#love kenzie but come on

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

Charlie was really robbed.

Really Maria, Kenzie's story moved you? Out of all the people to have such bitter jury syndrome, that really disappointed me. She knows he outplayed her there at the end, and she didn't give him credit. I really like Kenzie, but Charlie's game was better in all aspects. I see people saying Kenzie had the social game, but so did Charlie. It's why Maria and Q had absolutely no shot of getting the votes to get him out, they did not have the social juice, but Charlie (like Kenzie) had a good relationship with everyone. He just also had gameplay in addition to the social aspect.

Don't even get me started on Q, when I get my hands on that man...

[themacabrebarbie]

tag drop !

[heartbeetz]

This is soooooooo Bob/Kenzie. Silly little "how well do you know the story" quiz game gives me all the validation I need for my "our relationship started as a one-off date with a fan" lore. He would.

[caramelloss]

"you are my witch"

lilia calderu x reader • pure smut • 3.2k w/c

summary: you've been friends with lilia calderu for years. drunken from the poison of wine, you confess your love for the woman. although reluctant to admit her feelings, because she harbors a secret you don't know, you learn that lilia feels the same way. years of yearning come to an end, and you find yourself falling into your desires, unable to control what has been kept away for so long.

taglist: @setsuna1415 @honeypiperpizza123 @valarmorghuli @allseingeye @im-a-carnivorous-plant @worstendingever @ramblininsomnia @wandamaximoff-simp @mrsines @onlyv4use @kenzie-floops @screamsin-gay @numenamortenia @valkyrierain @babythere @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @astrophilliaxx @giona45-5 @evilregal2002 @crescendoofstars @yourbasicqueerie @primalnight @darkangelchronicles @sapphic-girlss @thegoddamnfeels @doctormaviatorres @i-hate-most-insects @brisgayshit97 @iheartmilfzzsposts @redrouge7e7as @novavala @finnza @wandringlightsaber @romanoffsho @kingpreciouswrld @emilyprentitss @elobv10 @wandasreallover @kaypastore38 @thegayassbit-ch @marinalunaestrella @gryffindor-forlife @lorrainemylove @anais-casablanca @girlwithissuesworld @ofgoldandbraid @justgaygirlthings @beachhausu @deathly777 @confuseuniverse @eepyvampy @whyilovewomen @r-3-becca @roksana6448 @bugcolector @etw12 @heartsfromelle @zyguard118 @thelesbianapollokid4 @opossum-in-disguise @snoopyaah @amberwhale @marisacoulterswife @ionlylikefictionalpeople @derry-n @evie-101 @ganyulover123

author's note: so first i'd like to just THANK all of you for blowing up my post asking for who'd like to be tagged, because the taglist isn't even done, i can't fit them all in the blog. also, i tagged you if you liked or reblogged the tag ask post, because i bolded i would tag those who liked or reblogged. second; i'm sorry this isn't a longer fic. it was originally planned to be, but i don't want to use my idea i came up with in a one chapter fic, i'd like it to be used in a longer more meaningful one. i really hope you enjoy this. if you have any positive, negative, or general feedback, please let me know! i want to become the best author i can be for you guys. also, i'd love to receive any asks for fanfiction or one shots! i'm currently focused on my big multi character x reader fic, but im 100% open to and willing to write for your requests.

content includes: fingering, oral stimulation, biting, praise, hair pulling, pet name usage

you noticed the difference in her eyes like it was bolded in bright red ink. her smile fell, like an angel to descend from heaven. 'this is it' you thought, 'she’ll hate me.' you turned away in shame, your heart dropped. words flooded out, stupid, careless words. "i love you, lilia." 

you couldn't bear to look, you feared the disagreement would show on her face. your body tenses, and you scrunch the bridge of your nose with your fingers. you expect her to tell you to get out, or leave.. but you hear nothing. 

but you feel, oh, you feel. 

you feel her behind you, closer than when you had muttered those stupid, damning words. her fingers gently traced your neck, and you closed your eyes, the yearning in your soul up to its brink of expression. each breath you take is shaky, is heavy. you tilt your head aside, desperate to feel her warmth on your skin forever. 

you open your eyes when you feel her breath on your neck. she must've noticed your body's reaction, because she paused, and remained still. lilia traces her fingers down your body, to your hips. she stops here, her lips close to your ears, as her body presses into your back. 

you lean into her, your head slightly leaning back, at the pure and utter pleasure you feel being so close to her. her lips part, and with such composure, yet so little solidity, she delivers a line that would come to send shivers down your spine. "i have loved you since i saw you the first time, long ago. i am consumed and rattled by you at every waking second.." her hands pull you in, and you hum at the gesture. your eyes are closed, not because you hate this, or don't want to be there, but because the way you long for her in this moment now is too painful for you to bear. a lump forms in your throat when you feel her wet cheek graze your neck. she was in tears, and you needed to console her; but how? how should you console her now? you did not have much time to think. her lips, warm, soft, and gentle, were on your neck. the kiss she blessed your skin with felt like one that existed prior to the world, and forever past the present. it was torture, it was devastation, when she pulled away. it hurt, it was brutal.. so brutal, your lips parted, and you gasped quietly. your hand reached back for her head, and you enveloped your fingers in the curly, silver locks of her hair. you held her head close to yours, as her thumbs rubbed gently upon your hips. her voice broke as she completed her confession, and your heart broke with it; you'd do anything to protect her, to keep her from harm. "i'm a witch, y/n.. how could you ever love a witch?" 

your eyes opened, and you stopped breathing, for just a moment. you were sure you'd heard wrong. with a furrowed brow, and a worrisome expression, you broke away from her touch, from her hold. you turned to her, and your head tilted to the side, as tears began to form in your waterline. the sight of her, so weak, so doubtful of herself, so ashamed.. your heart shattered like a broken mirror. 

her face was lined with streaks of wet. she had cried for this, she suffered for it. she couldn't even look at you, her eyes were avert. 

your hands raced to cup her cheeks, and you gently wipe away her tears. her lips part, in astonishment, followed by her eyes meeting your gaze. finally, you saw those beautiful eyes again. your heart skipped a thousand beats at the sight of those irises. you smile, and your face softens. "lilia.." you whisper, your forehead pressed against hers now, "i've loved you since the sun rose opposite the moon. i've chased you in all of my wildest dreams. i've loved you in every moment and i would not stop because of what you are or are not." at your notation, her lips fold into a smile. she grabs your wrists softly, holding them. once more you spoke, "you are my witch, my little piece of divinity. you are mine, and my heart is yours." you watch as her eyes move from your eyes to your lips, and you wish for nothing but her to kiss you. 

after all these years, of being her "friend", you have never wanted anything more than for her to kiss you. it's like an insatiable hunger you cannot destroy. 

lilia bites her lip, and she grabs your chin with her pointer finger and her thumb. you start to breath heavy, and your heart begins to race. she brings your face to hers, so close that your lips graze against one another’s. you ache for her, you long for her. you need to taste her, to merge your body, your soul, your heart, with hers. you need her to kiss you. 

and she does. her lips mesh with yours in perfect harmony, like the melody of heaven’s sea. your mind is adrift, clouded. you cannot form a thought, you do not desire to form a thought. her unaccompanied hand caresses the small of your back, and you pull her closer with the hands you hold on her face. 

she slips her tongue along your bottom lip, and you moan softly into the kiss. her grip on your chin releases, and she holds your jaw instead. she guides you through the long, heart-felt kisses. her lips control your body, your mind. 

warmth builds between your thighs, and your head is still covered by nothing but a blanket of emptiness. lilia is the first to pull away, her lack of oxygen in her lungs being the culprit. you curse the living necessity of air. 

you yourself breathe heavy, panting almost. lilia’s lipstick is smudged, and you smirk at the notion that you've just kissed this marvel of a woman. she notices your cocky smile, and a single eyebrow lifts. she now wore a smirk herself. 

“you're looking at me like you've just seen me naked, y/n.” you chuckle when she says this. “while i wouldn't be opposed to that, i'm just a little satisfied with the fact that in the midst of kissing me, you forgot about your lipstick.”  

her smirk faded and her lips parted again, she pop looked offended, but you could tell it was just her beautiful sense of sarcasm. 

“fix it for me?” she asked this with a lower tone and a wink, and you felt your core throb at the sound of her voice. she wanted you to kiss her again. 

you ran your tongue across your bottom lip, and you couldn't help your smile. her hands guided your face close, and you pushed a curl behind her ear. she grew desperate, unable to wait. her lips caught yours, and you shut your eyes at the contact. in your head you pictured her eyes, beautiful and brown, like the rock embedded and shaded on the side of a mountain. your grip on her hair tightened as she pushed you back softly, making sure not to break the kiss. her lips were soft, so soft it felt like the comfort a pillow brings in the hour of sleep. you moan as your lower back makes contact with her counter, and your head leans back, which breaks the embrace. 

the wetness between your thighs grows, and you figure your underwear must be utterly ruined. lilia's fingers stroked your hair, and she shook her head slightly, a whisper following shortly. "let me taste you.. every inch of you.." you bite your lip, and hold her gaze, nodding hesitantly; even though you don't feel hesitant on your answer at all. her smirk returns, and her hands descend, down from your hair to your neck. she drags them further down, past your shoulders. she stops at where the unbuttoned cardigan opens, pushing the material off of your arms and body. her warmth intoxicates you when her skin brushes against yours. she plants hot kisses on your upper arms, which are exposed because of the camisole top you wore. 

her hands found the straps to your shirt, and she pulled them down slowly, kissing the empty place they used to cover. you tense, and your eyes shut as your lips purse together while you try to conceal the soft hum of pleasure you make.

lilia's fingers pull away the top, leaving you completely naked and exposed from your waist up. she smiles at the sight, her hands cupping your breasts. you feel the slick between your legs, it seems the inner part of your thighs had gotten soaked by extension.

her thumbs grazed over your nipples, and the sensation was enough to drive you wild. you pulled her head into the curve of your neck, your lips parted as soft moans escaped. she chuckles and her lips start to kiss your neck. 

your knees go weak, simply from the ecstasy her lips brings you. her thumbs lose the feel of your sensitive buds, and she begins to creep down your throat. she leaves sloppy kisses down your collarbone, and down to your nipples. her eyes close as she takes one into her mouth, suckling on the sweet spot. your eyes fall back, and you inhale, biting down onto your lip to stop yourself from being loud. her fingers play with your lone nipple, and you feel as though you will not be able to take much more of this before becoming pathetic for her. 

the witch releases your areola from her mouth and takes in the other, her tongue lapping around the bundle of nerves. her hands trace the curves of your body. they pause when she's reached your hips, and she digs her nails into your skin. the pain blends with the pleasure beautifully, and it's as if they are interchangeable. 

you breathe heavily, your stomach twitching when she starts to drag her lips down your stomach. your pussy was so wet that she could smell the scent of arousal from your waistline. her fingers pulled up the black skirt you wore, and it revealed your soaked nude panties. she chuckled, looking up at you with eyes that were darkened and overwhelmed with lust. she bit her lip and furrowed her brow, which made you roll your eyes. 

“you're so wet, darling. i could just devour you.” you gently pull her hair, forcing her head back a little. she smirks, and you pout. “please, i need you” you say, pleading for her tongue, for her fingers, for her to be the one to shape you into a mess of a woman. 

she winks, bringing her mouth to your inner thigh. she leaves kisses along your skin, and it seems as though she’s teasing you. her eyes stay locked onto yours with each touch of her lips, she wants to see your face as she tortures you.

your hands release her hair, and grab onto the counter behind you, your nails scratch the surface with each new touch. her eyes look so dark, and it turns you on even more. 

but your view of them is gone as she bites into your other thigh. her teeth are sharp, and your jaw drops, you whimper. her teeth release, and she kisses the bite mark. you open your eyes to see it, to see the mark she had left. it was dark red, and your expression changed, you felt your core throb uncontrollably, and you grabbed her head by her hair, guiding her to your cunt. your eyes pleaded with her. 

lilia opened her mouth and licked the wet slick on your panties, all while looking you dead in the eyes. the touch was faint, but it was all your body needed to jerk up. it was so cruel, the way she left you needy and desperate for her. you couldn't think beyond her tongue on your clit, or her fingers buried in your warm folds. 

she bit the material of your under garment, pulling it slowly down your legs. her eyes were stolen away by the sight of you completely naked and in front of her, soaked, ruined. you were such a slut for her. you wonder if she would tease you about how soiled you got for her later down the line. 

the witch sighed, and her lips kissed the very inside of your thighs, right beside where you writhed for her. you thought you might faint. 

using your hand, you rubbed her cheek, shaking your head at the sight of her, down on her knees, ready to please you.  

she turned her face, kissing your gentle fingers. you smiled, and you took a deep breath as she brought her face as close as possible to your core. her eyes were focused on your face, you could tell she wanted to watch your face as she ate you out. so typical of her. 

her face buried between your legs, her tongue circling your clit. your hands shot behind you to the counter once more, desperate to hold yourself up. your eyes closed, and your back arched. the moan that echoed through the room was inevitable. she took her time, finding the nerves that were more sensitive and paying more attention to them. you thought she must've found you stupid to be so wet and needy for her. 

her tongue sped up, and she took your clit into her mouth, suckling the bud. you couldn't control the way your hips bucked, or the way your knees fell wobbly and weak. her hands grabbed your hips to stabilize her, and she pulled her mouth away in a flash. 

you were worrisome, you thought maybe you'd messed up, or maybe she'd realized she didn't want you like this. it was almost heartbreaking to feel her pull away. 

she had never stopped looking at you, though. you of course couldn't tell because your eyes had closed before out of the extremity of what you were feeling. 

she looked serious, determined, but her eyes were still as dark as before. you blush at the sight of her face covered in your taste, your slick. her mouth opened, and you heard every word with such a heavy impact. “do not close your eyes again. i want to see your eyes, your face, at every moment. do you understand?”

your heart starts to race again, there was just something so inexplicable about the way her words made you feel. you nod your head, scared that if you spoke your words would be jumbled. she didn't accept it though, her voice changed, from demanding to mischievous. “you understand..? what do you understand, dear? how does it make you feel..? tell me how i make you feel.” 

you bite your lip, looking up at the ceiling. maybe you were throwing up a prayer that you wouldn't mess up, or maybe you were just trying to prepare yourself for what she wanted from you. her right hand slipped from your hip, and you didn't notice, so fixated on her request. you went to start speaking, but as you did, you felt her fingers inside of you. 

your head leaned back, and you closed your eyes. a hushed “fuck!”, was followed by a loud humming. she smirked, “what did i say about closing your eyes, baby?” 

you forced them open, forced them to lock their gaze down onto her own. you wanted to make her happy. you needed to please her just as badly as you needed her to make you cum. 

“i'm sorry, darling—” as you began again, her fingers started to pump inside of your pussy, and your mouth lay agape. she didn't stop, even as you took a moment to continue, and you took a deep breath. 

“you want me to look— oh, fuck.. god.” it was like she went faster with each word you spoke. you took note of her devilish grin, thinking that you'd someday get your revenge. “you want me to look at you, you want to see me when— shit!” your body flinches as she curls her digits inside you, her speed still gradually increasing. “come on, princess, you're doing so good” she whispered this against your clit, right before sucking it into her mouth again. 

you bit your lip and your hands pulled her by the hair, just giving you something to hold onto. “when i cum for you, when i'm just a puddle for you.. you want to see me when i take your fingers!” 

the words came out shaky, spaced between your moans and whimpers. her fingers started to go as fast as they could, and lilia lapped her tongue around your wet clit, stimulating every single part of your cunt. she was still looking at you. you held her gaze as you started to tremble, your body shaking as it came to the brink of an orgasm. 

you finished your thought, giving her what she asked of you. “it makes me feel like abandoning everything for you, to have you like this, every second, every moment.”

her eyes closed, and you watched her remain between your thighs. your body hit a climax, and your hips bucked up, your back arching. you yelled for her, her name. your eyes rolled to the back of your head and you bit your lip to muffle any further sounds as she fucked you through your orgasm. 

when you had came, your white fluid casing over her fingers, she pulled her mouth away from your clitoris. 

you, with your head still fuzzy, had managed to pull her back up to you by her hair. her lips were so wet because of you. you immediately pull her in to kiss you, tasting yourself on her tongue and lips. she pulled away, breaking the contact. her teeth captured your bottom lip and you sighed when she pulled it back. 

lilia’s lips started kissing your neck, and she brought them to your ear, whispering hushedly, “clean your pretty little mess, my love.” 

you whimper, and you open your lips, as she slips her two cum-covered fingers inside of your mouth. you suck off your fluid, and the growing wetness between your legs returns.

the older witch laughs, kissing your neck again. her lips find yours once more, and she kisses you like there is no other action in this world. her tongue invades your mouth, as she tastes the sweetness that remains. 

