pieces of pork on your plate so you don’t run out while eating.

“Why? How long did it last?”

Jeongin and Seungmin seem to have a lot of questions, and you can see Hyunjin sending them a side eye from your peripheral vision at their rather invasive question.

“Quite a long—“

Hyunjin concludes he doesn’t need to know anything about your ex-boyfriend. He smoothly interrupts the conversation by stuffing food in Seungmin’s mouth. “This is about to burn, you should eat it.”

He glares at the boy viciously, but even the scowl on Seungmin’s face couldn't crack Hyunjin’s persistence in cutting the conversation short. He doesn’t know if it's jealousy, never having felt it before, but he knows he doesn’t want the image of you kissing another boy imprinted in his mind.

Thankfully, Jeongin moves on to another topic, speaking about how he’s in the last year of college and how much he hates it. All the while, you and Hyunjin share small smiles from across the table.

You both let Jeongin and Seungmin carry the conversation. You were never good at keeping the flow of one going anyways. So, instead, you play the listening role. The one you’ve always been good at.

Throughout dinner, Hyunjin does little things for you. He refills your empty glass of water, he puts meat on your plate so you don’t run out, and he constantly checks up on you—to see whether you were overwhelmed with the loudness of the two boys.

He does so by looking at you with an endearing smile, light dimples on his cheeks as he chuckles when you smile back at him. It’s a quiet conversation between the two of you, even if it’s just communication between smiles. Hyunjin is like a breath of fresh air from the crackling volume surrounding you.

He offers to walk you home after the four of you finish up with dinner, telling you that he couldn’t allow himself to simply let you walk alone in the dark. You respond with the crinkling of your eyes and a soft ‘thank you’.

Being with Hyunjin, alone, is quite possibly the purest form of comfort you will ever know. He’s tender and gentle and attentive, like he knows what it’s like to have the peace you value being breached constantly. Though, lately, you find that the quiet you crave for isn’t necessarily complete silence. It’s the comfortable and uninterrupted calm you feel when you’re with Hyunjin—whether at the library or walking home together from dinner. When he’s with you, warmth always makes an appearance.

There is no demand to make conversation.

You let your gaze veer off to the sea and how the waves crash along the shore. There's a breeze softly wafting through your hair, and you smile at just being able to view the ocean anytime you want. A pleasure you’ve always been denied off back in the city.

As your simple house comes into view, your shoulders fall at knowing he would have to leave now. You stop in your tracks, biting at your lips, and Hyunjin waits for you to say something. Never demanding. Always patient.

“Do you wanna meet my dog?”

His mouth opens in response, before a toothless smile forms in his features. “I’d like that.”

Kkami’s wiggling body with his wagging tail is the first to greet you when you open the door. You crouch down, arms open so he can jump onto you just the way he likes. “I’m back. I’m sorry to keep you waiting all this time.”

“Come in, come in.” You urge Hyunjin to get in, resuming your standing position so you can close the door behind him. “You can keep your shoes on if you’d like.”

He refuses, immediately taking them off before crouching down to greet the long-haired Chihuahua. They get along right away, Kkami constantly tapping his paw on Hyunjin’s knees to get his attention.

“I’ll get you something to drink.” You disappear into the kitchen, grabbing him a glass of water before hurriedly returning.

His hand brushes against yours when he reaches to take the glass from you, and you hate how fumbly the simple gesture gets you. It makes you feel like you’re back in high school, helplessly crushing on the boy who’s way out of your league.

“I think he likes you more than me now.” You crouch back down, looking at the way Kkami nudges his head on the side of Hyunjin’s thigh.

“I think he’s just a friendly dog.” He reassures you, though, he can’t help but feel a little pride that your dog immediately warms up to him. He’s always wanted a dog too.

When Kkami starts to give his attention back to you, Hyunjin calls him back. “Come here. There’s food here, can’t you see?”

His false bribery has you laughing.

“Now you’re just lying to my dog.”

He’s unfazed, continuing to lie to your poor dog about the invisible food he has in hand. “I have food for you, come here.”

“Wow, my dog left me and chose you because of your fake food.” You pout when Kkami successfully sits himself on Hyunjin’s lap, barking in glee when the boy rubs the back of his ears.

He sets the empty glass on a table nearby, careful not to drop it with Kkami still on him, gaze falling on the ring around your finger when you take it so it’s safe in your kitchen sink.

“Your ring is really pretty.” His compliment is genuine, and you can’t help but smile as you look down at the metal band your mother had given you, the one you started wearing since your brother called.

“My mom gave it to me. It has the number 220 engraved on it, apparently for bravery.”

“Suits you very well then.”

“I was really afraid when I first moved here, you know. I had no idea what I was doing. I thought I’d fallen into defeat.”

You recall your uncertainty when you had left everything you’d ever known in the city, following the heartbeat in the town of Angok.

“Men are not created with defeat in mind. We may fall at times, but we’re never defeated.”

“That’s a good line.”

“I stole it from a book.” He says sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Wanna know something cool?”

You nodded your head, sitting with your legs crossed on the floor in front of him.

“Your ring has the number 220, right? Well, back in college, I used to play sports. My jersey number was 284.” You don’t know where he’s going with this, but you listen anyway.

“They’re both amicable numbers. The sum of factors of 220 is 284, and the sum of the facts of 284 is 220.” He says with a smile, hands smoothing down your chihuahua’s fur. “These numbers are linked together by some fate, like your ring and my jersey.”

Hyunjin is a quiet surprise, sputtering about amicable numbers and mathematics to you. It’s almost endearing, how he had found something between the two of you and connected it to something he knows.

Your ring and his jersey. Amicable numbers.

There is so much to Hyunjin, so much you still don’t know and want to learn.

“That is pretty cool.” You think back about it in your head, how rare these numbers are, and how they found themselves to the both of you. Maybe knowing Hyunjin has always been written in the stars, and maybe you’ll know him in every lifetime after this one.

At the same time, Hyunjin is grinning to himself. He’d always thought love was far off, but it looks like it’s been in front of him this whole time, smiling back at him. He knows what he’s feeling, this overwhelming warmth, and he knows it’s real now more than ever.

In this moment, there is nothing else but you, him and Kkami and the knowledge that he’s falling in love with you. Right here, right now, all he sees are your eyes and your smile and the way your hands are brushing as you lean down to scratch Kkami’s ears.

Hyunjin feels like his heart is about to burst, and he has to clear his throat and put Kkami down in some poor excuse of needing to get home. He has to before he does something he might regret. The tides of the waves are pulling at him to make a move on you, and he’s afraid he might never make it to shore at the sheer overwhelmingness of his feelings for you. Could it be possible that you made a move instead?

“I think I have to get going now.” He whispers, and you nod your head, moving to stand up when he does. “Thanks for coming to meet Kkami. You should say goodbye to Hyunjin. Say thank you for visiting! Goodbye!”

You move Kkami’s paw to imitate waving.

“Goodbye!” His smile is wide as he bends down to wave back at your dog, taking small steps backwards until he’s by your door.

“I’ll write up a story about the lady we interviewed and send it to you.” You mention, fumbling with the knob to open it for him.

“Sure.” When you don’t make a move to say anything else, he turns his back to start walking away.

“By the way…” Hyunjin immediately turns back around, both hopeful and hesitant at what you have to say to him. His eyes hold yours, waiting for you to continue. “Are you free—“

“Good evening!” Chan’s booming voice interrupts what you were able to say. “Sorry it took me so long. I’m here to help you with the water leakage?”

You’d almost forgotten. You had called Chan earlier this morning to ask if he could help you fix up the issue with your sink.

“No, it’s okay. Hi, good evening.”

“Weren’t you about to say something?” He asks, and you suddenly feel too shy to ask if he wanted to hangout with you soon. The Little Mermaid live action was coming out soon, and you’d been excited to check it out. You thought, maybe it would be fun to watch it with him.

“Ah, it’s nothing.” An unidentifiable emotion flickers in Hyunjin’s features when you suddenly double back on what you were supposed to say—of dejection? You can’t say for sure, especially when a small smile returns to his face and he’s waving goodbye at you one last time.

“Chan, come in.” In your head, you’re still bruising yourself over cowardly backing down from asking Hyunjin to eat dinner with you tomorrow, hopefully with just you two this time.

Your water leakage problem doesn’t take too many steps, but it does need a few tools that only Chan has. When he finishes, you tell him to sit down a little, finding something to offer him for fixing up what had been broken under your sink.

“What’s going on between you and Hyunjin?” It catches you off guard, the unfiltered way he suddenly asks the question with obvious teasing dripping down his tone.

“Nothing.” You say too quickly, shaking your head.

“I was kidding. You don’t have to tell me.”

“Aren’t you gonna pry?” You’re not used to anyone not prying. Back in the city, you barely could keep anything a secret. Always forced. Always fidgety with the way they ask you questions, only to use that information against you later.

“No. As long as you’re happy, and both of you don’t get yourself hurt.”

His considerateness is breathtaking, and it almost has you tearing up the way he treats you better than your own brother. Chan doesn’t need to hug you for you to feel safe, he just has to smile and look at you with his eyes round of warmth.

He feels familiar, like… family. You think this is what family should feel like.

“Thank you, Chan.” You breathe, and he breathes with you. He reminds you he’s only one call away, and your heart feels like it’s being stripped until it’s bare.

This is family. Chan is family.

And Hyunjin quite possibly is love.

nine.

The epiphany you had posed to yourself the night before proved to be almost as difficult as the one you had when you had left the city. Inevitable, but that doesn’t mean it scared you less. Uncertainties often make you feel vulnerable, and what is love but a thread of uncertainties waiting to be untangled?

You can’t focus in your little rented space, the four corners tend to look smaller and smaller when you’ve trapped yourself long enough in your head. It’s terrifying, to feel the walls closing in on you. So, you might as well take Kkami out on a walk where you aren’t encased in liminal space.

The breeze outside is the kind that takes all the weight off your chest, leaving you to start anew in your train of thoughts. When you try to find the beginning of when you had started to see Hyunjin differently, you lose the thread and find yourself empty-handed. No one has told you how difficult it is to tend to the knotted spool of love.

Was it in his kindness which he showed in the smallest ways, barely noticeable but there when you look close enough? He doesn’t smile in large amplified ways, but the way he looks at you with intention leaves such an impact.

Everything he does—on purpose and by choice and intentionally. From the way he constantly checks on you, and the umbrella he had offered, and the patience that never seems to run thin. He smiles and talks to you by choice, and he gets to know your dog intentionally. You’re enamored with the entirety of Hyunjin, with the way he’s passionate about his job, and the gentle way in which he helps those around him whether that’s driving Seungmin to Seoul or treating Jeongin to dinner. He’s beautiful as he listens, as he shows that he will always listen.

It’s a lot to handle, and it’s a huge epiphany to admit to yourself, so you walk without destination. Nature and the beauties of Angok, you find, can take your mind off of anything. Just like that day you had escaped the city.

There are birds singing from the trees, accompanying the wind with their tunes as they whistle. The breeze carries it everywhere, the sound of their whistling, the crashing of the waves bathing the seashore. Had you really existed in a time before you’d known the salt of the ocean breeze and the sun shining the entire village with a glow?

Everything is beautiful here. There’s nothing that isn’t with the flurry of color bursting in the town of Angok, with the gentle chatter of generations of people who live there, with Hyunjin’s back walking a little ahead of you.

“Hyunjin?”

Maybe you don’t really care about the multitude of ways you can unravel the knotted spool. Maybe the only thing that matters is this moment with him, and every other moment with him.

He turns around immediately at the recognition of your voice, lifting a hand up to wave at you before greeting Kkami. You shoot him a smile, speeding up a little to catch up with him as he stands planted on his spot. Kkami runs faster than you do, already barking by Hyunjin’s feet and jumping up to get the boy’s attention.

There is no overthinking in the way he smiles back at you so easily. No thread to think about.

“Hi.” His gaze never falters from yours, even as noises stir around from a distance.

“Hello. I was just walking Kkami.”

“If we’re going the same way, why don’t we walk together?” He offers.

“Okay.”

A heartbeat passes.

“By the way, what are you doing out here? You know… instead of being in the library.” You ask inquisitively, not used to seeing him outside so early in the day.

“Seungmin’s been a bit anxious over the next part of his exams, so I went to buy him some food. It always calms him down.”

It’s only then you realize the bag of food he’s holding, and the sight only melts your heart further.

“You’re a really good friend.”

“I just do good upon others as I wish the same for myself.” How lovely, how he wants to make the world so painfully beautiful that people want to live in it.

“Well, the world isn't as cold and gloomy because of you.” You smile, and Hyunjin can’t help the way his words jumble up in his mouth at the kindness you utter. He’s wordless, all tangled in longing and flustered-ness.

You make him feel like he can hold sunlight in his hands.

“I’ll be going this way now.” A point in the opposite, and Hyunjin can only frown in disappointment of your time cut short.

“Take care.” He says, standing his ground as he watches you and Kkami start to walk away from him.

Static is zipping through the air, louder than ever. Hyunjin’s fiddling with the straps of his pants, contemplating and contemplating and contemplating—

“(Name)!” The sound of your name on Hyunjin’s lips makes your head instantly turn back.

“Yes?”

Hyunjin’s fumbling with everything he’s ever known, eyes falling to his own hands before back to yours.

“By any chance, are you going to have dinner—“ Hyunjin pauses. No, that doesn’t sound right. “I mean, are you busy tonight?”

“I’m not.”

A knowing smile on both your faces.

“Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

The thread is long gone.

ten.

Hyunjin has a profound ability of surprising you every time. He’s almost unpredictable in his kindness—showing up when you’re drunk, refilling your plate with meat, and now handing you a bag of dog toys for Kkami.

“I thought he might like this.”

“Oh, thank you.” You take the bag gratefully, smiling at the selection of chew toys inside before looking back up at the boy. “I haven’t gotten him anything nice, so thank you, really.”

“I also have this for you.” He brings out more shyly this time—a necklace beaded in shells. You look down at it, the necklace. No one’s given you anything in a long time. “You always have this look on your face when you look at the beach. So, it just… reminded me of you.”

You lift it up carefully, almost feather-like as you stare at the simple necklace.

“Hyunjin.” The way he’s looking at you is so powerful, yet so vulnerable at the same time, eyes tinging in hope that you’d like the little present he had gotten you. It’s a look you can feel inside. “Thank you.”

He helps you wear it when you attempt to wrap it around your neck yourself. Wordless, you don’t have to say anything as he gently closes it to encase it around your neck.

“Do you like it?” There it is again. That vulnerability.

“I love it.” You smile, hand lifting to fiddle with the necklace. “I’m never taking it off.”

Hyunjin’s eyes soften, features glowing under the streetlights as you finally resume your walk to where you’ll be eating dinner together.

He had called himself out multiple times as he was pondering over whether to buy it for you or not the moment he sees it, telling himself he was too obvious with the way he feels for you, and yet the thought of the sincerity in your face when you receive it overpowers the voice in his head. He finds himself getting it for you. He was always gonna get it for you the moment he saw the necklace.

“Then, do you want some chicken and beer?” Hyunjin asks as you reach a crossroad, multiple intersections splitting the road into separate parts of the village.

“Chicken and beer?”

“Mhm. Last night, I was actually gonna ask if you wanted chicken and beef before Seungmin tagged along.”

“Oh?” You smile at the thought. “That sounds good actually. Wait, let me search a place up.”

You barely even unlock your phone when Hyunjin starts speaking again.

“Well, if we go that way,” he motions to the first intersection. “There’s a really old place that sells amazing fried chicken. And there’s a place down that way where the interior is nice and spacious, but the chicken doesn’t taste as good.”

“And down that way,” he continues, pointing towards the other intersection. “There’s a place with outdoor tables known for its refreshing beer.”

“You’ve really done your research.” You grin, fiddling with the phone in your hands as you look at Hyunjin who has his shyly behind his back after he has finished speaking.

“Yeah.” He exhales, smile still on his face. “Just in case.

Just in case he got enough courage to ask you out is the continuation of his sentence, though he chooses to omit it for now.

“I…” You ponder, recounting the options in your head before forming a number 3 with your fingers. “Choose number three. Beer tends to vary more in taste than chicken.”

“I see.” He nods his head, taking your words in as he thinks about the numerous times fried chicken had tasted the same to him. “Well then, let’s go that way?”

A silver of the moon shines on the two of you as you settle down the table, arriving 10 minutes after you had pondered over your choices at the intersection. The night breeze is pleasant, blowing in between the two of you until your stomachs are full from the food.

“This is so refreshing.” You praise after having taken a chug out of your beer, leaning your head back to savor the taste longer. “Whoever thought of eating chicken and beer together is a genius.”

He listens, hanging on to every single word you say as he takes a bite out of his own piece. The sight has him wondering if you were free tomorrow too.

Similarly, you’re thinking if you should try to invite him to watch Little Mermaid with you again.

“Are you also busy tomorrow?” His sudden question has your cheeks heating up despite the cold of the breeze and the beer.

“Why? Do you wanna see a movie?” It comes out fast, blurted, speeding from your mouth.

“A movie?”

Oh, shit. You didn’t even realize how you’d suddenly sprung up the topic on him without so much as an introduction.

“What I meant was… there’s just this movie I really wanted to see, and I think it’s out in theaters already.” You laugh a little at your own slip up, hoping to have clarified it better.

The sound makes Hyunjin’s smile widen.

“I see.” He takes a sip out of his own beer.

It’s silent for a while. A second blending into a minute, until you decide you can’t take it any longer.”

“Do you want to come with—“

“Should we watch—“

You make eye contact the moment you speak over one another, and it’s enough to trigger the laughter that’s bubbling in your throats at the sheer coincidence of asking each other out at the same time.

“Only if it’s okay with you.” He says once the pair of you stop giggling, tone significantly softer..

Always putting your comfort at the top priority.

“I’d actually really like that.”

It’s all smiles as you pay for your meal, and you don’t quite notice the slow pace in which the two of you are walking home, as if never wanting the moment to end. As if the great sense of contentment is too much to let go of right away.

Your footsteps fall in with Hyunjin’s, and your smiles never leave your faces on the rest of your way home.

eleven.

Hyunjin spends two days in Seoul to accompany Seungmin as he finishes up the final stages of his Civil Licensure exam.

The first day away from the library is spent just at home, cleaning and finishing up on chores you’ve been meaning to do—putting away your clothes after doing laundry, feeding Kkami, sweeping the floors, and even dusting some shelves because of the abundance of free time. It’s therapeutic, the way you’re able to hold your own time and decide what you want to do for the day. In the afternoon, you walk your chihuahua outside, exploring more of Angok than you could’ve dreamed. It’s a beautiful village, and you find you don’t mind the lengthy walk. If it means you get to be with nature leisurely, you don’t have anything to complain about.

There’s so much time for happiness here, unlike the dark of your room in the city.

When you pass by the library the next day to continue mapping out Angok, you’re surprised to see the hunched over figure of Felix by the benches. You wonder what he’s doing here.

“Felix?” You speak cautiously, tentative even as you walk to his side.

The closer you get, the more you hear his sniffles. An alarm sounds in your head, and you immediately reach a hand over to rub his back as gently as possible. “What’s wrong?”

The words he mumbles are unclear, incoherent as they come out jumbled and stuttered. When he finally lifts his head up, the sight physically hurts you. Who could dare hurt the sun?

You move some of his hair out of his face, sitting down next to him. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Instead of answering, he lunges forward, jumping in your arms to seek comfort in your hug. It catches you by surprise, not because you’re uncomfortable, but because it’s only now you realize how long you’ve gone without a hug. You didn’t grow up from an affectionate family, and your time in the city knew of no comfort. This feels far better than pressing your back against your bed.

Snapping from the initial shock, you wrap your arms around him and pull him closer which only seems to let him release a louder sob. It seems he really needed this.

“I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.” His words are deep and choked, head still buried on your shoulder as he soaks up the shirt you’re wearing.

“You could never disappoint anyone.” You run a hand through his hair, the other hand running smooth circles on his back.

You don’t know how long you hold him like this, but after a while, his tears finally subside and he moves to pull away from the embrace. “I’m sorry about your shirt.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” Reaching out, you swipe away the tears on his wet cheeks, smiling softly. You’re relieved when you see him return the gesture. It seems he doesn’t want to talk about what happened, but you find that it’s okay. He likes that you just listen without demanding him to tell you everything.

“Wanna go eat something at Minho’s? My treat.” You whisper, afraid to startle the poor boy, and his eyes seem to brighten at the suggestion.

“Would that really be okay?”

“Of course. Come on.” You walk with him to Minho’s little restaurant, making small conversation about anything he wants to talk about. If it means he’ll forget about whatever hurt him, you appease any topic that spills from his mouth.

“Ah, good afternoon (Name), Felix.” Minho waves when you enter his space, and you wave back at the boy.

He finally knows your name.

The ten minutes it takes to wait for the food is apparently the same time it takes for Jisung and Chan to stumble into the restaurant and greet the two of you loudly. They drop at where you’re seated, adjacent from you and Felix as they ask you questions of how you’re doing and what you two were up to.

You’re keen to stay as Felix’s emotional support, looking at him first before answering the two boys. It seems he feels way better now, in the presence of people he considers home.

“Look what I have.” Jisung brings out another tupperware from his bag, opening it up to reveal some cupcakes his mom had probably baked again. He excitedly takes one for each of you, babbling about how he can’t finish it all himself or else he’ll suffer from high blood pressure. “I’m glad I bumped into you guys. My mom’s been going crazy with the baking.”

“Felix likes baking too, right?” You turn to the boy next to you, and he nods his head as he recalls the conversation you had earlier on the way here.