[ahmedfreepalestine]

Voice from Gaza: A Call for Rebuilding💔🚨📢

In a small alley in Gaza, there was a small shoe shop brimming with life and hope. Ahmed, the owner, built his dreams with every piece of leather. But the war left nothing intact. His shop was destroyed, and his home was reduced to rubble. Now, Ahmed and his family live in a tent, dreaming of one day returning to normal life. Let us help Ahmed rebuild his life, and bring back the smile to his face. Every donation, no matter how small, is a step towards making that dream come true.

This is where the displaced live. In a plastic tent made of nylon. This place is home to people with higher degrees, doctors, businessmen, students, smart people, merchants... women, children, infants, the old and the young in a very small spot searching for safety, but there is no safety. This is where people live! This is where the forced Gazan lives!

“Ahmed dreamed of becoming the best shoemaker in Gaza. His shop was more than just a place to work, it was a place where people could gather and laugh. But the war destroyed everything. Now, Ahmed sits alone in the rubble of his home, remembering the good old days. Can you help us rebuild Ahmed’s dream? Donate now, and let him return to the work he loves.”

Destroy everything💔

Unknown future🇵🇸🍉

A lost dream💔

“Imagine losing everything you built with your hard work in a single moment. Watching your dream fade away before your eyes, becoming a refugee in your tent, far from your land and your loved ones. This is the story of Ahmed, a young Palestinian man who owned a small shoe store in Gaza, until the recent war destroyed it.”

“Ahmed is not just a number, he is a human being dreaming of a better future.”

“Your donation is a spark of new hope for Ahmed and his family.”

“Let’s join Ahmed in writing a new chapter in his story.”

“Every donation, no matter how small, will make a big difference.”

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[godslino]

IN BLOOM | jisung first date series. second chance lovers.

pairing: jisung x fem!reader word count: 13.2k genre: childhood friends au, angst, fluff, songwriter!jisung, florist!reader warnings: swearing, minor character death, grief/loss (nothing to do with any of the members!) summary: it's february. the tulips are in bloom. jisung is back.

chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin · · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡

a/n: *taps mic* hello?? is this thing on?? oh good. yes. hi. hello! it's been a while, as most of you can tell. thank you all SO MUCH for sticking around. if you've been reading my asks you'll know that march and april were rough months for me personally. shout out to my anons and mutuals who kept my spirits high and made my days brighter. uhhh, this was originally supposed to be a stand alone fic but i figured hey, what the hell, and made it into jisung's first date chapter. it's pretty heavy stuff. lots of feelings, lots of love. i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i did writing it! again, thank you so much for waiting for me. i'll be back soon with more updates! all the love <3

also thank you kenzie for being such a light during all of this. i hope all my screaming in your messages was worth it!

“All of these had to be pulled.” Hyunjin huffs, dropping a few crates just past the doorway. 

“Again?” you ask, hands on your hips as you stare at yet another wasted supply. “I don’t understand, they sold so well last year.”

Hyunjin gives you a sad smile. “It’ll pick up eventually, don’t worry. I mean the holidays just finished and business usually slows down in the months after anyways.”

He’s being sincere, you know that. But there’s a part of you that also knows it’s a lot more than just the usual ebb and flow of sales. He’s being nice for your sake.

“Maybe we could try coming up with other ideas?” he suggests, because Hyunjin is nothing if not kind. Always willing, always finding a way.

He moves past you to grab a fresh pair of gloves. The ones he’s wearing are dirty, pollen-stained and ripped at the edges. 

“You’ve always been really good at basket arrangements. We could try to make some for Valentine's Day. Different sizes, maybe? The big ones will probably do well for online orders since they’re more optimal for things like office deliveries and stuff like that.”

You hum in approval. “True. I mean, I was kind of worried we would have to skip out on deliveries this year since we don’t have the manpower to handle all of that, but I think Jeongin’s been looking to pick up hours around here again. He said something about his program giving them a month of independent study, so he’ll be home for a bit.” you say, scribbling down a reminder in your notebook. “I could ask him to help with driving the truck in his free time?”

Hyunjin lights up– he always does when Jeongin is mentioned. 

It’s been a lot quieter ever since he left for college. There were so many tears and so many hugs that were met with countless 'you guys are dramatic's in return. But it’s hard to not feel sad when people leave town; when they decide the borders lined with apple trees and rice fields aren’t enough to stop their dreams from blooming into more than what’s capable of being pursued here.

That, unsurprisingly, is something you know all too well.

“Can’t believe he’s driving.” Hyunjin laments as he wipes his floral scissors with a rag. “I used to spend my days changing his diapers and spoon feeding him redbulls– but now? Driving? My baby is all grown up.” he fake sniffles. “By the way, I’m gonna take my fifteen after I’m done snipping these tulips.”

You snort, bending down to take the crates of wilted flowers to the back for disposal. Hyunjin moves to help but you shake him off.

“Sounds good. Also, don’t let Innie hear you say that. I’m about a thousand percent sure he has the strength needed to throw you into the dumpster with one arm now.”

“My baby would never do that to me!” Hyunjin calls out as you round the corner, bumping open the back door with your hip. 

February brings a lot of rain in Jeju. Today is no different; fat drops landing on your head as soon as you stumble out into the alley behind the shop. Footsteps heavy on wet brick, you curse under your breath as you run as fast as you can to the dumpster.

There’s still a few supply boxes from yesterday’s shipment laying around. You meant to bring them in, but you were so exhausted that it slipped your mind while you struggled to make sure everything inside the shop was figured out.

Scrambling, you haul them in one by one, shoes squeaking against the floor as you alternate in and out, soggy cardboard pressed against the front of your apron. 

Hyunjin’s on break. A necessary one at that. You can’t bother him, especially not when he’s done enough by taking on more responsibility both as a physical worker and a newly actualized business partner recently. A few stacks of boxes and wet hair seem like a fair trade off for what he’s had to sacrifice in the past year now.

“Idiot,” you mumble, cursing yourself for carelessness. Your slip ups have been more frequent lately, evident in the way you constantly forget things and can’t seem to push away the haziness clouding your mind. 

If it weren’t for the timing of it all, you’d blame it on the weather. The gloominess. The overcast skies probably have some sort of hand in your lack of clarity. Shrouded.

But it’s February. And in Jeju— it rains.

By the time you make it back inside, you’re drenched. 

“You look like you just got dunked in a pool.” 

You frown, ringing your hair out into the trash bin by the door. It’ll definitely take time to dry off, both your hair and your clothes are soaked through.

Hyunjin watches with an amused look, arms crossed as he leans his back against the counter.

“Might as well have. It’s insane out there.” you sigh. “How was your break?”

You look up to find that his face has gone unreadable.

“Yeah, about that…” Hyunjin trails off, voice suddenly smaller than before.

“Everything okay?” 

“Yeah, yeah it’s just–” Hyunjin chews at his bottom lip.

You push past him into the supply room to switch out your apron just as he says, “Do you mind if I leave a little early today?”

You scoff, turning to face him. “Hwang Hyunjin,” you scold, lips twitching when he visibly startles at your tone, “You don’t have to ask me that. We’re partners now, remember? We run this place.” 

He shifts on his feet, still unsure.

“Besides,” you huff, tying a knot behind your back, “We were friends way before that, too. You don’t have to be all proper with me. Of course you can leave early. It’s slow today, I can take care of it.”

Hyunjin sighs after contemplating for a second. “Are you sure you’ll be okay, though?” 

When he stares at you for a moment too long, you know the real reason for his hesitation. It makes something twist deep in your gut.

Guilt, maybe, amongst other things.

“Of course.” you shrug, doing your best to seem nonchalant. 

Hyunjin’s ability to read people is kind of intense, a little scary at times. You happen to be one of his favorite subjects in that regard.

“Have fun. Tell Minah I said hi.”

He pales, sputtering around words as he struggles to say something. It’s cute, his plump lips opening and closing, eyes wild.

“I’m not going to see her! I’m–it’s just a movie! How did you—God, you’re so annoying. I should’ve made you trim the tulips. Hah!”

You giggle. “It’s funny that you think I wouldn’t know, especially with the way you love to actually make yourself look busy whenever she stops by to say hi.”

“I am busy.” he mumbles, looking away. “I just emphasize it a lot more when she’s here.”

“Sure,” you roll your eyes, “Let’s go with that.”

He whines a couple more times, trails after you around the shop and laughs when you swat him away with a rolled up newspaper that’s used for wrapping vases.

It’s loud. Easy. Hyunjin is a gentle reminder that normalcy still exists in your day to day, even if it’s hard to find. 

When he finally decides to leave, he lingers for a moment, triple checks that you’ll be okay. You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today, but deep down you’re grateful. 

“Love you,” he says, one foot out the door. “Call me if you need anything.”

You shake your head, ignoring him. “Love you too.” 

And then he’s gone, a skip in his step as he heads down the sidewalk, leaving you with nothing but freshly-trimmed tulips and the sound of rain. 

“Herb snips, shears, tape…” you mumble, scanning the supply shelf. 

There’s not much to do in-shop right now. Almost all the arrangements have been tended to by Hyunjin already, his specialty being his keen eye. That’s why he handles the appeal of the shop, leaving you to figure out all the logistics. Learning it all was easier said than done.

In reality, it was never your intention to take over the shop at all. 

“When I die,” your grandma would always say, ignoring the way you groaned and begged her to stop bringing it up, “Sell this place. Use the money for something worthwhile. A trip to Greece, maybe?”

“Nana,” you would scold, glaring at her where she stood next to you, trimming a batch of roses.

Wrinkled hands that still held all the skill of youth. Fingers moving at a speed others could only ever dream of having– you included.

Your grandma handled flowers with the same amount of care she did everything else. It’s no wonder that when they grew they would lean in her direction, drawn to her like they would be the sun. 

“I’m not selling this place. It’s too special, too important. A vacation only lasts so long, Nana. This is forever.”

She would smile, turn petals over in her hand. Sometimes the marigolds would match the glow in her eyes, a testament to the belief you harbored as a child that she had the ability to sprout blossoms from her fingertips.

“The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.”

You wish you hadn’t been so hard headed. Wish that you would’ve believed her, taken the time to listen, cherished the moment a little bit longer instead of relying on the promise of tomorrow.

I’m sorry for your loss.

Your grandmother was a wonderful woman.

She’ll be with you in your heart, forever.

Oh, what a lie forever is.

The shop stays empty for the rest of the day. There were a few passersby, all of whom simply stopped to scan the arrangements along the windows before giving a polite nod and carrying on their way. 

Realistically, the shop has no problem with attracting customers. It’s a sight to behold: mid-floor to ceiling windows with various displays, hanging baskets of winding greenery, countless arrangements that fill the shelves and add a pop of color, and a wide assortment of flowers for each season. 

The real issue lies in your inability to sell. Most people regard the place as being good for nothing more than window shopping and the usual photo-op.

Business has slowed since your Grandma passed; since you took over as the sole owner and were suddenly face to face with the task of making decisions in the shop’s best interest– both integrity wise and from a business standpoint.

“I know, I know,” you say around the pen cap between your teeth, “You used to be the brains around here, not me. I’m not creative enough for all of this, you know? No matter how much I try to be.”

You look up from where your notebook lays open, dozens of scribbles for arrangement ideas and planning. The picture on the wall stares at you, unmoving, eyes as bright as marigolds.

“Don’t give me that look.” 

She stares. A gaze that holds all the answers while also saying nothing at all.

“Ugh.” you groan, leaning your palms on the desk.

You allow your head to hang forward, defeated, exhaustion flooding your bones. 

Just as you’re about to speak again, to complain about yet another thing that probably has her rolling around in her grave, the bell at the front counter dings.

The clock on the desk reads 6:55pm, five minutes until close. You hadn’t even heard anyone come in.

“Be right there!” you call out, rushing to grab your apron from where you’d thrown it on one of the chairs. 

In your haste, the box of seed packets you’d been inventorying goes tumbling to the floor.

“Fuck,” you mutter, bending down to pick everything up. One more thing to add to the list today. 

Off-kilter. Disoriented. Exhausted. 

You sniffle a few times, blinking against the sting behind your eyes as you stand up to put the box back in its place.

One deep breath, a shake of your shoulders. Just enough to chase it all away until later. 

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily, pushing past the hanging beads that separate the front of the shop from the back. “How can I help you?”

There’s a stranger, his back turned, attention focused on a batch of tulips. Freshly cut. White, blue, purple.

You realize, belatedly, that you’d forgotten to grab your apron in your haste to clean up the seed packets. Another slip up. Nana always prided herself in her apron, wore it like a badge of honor, raised you to do the same.

Just as you spin around to grab it, the stranger says, “It’s okay. I just, um, I wanted to say hi.”

You freeze. There’s a long moment where his voice rings loud in your ears, reverberates against the walls of your brain until it travels through your blood, the feeling like wildfire in your veins until it settles deep in the pit of your stomach. 

Slowly, you turn, heart clamoring in your chest, threatening to stop altogether as soon as you come face to face with the one person you never thought you’d see again.

Because there, at the front of the store, is Jisung.

Jisung, with wide eyes and parted lips. Jisung, with hair that still curls at the ends and falls in shags around his face. Jisung, broader, more actualized, now grown into his features but still undeniably soft around the edges. Jisung, with thick framed glasses pushed up his nose and silver hoops dangling from his ears. 

A stranger. But undoubtedly Jisung. 

“You look…nice.” he says, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly with his free hand.

Three words is all it takes. Ice turns to fire. The blood that had drained from your face returns with the blaze of a thousand suns, anger burning your throat. 

You reach forward, grab the remote for the neon Open sign and click the power button. Jisung watches in confusion.

“The shop is closed.” you manage on a shaky breath.

Jisung sighs, something heavy. “Listen, I’m—”

“The shop–” you try again, louder, “–is closed.” 

Jisung stares. His eyes are still the same velvety brown; big and round and just as you remember. 

There was once a time where the sight of Jisung in your Grandma’s shop made your heart sing. A soft tune, the thrum of a thousand harps, a song only for him.

His heart-shaped smile as he helped her hammer some of the shelves onto the wall. The sound of his laughter whenever you’d enter a sneezing fit from accidentally rubbing your face with a gloved hand. His rosy cheeks, burnt from the wind whipping past his face as he ran on foot to make sure you were okay the one time an angry customer smashed a vase on the floor and you called him crying.

But now, seeing him here, a stranger in a body you once knew like the back of your hand— it feels wrong. 

“I…” he trails off, registering the way your fists are clenched at your sides. 

“Okay,” he resigns, licking his lips. “I, uh– have a good night.”

He gives you one last look, bottom lip pulled tight between his teeth, and then slips out the door. You watch his retreating figure through the glass panel, dark gray skies muting the sound of your rattling heart.

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is back.

And in Jeju– it rains.

There’s an apple tree in the middle of town where Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. 

Off the corner, a few minutes down the road from where your houses stand a mere five hundred feet away from one another.

Your grandparents were farmers. Your grandma started her floral business a few years before you were born, a dream she always had that your grandpa urged her to pursue once he decided to sell the animals to a younger, more capable couple that could take care of them. 

Jisung’s parents, new residents on the island, looking to settle down and start a family. 

That’s how it happens. Yours and Jisung’s story, two authors of the same book, destined since the start.

Jisung was born on the same night your mother left you at your grandparents’ doorstep. One note, an apology, is all you’ve ever known about her. Your grandma never cared to indulge you. You’re glad in a way. She provided more than enough love to make sure you never felt an absence in her wake. 

The townspeople used to say you and Jisung were soulmates. Something about the heavens knowing he would need a friend, hence why you were delivered that night. From that moment on, the two of you were inseparable. 