“I’ve been trying to make some brownies.” He’s proud as he speaks, hands moving animatedly as he explains to them the process. The three of you listen carefully, immediately demanding him to bake some for you guys to which Felix says he will in his free time.

“Jeongin’s on his way.” Chan nudges Jisung who suddenly stands from his seat. He grabs a cupcake from the container, and you think he’s about to give it to the younger boy when suddenly, the icing crashes on the unsuspecting Jeongin’s nose.

“Are you nuts, Jisung?!” He exclaims, peeling the cupcake away from his icing-stained face.

“That’s what you get for rejecting my kisses.” Jisung smirks mischievously, though it’s quickly wiped off when Jeongin swiftly grabs a chunk of the icing and slaps it on the older boy’s cheek.

Minho’s voice is booming as he says, “Hey, don’t get the floors dirty!”, though there seems to be a hint of fondness on his features as he watches everything unfold before him.

“Oh my god.” With a hand covering your mouth, you can’t help the giggles from spewing it as Felix snorts from beside you.

“Come here, let’s wipe it off.” You get up from your seat, guiding Jeongin to the seat next to yours as you grab a pack of tissues from your bag, moving to wipe the smeared icing from his nose, cheeks, and eyes.

“What about me?” Jisung pouts, and Chan all but laughs as he pulls the boy down to start doing the same thing.

“Are you guys okay?” Felix’s voice is way steadier now, more than it was earlier, and it even holds laughter in it. Your heartbeat calms down at knowing he must feel better. At least this moment can take away what pained him, even for a few hours.

“You have a death wish, Han Jisung.”

“Not the government name.”

Though, Jisung only laughs at the threats spilling from Jeongin’s lips, proud of his work.

When Minho brings the food, Jisung successfully pulls him down to eat with all of you. It’s polarizing how you used to hate meal times, used to hate thinking about what to eat, or the fact that you’d be eating alone. Now, with laughter roaring from your table, you find yourself excited.

People are calling out for you to eat.

You spend hours there, listening to their stories. Before you know it, night dawns upon you, and Felix offers to walk you home.

“(Name)?”

“Hm?” You turn your head to look at Felix who’s already looking at you with a smile on his face.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t do anything, though.” You laugh, and Felix shakes his head as he maintains unwavering eye contact.

“Thanks to you, I feel happier now.” There’s a toothless grin on his face, though, it’s threatening to grow even wider by the second.

He genuinely looks happy.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Felix’s words stay stuck in your mind even as you lay down to sleep. For a brief moment, you were able to make him happier. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more accomplished than this very moment. There are no words to describe how beautiful the feeling is of being the cause of someone’s smile.

The rest of the night is spent thinking, and it’s only when your phone buzzes is it interrupted.

hyunjin (10:48pm): hi, are you asleep? i hope i’m not bothering you

yn (10:49pm): hello! not asleep yet :) you’re not bothering me at all

hyunjin (10:51pm): seungmin’s exams ran longer than i thought

yn (10:51pm): tell him i said hi !!

hyunjin (10:52pm): is texting a bother? do your wrists hurt when you type?

yn (10:52pm): just a little

He calls you suddenly, and it’s enough for your heart to jump straight out of your chest. Pressing the phone to your ear, you finally speak. “Hello?”

“I hope your wrists don’t hurt anymore.” You can hear the mumble of cars honking in the background, but his words tune them out.

“I guess this will do.”

Hyunjin pauses for a moment, allowing himself the moment to soak up the warmth of your voice and how two days is far too long to be away from your sweet voice.

“It’s nice to hear your voice.”

You swallow hard, shutting your eyes as you bring the phone away a little to let out a suppressed scream. You feel like a schoolgirl, kicking your feet and giggling over his words.

Calming yourself down, you reply, “But, don’t you have to sleep now?”

“Hmm, not yet.“

“Well, what do you wanna talk about?”

“Everything. I wanna know everything about you.” He breathes from his end of the line, running a hand through his hair.

You can hear the sincerity from his voice even if you can’t see him.

“Oh.” You murmur. There’s a blush playing on your cheeks. How is he able to make you feel everything all at once?

The conversation lasts almost 2 hours, until he has to let you go so you can sleep before the clock strikes one in the morning. He feels slightly terrible for keeping you up, but he’s selfish in that it doesn’t bother him that much. Hyunjin missed you, missed the lull of your voice, and he’s happy to have heard it before going to sleep.

“I’ll see you tomorrow? For the movie?”

“Okay. See you.”

You can almost see him, open-mouthed smiles as he speaks. It’s always so evident in his voice when he does.

“Goodnight.”

“Sleep well.”

Hyunjin drifts off to sleep, and it’s the best one he’s had since yesterday.

twelve.

You tug at the dress you’re wearing as you wait outside the theater building. It’s a simple sleeveless white dress that goes down just above your knees, yet you’re still a little nervous whether you’re underdressed or overdressed. Your hair is down as it always is, a little messed up from the wind, and you had worn lip gloss after Kkami had barked once when you’d asked him.

It’s a simple theater for a simple date. You’re not even sure if you could call it a date, yet you were both ecstatic to finally watch the movie and to watch it with Hyunjin.

Smoothening down the creases of your dress that aren’t even there, you finally catch sight of Hyunjin from afar. He looks so handsome with his white sweater and denim pants, hair tucked behind his ears as he wears a pretty-boy-but-is-unaware smile.

Aphrodite’s son.

He’s waving at you, cheeks flushed in a warmth you fail to see as you try to suppress your own grin.

His knee-jerking reaction to you is open-mouthed staring, eyes moving from your eyes to your lips to your hair to your dress all in the span of a second.

Hyunjin isn’t as relaxed as he thought he was. He had prepared himself to see you again after two days, prepared to watch a movie with you and possibly brush hands as you reach for the popcorn, though he wasn’t quite prepared for the white dress you’re wearing. His brain short circuits, and he’s malfunctioning.

“Shall we head inside?”

He’s not able to respond right away. You’re pretty, and he’s nervous, and you’re pretty, and his palms are sweating, and you’re pretty, and words are failing him, and you’re pretty, and you’re shifting your weight back and forth, and you’re so pretty.

“(Name).” Hyunjin’s finally able to say. “You look beautiful."

You look up at him and he looks away. You can only blush in response as you thank him, fiddling with the necklace you’re wearing.

“I’m wearing this by the way.” If Hyunjin thought he couldn’t smile even more, he was wrong, especially peering down at the necklace he had gifted you. The one you’re wearing.

It was nearly seven o'clock when you finished watching the movie. You’re still excited over seeing one of your favorite Disney princess’s on the big screen, but you’re starting to feel a little tired.

The crowded bus was too much for the both of you, so you decide to walk back together. Thirty minutes might sound like a long walk, but Hyunjin begs to differ if it meant being separated from you at the end of it.

Thirty minutes is way too short to walk with you.

“The movie was fun.” He breaks the silence, and you nod your head in agreement with a huge smile on your face. You can still picture Ariel in your head, yet what stuck out most to you was the panicked way Hyunjin had been when he first walked in before completely relaxing when he was seated next to you.

“Hyunjin.”

“Yes?”

“You seemed like you’ve never been to a theater before.”

“It is my first time.” He looks down at his feet, a small grin tugging on his lips at how he’ll forever be able to hold the memory of watching a movie for the first time in theaters.

Especially when it was with you.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“That’s amazing.” It comes out as a whisper, genuinely shocked that Hyunjin hadn’t bothered coming into theaters at all. There’s so much to him, and you want to learn them all.

“Why don’t we kill some time by playing 21 questions?”

“Okay.” He replies a little too quickly for his liking. He can’t hide his eagerness at getting to know you and everything about you. Like that phone call last night.

“Okay.” You repeat, smiling while nodding your head as you think of a question to ask. “Hmm, what’s your favorite fruit?”

“Apples are my favorite.”

“Wow, you answered so quickly.” A quiet chuckle escapes his lips at the realization. Though, you should’ve made the connection when he had mentioned apples back when you had offered him some ice cream.

“Mine are strawberries!” You point excitedly at the black crochet bag you always carry with you, a big strawberry in the middle.

“Strawberries.” He keeps in mind, looking back at you as you keep talking, asking him one question after the other.

You are so lovely, Hyunjin thinks. The sort of person puts a smile on everyone’s face when you walk into the room. The way you quietly speak and the humble way in which you treat everyone has Hyunjin thinking that you must be unaware of how much of an impact you actually have on the people around you.

Seungmin is thankful for you, admiring your hard work. Hyunjin has caught him rereading the article you had written multiple times, praise leaving his lips when he thinks no one can hear.

Chan sees you as a little sister, so fond of you in such a short amount of time. He thinks he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face.

Felix thinks of flowers when he sees you.

“Oh, the moon looks so pretty tonight.” You suddenly mention, staring wondrously at the bright moon and the way the stars litter the sky.

“Do you wanna sit down for a moment?”

“Can we?” The excitement in your voice is hard to miss as Hyunjin guides you over to sit on a block situated at the side of the street. It’s the perfect spot, offering you a view of the sea and the pretty night sky.

You close your eyes to listen to the waves crashing clearer, to feel the breeze better, to smell the salty scent of the sea.

Your thoughts drift everywhere; to your escape from the city to the first time you met Hyunjin and the way he hadn’t spoken a single word to you. It’s always been at the back of your head, but you never so much as spared it any time to resurface. Though, now was probably the perfect time to ask him about it.

“Can I ask one more question?”

“Of course.”

“When we first met, why did you not talk to me?”

Hyunjin thinks back at the time, almost letting out a small laugh in embarrassment when he remembers the way he had greeted you with nothing but silence. It was only a matter of time before you’d ask him.

“Actually…” He looks down at his hands, carefully folded on his lap. “I have trouble talking to strangers.”

“Does that mean you feel comfortable around me now?” Oh, his stomach doesn’t feel so great at the way you’re looking at him right now. He has never felt such violent butterflies in his stomach.

“Yeah.” Blink and you miss it, the way his eyes flicker to your lips before frisking them away to stare at the moon instead.

You stretch your legs out, swaying them back and forth as you lull your head back to stare at the vastness of the sky. The waves and your subtle breathing are the only sounds that accompany the stillness with Hyunjin.

How long had that same peace transferred from the library to the boy seated beside you?

This moment feels nice, though, it seems to only be a catalyst at making you realize how real your feelings are. Hyunjin really is starting to feel like love.

He looks at you as you’re too busy staring at the little things nature had sent to keep you two company.

“When I’m with you, it’s nice that I don’t have to talk so much.” You say suddenly.

His eyes never once leave you as you speak, and it only has his heart beating faster when he realizes that the look in your eyes is something so similar to the way he looks at you. It’s the same one he gives you when you don’t notice him looking at you. The stripped back and bare softness he shows even when he doesn’t try to.

“It’s the opposite for me.” He speaks with a smile that he doesn’t even notice has grown brighter and brighter. “When I’m with you, I tend to talk more.”

Lovestruck is the only word to describe the way his words slip out of his mouth, and no level of words can possibly describe the softness in his eyes.

“Ever since I was young, talking to someone… always felt like a burden to me. It’s never felt that way with you.”

The way you’re looking at him only encourages him to speak more—your naturally dusted cheeks, gentleness swimming in your eyes, and the wind blowing through your hair. How can you sit there and be so unaware of how beautiful you are?

“This is a little selfish of me but…” Midway through his sentence, he breathes out a little. As if to help him in saying what’s burning on the tip of his tongue. “I hope you don’t leave.”

You lean forward to hear him better.

“When you first came to the library to make a membership card, when we spent the afternoon repairing books, when I took you home when you were completely wasted… when we had ice cream together on the library bench, when we went to interview the old lady together, and when you let me meet Kkami the night we had dinner together…”

What was happiness before he knew what your smile looked like and what your voice sounds like? Hyunjin’s voice gradually softens with each memory he recounts.

“I was happy. I’m truly happy that you came to Angok.”

There's a stifling silence on the other end, as you process his words.

You never stood a chance. You were gone the moment you had set eyes on him, when you had accidentally caused a small commotion in Angok’s public library. You had signed over your heart the second he had uttered his first words to you—“you’re hello again.”

His eyes flicker from yours down to your lips, and there’s a hitch in your breath as you breathe in. It feels as though your heart could explode at any moment.

Hyunjin reaches out to brush a hand against your cheek, tentative as he draws himself closer to you. His hand is warm against the night breeze, and you find yourself leaning against him unconsciously.

“So I really hope you don’t leave.” He whispers, and you breathe at the overwhelming sincerity.

His eyes drop back down to your lips, face hovering over yours. Almost hesitant. It’s like he’s waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to show you won’t leave. You push your lips in his, and he’s still for a second, as if unable to believe you’re kissing him at this very moment.

When he’s finally able to recover, he keeps a hand cupped on your cheek while the other travels around your waist. He holds you against him tightly, but his lips couldn’t be any more gentle as they move against yours. It’s soft, unmoving even. Your heart flutters when his lips chase after yours after you pull away for a second to catch your breath, and you’re kissing again.

Again and again and again until all you can think about is him. You had always been afraid of seeing the city in his eyes and feeling it in his lips, but you never did.

His eyes struggle to stay open when you push your foreheads together, finally breaking away from the kiss. There’s a small smile on his mouth, the one he always wears with you, and the look of fondness in his eyes.

“I’m not gonna leave.”

A shooting star spears through the dark. You both wish to stay like this forever.

thirteen.

A few days after your silent confession, Seungmin passes the Civil Licensure exam.

The boy had apparently been trying to hide his success from Hyunjin, yet was unsuccessful when he forgot he had given Hyunjin the log-in credentials to the site when he thought he’d be too nervous to view it himself.

So, you and Hyunjin plan a surprise celebration.

If Seungmin hadn’t been so caught up in trying to hide the secret you had already known about, maybe he would’ve noticed the way Hyunjin disappears from the library sometimes only to reappear, and the way you’ve been on your phone way more often than you normally are.

Getting Seungmin to the rooftop of Chan’s home was easier than you had expected. For someone who asks a lot of questions, Seungmin had simply stared at Hyunjin suspiciously when he had suddenly expressed the urge to watch the night’s constellations at Chan’s roof. Yet, feeling like he owed the boy for driving and staying with him in Seoul, he complies.

The surprise had taken a while to plan, yet everyone was willing to help after hearing the news. Everyone sits on the roof to wait, antsy when they hear Seungmin’s blabbermouth complain about accompanying Seungmin as he gets on the stairs. You all see Hyunjin first, who’s subtly pointing at his back to signal that Seungmin was coming in hot.

When he finally emerges from the steps, all of you jump in a chorus of “Surprise!”

There’s a small tarpaulin with Seungmin’s name and a congratulations tied between two makeshift posts, and the boy hides his face in embarrassment when he spots a poorly photoshopped picture of him on the side of the printed paper.

“It’s nice to celebrate this good news with everyone.” Hyunjin says, and while Seungmin’s continuing to blabber about in mock irritation, all of you know he’s grateful by the way he looks at how the rooftop is decorated in awe. Fairy lights are hung around like additional stars, and everyone has bright smiles on their faces as they all go in to wish the boy their individual congratulations.

“Congratulations on making it to Seoul!” Chan’s voice is booming as he hugs the boy. While Seungmin naturally recoils from any form of skinship, he finds himself returning most of the hugs given to him.

“Make sure you eat a lot.” Minho smiles as he looks proudly at the food he had brought, all set on the table as he prepares to cook some beef to serve as all of you eat.

“Thank you for the food!”

“Is it good?” Minho’s grilling meat on the side, continuing to prepare food as everyone around him eats satisfyingly. Sometimes, Jeongin would get up from his seat to feed Minho a piece to make sure he was eating too.

“It’s so juicy.” Changbin exclaims in pure ecstasy, and Chan can only laugh at his exaggerated response. “Your beef always tastes good, Minho.”

Jeongin’s walking around with a platter of cooked beef to serve for everyone, like he does at Minho’s restaurant. Lovely chatter echoes from the roof, laughter prominent as Jisung is on fire with his jokes. All the while, Seungmin is roasting the poor boy.

“This is the good stuff. Look at the marbling on this meat.” Minho boasts as he sets down the final platter on the table, taking a seat next to Jisung as he finally starts digging in. “Jeongin, come and eat.”

“This is so good.” Your mouth drops after you swallow the piece of beef you had grabbed. Minho just laughs fondly at the praise as he keeps eating.

As your eyes travel around everyone on the table, you can’t help but think of something your mom used to tell you — a home isn't always the house we live in. it's also in the people we choose to surround ourselves with.

Home is the gleeful playing of instruments from Jisung and Changbin, it’s baked in an oven and served fresh as brownies from Felix, it’s grateful smiles from Seungmin, it’s Chan trampled with fondness, it’s the grilled beef Minho is cooking, it’s Kkami barking in happiness as Jeongin plays with him, it’s the hand holding yours and the gentle smile on Hyunjin’s lips as he urges you to eat more.

“Oh, before I forget. I have something for you.” Said boy brings you back to reality, and he pulls out a magazine in his hand, smiling widely as he looks down at it then at you expectantly.

“What is it?” You take it from him, flipping through the pages.

“Youth of Angok. It was released yesterday.”

“No way!” You look for the article you wrote, skimming through the pages before smiling at the photo of the old lady you had taken. “Wait, hold on. Don’t tell me you read it already.”

“No, I haven’t read it yet.” Hyunjin has a fair share of tells when he lies. One of them is in the way he can’t look at you, like the way he’s avoiding your eyes right now. “It was great by the way. You write so well.”

You laugh, giggles blending with Jisung’s music. “Thank you.”

Changbin’s booming voice interrupts all the ongoing conversations, abruptly getting up as he grabs a box he had hidden to the side. “I have a surprise now that we’re all full. Sponsored by Seo’s convenience store, you’re welcome.”

He hands each one of you with sparklers, and it’s absolutely beautiful when he lights them up and pushes everyone to get up and dance to Jisung’s guitar accompaniment as the fireworks glow from everyone’s hold. Like everyone is capable of holding fire in their hands.

Music from your childhood plays in your head, the same one you never thought you’d hear again as Hyunjin tugs on your hand to pull you to where everyone is dancing, a sparkler on the hand that isn’t intertwined together.

“This is so pretty!” Felix exclaims, waving it around as the lights spring out of the stick in his hand. Jeongin’s carrying Kkami now, dancing with him in his arms.

“I’ve never done this before.” Felix looks to you with so much happiness radiating off of him, dancing around as he stares at his sparkler fireworks.

“Me neither.” You reply with the same excitement, looking to see Hyunjin already looking at you with a smile on his face. Pure, unadulterated happiness.

You thought about what happiness is.

You’ve looked it up in a dictionary once—it is a state of being pleased, fulfilled, and content in life. You think that definition is too long.

Happiness. The state of being sufficient.

Happiness. This moment right now.

Hyunjin’s arm snakes around you, pulling you closer to him as the wind flows between all of you, whisking your hair and ruffling your clothes up as happy singing falls in your ears.

“Hi.” He whispers, caressing your waist. It makes goosebumps erupt, and you know what he’s about to do as he presses a short kiss on your lips.

Sometimes, there doesn’t have to be thunderstorms. There’s no need for the sticky swarm of office workers, or the silence of dinners. You don’t have to think of the city. Sometimes, love is tucked away in a little town you least expect to find it. Sometimes, there is time to make happiness. And sometimes, family can be regained.

Your life is sufficient.

You’ll live this life.

[danmeiconfession]

This is just an opinion.

I’m sorry, but I can’t support a protagonist like Shen Yuan if he can’t respect the body of the person he’s taken over. The transmigration trope in many of these novels often leads to the erasure of the original soul, which makes me feel sad for them. While I understand why many fans like his character, I can’t root for him anymore. There’s a sort of horror in knowing that he and the rest of the readers pushed for such a bleak ending for Shen Jiu. An omnipotent being forces him to be a scum villain, and the person who condemned him has now taken over his body, his name, and married his abuser, his torturer. Imagine how horrified he’d be to learn he’s married to his own disciple—it’s disgusting. Someone who is just like all the men in his life takes away his autonomy and the name he earned; Shen Qingqiu is literally ripped away from him.

I remember someone mentioning that Shen Jiu follows the formula of MXTX's shou protagonists, and they’re right. The only difference is that he’s not allowed to gain a second chance. When Wei Wuxian tried to save the Wens, it cost him everything, similar to how Shen Jiu’s attempt to save his martial brother set off a domino effect of tragedy.

There’s a difference between Shen Jiu and Shen Yuan. Unlike Shen Yuan, whose path is clear and predictable, Shen Jiu’s very rare but kind actions often lead to dire consequences. Each time he tries to do something good, the world retaliates harshly. That’s why I like Shen Jiu more. I don’t mind a character’s misdeeds if they reveal something profound about them. Shen Jiu’s attempts to do good, even when they backfire, show his sincerity. Shen Yuan’s choices, on the other hand, seem easy and don’t require much moral struggle.

What saddens me is that a rich, lazy millennial is thrust into the body of a traumatized orphan and somehow gets the happy ending. Even if he didn’t ask for it, there’s a moral duty to respect the original character he's inhabited now because without Shen Jiu’s body, Shen Yuan would have no purpose is that even a lie because what goals or aspirations did he even have? We truly have nilch to go off what he's like without he's online persona but frankly he's a bad person to me if he harasses an author and makes no effort to even get himself to express his emotions especially his apathy like the fuck bro what going on here bro?? How do you just not give a shit about anything besides your beloved LBG like he's cuckoo up in the head like a few bolts and screws were lost in the making of his birth.