Attached at the hip, you and Jisung grew up together. First steps, first birthdays, firsts for everything under the sun.

Jisung was there in the morning to walk with you to school and he was there at night when the two of you tucked into bed, sleepovers a regular occurrence, both of you counting the pale green stick-on stars dotting his ceiling until you fell asleep. 

Jisung was always around. He held your hand and walked with you to the nurse’s office the first time you got stung by a bee. He wiped your eyes when the boy you liked told you he only ever saw you as a friend, your first rejection. He sat with you under the stars the night your grandpa died, your face tucked into his neck as you stained the collar of his shirt with tears until you were too tired to cry. In the years that followed, he took care of you and your grandma like the two of you were his own. 

Jisung, for lack of a better word, was your first forever.

“You could come with me, you know.” 

Under the stars, real ones that time, Jisung had turned to you and offered the world. 

The air was cold. The apple tree was bare.

“It’ll be fun. We’ll be together, we’ll experience new things. I can do music and you can study all that history stuff you like to learn about. You know, nerdy things.”

“They’re not nerdy things, Ji. Don’t you know everything we have now is because of what’s happened before us?” you’d asked. “Doesn’t it make you wonder? Learning about the past helps us better understand the present, and ultimately the future.”

Jisung had hummed softly, an agreement. “I don’t care about the future, though.” he’d said. “I care about right now. You, me, this.” 

When you turned to look at him, he propped himself up on one elbow and stared down at you from above as the moon casted a halo around his head. 

“I love you,” he whispered, “And I want you to come with me.”

Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the ambition to make it his own. 

You, with all your hopes stuffed tight into a suitcase and chained to a boulder, thrown into the ocean. Sinking and sinking until it hit the bottom.

“I love you too,” you whispered back.

Images of marigolds flashed behind your eyes when you closed them, a tear rolling down your cheek. Jisung’s mouth was soft when he kissed it away, salt on his lips. Burning. 

“But I can’t.” you choked. 

Under the apple tree, Jisung told you he loved you for the first and last time. He promised that the distance would be no match for him, that he would traverse oceans to find his way back. He promised forever.

It was February. The tulips were in bloom. Jisung left to pursue his dreams with a guitar on his back and your heart in his hands. Your understanding of forever was shot at point blank. The bullet passed clean through you. 

And in Jeju– it rained.

“I think you should talk to him.”

The sun is out today. Perfect weather for another field harvest. The distributor had called you early in the morning to ask if you’d be willing to accept a drop off even though it’s the weekend. You’d agreed, calling in your most reliable help for the job.

“And I think you’re not helping.” you huff, snipping the head off another hyacinth.

“Agreed,” Hyunjin parrots from beside you, currently in the middle of putting together an arrangement, “This guy sounds like a total dick.”

Chan sighs from behind the two of you, his knees knocking against the legs of the desk when he swivels back and forth in the chair. 

Besides Hyunjin and Jeongin, both of whom moved into town after you’d already graduated, and of course, Jisung– Chan is your oldest friend. 

Chan was also a neighbor of yours. Three years older than you and Jisung, he was the one who acted as a role model for the two of you when growing up. Nowadays he helps his parents run the largest orange grove on the island during the day and DJs one of the clubs in the tourism hub at night. 

“Jisung’s not a dick, he’s just–”

“An asshole.” you finish, smirking when Hyunjin cackles. 

Chan sighs. Again. “Yeah okay, I’ll give you that one.”

“Listen, I know I’ve never met him, but isn’t it weird that he just, like, showed up?” Hyunjin asks, setting down his scissors. You continue trimming the hyacinths, listening halfheartedly.

“I mean, think about it. Dude disappears to pursue music, right? He’s gone for what– three years?”

“Four.” you correct.

“God, even worse.” he grimaces.

“But yeah, okay, four years. And then boom! He just strolls in through the front door without so much as a word during the time he was gone? No letters, no phone calls, not even a damn visit. Nothing! All so he can pop up and go ‘oh, you look nice’? Come on.” he scoffs, crossing his arms.

You wince, caught off guard because you’ve never really heard it phrased as bluntly as Hyunjin put it just then. It’s no surprise that he’s annoyed, having only just heard the full story thirty minutes ago. He’d been shocked, partly because you never told him and also because he just couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Okay, yes, he was wrong for that. But isn’t part of you even just the least bit curious as to why?” 

You pause mid-snip, mulling Chan’s words over in your head.

The most frustrating part about it all is that you are curious. You wish you weren’t, though. Not when you’ve spent the past four years trying to convince yourself that you don’t need to know what Jisung’s been up to, don’t need to know if he’s been okay since he clearly held no concern for you in that regard anyways.

“What?” you ask when you realize that both boys are staring at you. 

“Well?” Hyunjin pushes. “Are you?”

You shrug. “No, not really.” 

There’s a total of five seconds that pass before Hyunjin is stomping over and hauling Chan up out of his chair, pushing him towards the front door as he protests.

“Out! Out, out, out, we have important business matters to discuss.”

“But we were supposed to get lunch—!”

“We’re taking a rain check!” Hyunjin fights back, shoving him out of the shop before he has a chance to answer. He drops the shade to cover the glass, Chan’s sad figure left alone on the other side.

You gape at him. “What was that for?”

Hyunjin scoffs. “You think you’re convincing? Think again.” 

He hops up on to the counter and gestures for you to do the same. When you do, he pulls you closer, grabs your hand in his, and pushes your head down until it’s resting on his shoulder. 

“Tell me the truth now,” he says, soft. “I know there’s more to it.”

Hyunjin’s warm to the touch. The heat seeps through the fabric of his shirt, igniting the skin of your cheek until you feel like you’re standing too close to the sun. A star. Hyunjin is a light in your tunnel.

“I am curious,” you start, “About him, I mean. I’ve– I don’t know. It’s been so long. I tried to pretend I didn’t care when I saw him, but the minute I looked into his eyes it was like I was eighteen again. Eighteen and happy and looking at someone that I always thought would be there, you know?” 

Hyunjin hums but doesn’t say anything. He squeezes your hand once, a signal to keep going. 

“I’m scared, though. Part of me doesn’t want to know.”

Hyunjin takes a deep breath. “What are you scared of?”

Through the gaps in the beads you can see into your office, the picture of your Grandma hanging on the wall. She stares at you, unblinking. 

“What if he tells me that it’s true?” you ask, lifting your head to look up at him. “What if he says that I was right, that he didn’t care? That he left and didn’t want to call because it no longer mattered to him? That he loves his life there and only came back to clear his own conscience?” 

“Oh honey,” Hyunjin soothes, pulling you into his chest. You hadn’t realized you were crying, that the anger and fear had bubbled over until there were tears falling down your cheeks, wetting the fabric of Hyunjin’s sweater. 

He lets you cry for a while. It’s nothing new; Hyunjin has seen you break down countless times. He’s been there through the worst of it, held your hand even in the aftermath. He’s picked you up off the floor more times than you can count, has grounded you when you felt like the world was gonna open up beneath you and swallow you whole. Salt of the earth, returning you to its core.

Once you’ve quieted into nothing more than shallow breaths and a few scattered hiccups, Hyunjin speaks again.

“Can you be honest with me?”

You nod, the hair stuck to your cheek with tears rubbing against his shoulder. 

“Do you love him?”

It nearly knocks the wind out of you. This concept, so foreign to you now, shoved to the back of your mind to make room for the things that matter most. Hospital visits, labor cuts, wage increases— none of it left any room for love, let alone the thought of someone else. Especially someone as all-consuming as Jisung.

Slowly, you inhale, breath shaking on the exhale. Hyunjin squeezes your hand to remind you that he’s there.

“I don’t think I ever stopped, Hyune.”

The silence stretches thin. The realization is dizzying. Years of suppressed emotions, of telling yourself and everyone around you that it wasn’t a big deal. The sad eyes of the townspeople whenever they’d see you sitting beneath the apple tree. The gentle touch of your grandma’s hand when she’d find you on the front steps alone, staring at the stars. The soft hum of the radio in the shop, set to a playlist of all the songs he’s written, the only reminder that somewhere out there he was doing well.

The final crack in the dam, its water pushing until it gives way.

“Then you owe it to yourself,” Hyunjin says. “You owe it to your heart to get an answer. Free yourself from this pain, love. Don’t let yourself suffer forever.”

Forever. That word again. No matter how many times you’ve tried to escape it, it always comes back.

“It’s gonna hurt.” he sighs, tightening his grip when you sniffle. “It’s gonna hurt so fucking bad, babe. But you can take it. You’ve got people who love you enough to stand in front of you and soften the blow from time to time. But you’ll be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

He hops down from the counter and moves to stand in front of you, right between your legs. Placing both hands on your shoulders, he pushes until you’re sitting with your back straight and lifts your chin. 

“You deserve an answer.” he says, with conviction this time. “Okay?”

He lets his thumb swipe beneath your eyes, smiles softly. Unconditional— that’s what he is. Hyunjin burns brighter than any star in your sky, the heat wrapping its arms around you like it’s too scared to let go, to watch you freeze and die out like so many others. 

“I don’t deserve you, though.” you say, laughing wetly when he rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he chuckles, pulling you in for a hug, “You deserve everything and more.”

When Jisung comes into the shop two days later, you’re ready for it. 

Chan had talked to him. No surprise, really, not when he’s been letting him crash in his spare room ever since he figured out that he was holed up in one of the hotels out in the tourism hub. 

If there’s one thing about Chan, it’s that he’d rip the shirt off his back to clothe anyone in need. Housing a friend is nothing, especially when that friend is Jisung.

“I don’t know how much of a consolation this is,” he’d said nervously, watching as you regarded him with an expectant look, “But he’s pretty cut up about you not wanting to see him. Which, I know, is stupid. He is the one who fucked up. But I just– I don’t know. I’ve never seen him like this, I guess.”

It’s not a consolation, not really. Knowing that Jisung is struggling is far from anything you want to hear. 

Sure, there’s anger present. Anyone would be stupid to not feel the least bit frustrated with what’s happened. Years lost, time stripped away. But you’ve long since come to terms with it, the anger turning to sadness in the meantime.

“Also, he leaves tomorrow.” Chan smiled sadly. “He really wants to talk to you before then.”

Hyunjin left early again today to give the two of you space. Not before making a show of his own though, threatening to incite violence with his arms that are supposedly ‘shredded’ from years of lifting boxes filled with petunias. 

The shop is slow again, not many sales nor a lot of foot traffic. Usually when the sun is out there’s more to do; people to see, smiles to give. But there’s nothing, just the chirping of birds and the sound of cars rolling by. 

Maybe the world knows that this is what you need. The calm before the storm. 

Five minutes until close. You’ve spent most of the day pacing back and forth. Waiting. Anticipating. 

Chan had said Jisung planned on stopping by, trying again. You’d told him that was okay, and his eyes lit up. Too much hope, maybe, that something might come of this. 

You’re seated in the back office, staring at marigold colored irises when the front door opens. You hear it this time, ears fine tuned, waiting. 

Slowly, you stand, make your way to the front. You don’t realize you’re holding your breath until you pull back the beaded curtain and Jisung’s figure comes into view. 

He looks the same as he did the other day: curled hair, thick glasses, parted lips. His sweater, fluffy and striped, hangs off of his shoulders in a way that boxes off his tapered waist, one that you know is hidden beneath all the layers. The sleeves are way too long judging by the way it curls over his fingers. 

“Hi.” he breathes out, watching as you step into full view.

You blink. “Hi, Jisung.”

His name feels weird on your tongue. Bitter. It’s been years since you uttered it, forbidding yourself from the luxury out of fear that it would make his absence more real. Talking about him in the past tense always scared you off before you could even get the chance. 

“How– How’ve you been?” he chews on the inside of his lip.

You want to scold him, tell him to stop the habit just like you always would in the past. He’d make a joke then, tell you to kiss him so that he had something else to do instead. You would laugh, feign disgust, but in the back of your mind you’d wanted it more than anything. 

You’d waited for it, the day you could kiss him without warning and melt into his touch as he kissed you back. Another stupid bet on forever; the belief that you had all the time in the world for things to get to that point.

“I’ve been better.” you say, taking a deep breath. “What about you?”

Good, you think. He’s been good. He looks good. He doesn’t need this place.

“Me too.” he says instead. “I’ve been better.”

You don’t know what to say to that. Silence fills the room, heavy on both your chests. The anticipation feels like it might kill you before anything else does. 

“I’m sorry that–”

“Is that all you came here to say?” you cut him off.

“What?” he asks, confused. “No, I– no.”

“What, then? What is it you want to say, Jisung?” your voice is firm. He winces when his name leaves your mouth. “Because, honestly, I’ve waited all this time to hear literally anything from you, and if all that comes out of this is that you’ve ‘been better’ I might actually lose my fucking mind.”

The words tumble out faster than you intend. You can’t help it, not with the way anxiety has been bubbling over in your chest since the moment you woke up this morning. You could barely sleep last night, not when you were playing out every possible scenario in your head, the anticipation of it all making your sheets feel scratchy against your skin and the lumps in your pillow more discernible. 

“No, no, of course I wouldn’t do that.” he says quickly. “It's just that I didn’t know where to start. I don’t know how much you’ll allow me to say, what the boundary is here. I didn’t want to just barge in and demand you listen to me. You don’t owe me that. You don’t owe me anything. Not after what I did.”

What I did, his voice rings loud in your ears. He’s aware of it, of the pain he caused. 

He takes a step forward, and then another, again and again until he’s right up against the front counter, an arm’s length away. 

Your breath catches then, when you see him up close for the first time in four years, see the way he’s grown and changed with your own eyes. 

Stubble dotting his chin, laugh lines around his mouth, the dip and curve of the bow above his lips that you always loved. Brown eyes, soil and stardust. 

“Tell me what your conditions are,” he says quietly, “And I’ll give you every explanation I have.”

The sincerity on his face is blinding. Your stomach twists at the thought of hearing what he has to say, that same fear brewing in the pit of it. You take a deep breath, feel the phantom ghost of a hand squeezing yours and a crescent moon eye smile. 

“I waited four years for you.” you say.

“I know.”

“I trusted that you’d be back. That you would keep in touch during the time you were gone.”

“I–” his voice cracks. “I know.”

“You lied to me.”

Jisung tips his head back then. Swallows down a lump in his throat. Blinks rapidly at the ceiling, veins of ivy crawling along the expanse of it.

“I know.”

“So you owe me everything. I deserve that. I deserve answers.”

When he brings his head down to look at you, it’s unreadable. A mix of emotions that you aren’t familiar enough with anymore to decipher. Fear, guilt, sorrow. Hope, too. Maybe.

You stare at him head on, fully letting your eyes meet for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He holds your gaze, unwavering. Determined. The sight makes your heart clench. 

“Okay,” he says after a beat of silence. “Okay. I can do that.”

Despite the ever-growing mountain of things to address, you decide that the first thing you want to hear from Jisung is about his time in Seoul. 

You’re only human, after all.

Best friends from the start– you can’t stop yourself from wondering what life has been like for him. Jisung’s always been good at storytelling, animated in his features and gestures to the point that you’d be rolling around and clutching your stomach from laughter. It’s one of the things you missed the most, just talking and being present in one another’s lives.

The two of you end up at one of the diners down the road. The owners, an elderly couple, coo as soon as they catch sight of you.

“My flower girl,” the old lady, Mrs. Kim, greets.

“Mrs. Kim,” you beam, moving in for a hug. When you pull away, Jisung is behind you, hands clasped behind his back and feet together like he has his tail between his legs.

“Halmeoni,” you say, gesturing at him, “Do you remember Jisungie?” 

His eyes go wide at the nickname, and you try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, avoiding his gaze and instead watching as Mrs. Kim blinks in surprise.

“Oh! Oh my goodness, our Jisungie? Honey! Honey, look, Jisung is here! Oh you crazy boy,” she scolds, rushing forward to hit his shoulder and pull him in for a hug. “Where have you been? It’s been ages!” 

Jisung lets out an oof! as her body slams into him, all of his anxiousness dissolving into laughter as he hugs her back. 

“Hi Mrs. Kim, how have you been?” 