It actually made me mad, to be honest. I wish the author had never created Shen Jiu as a character because it spoiled my enjoyment of the book that I took as fun entertainment. SVSSS was the first transmigration story I read that gave the original soul such an important role. Other stories often use these bodies as self-insert devices, but knowing Shen Jiu is an actual character made me see him differently.

I also find it unsettling that Shen Yuan has to live as another person for the rest of his life. Sometimes, silence speaks louder than words. If the author isn’t going to do an identity reveal in an MXTX story, what does that say about Shen Yuan’s relationship with everyone else and the ML included? Wouldn’t everything fall apart? Doesn't that mean something is off lol???

This omission to me kinda undermines the foundation of his relationships, especially with the main love interest. Living a lie means that Shen Yuan’s connections are based on a false premise. If those around him, including the main love interest, don’t know who he truly is, their interactions and feelings might be based on their own misconceptions. In essence, the story hinges on Shen Jiu because his life and identity are the foundation upon which Shen Yuan builds his new existence and I find SY careless and disregard of that to be unappealing for a protagonist to follow .

I can see how the System's role in "SVSSS" can be interpreted as a form of horror, especially considering the implications for Shen Jiu. Here's an expanded take on your guys idea a theory of sorts:

The System's reasoning for booting Shen Jiu out and replacing him with Shen Yuan could be seen as a chillingly calculated move. Shen Jiu’s unwillingness to follow the predetermined outline and his resistance to the System's goals could have led to his removal. The System’s primary objective seems to be the satisfaction and happiness of Luo Binghe, the protagonist. Given the tragic nature of "PIDW" (Proud Immortal Demon Way), the System might have sought a more compliant individual to ensure a more favorable outcome for Luo Binghe.

If the protagonist, Luo Binghe, obsessively desires companionship and affection from Shen Qingqiu, and the original Shen Jiu isn't reciprocating, the System might decide to alter the course of the world. This new beginning involves replacing Shen Jiu with someone who not only understands the narrative but is also deeply invested in Luo Binghe's happiness—someone like Shen Yuan. As a form of punishment for Shen Jiu’s disobedience, the System forces him to take a backseat, helplessly watching as events unfold with Shen Yuan in control of his body.

This scenario adds a layer of horror, as it portrays the System as an omnipotent force capable of rewriting lives and fates to suit its goals. Shen Jiu’s autonomy is completely stripped away, and he’s forced to witness his own life being manipulated and his identity being overridden. By replacing Shen Jiu with Shen Yuan, the System ensures that Luo Binghe’s desires are met, but at the cost of Shen Jiu’s existence.

.

[staytinyville]

Twin Flames

To: @flurrys-creativity

From: Your Secret Admirer! The moment I saw that HALAZIA was one of your favorite songs I just had to create this stroy from my original works. HALAZIA is my favorite song as well. It was the one that inspired the original novel in its entirety. So I wanted to make something within my universe. I do hope you love the world building. There is so much more I wish I could go over but one thing at a time!

↣ Summary: In a world where magic exists, you had creatures that were created in order to help those who were able to harness the power of the sun and the moon. Each creature has a special connection with their creators. Those created by Witches were followers of the moon. And those created by Faeries were with the sun. However for some creatures, they were connected to their creators on a much deeper meaning. 

↣ Characters/Pairing: Seonghwa x Reader

↣ Genre: Fluff, Angst

↣ AU/Trope info: Vampire!Seonghwa, Witch!Reader, Historical!au, Twin Flames!au

↣ Word Count: 6.6k

↣ Warnings: blood (It’s a vampire fic lol), revenge killing, murder (Nothing too extreme)

↣ A/N: If you guys were interested, this is actually based in my original novel. There was a lot of world building I really loved in this and the main story is based on modern time vampire/witch romance. In the book though, creatures don’t exist because they gave up their powers. This takes place way before the start of the actual book but it is a good start to the approach on why people were giving up their abilities. 

Staytinyville’s Permanent Taglist

↣ Affiliates: @pirateeznet , @cultofdionysusnet , @wonderlandnet , @cromernet , @monsterfvckersunited

��� Special Thanks: Thank you @saradika-graphics for the amazing banners! Please go check her out if you have specific banners in mind. She is great!

You couldn’t remember a time when your family didn’t have their herbal shop. It was the shop that had been in your family for generations helping those who needed it. The long line of witches you came from hailed to be some of the best in the region. In your village the only two magical families were your own–and the Jung’s, who were faeries in their own respective rights. 

There wasn’t much of a difference in what your family and Jung’s practiced–in fact there was none at all. If one was to get them confused it wouldn’t be a problem. The only reason that made witches different from faeries was their souls. It was common knowledge that witches and faeries were split from the same soul. However, the thing that made them different was chaos and order. One was the calm that connected with the soothing light of the moon, while the other was the disorderly that played in the sun. 

In the village though, there was no harsh competition between the two families. Not when you knew that one of the Jung’s was connected to you on a cosmic level. He was your soulmate–the platonic kind. And your family saw nothing wrong with it so they practiced their own things on their own. You kept the middle Jung from trouble and he was the one who pushed you to go out of the norm. It was well balanced as the universe intended. 

Now with your family's shop, you were in charge of it when they were gone–seeing as you were going to be the one to continue the legacy. You would often help customers find what they needed, create spells that would heal wounds, flesh out spirits that were attached to another person, banish entities that meant harm to others. It was the everyday life of a witch–one you cared for dearly. 

It let you know that you still had the power of the moon behind you. You didn’t take them for granted. You didn’t overuse their gift or for personal reasons. Oftentimes you would turn to it when you needed guidance or help in learning something about yourself. It was the mother that had given you what you were. The reason you were a witch. 

“Have a good day!” You smiled, bowing your head at the kind elven woman who had come to ask for a healing jar. 

You handed her the glass, checking it over one last time to make sure the salve was sealed tightly and nothing spilled out. You allowed her hand to touch yours, closing your eyes and giving one last prayer to the moon to allow the salve to have the magical properties it needed. 

“Thank you, (Y/N)!” The woman beamed, bowing her head in thanks. 

You showed the woman out, waving your hand as she disappeared into the crowd. You turned to the other side of the road, hearing commotion as someone stopped at the small food stall that you often had food at. The owner was a mermaid, serving the best seafood dishes you could think of. While your village wasn’t that near water, there was still a large lake that had a lot of freshwater fish to enjoy. 

The commotion was between said owner and a larger than life man. Ogres weren’t that common as mermaids were because of their origins. While mermaids originated from Asia, ogres came from the northern region of Europe. In this time and age, it was common to find creatures all over the world but it was still likely you wouldn’t see them often. 

“We don't serve ogres here.” The owner sneered at the large man. 

“Please, I've been traveling so far.” The poor man sighed, trying to make himself look smaller. 

He glanced around at the patrons of the stall, taking note of all the looks he would get from them. Your shoulders dropped as you sighed deeply. Prejudice against certain creatures had always been around. Some got it more than others–if only because those who treated them poorly were scared of them. It hurt you inside to see how they treated each other. They were all created with the same magic. The magic that came from either the sun or the moon. 

“Go somewhere else.” The owner waved the ogre off, looking away from him angrily. “I don't need you taking up more space than needed.”

The ogre man didn’t argue, only bowed his head and turned to leave the stall. He glanced around for a moment once more, trying to find a place to eat. Without thinking, you went into your store and gathered some mushrooms and herbs that were edible. They were used for spells but that was only if you chose to work with them. In the end they were just normal herbs that could be used in food. 

Coming outside, you were lucky to find that the ogre didn’t go too far. So you rushed up to him, getting his attention as you held out your things for him to take. 

“Here you are.” You spoke softly, bowing your head. 

The man looked down at the things in his hand, glancing back up at you. Tears began to well in his eyes at how kind you were. It had been a long journey to reach the village for the man, and he was grateful that someone was willing to help him. He knew at that moment you were a witch, having the kind nature to help those in need. 

“Thank you.” He bowed deeply, holding the mushrooms close to his chest. 

And so you watched him continue on his way, shoulders dropping at the somber feeling that filled your chest. Things were changing when it came to the people who were on this earth. You didn’t know if it was for the better–or if it was for the worst. 

“Another family came to ask my parents if they could reverse their abilities.” Wooyoung explained to you as he leaned against the counter of your shop. 

You paused in your organizing for a moment before resuming what you were doing. It was few and far between that a new family had come to your or Wooyoung’s family shops to ask that they take away their abilities as creatures. It was them asking to reverse generations of DNA infused with one another. 

Creatures weren’t alway created with spells, they could be born as well. Once the spells became worldwide and other faeries and witches would cast them, it called for new species that would procreate more. It had been a long while since the last spell was casted that created a creature, so the ones who were there came from generational families. 

“They said there's hunters nearby.” Your friend added.

You felt a deep feeling within your stomach that clenched. Hunters were the humans who chose to willingly kill creatures. Humans were common like anyone else. However it became recent that they began to turn against the creatures.  

It had been a long while since creatures themselves began to turn against each other. The humans had begun this fear, causing everyone to notice other things about each other that usually called for peace. They started to become scared of each other because they would assume others had more power. It was starting to bring about a war that would cause all creatures to be wiped out. 

Whether from death because of another species or from them reversing their own abilities. 

“Why would they be here?” You sighed, turning to look at the boy. 

Everyone knew how close you and Wooyoung were. You couldn’t remember a time when you weren’t friends with the chaotic boy. You remembered the first time you had met him, back when you were both children learning to make friends in general. 

He was a bit too much for you, often getting too excited over things that made you give him a questioning look. But you were often paired with him because the other kids didn’t like to hang out with him because of his excited nature. He was too much to handle, but you always knew how to do that. 

Witches and faeries were soulmates, it was known. The universe had created them from the same soul so they were meant to be there for one another. And just like the universe planned, you were there with Wooyoung. You loved him as your other half–it was something the both of you could feel. But that didn’t mean you were lovers. 

While a large majority of the village thought you were, you knew the kind of preferences Wooyoung had and the kind you did. The love you had for each other was platonic. You were his person and he was yours. You knew if either one of you were in trouble the other wouldn’t be that far behind to save the day. 

“Maybe because our village is near the Park estate. I haven't seen them recently now that I think about it. Is it the hunters?” Wooyoung prattled off. 

“I wouldn't assume so.” You told him. 

The Park’s were considered like royalty in your town. It was known that they were one of the founding families, along with Wooyoung’s and some others. The Park’s however were the ones who knew a lot more about how to gather a community together. They were the ones who ran things and made sure to cater to the needs of its people. Mayors of sorts for the village. 

However as of recently, it has been known that the Park’s don’t come down from their castle on the hill. It’s been a few weeks since you had last seen any of them, which you did find to be odd but you didn’t question it because your parents told you not to. 

“They're probably up there staying young forever.” Wooyoung sighed wistfully. “That's why they stopped coming down.”

You frowned, glaring slightly at the boy for his statement. “They need to drink blood in order to do that.”

The Park’s were well known for being vampires. At least being known from what they tell other people. Vampires weren’t what the stories claimed them to be. They weren’t people who drank from people in order to feed. They were still human beings but with an ability that allowed them to drink blood. 

A vampire could eat food, get sick, and die like everyone else, it was when they would have a drop of blood that would heal them both from inside and out. They didn’t have sharp fangs that sprouted from their teeth or pale skin that was sensitive to the sun. What others found out later on after so many were created was that drinking blood continuously made a vampire strong and live longer. Essentially making them immortal. 

And once people found out just how powerful they could be with a simple drop of blood, greed easily took over the minds of the weak. 

“Maybe they come down at night.” Wooyoung continued the joke, a teasing smile on his face. 

“No one goes missing.” You rolled your eyes. “Wooyoung, they're not bloodsuckers.”

You finished what you had been doing with the herbs, moving along the counter to wait on the other side as you began to compile certain spell jars. Wooyoung turned around to face you, head placed in his arms that held him up.

“Wrong!” Wooyoung suddenly said. “They are! I hear the eldest son is 96. Can you imagine how wrinkly he'd be?” He giggled. 

The boy watched as your shoulders seemed to have straightened out at the mention of the Park son. He pursed his lips to keep from saying something, already knowing exactly how it was you felt about the boy. 

“Seonghwa is the same age as you and me.” You said, not making eye contact with him. “Mother delivered him. The Park's are not like those greedy vampires.”

Wooyoung rolled his eyes with a huff. “You only say that because you're a witch. Have you even met him before?” He asked you, looking at you expectantly. 

“Once when I was a kid.” You smiled to yourself. “He was very kind.” 

You hadn’t grown up to be his friend–something you regret a lot. You could only remember it so well because of the way you had felt that day. You didn’t know what you barely a teenager body could possibly have been going through but you knew you had never felt that way with someone before. 

Years Before

You had been strolling through the village, making your rounds to scourge for herbs and the likes as you were on your way to find Wooyoung. You were passing by the wall that was stationed in front of the Park estate, frowning when you saw someone trying to walk along the top of it with their arms stretched out. 

You continued on your way slowly, not wanting to disturb them in case they lost focus. However, it seemed you didn’t need to because the moment you started walking again the boy fell over, scraping his knees on the ground. 

He hissed as he lifted his hands up to wipe them before sitting down on his bum to take a better look at his knee. The wall wasn’t that tall, probably reached your shoulders which meant you were able to see over it. So his fall wasn’t something that would majorly injure him. However since he fell wrong his knees did take a good hit on the dirt ground. 

You quietly gasped out when you saw his wound bubbling with blood, rushing over to check on him. “Are you okay?” You asked out of instinct, kneeling down to take a better look. 

The boy only looked at you with wide eyes, mouth closed shut as he watched you not even pay the proper attention to him. “I’m okay. I just scraped my knee.” He told you quietly. 

You finally looked up at him, feeling your shoulder tense up as you felt a blush settle over your face from his gaze. You tilted your head to the side though, frowning as your heart skipped a beat for a moment. At that moment, you also saw as he frowned as well moving to rub at his chest. 

Looking back down at his knee, you sat down your basket before rummaging through it to find what you needed. “I’ll heal your wounds.” You explained to him, taking your small knife to pick at the herbs you had. 

Before you placed anything on him, you handed him a small cloth telling him to wipe at the blood so you could do your work. He softly took the rag, giving you a smile before nodding his head. His fingers felt cold to the touch, but your skin still heated up. It reminded you of all the candles your family had around the shop. Like a comforting hug that surrounded you. You blushed, smiling back at him before going back to the basket. 

Your fingers moved idly over the herbs you knew are used to heal wounds. With only a select few that you had with you, you cut a piece of aloe vera and made sure to expose the gel inside. While you discarded the green part, you gathered a few sprigs of green tea leaves before turning to Seonghwa. 

He sat up straighter, having been caught staring as you went about your work. You giggled quietly, scooting closer to his leg and looking over it to make sure there was nothing dirty. When you saw he had cleaned up the excess blood, you carefully placed the cool gel pad of the aloe onto the scrape and rubbed it in with the leaves. 

“Hold this here, please.” You quietly told him. 

He listened, holding the aloe to his skin as your hands hovered over him. He watched you close your eyes and began to move your lips as hushed breaths came out. Your fingers messaged into his skin as a tingle seemed to flow throughout his muscles. His eyes went wide as he had realized that you were doing a spell on him, so he quickly turned to pay attention to what you were doing. 

Nothing came out from your fingers, in fact it didn’t even look like you were doing anything other than rubbing his knee. What he did feel though was a warming feeling that overtook his body. He was reminded of the times he spent watching the flames of a candle flicker back and forth as his nose breathed against it. 

He looked back at your face, smiling softly as you made him feel content. Before he knew it you were sitting back up and taking the aloe off his skin. “Oh you’re done.” He said, looking down at his knee. 

His eyes went wide again as he saw his skin had healed over and no more blood was coming out. The skin was pink though, a scar taking its place. Magic witches and faeries had was an amazing thing but not everything could be fixed completely. 

“Yeah.” You said. “The spell only makes the healing process go faster. Scars are still going to be there.”

Seonghwa looked over his knee, moving it back and forth. “That’s okay.” He grinned.

You both stood up from the ground, dusting yourselves off from the dirt. Just as he was about to ask for your name, someone had called for you. Looking around Seonghwa, you saw Wooyoung looking around for you with a frown on his face. 

“That’s my friend.” You told Seonghwa. “I have to get going.” You gave him a bow one last time, picking up your basket and skipping over to the faerie boy. 

As you walked away, you smiled sadly as you looked behind you one last time catching Seonghwa’s eyes. He gave you a smile, waving his hand. You laughed, waving back enthusiastically. When you turned around, you felt something flicker in your chest as a warmth spread throughout it. 

Present

“Sweet.” You added, remembering about the time you had met Seonghwa. 

“And he made me feel all warm inside as if I was standing next to a burning candle.” Wooyoung mocked in a high pitched voice. “As does every witch girl who comes across him. You aren't special.”

“I never said I was!” You sneered at him, throwing a bay leaf at him for mocking you. 

He began to let out a loud laugh that reminded you of a screech. But you couldn’t stand to tell him something about it. No matter how much he annoyed you and mocked you, you knew that you both loved each other too much. 

Wooyoung grew quiet for a moment, making you look over at him. He had a somber look on his face that made you worry a bit. Wooyoung had his moments where he was serious, especially if it had to do with his beliefs. But even then you still worried about his mental state in those times. Whether it was out of anger or sadness, you would always be able to tell when something was bothering him. 

“Do you think the hunters will come to our village next?” Wooyoung quietly asked. “What happens when they do?” He turned to look at you. 

You licked your lips, sighing to yourself. “I don't know, Woo.” You quietly said. 

That following night, your parents had left the shop in your care because they had something to attend to with the council. Wooyoung’s parents were also going to be out but they had placed their things in the care of Wooyoung’s older brother. The man himself was not going to keep the place from falling apart. 

You were getting things ready for closing when someone knocked on the door and you looked out towards the door. A tall man stood at the entrance, bowing his head when he noticed you turning around to face him. 

The candle light was too far from him for you to find out who exactly stood at the door, so you calmly raised your hand closer to some candles and whispered under your breath for protection just in case. 

However as he grew closer, your shoulders dropped and your fingers stopped their movements. You began to feel dizzy from the warm feeling surrounding you. You wanted to close your eyes and bask in its warmth but you had a customer to attend to. 

“I've come to speak to the head of this house.” He spoke, coming into view in the candle light. 

He was the tall and handsome type most people would fall for. The kind that makes people stop and stare from how regal he looked. It was only heightened with the kind of clothes he wore. They made him look taller, stronger with how much everything seemed to fit him. He called for attention, and he clearly had yours. 

“They're currently out of town.” You told the duke’s son. 

He finally had reached the counter, coming into light as the candle fully lit up his face. Park Seonghwa was someone who smiled at those in passing. The one who was kind to everyone because that was just the kind of person he was. 

To you though, he was the man who you dreamt of. The man who laid on a dying bed as your blood poured into his mouth to keep him alive. It wasn’t your memory–far from it. It was the memory of a witch who was losing her true love to some injury. The one who created the spell that would change the course of history for magic. 

But it was all in your head. Something you could never explain to others because they wouldn’t understand. Like how Wooyoung had made fun of you for thinking of Seonghwa in any way other than he was a nice guy. You knew others might not make fun of you, but it was something that you wanted to keep to yourself because it was special.  

“I see.” Seonghwa nodded his head.  

He looked at you, for a moment, eyes glancing over your face as he tried to deduce something. “Is it alright if I can ask you what creature you are?” He asked you.

You opened your mouth just a bit as your breath got caught in your throat. You smiled bashfully, looking down. “Of course.” You nodded, answering him.  

“I am a witch.” You explained. “My family owns the shop.”

He paused again, seemingly looking more confused as he scooted closer to the counter. “I’m sorry, have we met before?” He asked you.

Your eyebrows rose, as you took in his looks, seemingly sighing dreamily as you watched him. Your fingers began to tingle, causing you to flex them to relive the feelings. You could feel your blood rushing through your heart, and warming your body.

“I believe, so when we were children.” You answered. 

Seonghwa watched you, feeling his blood warm up as you looked at him. He could feel himself start to fall asleep from how everything seemed to make him feel. He could remember the one time he had last ever felt that way. The time a young woman had come to help him fix his scraped knee. 

He remembered it now, the time when someone had helped him and it made him feel like a little child who stood in front of a candle. And now, standing in front of you again, he felt that same feeling. The wick that was lit up, the heat that radiated from the small flame, the wax that would melt and he would dip his fingers into it. 

Not a day went by that he wouldn’t think about it. Think about the girl who had helped heal him with her magic. About the story his mother would tell him. The story of how vampires came to be. How they were the creatures who were created out of love. 

“Yes.” Seonghwa said, nodding to himself. “I remember now. You treated my knee scrape when I fell from the wall of the palace.” He began to smile bashfully. “Embarrassing for me really. Having a pretty girl clean my wound.”

“I'm sure someone else would have done the same.” You blushed. 

“Yes but none of them would have been a witch.” Seonghwa smiled at you.

You smiled softly at him, understanding that what you were feeling was not only yours. You didn’t know how far it was that he understood your connection–you didn’t even fully know if he truly did. But something about him knowing now that you were a witch made things change. 

There was so much you wanted to ask him. So much you wanted to speak about with him but you knew there were things he needed to get done. The night was young and Seonghwa must have important matters to attend to if he only came down from the estate this late at night. 

“I guess not.” You spoke softly. 

“I guess I'll come by another day then.” He whispered to you, not tearing his eyes away. 

You smiled at him nodding your head. Before he got the chance to turn around and walk away you called out to him. “If you need help with anything, please don't be afraid to ask me.” You told him.