“Me?” she asks, pulling him away to hold at arm’s length, “Nevermind about me! I’m old! How have you been?”

Good, you think again, a mimic of earlier. Jisungs eyes flit over to yours for the smallest of moments before he answers.

“Better,” he says. “I’m doing better.”

Once both Mr. and Mrs. Kim are done doting over the both of you, they seat you by the window.

The island is always beautiful on sunny days: trees swaying, golden rays painting the rooftops in hues of pink and orange, the indigo shimmer of the ocean off in the distance.

“So,” you say, catching Jisung’s attention, “Tell me about Seoul.”

He hums. “It’s busy. Stinks. Lots of people.”

“Dream come true, yeah?” you joke, taking a sip of your water.

Jisung chuckles. “You could say that, I guess.”

“I mean, it was yours.”

“It was.” he sighs, looking down at the table. “I don’t know. It’s nice. I met good people, made even better connections. I live in this one bedroom studio apartment just outside of Itaewon, so I’m close to where all the foreigners hang out. I’ve learned a lot, gained a lot of inspiration for my music.”

You follow along, staring at him intently. His mouth, still heart-shaped, twitches when he catches you in the act.

You clear your throat, glancing away. “Yeah, I’ve– uh, I’ve heard some of your songs.”

He raises his eyebrows, almost like he hadn’t expected you to say that. “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, I hear them on the radio sometimes.” A lie. “It usually takes me a second to realize that it’s you.” Another lie. “But they’re good, you’re doing well.”

Pink dusts the tops of Jisung’s cheeks as he turns back to the window, clearing his throat.

He looks younger like this, like he’s still the same boy who would sit across from you all those years ago. Cherry-stained lips and a smile so bright it put the sun to shame.

He talks a bit more about his music, about how he’s with a good company that gives him creative freedom and enough support to pursue more if he desires.

His eyes light up when he tells you about his studio, a small room on the fifth floor of a building in the middle of the city where he does all of his writing. It’s equipped with an entire soundboard, full of instruments that he says he’s been able to get signed by artists that come in and out. Most notably, his guitar, the same one he left with. 

Slowly, like a flower blossoming, petals opening one by one, you feel yourself falling back into step with him.

Everything is so familiar: the curve of his smile, the tilt in his voice when he gets excited, the rumble of laughter when he recounts an embarrassing run-in with an A-list celebrity in the company’s cafeteria. He shares stories that fill your heart as the two of you fill your stomachs.

But with the ease comes something more, something you recognize as longing. You hadn’t realized how much you longed to be there through this part of his life, how you wished you’d been the one to answer a video call as he showed off his apartment the first day he moved in, his company badge when it was newly issued, every moment of happiness that you’d been absent for just as much as he was absent for yours.

He seems to share the same sentiment then, when he sets down his fork and stares at his empty plate. 

“You run the shop now,” he says, “How’s that been?”

You purse your lips, nodding your head slowly. You knew this conversation would happen, that it was coming.

“It’s good, I guess. Been almost a year now since, uh, it was left to me.” you shrug. “I’m not alone though, Hyunjin is a big help. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

Jisung noticeably bristles. Eyebrows pulled together, staring more intently at a crumb on his plate. It looks like there’s a lot he wants to say, like he can’t find the words to say them.

So, naturally, you do it for him. 

“I assume Chan told you so I wouldn’t have to, by the way.”

He looks up then, as if he wasn’t expecting you to address the very obvious elephant in the room.

“He did, yes.” Jisung says after a while. His voice is quiet, gentle, like he’s walking on eggshells. “I– I didn’t know how to bring it up. I assume you’ve heard it all already but– I really, really am sorry to hear about Nana.”

The way her name sounds coming out of his mouth turns your mind to static.

Suddenly you’re in the hospital again, monitors beeping, hands as soft as petals cradled in your own and wishing that you could bury your face in a familiar neck as you cried and watched the marigolds wilt. 

“I don’t need an apology for that.” you croak, blinking back tears. Jisung is somewhere in your periphery, your vision blurry around the edges.

“It wasn’t sad. Her life, I mean. It was full. Of love. Of light. She left this place happy. That’s what she told me, at least.”

You take a deep breath. “So don’t be sorry about it.”

Jisung sniffles, and the sound shoots straight through your chest. 

“I know. I just– I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I should’ve been. I had no idea that–”

“Nobody did, Jisung. Don’t punish yourself for that.”

He sees it then, when you finally meet his eyes, the acceptance. You’ve come to terms with things a long time ago, have fought tooth and nail to come out on the other side of all the guilt and resentment and grief alive. Scathed, but alive nonetheless.

“You’re right.” he sighs, wiping at his eyes quickly. “She’d probably yell at me for saying that.”

You laugh, suddenly, the noise startling him. Jisung looks at you like you’re crazy.

“I think she has a lot more to yell at you for than being sorry that she died.”

The bluntness punches a chuckle out of him, and you giggle at the thought.

Your grandmother was always such an outspoken person. She always said what was on her mind, speaking it loud. There’s no doubt that if she was here she’d be berating Jisung, smacking him upside the head before pulling him into a hug and cooking his favorite meal. Tough love, but still, love.

“She would’ve loved to be able to see you.” you say once your laughter dies out, the air a bit lighter between the two of you. “She always wondered if you’d grow your hair out without her around to nag you about keeping it short.” 

He reaches up to run a hand through his curls, the strands falling around his face in a way that has your heart stammering in your chest.

“Well, clearly I don’t know how to listen.”

“No, you don’t.”

Jisung smiles softly. “Maybe I’ll cut it now. You know, since I’m here. And because I know she’d want me to.”

You watch him carefully, searching his eyes. For what, you don’t know. All that’s in them are stars. 

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “You’re here.”

By the time the two of you leave the diner, stomachs full and enough bags of extra side dishes hanging off of your arms to last you at least two weeks, courtesy of Mrs. Kim, the sun is almost fully set. 

The ocean is calm, the evening breeze just barely brushing the surface of the tide. Jisung walks in step with you down the street, one side of his face cast in a glow from the sun’s fading rays. 

“Do you think you’d maybe want to stop by the arcade that Old Man Park runs? Just for a little?”

You snort. “Why? So I can embarrass you?”

“Hey!” he puts a hand on his chest, offended. “I’ll have you know that I let you win all those times.”

“How do you let someone win after spending hours practicing while I worked at the shop?”

“I was being nice!”

“Uh huh.”

“Don’t believe me?” he grins. You try not to look, afraid of how bad your blood pressure might spike from the sight. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best Kart Rider players in the PC Bang scene back in Seoul.”

“Jisung,” you scold, “That’s a computer game. These are coin-ops. There’s way more skill needed.”

“No there isn’t!”

He knocks his shoulder against yours, tucking his chin to his chest to hide his smile when you try to fight back.

It’s easy. Nice. There’s a soft melody echoing in the dust-covered chambers of your heart. You still know all the chords.

Old Man Park’s arcade is a few doors down from the shop. You stop there to drop off the food, spare a glance in the mirror hanging in your office to fix your hair.

Your grandma’s picture stares at you from the other wall, eyes bright.

“Love you,” you say, kissing the skin of your fingertips and pressing it gently against the frame.

Jisung is toeing at a few rocks on the sidewalk when you walk back out. He doesn’t see you, too busy with his eyes casted down at the concrete, hands shoved into his pockets. 

It’s still hard to believe that he’s here. Flesh and bone. For a long time it felt like he was nothing but a distant dream, someone who only existed in the memories that you kept locked deep within your heart, the key somewhere on the streets of Seoul.

“Ready?” you ask.

He looks up, his glasses moving when his cheeks round into a smile.

Something passes across his face– a myriad of emotions in just a fraction of a second. Hesitantly, he holds out his hand. Long, delicate fingers.

You stare at it, swallowing roughly around the butterfly wings flapping inside your throat. 

The one thing you shouldn’t do, my dear, is rely on forever. Because that, too, is uncertain.

Forever isn’t promised. But even then, there are things you know for sure:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. Jisung is here. Living, breathing, in the flesh. 

So you take his hand, watch as relief floods his features, and let yourself feel.

The wind in your hair, the calluses on Jisung’s palms, and the warmth radiating out of the smile that threatens to split his face into two.

And with that certainty, the two of you start walking. A silent agreement to focus on the now.

You. Him. This.

“God, I can’t believe everything is only one coin.”

You laugh, watching as the multi-colored lights cast a glow on Jisung’s face. 

“Stop acting like you don’t remember this place.”

“I don’t!” he argues, smiling. “We stopped coming here, what, in middle school? Once Chan hyung started driving? We would always ask him to take us to the other one out in the big town!”

Chan’s first car was an old Camry with leather seats and enough room for the three of you to pile into after school. Used, but still with enough juice to satisfy three young kids who felt like they were on top of the world.

You used to sit in the back, the wind whipping your hair every which way while yours and Jisung’s hands lay side by side in the middle seat, pinkies brushing but neither of you willing to take it further. 

“Oh, shit!” Jisung gasps, letting go of your hand as he runs up to the space invaders machine. 

“Here we go,” you sigh, following after him. He’s like a kid in a candy store, face filled with innocent wonder and joy.

“Aren’t there, like, I don’t know– things better than this in Seoul?” you ask as he shoves a coin into the game.

Jisung turns to look at you with a devilish grin. “Obviously,” he says, “But I can’t beat anyone’s high score over there. Here though? Ha! This place is ancient. I can finally be at the top of the leaderboard in something.”

“We’ll see about that.” you mumble, the noise of the game booting up drowning you out. 

Jisung sticks his tongue out when he focuses really hard on things. It’s cute, the way the end of it sits between his lips, spit-slick and parted just a little bit.

He’s glowing, probably because of the lights, hues of red and green and blue flashing across his face. But then again, Jisung has always shined brighter than anything. 

The game beeps to signal that he has one life left. He grunts a few times, his fingers tapping the buttons madly as his other hand handles the joystick in a frenzy of movements.

When it ends, he groans, throws his hands up in defeat.. 

You shake your own head knowingly, watching his eyes bug out of their sockets as soon as the leaderboard appears on the screen, the 8-bit letters blinking at him. 

“You’re joking.” he laughs in disbelief, turning to stare at you. “Please tell me you’re joking.” 

There, on the screen, is your name. The highest score. Jeongin and Hyunjin’s names sit just below you, respectively.

“What was that again about finally being able to be at the top?” you mock him, smirking.

“Since when did you get good at this?”

You shrug. “Had to find something to do in my free time.”

“No,” he says, rolling up his sleeves. “Nuh-uh. No way. This is not happening. I will beat you.” he holds out his hand for another coin, to which you roll your eyes and place one in his palm. 

“You might as well give up now. We’ll be here all night.”

“In your dreams.” he scoffs, assuming his position as another round loads onto the screen.  

Jisung has always been competitive. It’s one of his more hidden characteristics. 

It persists still, you realize, as you watch him burn through the styrofoam cup of coins that Old Man Park had given the two of you. Free of charge for old time’s sake.

Fort-five minutes. All he’s managed to do is bump Hyunjin down to fourth.

“Ugh!” he groans, kicking the machine lightly with his foot. 

“Look at you throwing a tantrum.”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum.” he pouts. You raise an eyebrow.

“Okay fine. I’m throwing a tantrum.” 

“Thought so.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. “This is, like, our first date. And I’m sucking. Hard.”

“Our–” you stop, eyes wide. Jisung mimics you, almost like he didn’t mean to say what he did. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks. Your mind goes blank. But the world doesn’t end. Time keeps moving. Jisung is still here.

“I didn’t–”

“I like the sound of that.” you say quickly. “Of this being our first date, I mean.’

He smiles. Slow and sweet like molasses. Blinding.

“And the fact that you suck.”

The moment is shattered, his resulting whine echoing throughout the arcade.

“Come on you big baby,” you laugh, grabbing his hand. “I know a game you can beat me at.”

He lets himself be pulled, pretending that he’s upset, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips when you lace your fingers together.

The feeling is still new, this ease you have with him. The wounds you sported all those years are still healing, some more fresh than others. But with each laugh that comes out of Jisung’s mouth and shared glance, every note that your heart sings, you can feel them beginning to fade. A balm to soothe the burn.

The Pac-Man game is situated in the back corner of the arcade, right next to the jukebox. It used to be your favorite, because Jisung would always use his own coins to play songs for you while you tried to score higher than twenty-five thousand points. 

When you get there, he frowns. “The only game you think I can beat you at is Pac-Man?” 

“I don’t think,” you say, grabbing a coin before shoving the cup into his chest. “I know.”

The game boots up instantly, and you smile softly to yourself when Jisung moves wordlessly behind you, slips a coin into the jukebox.

“Play something good, Jisungie.”

He freezes. Out of the corner of your eye you watch him stare at you for a long moment. And then he smiles. Stardust.

“You got it.”

In a matter of seconds, Lovers In A Dangerous Time by Bruce Cockburn rings throughout the arcade, the speakers on the ceiling fighting past the static.

An old song. The same one your grandparents would dance to in the mornings, eggs on the stove and love in the air.

Your grandma used to say it was written for them, because when they fell in love the war was at its peak and she didn’t know if he’d ever come home. 

After he passed, she still played it, except those times it was Jisung who twirled her around and painted a smile on her face as you watched from the same spot you grew up in. Always there.

Jisung, Jisung, Jisung. 

When the game starts, you try your best. It’s hard. You’ve always been terrible at anything involving quick decisions. Focusing on everything at once isn’t easy for you, that much is still true. 

“Shit.” you mumble, the top right corner of the screen reading ten thousand points as the ghosts run into you.

Jisung lets out a low whistle. “Harsh.”

“You wanna go back to space invaders and waste the last of our money?” you raise an eyebrow. 

He holds his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Go ahead.” he says, holding the cup out for you to take another coin. 

You try a couple more times, failing each and every one. You can tell that Jisung is growing more and more amused with every attempt, and the smugness radiating off of him is starting to rub you the wrong way.

“If you’re so good,” you say after a particularly sad attempt, turning to glare at him. Jisung has his lips pulled tight to stop himself from laughing. “Then why don’t you try?”

He chuckles then. “I’d rather help you, if you’ll let me.”

“How are you supposed to do that? We only have one coin left.”

Jisung doesn’t say anything. He puts the cup down, the last coin held between his fingers. You watch as he slips it into the machine, move to get out of his way once he’s done, but he stops you by grabbing your hand and spinning you back around, his fingers placed over yours on the joystick. 

With your back flush against his front, caged in by his arms on either side, Jisung takes a deep breath.

“This okay?” he asks right next to your ear, the curls on the side of his head brushing your cheek when he leans down to get a better look at the screen.

Warm. He’s so warm. The material of his sweater only worsens the heat, and the faint scent of vanilla makes your head swim.

It’s more than okay. Great, even. It’s Jisung. Everything and more.

“Yeah,” you say, letting him control your hands as he flicks the joystick. “It’s okay.”

The hair against your cheek moves when he smiles. “Good.” he says, and then hits the start button.

The game begins but you’re barely processing what’s happening, too aware of the feeling of his body pressed against yours. 

A firm chest, different from what’s observable on the outside, what with the fluffiness of his sweater and soft features. His arms too, encasing you, the bulge and flex of his biceps every time he moves.

It’s all so intoxicating, so much so that you don’t even realize you’ve beaten the highest score in the system by the time he loses his last life. 

“What?” you blink. “What the hell?!”

You laugh, spinning to face Jisung who’s grinning from ear to ear. In your excitement, you jump, flinging your arms around his neck. He’s surprised, but catches you nonetheless, circling his arms around your waist.

“Holy shit how’d you do that!” you squeal while he swings you around, feet off the ground.

“Magic, I guess.” he chuckles. 

The closeness of his voice brings you crashing back down, suddenly aware of what position you’re both in. You pull back quickly, clear your throat, and watch as his face falls from the loss of contact.

It’s been a long time since you hugged Jisung. The thought transports you to that day four years ago, standing under the apple tree, the future uncertain. Forever promised.

Things are different now.

“Sorry,” he backtracks. “I didn’t– um, I wasn’t trying to–”

You cut him off by throwing yourself at him for a second time. Intentional. Breathless. Tired of running and acting like it’s not the thing you want most in the entire world.