He gave you a dazzling smile, lips pulling over his teeth. “Of course, little witch.”

You felt your heart stop for just a split second. The endearing nickname felt like a stab to your chest. Not in a bad way, but in a way that made your blood warm up even more. A blush overtook your cheeks. But still you gave him a nod and a wave of your hand. You watched as he left with a small smile on his lips. 

**

You didn’t know how long it was that you saw him again. But it was a sad day for the village. You read over the article with the news about the death of the Park family. At least the parents. 

You hadn’t seen Seonghwa since he last came in looking for your parents. It made you sad, not knowing what he must have been going through. It was even worse when you didn’t know how to fix things. 

“They said it was a hunter.” Wooyoung spoke, looking over the paper. “Now with both of them gone it only leaves Seonghwa in charge of the estate. I wonder why they didn't just take blood.” The boy sighed. 

“Wooyoung, not everything is like a story book.” You told him, not looking at him. 

You didn’t know how to tell him. How to explain what it was you felt for Seonghwa. Honestly, you didn’t even fully understand it yet. It was every witches dream to find the person they were destined for, but you knew there were a select few who were able to. 

Twin flames were hard to come by, only one in every century. To get this kind of chance was something no one wanted to just pass by. But for you, it was hard. Times were changing for the worse. At least for the creatures who roamed the earth. And yet you still wanted to deny it.

“They are not creatures who guzzle blood like it's their dinner.” You defended. 

“But somehow they were the reason this war against creatures started.” Wooyoung rolled his eyes.

“You can't blame them for everything.” You looked up at him, eyebrows pulled together. “Only the greedy ones deserve death.” You added.

“(Y/N), get out of your head.” Wooyoung exclaimed. “Vampires are the reason hunters came to be. The reason all the creatures turned against each other and started to go into hiding. The reason we can't practice our magic anymore!” He was breathing hard, trying his best to keep from crying.

You sucked in breath, wanting to calm your racing heart. “Don't make a fool of yourself, Wooyoung. We still practice it.” You denied him. 

“Really?” He asked. “Then what was the last spell your parents taught you?”

It was a healing spell. Back when you were a little girl. They never really taught you anything outside of the everyday needs. Healing, protections, warding, divination–all the things anyone needed in their lives. Wooyoung was right, though. They never taught you the big kinds of spells. The ones that connected you to the other worldly beings or fixed a mistake in your life that ended up in major failure. 

You were just the girl who worked in the shop and made simple spells and read simple futures with cards. You couldn’t save a person’s life from the brink of death. Couldn’t make a mother find what she needed in order to have a child. Didn’t know how to help a child who couldn’t hear or see. Those were the spells your parents knew because their own families had taught them. 

Wooyoung took your silence as an answer. His lips trembled as he became angry with how you were denying the truth. How you didn’t want to come to terms that the world was not happy with the magic users that were meant to care for it. 

“They stopped because they know everyone is reversing their abilities.” Wooyoung sniffled. “Even the Park's! They came to my family to take away their powers—”

“Am I interrupting?” Someone asked. 

Both you and the faerie boy turned, coming face to face with Seonghwa. You pressed your lips together, feeling your blood warm up from standing so close to him. 

“Not at all.” You spoke up. “Wooyoung was just leaving.” 

You watched the boy give you a look, disappointed in what you decided to choose. Your shoulders dropped at the way he looked at you. It hurt to watch him walk away from you in a haste to get away.

No matter what, Wooyoung was always going to be your person. Even if you kind were the ones who created vampires out of love, the universe was the one who created faeries and witches from the same soul. No creature was going to get in the way of that. 

You turned back to Seonghwa, feeling your chest burn from both hurt and familiarity. You walked around the counter, stepping to stand in front of him. “I'm sorry about your mother.” You told him.

“I am too.” He gave you a soft smile. “Little witch, do you treasure who you are?” He asked you.

Your lips opened and closed for a moment before you looked down to avoid his gaze. You felt your heart ache thinking about how he must have overheard Wooyoung telling you about the Park’s going to his family to take away their vampiric abilities. His question did catch you off guard. But the moment you understood his words, you knew what it was you wanted to say. 

People grew up to be the person they were meant to be for a reason. Being a human, witch, faerie, vampire–whatever–was what made them just that. You couldn’t go on without knowing who it was you were or wanted to be. Being a witch was a part of you just as being a vampire was for Seonghwa. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to give up a part of you. Especially because you knew it was the reason you were at risk of being killed at the hands of others who didn’t understand the kind of person you were. 

“More than anything in the world.” You answered him. “It's what makes me the person I am.”

“And if you had to give it up?” Seonghwa’s lips trembled, his breath turning shallow as he grew closer to you. “To let others know that you mean them no harm?”

You were never going to be able to know how Wooyoung dealt with his struggles. How Seonghwa dealt with his or how other creatures did. But you knew that being a witch was part of you and losing that would be one of the most painful experiences you could ever know. 

“I wouldn't know what to do with myself.” You whispered. “That would be taking away a part of me–a part of my soul.”

Seonghwa sucked in a breath hearing your words. You felt his hands brush against your own, your breath hitching as you suddenly saw a vision pass behind your eyes. It was like those dreams you had. You saw those bloody hands clasped together–watched as two candles flickered together in sync with one another. And like always, the moonlight shined down on those two lovers huddled together. 

When the images passed you found yourself staring right into Seonghwa’s eyes. You were close enough to watch as his pupils grew as they watched you. You could almost feel his warmth seeping into your skin. 

“And if your soul was connected to someone else's?” He whispered. 

“Wouldn't that make them my soulmate?” You questioned back.

“No, not your soulmate.” Seonghwa shook his head. “That would mean that person was your other half.” He explained, his hand finally taking yours in his. “The half that was torn from you.”

His fingers pried yours open, closing around your palm as he clasped your hand. Your eyes fluttered for a moment as you glanced down at his lips, but you quickly looked up the moment he stepped closer, chest brushing against yours.  

“I mean in a way that your soul mirrors another.”

Twin flames were what they called witches and vampires. They were called that because when a witch created the first ever vampire, the way they had cured their lover was by connecting their souls together. They prayed to the moon and called upon its magic to save the one thing that they had loved more than even their own life. 

And when the moon answered, the witch lit two candles that were the bridge between their lover’s dying soul and their living one. When they fed their lover blood, it was meant to be the essence of life bringing them back from the river that would take them to the underworld. In doing so, the witches' life became one with their lover. This created their souls to be connected to one another. 

“Then we'd walk side by side.” You swallowed. “Magic or not, our souls will always be the same.” You told him. 

You watched how his Adam's apple moved, his throat feeling like it was closing in as he took in your words. His lip trembled, breathing turning harsh as he tried to keep from having tears fall. 

“Are you alright, Seonghwa?” You asked, growing worried as you took in his state. 

“I just wanted to check on something.” He whispered so quietly. “I had to make sure I wasn't wrong.”

Your lips slowly turned downward as you realized what he was talking about. The moment Seonghwa saw your facial expression take a turn, he leaned closer, forehead touching yours as he was a breath away from touching your lips.

“Did you find what you were looking for?” You asked, lips brushing against his.

“More than I could ever ask for.” He then pressed his lips against yours. 

Your breath got caught in your throat once more, body leaning back as he fully pushed himself into you. You didn’t waste time to kiss him back with as much vigor. You could feel something within you swell. You could feel Seonghwa’s heartbeat against his chest. Tears pooled in your eyes as you knew it was beating in sync with yours. 

You felt his tears falling down his cheek, touching your own and causing them to get wet. But you didn’t care. All that filled your head was the way his lips felt touching yours–the way his body reacted with your own. Everything was moving together, like it was one person who was in charge. 

Everything felt right. Like you were meant to be in that moment with him. And the moon–you could feel it on your skin. You could feel it seeping through the windows and onto the both of you. It was watching you–knowing what it had been doing when it brought you together. 

You began to feel Seonghwa move the tip of his tongue onto your lips. When you opened your mouth just a bit more, you felt his teeth scrape your bottom lip. You didn’t know what had gone wrong, but suddenly you felt a nick on your skin, causing you to pull back quickly with a gasp.

You licked at your lip, feeling liquid touch your tongue. You furrowed your eyebrows when you felt that it didn’t hurt. In fact, you could even feel the sting when Seonghwa had caused the wound. The only reason you had was because you felt him bite you. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He pulled back, licking off the blood that had been left on his lips.

“It’s alright.” You shook your head, trying to wipe away the dribbles. “Nothing I can’t fix.” You smiled at him.

Seonghwa stepped forward again, moving a hand to your cheek as his thumb brushed to wipe away the blood. He leaned down again, giving you one last chaste kiss to avoid hurting you further. 

“Forgive me, my little witch.” He whispered to you.

And then he was gone.

**

You watched, along with the rest of the village, as people tried to clean up the bodies of humans who were torn apart and left in the town square to rot. Many tried to shield their eyes, keep children from looking at the disfigured humans. 

They were hunters. Everyone could tell from the weapons that laid at their sides. Weapons that could easily kill anyone if you used them right. But you knew they were used against creatures. Creatures who had turned themselves humans but still were ultimately killed.

Wooyoung was at your side, making faces and gagging as the morticians tried to clean up the severed body parts. There were only certain things that had the strength to do that to the body. And as far as you knew, they had reversed their ability days before the death of his parents.

“I thought you said the Park’s came to reverse their powers.” You mumbled emotionless.

“Not Seonghwa.” Wooyoung answered you.

He turned to look at you, seeing how your face remained emotionless. “Still don't want to believe me?” He asked. 

There was only so much pain someone could take before reaching the breaking point. Finding out that the one person who was meant to be a mirrored soul to your own after being told that you were no longer going to be the person you were meant to be was heart wrenching. Watching as your family lost something that belonged to not only their mind but their soul as you chose not to go through with it. Then you truly find the person who was meant to be your one true love.

Only to remember that one day they too were going to have to give up what they were. Even worse for someone who was a witch. To have to grow old as they lost their connection with the moon. That was far worse than losing some silly ability to drink blood. 

It only led them to want to fight for what was meant to be right. But was it in the end if power only caused war against one another? Maybe giving up those kinds of things was for the best. But that doesn’t mean there weren’t going to be people who fought for their life.

“Not at all.”

Permanent Taglist: @hecateslittlewitchling , @ldysmfrst, @rln-byg , @vampcharxter , @angieskzzzz , @puppyminnnie , @smilingtokki , @emtrades22 , @tinyelfperson , @0rangemilk , @jaerisdiction , @wooyoungqueen

[avelera]

I definitely don't need more WIPs right not for Dreamling, but sometimes it is fun to brainstorm a total nonsense fanfic-y premise played totally straight, which is why I'm fondly remembering the Cinderella Dreamling AU I brainstormed on one of the servers.