Jisung doesn’t react until he feels your face against the skin of his neck. On instinct, he hugs tight, hands around your waist, breathing in the smell of your hair.

“Hi.” you whisper against him. 

One word. Simple. However the weight of it sends a chill down his spine. It feels like home. 

He tightens his hold. A silent understanding. The two of you never had much of a need for words anyways. 

“Hi.” he whispers back.

The apple tree is much bigger now.

Long, thick branches, a wide trunk, a slight tilt in its shape.

It’s bare. The season is long gone. But it’s okay, because it means that the view of the stars isn’t blocked when you and Jisung lay beneath it.

It’s the same but it isn’t. There’s gaps– periods of time where the two of you grew separately. There are moments and memories tucked away that neither of you know about, whole lives to discover. 

But even so, it feels right. His arm wrapped around you, your head on his chest. The stars and the moon. You and Jisung.

It’s nice. Perfect, even. But there’s a conversation that needs to be had. One that can’t be put off any longer.

“Ji.”

“Hm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

Jisung shifts beneath you, tightening his hold. The grass is damp. Neither of you care, too caught up in each other to stress about whether or not it’ll stain.

“Of course.”

“Am I ever gonna see you again?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yes.”

“You said that last time.”

“I know.”

“So what makes this different?” you ask, sitting up. He watches you carefully, eyes trained on every movement like he’s scared you’ll get up and run away.

When he realizes you’re waiting for an answer, he sits up too, pulls his knees to his chest and wraps his arms around his legs. 

He doesn’t say anything, just wordlessly reaches into his pocket. Silently, he hands whatever he grabbed to you. A guitar pick.

It’s white, a marbled design. Golden flecks infused into the lines. There, on the front, is a singular marigold. When you flip it over, you’re met with a tulip. 

“Do you remember that one time, when you called me crying at midnight because Nana told you that she didn’t know if she’d be able to afford school in the city?”

You nod silently, still turning the guitar pick over in your hand. 

It was one of those nights where the rain was relentless. Monsoon season always tagged on to the tail end of the school year, bringing with it a more intense gloominess than usual. 

You’d been angry. Stressed. Irritated that other kids at school were making plans to go to the mainland for college and you were stuck helping your grandmother trim foliage and wrap vases in newspaper.

“You told me that you couldn’t do it anymore.” Jisung whispered, staring up at the sky. “That you were tired of being here. That you needed to get out.”

You remember. Jisung had walked through the rain to show up at your window. Had climbed in with muddy shoes and sat on the floor of your room with you until the downpour stopped and your tears dried.

“And I said that I would make it happen, that I would invent a way to live amongst the stars so you could be as far from here as possible.”

“So what?” you ask, looking at him. “Did you finally do it, then? Is that why you came back?”

“Don’t be like that.”

“No, Jisung, I’m gonna fucking be like that.” you scoff, rising to your feet. 

There’s a fire in your veins, stoked until the embers are burning hot against your throat. Too good to be true. You should’ve known that there was no explanation left for him to give.

Jisung scrambles to his feet. “It wasn’t like I wanted to–”

“Oh like hell you did.” you say, turning to face him. “Four years, Jisung. I waited four years and you just– you come back and decide to tell me about some make-believe bullshit to save yourself and feel less guilty about the fact that you left.”

“It wasn’t make-believe to me,” he argues. “It was real. Everything I said was real. I left and I tried for years to make something of myself so I could come back here and get you.”

“Oh so it’s my fault? I made you leave, is that it?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“So then say something else!” you yell. The stars rumble, threatening to fall out of the sky. “Say something else, then, Jisung. Why didn’t you call? Huh?”

“Because I–” he stops, licks his lips. “God. Fuck. I couldn’t face you if I had nothing to show for myself, okay? It wasn’t fair to you for me to leave you behind just so I could fail.”

“Ha!” you laugh, running a hand through your hair in disbelief. “So you decided to go radio silent instead? Decided to not only leave me alone but let me suffer and wonder about where you were because that’s so much better than telling me that you were struggling, right? Great choice, Jisung. Really.”

He blinks a few times, watching as you pace back and forth in the grass. 

Anger bubbles deep in your gut. This whole time, he knew. It was a conscious decision. Jisung deliberately didn’t contact you because he chose not to.

“Did you ever even love me?”

The words tumble out before you can stop them. Jisung’s entire body goes rigid, his face falling and eyes hardening within a fraction of a second.

“Watch what you say.” he says, his voice low in his chest.

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just be honest.”

“I’m trying.” he pleads. His eyes are glossy. Big and round behind his glasses. Illuminated by the moon. 

“I fucked up, okay? I prioritized myself and the way I felt over you and fucked everything up. But I tried. I tried so fucking hard. And I’m sorry it took me so long but I wanted– no–  I needed to make sure that I had everything figured out before I came back. I promised I would.”

“No, Jisung, you promised me that–”

“I’m not talking about you.” he says then, taking a deep breath. “You weren’t the only one I made promises to back then.”

Before you have a chance to speak, Jisung says, “I promised her. I told her I’d get you out of here. That I’d give you a life that you deserved, because she knew she couldn’t.”

You drop to your knees when the first sob hits, the force of it racking your body so hard you feel like you’re drowning. Jisung catches you on the fall, holds you up, lets you bury your face into his neck like he had so many times before.

“She told me you believed in forever. She wanted me to give that to you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Jisung lets you cry. He holds you through the storm, your wails as loud as thunder and tears as heavy as rain. Four years in the making; the sky and the earth colliding until the dirt and layers of sediment give way to the molten core that’s been hiding beneath the surface all along.

Pain. Grief. All of it pent up and leading to this moment. 

“You should’ve told me.” you cry, beating a fist into Jisung’s chest. “You idiot. You fucking idiot. You should’ve told me.” 

Jisung pulls you in closer, takes each hit as long as it means that it’ll soften the blow on your heart. He whispers apologies in your ear, runs a hand through your hair. 

When it quiets again, the worst of the storm gone, he shifts so that your head is in his lap, his legs crossed and tucked beneath him. A few stray tears wet the fabric of his jeans, your eyes focused on the field of flowers across the street.

“I won’t ask you to come with me.” he says after a long while, when your breathing has evened out. “I know that things are different. You have a life here that you’ve made for yourself, responsibilities to bear as well.”

He pauses to push a few strands of hair out of your face. His fingers are gentle against the skin of your cheek.

“But I promise it’ll be different. I spent too long away from you, was too selfish for my own good. I won’t disappear again. I’ll call every day. I’ll visit. You’ll get every part of me that I kept away from you all this time, and I’ll get every part of you in return.”

Your heart thrums. The thought of having what you’ve wanted for so long. Of having Jisung.

“And when you’re ready, when you feel like you can’t do it anymore, there’ll be a place for you.”

His voice is firm. Confident. More sure than he’s ever sounded before in his life.

When you turn to face him, he’s already staring back. Jisung, with all the stars in his eyes and a heart full of dreams. Jisung, with the world at his fingertips and the offer to make it yours.

Under the apple tree, Jisung leans down and kisses you for the first time. Twenty four years in the making, soft and slow, his lips a perfect fit against yours. A starboy and his flower girl. His glow is so bright it makes blossoms sprout from her fingertips.

Soft curls tickle your eyelids when he pulls away to rest his forehead against yours. You reach up to run a hand through them, smiling softly when he presses a kiss to the tip of your nose. 

“I love you.” you say first this time. 

He reaches out a hand, closes it over your fist that’s still clutching the guitar pick. A marigold and a tulip, both working together to make a perfect harmony. 

“I love you, too.” Jisung whispers back. “Forever.”

Jisung stops by the shop early to say goodbye.

There’s less tears this time, less of a reason to be sad. But still, when he wraps his arms around you, vanilla filling your nose and curls against your face, you feel your composure crumble.

“Every day.” he says, repeating the same thing he did all night. “I promise. Morning and night. Also at lunch. Oh, and on your days off. Matter of fact, you can call when you’re on the toilet too.”

The last part earns him an elbow to the ribs, his laughter bubbling up and out of his throat as he tries to dodge any and all subsequent attacks.

He kisses you stupid before he goes, Chan rolling his eyes from his car out front. You flip him off blindly, Jisung’s lips still attached to yours, earning a loud honk in response.

When he leaves, the shop is quiet, the only sound being the buzzing of your phone as Jisung blows it up with text messages the second the car pulls away.

You’re too busy replying, giggling to yourself when a slew of cute emoticons start appearing one by one, that you nearly fall over out of your chair when Hyunjin bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ Hyune, did you have to–”

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, breathless. 

“Uh,” you blink, glancing round. “Working?”

“Is Jisung not on a damn plane right now?”

“I mean he’s on his way to the airport. Chan is–”

“Chan hyung told me that Jisung wanted you to go with him.” Hyunjin says, brow furrowed.

You sigh. “He didn’t want me to go with him. Well, okay, he did. But I told him I can’t just pick up and leave. He knows that. Nana left this place to me and–”

“You are so stupid.” Hyunjin sighs. 

“Excuse me?” you ask. You stand up, crossing your arms as you walk closer to the counter. 

“Come on. We have to go.”

“Go where, Hyunjin? I’m not leaving to–”

He cuts you off, places an envelope on the wooden surface. “And I am not letting you stay here and pretend that this is what you want.”

“What is that?” 

“A plane ticket.” he says, pushing it towards you. “To Seoul.”

Your mouth opens and closes, lost for words. Hyunjin is already moving around the counter, pushing past you with an expression the most serious you’ve ever seen on him.

“Hyunjin I– I can’t– where did you even…?”

“Chan hyung has a friend.” he mumbles as he begins pulling stuff out of the office. Your planning notebook, your apron, the picture of your grandma off the wall. All of it thrown into a small box he managed to snag from somewhere off to the side.

“His name is Seungmin or something. Met him out in the tourist hub. Dude’s super rich with tons of miles and apparently owed Chan for a drunken night where he needed to be escorted to his hotel. So thanks to him, you’re leaving.” he explains as he grabs the box with both hands and starts walking towards the door.

“Wait.” you stop him, watching as he turns to regard you with a look that says his patience is running thin. 

“I told you I can’t leave, Hyunjin. This place is where I need to be.”

He huffs, places the box on the ground in front of him. His hair falls in waves around his face, a shimmery dark brown beneath the rays of the sun poking into the room. 

“Can you be honest with me?” he asks. 

You nod, slowly. 

“Do you love him?”

Hyunjin watches you with careful eyes. Reads you like a book, something he’s always been good at. You don’t doubt that it’s written on your face. Star-kissed cheeks and eyes as bright as marigolds. 

“So much that it hurts, Hyune.”

Hyunjin smiles, eyes watery. “Then you deserve to go. You deserve your chance to be free. Don’t worry about this place, I’ll take care of it.”

The familiar sting of tears sits behind your eyes. Your heart swells full of love for this friend, this light, this beacon of unconditional love in the shape of your best friend.

“I don’t have clothes.” you manage to say around the lump in your throat.

Hyunjin shakes his head, tears spilling down the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll send them to you.”

“There’s a lot to do around here for just one person. What if you need me?”

“I’ll manage.” 

You round the corner quickly, throwing yourself into his chest. He catches you with ease, wraps his arms around your body as the both of you cry into each other.

“I’ll miss you.” you say weakly.

Hyunjin’s throat bobs against the top of your head. “I’ll always be here in our little corner of the world.”

The two of you stay like that for a while. Hyunjin’s warmth seeps into your skin, lights you ablaze. By the time he pulls away, his hands on your shoulders, you feel like you’re floating. Unreal.

“I don’t have a way to get there.” you say quickly, glancing at the clock. 

Jisung’s plane leaves soon. The airport, the only one on the island, is a thirty minute drive. You’re at a disadvantage the more time you spend not moving. 

“Don’t worry,” Hyunjin chuckles. “I’ve got that taken care of.”

You open your mouth to ask him what he means when you’re cut off by the sound of honking from outside. Confused, you run to the door, your jaw dropping as soon as you realize who’s waiting for you.

“Hurry up people we don’t have all day!” Jeongin calls, his upper body hanging out of the window. He’s parked outside in a beat-up truck, arms waving wildly when he spots you.

“Innie!” you scream, pushing through the door to run at him. He jumps out of the truck just in time for you to barrel into his chest, laughter loud in your ears as he spins you around. 

“You’re here! Oh my god I thought you weren’t coming for another two weeks.” you say in disbelief once he puts you down.

He looks older, more sophisticated. His hair is rusted and falls past his ears, the ends just barely touching his shoulders. 

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs. “I figured I’d show up earlier. You know, see you before you leave, catch up with my parents, help Hyunjin break into your house. The usual.”

“Help Hyunjin break into my what–” you say, but you stop when your eyes fall on the small suitcase in the backseat. Your own bag, the one that’s been sitting in your closet untouched for years now.

“For the last time,” Hyunjin says from behind you, carrying the box in his arms. “It’s not breaking and entering if I have a key. Which, by the way, I told you would come in handy one day.”

He sets the box down next to the luggage and dusts his hands on his pants. When he turns to face you, he’s smiling, eyes disappearing into crescent moons.

With tears threatening to spill once again, you stare at the both of them, your heart bursting at the seams. “I love you guys.”

Jeongin grimaces, opts for getting back in the driver’s seat as you laugh. Hyunjin rolls his eyes and ushers you inside of the truck.

“Yeah, yeah. Save it.” he says. “Right now, you have a plane to catch.”

The airport is crowded. 

There are tons of people everywhere, some saying hello and some saying goodbye. Hyunjin explained the gate system to you before you left him and Jeongin on the curb, and you keep glancing down at your ticket to make sure none of the information has changed in the past thirty seconds since you last looked. 

Thankfully, your gate isn’t far. With twenty minutes to go until boarding, you can feel the sweat building up beneath the hand that’s curled around your suitcase handle. 

It’s scary thinking about the fact that this is it. That you’re finally leaving. 

It’s bittersweet, too. There’s an excitement in the pit of your stomach as well as a feeling of dread in your chest, both of them meeting in the middle somewhere. 

You let your eyes scan the crowd, searching for wavy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. However, the first thing you see is the familiar neck of a guitar, strapped right on to a back that you would know and recognize anywhere without warning.

Jisung is seated near the gate, his eyebrows furrowed and lips set in a pout as he glares down at his phone. You realize that he’s probably wondering why you won’t answer, why all of his emoticons are going ignored. 

Quietly, you come up behind him, reach into your pocket, and say, “Excuse me? I think you dropped this.”

Jisung startles, his eyes falling on to the guitar pick being held out in your hand. Slowly, he lets his gaze follow upwards, wide-eyed and shocked.

“What– what are you doing here?” he asks. 

You place the pick in his hand. “I'm on my way to Seoul. There’s a guy there that I’ve been trying to find for a while.” you say. 

Jisung catches on quickly. “Oh, really?” he asks, moving over so you can sit beside him. “This guy must be pretty great if you’re leaving for the mainland.”

The rain starts hitting the tarmac outside right as you sit down. “Hm, yeah. He is. He really likes the stars. He says that he found a way for me to live in them, too.” 

He laughs, the sound making your stomach flip. “Sounds like you’re excited.”

You nod. “I am. He promised me that we’d do a lot together, experience new things. Apparently he’s gonna write songs and I’m gonna be a nerd.”

Jisung snorts and reaches across to link his hand with yours.

“He’s really lucky.” he says, leaning over to plant a kiss on your lips.

You smile into it. “So am I.” you whisper into his mouth, your heart stuffed to the brim with flower petals. 

And when Jisung smiles back, his other hand coming up to cup your cheek and give you another kiss with the force of a thousand suns, you feel the key you’d been searching for finally click into place. 

Salt of the earth. Soil and stardust. A boy who glows so bright that his girl sprouts blossoms from her fingertips. 

Forever isn’t promised. But then again, with Jisung by your side, there are things you know for certain:

It’s February. The tulips are in bloom. In Jeju– it rains.

And no matter what, despite all odds, you and Jisung will always find your way back to each other in the place where marigolds grow.

[tags: @skzstarnet @snowyquokka @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny @drhsthl @strwbrrychannie @shays-library @giuliadesu @iknowyouknowminho @linocz @pynchkilledme @jisunglyricist @itsgghowitsgg @alician87 @skzms @meloncremesoda @ilychee08 @allaboutsan @legally-lixs @stayceebs97 @candyquokka @chans1aptop @liknws @realrintaro @beeracha @vxllxnsworld @feelikecinderella @caitxx1 @lilac13 @sebastianswhore13 @classiclitandmemes @hyunverse @linosazuna @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @bubbly-moon @cookiesandcreammy ]

[heartzfromel]

hey! i’ve got a request for youuu. totally optional :)

Lilia x reader with a transfiguration witch gf who pulls her out of her “visions” when they become too much through touch. they’re traveling the road with the coven, but the coven doesn’t know they’re dating and thinks they’re just friends. cut to surprise and shock when reader pulls Lilia out of a particular rough “vision” with a kiss.

i’ve been thinking of writing this for a while, and honestly might still do it, but for now it’s just an idea and i would love to see your take on it!!

-kenzie 💛

omg thank u sm for this request this is such a cute idea 💕💕

a/n; i feel like i haven’t written her right but bare w me its my first lilia fic

taglist; @multixfan @yourbasicqueerie @angeliccss @walkethisway @audreylise @confuseuniverse @babythere @kenzie-floops @delusionaforolderwomen @ex-t3rr3strial

tags; established relationship, i tried to write lilia’s visions like in the show but more dramatic but idk if i like it, kissing, flirting, agatha is a menace to society, alice wu gulliver third wheeling

snap out of it || lillia calderu x fem!witch!reader

they had started coming back again a few days before you and lilia had joined agatha harkness’ coven. lilia’s visions hadn’t been this erratic for a long, long time, and it was starting to worry you.

you’d been dating lilia only a few months, but you’d known each other for centuries. you met her as she was fleeing sicily and ever since then your lives had become entangled with one another’s, sometimes seeing each other every day for five years at a time, and then not seeing each other again for a decade. your attraction to lilia had always been known to you, but you’d never made a move, for 4 centuries you had longed for her, and maybe she’d done the same with you. the two of you had this sort of unspoken regret, for not being brave enough sooner, but you’d decided that you were just glad that you finally had her now.

the last time lilia had had visions that distressed her as much as this was almost a hundred years ago. luckily, you’d been there both times, and so you knew how to jolt her out of it. for most visions, it just had to be a simple brush of your fingertips against her skin, but it changed depending on the vision. funnily enough, you were the only one who could could get her to snap out of it, but she didn’t seem to mind.

right now, you were sat on her kitchen counter, messing with a rose quartz pendulum, belonging to your girlfriend. lilia was out the front of the shop, and you stayed away. lilia did most of the work at the front, (doing readings, talking to customers, things like that), whilst you preferred to unpack orders to be taken into the store and stink up your girlfriend’s kitchen with cinnamon insence, which drove her up the wall constantly as she hated the smell, she was always getting on at you for it, but you loved it when she was all annoyed at you because she couldn’t stay serious for more than five minutes.

you’d just lit a new stick when lilia barged into the room, frustration painting her features. you jumped to blow it out, tossing it to the side as if nothing happened.

“hey, lils what’s wro-“ you began, but your words were interrupted when your eyes trailed over to the doorframe, spotting one agatha harkness leaning against it, a permanent smirk etched on her mouth, followed by an awkward looking boy, couldn’t even have been seventeen, smiling and waving. you rolled your eyes.

“oh gods” you mumbled.

turns out, agatha wanted the two of you to join her and her coven on the witches road.

“we are in desperate need of a divination witch, you know. and transfiguration always comes in handy.” she mused, trying to persuade you.

“no witch in her right mind is going to join agatha harkness’ coven.” lilia argued, clearly not having any of this.

“not looking for right-minded witches, as it just so happens…” agatha smirked, turning to face the boy behind her who mirrored her expression.

“no.” you answered, taking your eyes off of the pendulum in your hand and turning to face her.

“why not?” she asked.

“because you’re the reason why there are so many misconceptions about us.” you answered, getting frustrated now.

“moi?” she clutched her chest, feigning innocence.

“you’re the reason people thing we poison apples, and steal children, and eat babies!” lilia listed, the disgust evident in her voice.

“babies are delicious.” agatha grinned, she knew she was getting lilia riled up.

now you, for one, didn’t believe in the road, and you didn’t think that lilia really did either, but agatha was really convincing, so you ended up on the sofa in her sitting room, the awkward boy from before smiling at you again, and lilia passing you some sort of food item on a skewer. soon enough you were all singing the ballad in agatha’s admittedly creepy basement.

after you’d done, the teenage boy from before came running down the stairs, yelling for agatha. you wondered how they knew each other, but there wasnt too much time left to think as you’d been informed that the salem seven, whoever they were, were after the lot of you.

her visions got worse once you’d reached the first trial. you and agatha had been sent off to find ingredients for an antidote for a poison, but lilia had insisted she joined you because she didn’t trust agatha. it happened upstairs, whilst you and agatha rummaged through the potions witch, jen’s, skincare, she seemed to freeze, before simply yelling “try to save agatha!”

you grabbed her arm and rubbed it soothingly to break her out of it quickly, but it didn’t stop agatha from taking notice, but she didn’t say too much on the matter.

there were a few more as you walked the road to your next trial, but lilia was quieter than the first one, she hadn’t yelled outwith a trial. you understood that the road was likely messing with her, so you linked your arm with hers to help keep the visions at bay as the coven ventured further down the road.

with the unfortunate passing of mrs davis in the last trial, the coven were now in desperate need of a green witch, and so the coven had decided to summon a new one, a terrifyingly beautiful witch crawling out from underground. she seemed to have a history with agatha, but the coven left it alone.

it was during the second trial that lilia had that vision. the coven explored the 70s inspired room that you had been transported to as agatha admired herself in the mirror as per usual. you were looking at various paintings with alice and your girlfriend, when she started to spout nonsense, which scared you a little bit.

“which is it, am i wispy or am i kooky?” she babbled.

“uh… both?” alice answered, glancing at you in confusion. lilia just looked confused.

“what?” she asked, tone suddenly dripping with her usual sass.

you just looked at her, a slight smile on your face as your hand rubbed her arm. alice had seemed to clock the endearment in your eyes as she looked away, clearly trying not to giggle whilst simultaneously attempting to get jen’s attention, and fsiling miserably.

“you look good, by the way doll.” she smirked, one hand snaking around your bare waist. you looked up at her, leaning your head on her shoulder.

“you don’t look too bad yourself.” you giggled, taking her in properly. she really suited that lipstick.

your moment was interrupted by alice clearing her throat awkwardly.

you looked at her, mortified, “oh i’m so sorry-“

she stopped you, giggling. “don’t. i think it’s cute.” she grinned, before sauntering off to find the rest of the coven.

your eyes followed her as she made her way over to jen, and you smirked knowingly to yourself as alice messed with her hair before going to talk to her.

you were pulled from your thoughts as you heard lilia mumbling to herself again, quickly turning to face her, grabbing her arms, rubbing them both soothingly.

“lilia, sweetheart, you okay?” you asked, having to raise your voice as she began to yell, becoming more distressed by the second.

you reached your hands up, so that they now cupped her face.

“lils.” you yelled. still no answer. you didn’t know what to do, she wouldn’t stop screaming. normally, you’d just do this and she’d be right back from wherever she was, but this time you tried with no avail. the pair of you were now gathering concerned stares from the rest of the coven.

you kept your hands on her face as she seemed to quieten down, but you could tell that she was still in a vision.

if only you could get her to snap out of it.

and that’s when it hit you. pulling her face close, you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips to hers. within seconds her hands were on your waist, lips moving in sync with yours as she pulled you closer.

you broke the gap between you and lilia placed her forehead against yours. she let out a giggly breath and then mumbled into your ear, “i hated that the last time” referring back to a few weeks ago when she’d had another vision similar to that, but had been broken out of it more easily.

“thank you baby.” she grinned, placing her hands on your face and pulling you forward for one more quick peck on the lips.

it was then that jennifer kale cleared her throat, causing you to turn around to face the coven, who all failed miserably at holding in their laughter at the sight of you after your little pda session with your girlfriend. lilia was literally glowing whereas you looked slightly disheveled and yoir face was covered in smudged red lipstick that you didn’t even have on. you couldn’t understand how lilia’s makeup had managed to stay pristine when her lipstick covered half of your face, but she had seemed to find it hilarious.

“so how long’s this been going on?” agatha asked, and for some reason you didn’t really know what to answer. you had only been official with lilia for a short while, but she’s been your soulmate since the day you first met, you knew that, and so did she.

“i’d say 400 years, give or take” lilia answered for you, causing you to grin, you were so glad that she was finally your girlfriend, but you only wished you’d been brave enough sooner.

[imorynn]

.𖥔 ݁ 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 | l . calderu

.𖥔 ݁ pairings : lilia calderu 𝓍 fem!human!reader

.𖥔 ݁ word count : 4k+

.𖥔 ݁ genre / contains : angst, though fluff, mild suggestive nsfw content / smut, descriptive writing, heartache ? :,> this is somewhat scrambled due to lilia’s unilinear visions and experiences, apologies if it makes no sense — there really is no sense when it comes to love

.𖥔 ݁ tags : @multixfan @etherynn @dymttz @spicelevelofthebible @honeypiperpizza123 @rydermovies @emilynissangtr @astrophiliaxx @derry-n @beachhausu @ludoesartandstuff @weemswife @witchymadness @aggieharkness @yourgirlxp @mrsines @klien2000 @yourbasicqueerie @asimpforwomen @shinramyunnoodles @babythere @kenzie-floops @confuseuniverse @lady-darkswan3 @mgruiz @liliastriangle @thegoddamnfeels !!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ inspo :

author’s note : I’m having mixed emotions on this — but we rise ! I hope I didn’t disappoint, lol, and I hope you enjoy ! <333

── THE ELDER WITCH exhaled, the words — a benediction she learned centuries ago from the person she adored with the entirety of her fractured existence — whispered to herself in hopes for some sort of grounding, of sense. “Time is an illusion that helps things make sense. Life is just a collection of moments.”

And for her, those moments within the Path, this awaiting led to you.

The threads of time swirled around her, a tapestry of every moment she had ever lived. Each gap — the whispers of lives she had touched and lost — folded in on itself.

And then, she came across the picture-framed ones she kept tucked in the furthest walls of her mind, that held more significance than anything she perhaps had ever come across with — she saw, felt you.

It unraveled with a scent: citrus, wildflowers, a dash of jasmine, and salt air, so vivid it captured her breath. Her vision blurred, and when it receded, she was no longer on the Road but seated on the bed of soft grass atop an acquainted sunlit hill, her hand, ringed and aligned with centuries of age of the current timeline she existed in, clasped within yours. Your skin was as soft as she recalled, though there was the subtleness of lines of age and slight callouses, and your eyes — matured, crow’s feet kissing the corners — were ignited with that same love that always grounded her.

Your warm-hued eyes marveled at the celestial lights above, as they had such countless times before, while she marveled at how the gleams illuminated your face. It was impossible to take in the beauty of her world when her attention was wholly claimed by the simple presence of someone who outshone it effortlessly.

“You’re here,” she whispered in wonder, jaw trembling.

You smiled, the corners of your mouth lifting gently. “I’ve always been here, Lilia. Just like you’ve always been with me.”

The world realigned. She perceived the warmth of the Sicilian sun on her face, the texture of the grass beneath her fingertips. Yet she also feels the icy bite of the trial chamber, the sting of her flashing visions as it reaches its breaking point.

“I miss you, darling,” she breathed out. Tears spilled freely now, golden light mingling with the wetness on her cheeks. “Every moment, every gap — it’s always been you.”

Your hands cradled her cheeks, thumb swatting away her tears before lovingly soothing the furrows between her brows. There was that expression she adored so much etching your features, a slight pressure being felt against her temples. You always tended to do that to alleviate the spasms of pain within her head. “And you’ve always been back then,” you softly said. “Every time you look, you find me. And when you let go, you’ll find me again.”

The picture unfurled like silk, soft and weightless, winding through her thoughts with the slow, relentless certainty of ivy claiming a wall. It filled the voids left by centuries of solitude, stitching together fabrics of what had been lost. Lilia’s mind fractured and healed all at once, each shard of memory glimmering with vivid clarity until they bled into one seamless vision — no, memory.

It began with the kiss of the earth against her back, the cool grass cradling her like a lover’s embrace. The blades stroked her bare skin, whispering in voices only the night could carry. Above her, the heavens stretched vast and infinite, their dark expanse jeweled with stars that shimmered like ancient sentinels, humming faintly with a secret music only she could hear. The moon hung heavy and low, a silver chalice spilling its light over the hills, bathing the world in a spectral, ethereal glow that blurred reality into something dreamlike.

And then there was you, the axis around which this memory revolved. You had led her here, your fingers laced with hers, pushing your joined palms into the soil, your grip firm though never enough to hurt, always overwhelmingly sufficient in tenderness, as though you feared she might drift away. She remembered the sound of your laughter being muffled into her neck —low and abundant, threaded with the warmth of your kiss that made her chest constrict. It had danced on the breeze, mingling with the rustle of plains and the soft cadence of her heartbeat.

“You’re incorrigible,” she had teased, her voice carrying that familiar edge of dry wit, smile half-hidden by the shadows.

“And you,” you had countered, your belief steady as the earth beneath her, “are breathtaking.”

Her breath had hitched at the weight of your words, at the way your mouth skimmed hers, the brown globes of her eyes fluttering to meet yours. They glowed in the moonlight, vibrant and deep, the kind of eyes that subsided edges and pierced defenses in the same glance.

“I know,” A smirk pulled at her lips but you had seen through her deflection, as you always did.

The memory shifted, folding deeper into itself, until it was your touch that filled her senses. The pads of your digits brushed over her wrist, a touch as light as the wings of a moth, trailing up her arm in a wondrous, deliberate exploration. She released a breathless laugh as your fingers grazed a sensitive spot along her ribs, her body twisting away before surrendering to the warmth of your hands.

“Must you always explore everything as if it’s some ancient relic?” she murmured, her features mirthful and highlighted with affection when her own touch pressed into the slight muscle upon your shoulders.

“With you,” You exhaled reverently, “always.”

Time itself seemed to bend, the minutes stretching and seeping like liquid silver as if the universe had conspired to give you an eternity at this moment. When you leaned closer, her lips rose to meet yours in a kiss that was neither hurried nor restrained, but something in between — a perfect, soft, seeking, and utterly consuming motion. It was grounding and dizzying all at once, a tether to the present even as it pulled you both deeper into something far beyond time. Her mouth deepened its mold against yours, fingers tangled in the fabric near your neckline, pulling you toward her with an urgency she could barely disguise, afraid to let even an inch of space exist between you.

The stars above seemed to blur as her vision hazed, her senses overwhelmed by the way your hands moved over her body. You touched, savored every bit of her as though you were etching every curve, every angle, into memory. The fabric of her dress was discarded, long forgotten somewhere upon the dewy grass, her skin exposed, kissed by the moon’s gaze. Each touch, each kiss, each stare sent ripples through her, a heat that seared and soothed in equal measure, the kind of touch that made the rest of the world fall away.

“You’re staring again,” she said softly, her tone teasing but laced with tenderness. A smirk tugged at her lips, her expression as knowing as it was inviting.

“Perhaps I am,” you admitted while cataloging every line of her face, committing it to eternity. “Is that so wrong?”

She pretended to think, her thumb brushing along your cheekbone, her touch lingering. “I suppose I’ll allow it,” her statement feigned seriousness when the subtle purse of your lower lip met her fingers. “But only because you’re so endearing about it.”

Her teasing faltered as her gaze held your own ; astoundingly dazed, love lodged deep and swirling within your pupils. Your fingers brushed a strand of hair from her face. The moment lingered, suspended in the infinite quiet of the night, until she tugged you back down and her lips found yours. This kiss was different — softer, slower, a communion more than an act.

The world around you converted into a tapestry of sensations: the cool press of the grass, the hum of crickets in the distance, the faint rustle of leaves above, and the heat of her skin against yours. Her hands wandered as yours did, tracing the structure of your jaw, the dip of your spine, her touch feather-light, deliberate. She murmured your name, the sound of it breaking from her lips like a reverent prayer.