(Canon Divergence AU, because that's how I roll)

2022 rolls around and Hob and Dream are friends. Just... friends. Hob would love there to be more. He sometimes suspects, more like wishes really hard, that Dream would like more but, as usual, the guy isn't talking if he does. And Hob is too chicken to ruin the friendship they finally achieved to do something so uncouth as proposition his oldest friend.

He comes to the sad and perhaps inevitable conclusion that Dream has had all the chances in the world to say something so the only conclusion is that Hob's just not that interesting to him in that way. Stands to reason. The more Hob learns about the Dreaming and Dream's fantastical realm and all his adventures, the more Hob's almost single-minded dedication to living a normal life despite his immortality seems a bit... dull.

Enter Desire. Or Death. Or both. This is fanfic-y nonsense, after all, the point is there is a device and the device is our fairy god-person who is also sick to death of watching Dream pine from afar but is also a huge fan of chaos.

They (let's go with Desire for now, even if the trope is a bit overplayed, because it seems like their sort of thing) offer Hob a proposal. The chance to go into the Dreaming each night to woo Dream. Best of all, it will be with Desire's protection of his identity and a small amount of magic to create a persona for wooing Dream that won't be immediately obvious.

Oh, also, Dream is throwing a big fuck-off bash for Faerie or some other Dreaming ally so there's gonna be a party for weeks up there. Perfect place to slip in a new stranger. (Hob is a little charmed by the idea that he gets to be the stranger for once.)

Enter: the Knight of Roses.

Basically, Hob creates a persona into which he pours all of charm, wit, and courtier's polish from 600s years of life. If nothing else, he's having the time of his life at what is essentially a fancy magical masquerade ball where he gets to try his damndest to sweep Dream off his feet.

And it seems to be working. Hard to tell with Dream. But each night, Dream seems excited to see the Knight of Roses again.

(It is working. It's working very very well. The Dreaming is awash in flowers. Dream spends every waking moment he's not at the ball pacing his quarters, interrogating his subjects as to how in the world he can't get to the bottom of who this is, and every person who could nominally be considered his friend including his siblings and subjects are tearing their hair out with how sick they are of hearing about the Knight of Roses.

Hob doesn't hear about it though in the waking because Dream is in love with him and doesn't want to ruin any chance they might have together someday by agonizing over a mysterious guest who is probably some trick sent by Desire or Lucifer or someone to mess with Dream. He has no idea how right he is and how wrong he is not to bring it up to Hob.)

Secret Identity shenanigans ensue, of course, until we hit a breaking point with drama, tears, etc etc the usual for the trope because of course (gasp!) Hob is the Knight of Roses and there never was any need to create a separate persona because Dream was also agonizing over whether Hob was interested and Hob was so chill around him he assumed he was misreading all the signs. (Hob was working so, so hard to appear that chill around Dream.) Identities are unmasked and everyone lives happily ever after.

(But Hob is keeping the outfit once they're officially together, because Dream really, really liked the romance of the whole Knight of Roses identity but he likes it even more now that he knows it's Hob and not an evil trap laid by one of his enemies.)

[pocketjoong]

❥𓂃𓏧Intertwined Destinies

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (SYNOPSIS) "There will come a time, you'll see, with no more tears, and love will not break your heart, but dismiss your fears..." After The Storm, Mumford & Sons

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (PAIRING) idol!seonghwa x gn!reader

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (GENRE AND AU/TROPE): angst to fluff. soulmates.

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WARNINGS) Angst. It ends in fluff though? Sad and frustrated Seonghwa. Sad you. Mentions of broken hearts. Lmk if I missed anything ksksks

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (WORD COUNT) 1.4k

ꕥ𓂃𓏧 (A/N) @hwaightme my loveeeeeeee~ happy birthday! I love you as much as there are stars (hwas) in the night sky. thank you for being you and for being such a kind and warm person. wishing you lots of love from the bottom of my hwart. I hope this is not too angsty asdfghjkl, I was planning on fluff, but my brain didn't want to listen... :) Anyways, I hope you like this little rollercoaster of tears, and i'm sorry in advance!

Shoutout to @armysantiny for reading this beforehand!

Seonghwa runs his fingers through his already tousled ebony hair, groaning as he pauses the track sent to him by the producers at KQ. In the dimly lit studio, the neon glow from the computer screen casts a dreamy glow around him. Seonghwa’s brows furrow as he stares down at the pages of his leather-bound notebook. Each scribbled lyric within its pages doesn’t seem to fit the melody given to him.

For Seonghwa, writing lyrics is a territory he’s still exploring and learning. But he wanted to challenge himself this time around, especially since he had received help from Hongjoong while writing lyrics for his rap verse in Bouncy. That experience ignited the desire to create something that will not only awe atinys but also the composers too. But till now, every word he has penned down seems like a discordant note in what he would consider a masterpiece.

With a deep, exasperated sigh, Seonghwa slumps back in his chair. The leather creaks in protest, adding another irritating voice to the cacophony of his own rapidly darkening thoughts. Seonghwa groans again, frustration etched across his features as he tugs at the roots of his hair as though trying to yank inspiration from the depths of his mind.

“You will rip out all your hair if you keep that up,” Hongjoong deadpans from the doorway, causing the elder male to slowly swivel in his chair, exhausted eyes meeting the former’s figure. “You need help?”

Seonghwa’s response is a weary shake of his head, his lips parting, about to reassure his friend, but Hongjoong interjects, his voice laced with concern.

“You need to take a break, Hwa,” Hongjoong implores. “You’ve been cooped up for so long in the studio. That’s my thing, not yours. We’re worried about you, especially since…” He trails off, his gaze shifting to Seonghwa’s forearm, which remains fully concealed by his full-sleeved shirt.

“Oh, it's fine, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa smiles, though anyone can see the fakeness of it. “I'm—”

“—If you say fine once more, I swear,” unable to bear his friend’s hollow reassurances any longer, Hongjoong cuts him off with a firm tone and sits on the vacant chair next to Seonghwa. “I've known you for years, Hwa. And even if I didn't, I would still be able to know that you are not fine.”

Seonghwa's weary sigh seems to echo in the dimly lit room as his gaze drifts up to the false ceiling as if searching for answers among the shadows. 

“I’m not…” he begins, words weighed down by the gravity of his emotions. “How can I be? I was supposed to get my soulmate tattoo on my birthday. And I didn’t.” The words spill from his lips like a lament, each syllable tinged with the bitterness of disappointment. His voice begins to quiver as he continues to speak, “Out of every single person in this world, why is it me who doesn't have a soulmate? Am I not worthy of one? I know I’m not perfect, but…” Seonghwa’s voice breaks, and he finally turns to look at Hongjoong with tear-filled eyes. “Out of everyone, why me?”

“Seonghwa…” Hongjoong begins, but the weight of Seonghwa’s words leaves him momentarily speechless.

Seonghwa lets out a bitter chuckle and shakes his head as if trying to shake off the sorrow that clings to him like a shroud. He rises from his seat, “You won't understand, Joong. You have an amazing soulmate; please take care of them.”

With that, Seonghwa leaves the room, leaving Hongjoong alone in the dimly lit studio. As the door closes behind the taller male, his eyes fall on the lyrics Seonghwa had penned.

Mournful thunder rips the skiesIt’s much too bright for me to hideAnd purples lie beneath my eyesAnother crash as clouds collide

“You're right,” Hongjoong whispers in the studio, his voice blending in with the shadows. I don't understand. But I wish from the bottom of my heart that the universe gives you your soulmate. If anyone deserves one, it’s you,” his words hand in the air, lingering like an unspoken prayer, even though he knows that Seonghwa can’t hear him.

As he speaks, a soft breeze gently rustles the curtains, casting patterns of light and shadow on the walls. The room itself seems to hold its breath as if in reverence for the longing that envelopes Seonghwa’s heart.

The world has always worked in peculiar ways as it tries to unite each soulmate pair. On the day one turned 22, the universe would bestow an individual with soulmate marks. Each mark, in one way or another, had the power to help the bearer to contact their soulmate, either through dreams, thoughts, or writing. It is different for everyone but similar in that it all led to one destination: the union of souls.

You had always believed in the concept of soulmates, for it was a belief etched deep into your heart as you couldn’t help but be captivated by the concept. You loved to read about soulmates and heard stories from people about how they met their soulmates. Hearing all the stories from different people, you started fantasising about how you’d meet yours. And by the time you turned 22, there wasn’t a thing you didn't know about soulmates. You had read almost every book you could lay hands on and talked to whoever had met their soulmates. There were some cases where someone didn’t get their soulmate tattoo, but that was extremely rare, and in one generation, not more than one or two people didn’t get their tattoos. But since you had read everything and knew a lot, you thought you were ready for anything.

But nothing could have prepared you for the disaster that struck on the day of your 22nd birthday, a day that was meant for a celebration of destiny. You were happy as you saw the beautiful musical note that was engraved on the skin of your wrist that morning. There was a skip in your step that day until the evening. As you were returning from your classes at the university while listening to ATEEZ, a K-Pop group that you loved for their deep and meaningful music, you became aware of the stinging pain in your wrist. Like a nightmare, you saw the newly acquired music note fade, and the world was enveloped in darkness. When you awoke, you found yourself in the sterile confines of a hospital room, surrounded by your family, who bore expressions of sympathy and sorrow.

A year has passed since that fateful day that shattered your dreams, leaving you grappling with the wreckage of your heart. In a bid to start life anew, you move to South Korea, taking on the role of a translator for a broadcasting network.

As you navigate your new life in a foreign land, the pain of your lost soulmate remains a constant companion, an indelible mark on your heart. The wound is far from healed, but a sense of contentment begins to seep into your life. South Korea, with its bustling cityscape, offers you solace and a chance to rebuild your life.

The rain pelts against the coffee shop’s misty windowpanes, creating a soothing melody of its own. Inside the warmth of the coffee shop, you sit perched upon a cushioned stool, your hand cradling a cup of warm hot chocolate in your hands. The cafe is quite crowded today due to individuals seeking shelter from the rain. The soft chatter of conversations swirls in the air, punctuated by the distant hum of espresso machines and the occasional clinking of cutlery.

As you gaze out at the deserted street, a tranquil feeling settles within you, the raindrops serving as a lullaby to your thoughts. It allows you a brief respite from the storm, both literal and metaphorical, that had rages within your soul.

The sound of the bell, which signals the door’s opening, shakes you out of your reverie. You look up, curiosity piqued by the arrival of a masked figure. The male surveys the room, eyes scanning the available seating options, and his gaze settles upon the only vacant spot next to you. 

With each step the mysterious figure takes to walk toward you, you can’t help but feel that you know them from somewhere. Your pulse quickens when realisation dawns upon you. It hits you like lightning that the mysterious figure is Park Seonghwa.

Your breath is caught in your throat as he approaches. His sultry, brown eyes meet yours, and something clicks inside you. As if controlled by an unseen force, he reaches a hand out for you, and as your fingers meet his, a beautiful star engraves itself on both your and his wrists, a symbol of your intertwined destinies.