When the memory descended from its high, the two of you laid entwined beneath the stars, her head resting on your chest, her fingers creating an idle dance over your collarbone. The moonlight illuminated her face, softening the sharpness of her features, casting her in an otherworldly glow.

“I think the stars envy you,” you muffled into her hair, voice rough with dread yet threaded with exhilarating sincerity.

“Flatterer,” The word was gentle, almost unguarded. Her taunting slipped away when she lifted her head to look at you, the dark stands of her hair spilling around her like a dark halo. For once, her expression was unmasked. And then you smiled — lopsided, hopelessly enamored and devoted to your voice, your truth.

“Say it again,” A glimpse of teeth came in that pretty grin of hers, her palm resting over your heart as she pushed herself up towards you.

“The stars envy you,” you exhaled into her mouth, brushing your thumb over her temple. “Because even they can’t shine as brightly.”

She did not tease, nor did she deflect. Instead, she leaned further in, her lips brushing yours in a kiss so delicate it felt like starlight. The vastness of the night melted away within the canvas of the picture, leaving only the two of you— eternal, infinite, unbroken, constant.

Another one of many images — moving, fleeting — was not vivid. It was muted, as though viewed through a fogged window. Sicily, her childhood, the golden glow of a summer afternoon flittering through olive trees. She was younger then in this memory, her dark curls tied back, and you were there — human, ephemeral, your vibrant-hued irises holding her attention as if nothing else in the world mattered. You would laugh, leaning in to tap her on the forehead with a playful finger, uttering something along the lines of how she would forget this moment one day.

But she did not. It stayed, buried somewhere between the gaps.

“Do you remember?” the familiarity of a maturing voice — your voice — murmured now, faint and impossibly close. She felt it more than she heard it, the weight of your words pressing into her chest.

“I always remembered,” Her speech trembled in deep agony. “Even when I didn’t want to.”

The second-motioned picture came in fragments, like the shards awaiting to become the entirety of a mirror. A candlelit room, the fragrance of melted wax and rosewater mingled with your pure essence. Your touch brushed against hers as she fumbled with her first deck of tarot cards. She had been anxious —terrified, really — and you had smiled so softly, your thumb soothing the back of her hand. The warmth of it seared and lingered, long after you were gone.

“You’ll figure it out, Lili,” you’d murmur then, your tone tender but edged with something deeper. She wanted to believe you then. But time had not waited for you. You, with your transient human life, had slipped away, leaving her to walk centuries without you. Without this. “You always do.”

And she had. But the cost of figuring it out was an eternity of gaps, of not being able to live, breathe, bask in the presence with you. A life experienced in fragments, one piece lost, constantly missing.

The evening air was a symphony of fragrances — the tart zest of citrus blossoms mingling with the languid sweetness of jasmine, threading itself through the thick, velvet dusk of Sicily. In moments like these, the world seemed to hold its breath, silencing its usual hum as shadows unfurled like ink across the cobblestone lanes. The burnished glow of the setting sun kissed the strands of chestnut hair framing her face, its light clinging to each wave as though reluctant to let go. Lilia sat close, her hands gripping the folds of her deep amber gown with quiet desperation as if the fabric alone could anchor her against the bruising weight of a world that so rarely understood the depths of her soul.

You were well aware of the truth however, even when others only saw the quiet girl hovering at the fringes of every gathering — the one whose sharp tongue could cut like a blade when pressed, her gaze shadowed by an ancient, unspoken grief. She was more than they realized, more than even she might admit. There was a strange and wondrous duality to her, something both delicate and unyielding, as though she were spun from the gossamer of dreams yet tempered by the unrelenting weight of reality. A witch, a seer — an enigma bound to the relentless march of time, yet adrift within its labyrinthine folds, forever chasing something lost amidst its shifting currents.

“Talk to me, my love.” Your hand reached for hers, the barest graze of your fingertips against her skin. She flinched — an instinctive reaction, not born of fear but of deeply ingrained habit. Lilia rarely allowed herself to be touched; it tethered her too firmly to the here and now, making the voids in her existence impossible to ignore. Yet tonight, she did not withdraw. Her hand softened beneath yours, tentative at first, before settling into a quiet stillness. And when she allowed herself to meet your gaze, you could not avoid the way all oxygen retreated from your lungs. Those eyes of hers were a deep, liquid brown, luminous yet guarded. There was a fragility in them, something akin to a startled fawn — wide and unshielded — yet rich and consuming, a molten warmth that seemed to pull you into its fathomless depths.

“Do you really believe…” she began quietly, voice barely more than a whisper, as though the night might steal her words away if she spoke too openly, “… that time is nothing but an illusion? Just to make sense of things? That everything we see —” her free hand swept outward, sketching the contours of the horizon where the sun had all but disappeared “ —isn’t moving forward or backward, but simply existing all at once? The past, the present, the future… layered together, thin as paper, like the pages of an endless book waiting to be read in any order?”

Your head hitched slightly to the side, stare remaining on her as you attempted to carefully intertwine the threads of her utterance. It was ordinary for her to do this — to speak in fragments and what seemed conundrums to others, as though her thoughts were too vast, too intricate to be bound by the simplicity of ordinary speech. Yet you had comprehended to follow her, to acknowledge and navigate the labyrinth of her mind with tranquility and without hesitation. “I do believe…” you inhaled, voice slow and measured, discerning each word before releasing it, “I believe it is true, and it may mean that every moment we have shared still lingers, suspended somewhere in the folds of time. That no matter what comes next, you and I will always be here, or there — together, untouched by what lies ahead.”

Her lips went ajar, and for a fleeting moment, she stared at you as though you had unraveled some great, unspoken truth. Then, a laugh escaped her — not loud, but soft and bubbling in the air, the kind of sound that contained a dab of wonder laced with skepticism. “You make it sound so effortless,” Her wrist shifted slightly, her palm turning to press flush against yours. Slowly, her fingers wove between yours, the connection deliberate, clutching. “But it’s not,” she said, her voice tinged with an angered sorrow. “Time isn’t kind. It doesn’t care for love or loyalty, for promises whispered in the dark. It only takes — relentlessly, endlessly — until all it leaves behind is emptiness. Nothing to hold onto anymore.”

There was a rupture within the melody of her voice, a trembling note you had never heard before, and it sharply churned through your chest, tightening around the delicate rhythm of your heart.

“Lilia,” Her name tumbled from your lips like a prayer, as if it alone could bind her here with you. You leaned closer, the space between you shrinking, hoping the proximity could shield her from the pressure of her own despair. “Time cannot take this,” you whispered, making an effort to keep those words steady despite the storm swirling inside of you. “Not us. Not what we’ve created. Not what we are.”

She turned to you fully then, her gaze scrutinizing yours with an intensity that felt like it could peel back time itself, every curve, every shadow of your features etching to her memory, her heart. The last rays of sunlight wisped into her dark locks, igniting them in hues of amber and gold, a fleeting halo that crowned her in the fragile light of the dying day. At that moment, with the world balanced on the edge of twilight, you thought she had never looked more achingly, devastatingly beautiful.

“What if I lose you?” she inquired brokenly. The question barely broke the stillness, but it hit like a tempest splitting open the sky. “ What if I’m stranded here, holding the ghost of you, while you… drift away? I’ve seen it happen before. Loved and been left behind, bound to memories that never let go — I’ve lived it, y/n. ”

Your hand rose with a leisured tenderness, fingers curling for her face to nestle there. Her skin was warm — a living contrast to the cold fear roiling beneath your ribs. Her breathing hitched, an unspoken plea — when your thumb brushed over the curve of her cheekbone. “Then you’ll find me again,” your usage of tone a quiet anchor even as your touch surrendered to their quiver. “In the shadows of yesterday, in the light of tomorrow — wherever your steps take you, wherever the road may lead you, wherever your soul resides, I’ll remain here. I’m going to be here for as long as life allows me to be there with you.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut, lashes trembling like leaves caught in the faintest breeze. For a heartbeat, you believed she might shatter, that tears would slip through the cracks in her silence. But when brown orbs met yours once again, there was something more — something delicate, like the first blush of dawn breaking against an endless night. A fragile hope lingered there, hesitant yet alive, the weight of eternity had lessened, if only the slightest. In that flicker of belief, you saw the unvoiced truth: perhaps she would not have to carry forever alone after all.

She leaned into you, the motion so unguarded it stole the air from your lungs. Her forehead lightly kissed yours, and at that moment, the world seemed to narrow, folding into the fragile space you shared. The pieces of curls upon the crown of her head brushed your skin, soft and untamed, carrying the faint scent of rain or something equally fleeting. You could feel the unsteady cadence of her breath, each exhale a confession — you were not certain if it was for her, or you. “You’re not afraid of me,” she said, her voice fraying at the edges, trembling under the weight of her doubt and wonder.

“Why would I be?”

Her mouth hoisted into a wry smile. “Because I’ve seen things—terrible things — deaths, catastrophes. I’ve been hunted, chased out of places. I’ve predicted tragedy more times than I can count. People look at me and see a curse.”

“Ah, but when I look at you,” you ascertained with a lopsided though earnest smile while the pads of your fingers danced over her cheek, “ all I see is Lilia. My Lilia. The girl who taught me how to see the world differently. Who made me discover that time isn’t a straight line, but a song — messy, beautiful, endless.”

A wisp of a giggle ruffled through the air, and you felt her ease into your touch. She sensed you wavering, however, and she was met with your pondering expression. With the way you looked at her, the way you coiled her insides. “You will remain my constant, Lilia. And I’ll always be yours.”

Lilia’s eyes slowly lulled open, and they moistened with something heavy and tender. “Even when you’re not here? Even when… you’re gone? When I’m gone?”

You nodded, bringing her hand to your mouth and pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “Even then,” you promised. “Time’s an illusion, right? It’s always happening—happened, happening, will happen. And we’ll always find each other again.”

You knew she was seeing something given the distance in her gaze — possibly a version of this moment, maybe another lifetime. She spoke with fervent certainty. “I’ll hold onto you, even when I’m lost.”

You grinned, leaning closer until the tip of your nose nuzzled down the prominent bridge of hers. “You won’t be lost. Not as long as you have me to come back to.”

For a stretched-out while, neither of you uttered a word. There was goodness within silence when you were with the person you felt most comfortable with. The reality revolving around you seemed to cease, leaving only the hum of the ocean, the rustling of grass and leaves and the rhythm of her breathing, of your breathing ; twined, unyielding, steady.

She traced the lines of your palm with her thumb, memorizing the richness of your skin, the delicate strength beneath it. She felt you watching her, her gaze steadying, her time gaps temporarily stilled. Her fingers tightened around yours, her grip firm but trembling, her nails slicing your skin with the faintest pressure, a touch that felt like a plea.

“Promise me something,” She stated this lowly, unevenly, yet urgent enough to command the world to halt.

“Anything,” you softly responded, the word carrying more than a vow—it was surrender.

“Remember this,” she said, the weight of her heart pressing into every syllable. “Even when you’re somewhere I can’t follow, even when I’m lost in my own far-off place. Keep this moment alive. Hold it for the both of us.”

You answered her not with a voice but by closing the distance, your lips meeting hers in a way that was not rushed or faltered. It lingered, it soared, it ached, soft yet infinite, like a vow etched into the unseen threads binding you both to this point in time. You poured yourself into it — into her— as if promises could be spoken in silence, as though the blazing sun and soon moon paused to witness.

When the kiss ended, you stayed close, her forehead brushing yours for an instant before she tucked herself into you. Her head came to rest beneath your chin, her body burrowing into the hollow of your frame, trying to root herself there, to this currency, to your soul. “We’ll always be back then right?” she drowsily murmured, yet Lilia had this power of making things feel certain for you, steady.

“Always,” you planted a kiss to her temple, your arms tightening around her as the sunset seemed to nearly draw to a close and the night to a beginning, the stars above shimmering softly in quiet agreement.

The final piece of the picture — the memory, the moment — came like a rush of wind, nourishing her lungs and lifting the weight from her shoulders. It was you, standing at the edge of a cliff overlooking the sea. The sky was painted with hues of orange and pink, the air tinged with salt and the faint sweetness of lemon groves. You turned to her, your expression warm and unguarded, and for a moment, she forgot what it meant to live in pieces.

As the Salem Seven screeched when the balance of gravity reversed, their darkness descended into the piercings that indicated none other than Death.

Her coven was safe, their bonds unbroken, but Lilia was already somewhere else. Warm and all -encompassing. She let go of everything except the picture she clutched onto, the memory of you.

And there you were.

Waiting for her, your arms open, your smile soft, your eyes as brilliant as they had been centuries ago. She, in all her youth, stepped forward, the heart encapsulated within her chest swelling as if it had remembered how to feel whole, before hoisting her skirts and diving into your arms. There was only you, and the softness of your touch, and the faint scent of citrus and jasmine that had always reminded her of home.

“You found me, darling,” her words went muffled into the fabric of your shoulder, tightening her hold on you.

“You found me, Lilia,” her name being spoken by your lips, assisted with the sensation of them against her flushed cheek, her nose, her forehead, felt like the closing of a circle . “I told you. We will always be back then. Time does not matter.”

It did not, she realized that now. Time was the illusion. Love was the constant.

⸻ ᥫ᭡ 𓂃

[multimilfs]

Lilia Calderu x Fem!Reader: Gaudium In Finem

Summary: Death, upright; growth, change, new beginnings. Luckily for Lilia, she has the perfect guide to help her navigate the unknown.

AO3

Included: Mentions of death, allusions to smut, fluff and comfort, found family

Words: 2.7k

A/N: This is my love letter to Agatha All Along and to the group of people I'm fortunate enough to call my own coven. I'm sad to see the show end, but excited to see where it leads. It has been so much fun playing in the fandom sandbox every week with you all <3

Tag List: @emiliaisdead @kenzie-floops @nightmare-of-homophobes @thepotatoislost @mckiejames @women-are-so-ethereal @galaxydreamer468 @thoroughly--confused @angeliccss @goldenautomaton @asolitaryrose3 @multifandomfix @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @escapetodreamworld @macnbriee @liliastriangle @im-a-carnivorous-plant @allseingeye

Lilia loved being a witch. 

Loves. 

Loved? 

“If you think about it too hard, you’ll hurt yourself.” A voice calls from behind her. 

She turns, startled to find herself staring back down The Road. Her feet are bare, the leaves rough against the bottom of them, hair a wild mess of curls. She can smell the mud on herself, but mercifully seems absent from it on her person. 

The familiar weight of her own clothing startles her. She runs a hand down the sleeve of her cardigan, feeling the slight differences in texture between the yarn. Years ago, in a fit of fancy, she’d made it herself; it has been one of her most prized possessions since, and she’s relieved to have it returned. 

Lilia pauses at the sight of you. You lean against one of the gnarled trees, smiling in that fond way time had robbed her of remembering. There’s a welcoming energy surrounding you that she remembers, though, and finds herself drawn back into your orbit. 

Loved it is, then. 

“How are you here?” Lilia asks, breathless. 

“Where else would I be, my Lilia?” The accent lilts off your tongue just as she recalls, too. 

“You know what I’m asking.” She says, “How are you here—how am I here? I fell.” 

You tilt your head. Though the look you offer is curious, calculating, the warmth doesn’t ebb. It makes her feel lighter than a feather. 

“Death, upright.”

The words make her flinch. She can still feel it; the weight of the deck in her palm, the eyes of her coven on her, the encroaching doom of the swords aiming for all of them. And that final card—the destination—sealing the fate she had known since stepping into the trial. 

Death, upright. 

Your eyes are expectant, waiting. 

It clicks for Lilia, “New beginnings, transformation, and growth.” 

“Death is only a new beginning, and The Road is Death.” 

The Road is Death, yet she has never felt more alive. She feels the reliable weight of her magic still in her veins. Her heart is light at the sight of your smiling face and loving eyes. She itches to take your hand in her own again. 

As if sensing the desire, you extend your hand, palm up. She closes the distance to take it and finds herself pulled into a kiss. It’s sweet and slow, but brimming with centuries of longing. She pulls back and presses a kiss to your palm. 

“My Lilia, how I’ve waited for you.” You whisper, cupping her beautiful face between your hands. She looks back with soft, glassy eyes. “Come, I have so much to show you.” 

--- The Road is much more subtle in death than it was in life; or, at least, it is more casual about the changes it weaves in. The wild forest thins on either side, trees growing more sparse, or pushing back away from The Road as homes pop up alongside it, from victorian-style to mere cottages.

She can witness scenes through the windows, families caught in images of domesticity she doesn’t care for but they must find joy in. Others are outside tending gardens or enjoying the endless existence sprawled before them upon their porch. It’s peaceful, beautiful. 

Lilia is warmed by the fact that almost everyone offers a greeting. She regards you from the corner of her eyes when every soul regards you with recognition.

Before she can question the behavior, the two of you come upon the edges of a city. 

Old, worn stone in gray rises into buildings that blot out the eternal moon. Buildings she finds matches for in the back of her mind. She can hear the water lapping at the shore even from here. Eager in a way she’d forgotten, she pulls you along the streets, ignoring the glances of everyone around, until she finds that old stone staircase. 

Not a rock is out of place, nor has the water weathered anymore of the sand than she remembers. The waves are dark blue—purple, even, where they meet the shore. White moonlight bounces off the crests. 

“Care for a dip, like old times?” You ask. 

When Lilia turns, you look just as you did, then; so young and joyful, elaborate skirts bunched up in your hands. She nods. Stepping down the staircase, she finds she, too, is clad in the skirts she wore, having to hold them lest she trip. 

Lilia is one-hundred-and-two again, not appearing a day older than a mortal twenty-five. Her hair cascades in thick, loose brown curls around her shoulders and down her back. Her skin is smooth and sun-kissed and her eyes twinkle with the remaining joyful youth she possessed then. But when she sheds her dress to bare herself to you, she isn’t shy. 

You sink to your knees as you did then. The moonlight traces every contour of her form that you’re eager to bring your lips to. And you do, mouth winding a path up her leg when a hand in your hair stops you. 

“This isn’t how the memory goes, darling.” Lilia tuts. 

Your eyes are pleading, “A little embellishment couldn’t hurt, could it?”

She shakes her head. Her hand moves from her hair to cup your cheek. 

“I love the scene as it is.” 

“Then that is how it will remain.” You press a kiss into her palm. 

Lilia steps fearlessly into the waves and beckons you. You shed your layers and follow, desperate and eager for her after such a long separation. Somewhere between touches and caresses, your bodies return to their wiser, more lived-in forms; the past remembered and honored, but made anew, as Death tends to do. You kiss Lilia hard. 

--

Varying paths shoot from The Road. Some are made of stone, winding uphill and into towering cities that are archaic in appearance. Others extend until they vanish into treelines. It is none of these that bring Lilia to a stop; the one that does can barely be referred to as a path, but rather a pattern of spots where the grass has been weathered away permanently. 

It is plain. Worn. The patches of exposed dirt reveal divots in the earth that are small enough to resemble thousands of footsteps. She stares along its length in search of answers. She feels herself tempted. 

Lilia looks over her shoulder to you. 

“Wherever you lead, I will follow.” 

“But is it safe?” She presses. 

“There is nothing that can harm you in Death. I swear it.” 

The first step onto the path prompts something to unfurl in Lilia’s chest, like that of a loosening fist. Her feet match the steps of her formers, bending, molding into the divots and taking an infinitesimal piece of the earth with her. 

Each moment moving away from The Road brings change; past the treeline looming ahead, there’s a whisper of music. Muffled voices in the hundreds or thousands rise in harmony. 

Closer, she nearly pauses, the melody hitting her like a train. It only makes sense that The Ballad should have made it into the afterlife. Her hand reaches for your own, gripping tight. Faces pass behind her eyes; Jennifer and Alice and Agatha and Billy. 

Her coven. Oh, how she misses them—loves them, even now that Death has stolen her away. Some things never leave a witch. 

The two of you come to stand in a wide field, an impossibly large stage near the back edge. Lorna Wu is center stage, microphone pulled close by one hand while the other gestures and weaves. She is lost in the music, moving in a whirl of color and flowing fabric; she’s a goddess straight out of the seventies, just as the pictures portrayed. 

Alice’s resemblance is strong when Lorna throws her head back and smiles. Lilia’s not sure she’s ever seen evidence that the woman could smile; but given her goal in life, it’s no surprise that her peace would be found in Death. It comforts her to know Alice is here somewhere basking in the glow of her Mother’s joy. 

Thousands of witches mill around the stage. No two groups look exactly the same—some, she thinks, may even be older than she. Others are young, taken before their power could manifest. Her heart aches, yet there is a levity in knowing they’re all together, free to traverse the existence after life, absent of hurt. 

“Would you like to join them?” You ask. 

Lilia takes in the crowd, a rebuff poised on the end of her tongue. She’s far too old to dance like a girl amongst her sister-witches. Yet, she doesn’t give voice to her denial; because despite her age and her feelings on what would be proper, Lilia wants to be among them. 

“More than anything.” She answers instead. 

Your face spreads into a beautiful smile. Offering your hand to her with a flourish, “Well, then allow me, my lady.” 

The two of you work your way into the center of the crowd. Lilia doesn’t miss how people part for you, every single one offering a nod. But your attention is focused solely on her and it’s heavier than she remembers, with more behind it. 

Lorna has worked away from The Ballad and into Red Haired Woman. Witches on either side move as the music bids them, limbs fluid and wild. The air is thick with smoke and cedar and lavender. She tilts her head back and breathes deep. She can’t claim to know what it is that takes hold of her spirit, but she allows her limbs to move of their own accord, finding your own as the two of you dance with abandon.

--

“Darling?” Lilia murmurs, watching you. 

You’re focused hard on the fruit presented in front of you. Hands hover, unsure, painfully intentional in the piece you want to pick for her. It reminds her of the early days in Romania, years before you—she pushes that thought away. 

The witch that has plucked each piece to sell watches your process. Her lips curl in amusement, leaning against the stall, waiting. There is familiarity in how she regards you and it is this that sets Lilia’s mind running. 

Your hand comes to hover over one of the oranges and you snatch it up as if it would be taken from you. 

“Thank you.” You say to the owner, who only nods. Then you turn on your heel and offer the orange to Lilia, “For you.” 

Lilia takes it with a smile. She walks at your side as the two of you weave through those within the marketplace. You’re careful to keep a steady pace, so Lilia doesn’t get swept away in the crowds. 

Her fingernails dig into the soft flesh of the orange, repeating, “Darling?” 

“Yes, my Lilia?” 

A black cat weaves its way through your legs and nearly trips you up. It runs off, a child no more than seven running after it. 

“Who are you to the dead?” She asks. 

“A guide.” A loose term, really, “I aid the newly dead in letting go of life and embracing the after.” 

Lilia wonders for a moment if that is what you’re doing now, but she knows that isn’t the truth. You waited for her same as she has longed for you. Not one moment spent together has been out of something as simple as duty. 

“They all know you, as if you’ve been around for eternity.” 

“Something like that.” You shrug. 

She eyes you with that look that means she expects an explanation. But the way this place works—the way Death works is difficult. It would take years for even the most enlightened witch to understand it. Well, years being a filler term, anyway. 

You sigh. Words come to mind, only to be banished, labeled unsuitable. Finally, you weave together the concept as best as you can, and open your mouth to speak. 

“Death is eternal—past and present and future. I’ve been here for eternity, same as I’ve been here only a couple of centuries.”

Lilia seems to have no trouble grasping the concept, “Death winds outside of time.” 

You nod. Of course Lilia would understand, with her experience of living outside the linear path; your Lilia, winding out of time, who saw the true sequence of existence in the fact that there is no sequence—things just are. 

“By your logic, all beings are eternally dead.” 

“They are. In a way.” 

Her head tilts, “Yet you said you waited for me. If a being is eternally dead, I would have always been here.” 

“My position grants me… unique insight into the illusory flow of time seen in life. I exist here, where time doesn’t live, while being aware that souls still remain on the linear path. I did wait for you, for so long—because my seeing both existences cemented your path in the linear.” 

Torture of the truest sense; knowing, rationally, that she should be with you in the existence after, only to glimpse into that illusion of life and find her cemented there, far out of your reach. You could have clawed away at the timeline and brought her home to you, but you knew she needed to find what existed there; so she would find what makes Death more than just an end. 

The mere reminder of the torturous existence without her has you stopping in the center of the crowds, uncaring for how they have to weave around you two. You pull her into a loving, intense kiss. She responds in kind. Her hands fist in the fabric of your shirt and pull so not a whisper can exist between the two of you. 

When she pulls back, her lips are swollen, eyes dark, “Where do we go from here?” 

“Wherever home is.” 

“Helpful. Thank you very much, darling.” Lilia deadpans. 

“Home is wherever I have the pleasure of seeing you happy, my Lilia.” You say, endlessly affectionate, your hands on either one of her cheeks, “I’m merely following you to where that may be.” 

“Some guide you are if I’m the one doing the guiding.” 

You laugh. Her eyes sparkle with amusement and mischief. Despite her spoken misgivings, though, she takes to the role well. Lacing her fingers through your own, she begins to pull you back down The Road as it winds. You follow, just as eager as she is to figure out where home is meant to be. 

--

Home isn’t what you expect. 

You anticipated an ancient place—like the homes you shared in Italy and Romania—or at least somewhere more rooted in nature; this is neither. The two-story house is right out of a modern sitcom. It’s somewhat plain, absent of the wizened flair you’ve come to associate with Lilia. 

Lilia, who stands on the porch, hands hovering over the door as if she can’t believe what she’s seeing. Lilia, who had picked up speed the second she saw the house in the distance. Lilia, who is looking back at you, tears in her beautiful brown eyes. 

A bark of laughter from inside is muffled by the door. You raise your brows. 

Lilia’s smile is incandescent. You’re not sure the door was unlocked, but she turns the handle and it opens all the same, the voices dying down inside. Then you hear the sound of hands clapping together. 

“Finally.” A voice calls, “I was beginning to think you lost your way, Dory.” 

You recognize the voice and hide a laugh behind a cough. Lilia glares, but there is no heat. 

“Agatha, seriously?” Jen sounds utterly exhausted. 

“What? You were all thinking it.” 

“They weren’t, actually.” 

“No one asked you, William.” 

Standing just a step behind Lilia, you watch the interaction with a smile. You understand now. They’re broken and a little peculiar, but they fit in an odd way. 

Agatha’s poring over something at the kitchen table while Jen sits at the other end, mixing furiously. She does look up to offer Lilia a fond smile. Billy rests on the living room floor with Scratchy in his lap while Alice is sprawled on the couch behind him. 

It’s a hodgepodge of personalities that should never work, but they do. Better than anything you’ve seen in a very long time. 

“Darling,” Lilia says, taking your hand, “come meet my coven.” 

You ignore the fact that you’ve already met every one of them—with the exception of Agatha, who Death had been very intense about handling personally. The door closes behind you. In the back of your mind, you thank whatever forces have led you here; home, winding outside of time. 

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Our daddies uses to joke about the two of us | Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader

Summary: Your fathers' jokes turned to reality

Word count: 0.5k

I have not written for obx in a long time, but I was listening to Taylor Swift - as I very often do - and got this idea when hearing Mary's song

p.s. I'm back to writing for obx!! Sent requests!!

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

You were seven and Rafe was nine when you met him.

Unlike him, your family didn’t live on the island. You had a summer house. Every July, your parents would pack and drive to Kildare to spend summer there. It was nice being close to the beach, but you didn’t have many friends.

Your fathers were golf partners at the country club and decided your families would celebrate 4th of July together at the Cameron estate. The house was massive and they had a pool and a large backyard to run around.

Sarah was introduced to you first, but she liked the color pink and turtles and you preferred lime green and stingrays. Therefore she couldn’t be your friend. Rafe liked lime green, but not stingrays…and you could live with that.

That summer, Rafe became your entire world.

You would go to the Cameron house and play pirates or swim in their pool. Your swimming skills weren’t the best, but Rafe was a great swimmer and promised he would never let you drown. Rose would bring you iced tea and animal crackers, and Rafe always let you have the tiger shaped ones.

At the end of summer, the country club had a season closure event and the loud noises of the fireworks were scaring you. You wanted to go to your mom for comfort, but you couldn’t see her. Instead, Rafe took your hand in his and distracted you by telling you about the frog Sarah caught and brought inside the house and a screaming Rose.

A year later, pink had become your favorite color, but you still spent your summer with Rafe. He didn’t want to play pirates anymore, but it was okay. 

When you turned nine, you dared him to kiss you under the backyard tree and ran when he tried because kissing was yucky. 

The fifth summer, Rafe had grown a few inches and was now towering over you. He kept saying he would beat you up because he was bigger than you, but he never did. He would never physically hurt you.

The following year, two boys started coming over to Rafe’s house. Kelce and Topper. They were always talking about girls — more specifically the brunette lifeguard at the beach. It made you uncomfortable, so you painted your nails with Sarah. 

A few years went by and you turned sixteen. Suddenly you weren't that little girl Rafe used to see. Your body had gone through puberty in the past year and on pool afternoons, Rafe had to force himself to stop looking at the way you filled your bikini and focus on the beach ball Topper was throwing at his head. 

You fathers used to joke about the two of you growing up and falling in love, but the joke was no longer one when you got caught kissing at midsummer. Rafe had another girl for date, but it was you he wanted to hold hands and dance with in that way-too-warm-for-summer tux. 

Goodbyes were extra difficult when August came to an end.

The breeze of the beach at night blew as you rested your head on his shoulder. Your friends were closer to the fire, drinking beer and celebrating the last day of summer. 

‘’I don't want you to leave,’’ Rafe said, watching as the water washed over the sand and swished. 

‘’Me either.’’ Your heart was heavy, knowing when morning come you'll get on the ferry and head home. ‘’I love you to the moon and Saturn, Rafe Cameron.’’

—

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[neocatharsis]

241028 DOYOUNG IG Update

"시리도록 눈부신 (Dazzlingly Brilliant) is coming out into this world

It is a song that I'm really in love with despite having listened to it 10,000 times.

It is a song that unravels a message that I wished to convey since a long time ago.

This might be a long explanation, but I shall write a few words on what I wanted to convey with this song.

I'm about to bid farewell to my twenties and welcome my thirties. hh

Just like how I felt when I turned twenty, I think there's a special feeling coming to me now as I prepare to turn 30 soon, with the first digit of my age changing. I am afraid but also excited, but it also feels like I'm developing a sense of responsibility and the desire for more.

That's why I wanted to create a song that cheers on me and everyone who feels that same special feeling as me. That was how this song started.

My friend and composer Seo Donghwan, who is of the same age as me and experiencing similar times, started creating this powerful cheering song, and this song contains the lyrics of songwriter KENZIE who has been closely watching my music career in my twenties, contains my twenties seen through KENZIE's eyes, and contains my and our feelings towards the welcoming of our thirties.

This explanation was really long, and I was worried that this may limit the emotions felt when listening to the song, but I wrote this with the hope that you would definitely feel the powerful support and comfort that I felt when I made this song.

I will be happily waiting for the day when I can let everyone hear this. Thank you for reading this long message."

Translated by NCTDAOYlNG

[psychhound]

ttrpgs in the classroom (part 8)

oh boy have i not made one of these posts in ,,, like a year. grad school is crazy yall. lmao. but. i wanted to share what we do for our analysis unit now that we've hit it this semester!!

other games used in the unit:

we are but worms & graves for funerals

the assignment:

write an essay of approximately 1000 words doing a literary analysis of some aspect of a game, first forming an inquiry question, then looking in the text for evidence, then coming up with an argument about a deeper meaning of the text. the second draft of the assignment can either be an expanded essay, or a multimodal piece of the student's choosing. (the other option for this essay is to do a rhetorical analysis of an argumentative text about gaming)

the games:

[ID: a powerpoint slide titled choose your fighter game (the word fighter is crossed out, so it reads choose your game). it shows five ttrpg titles, with a short description of each, and an icon to represent them. the background is a light orange sky and green grass in a video game like art style. there is a fake game menu bar on the bottom. the games in the slide are functionally described below. end ID]

when we made war upon the slumbering woods by richard kelly @sprintingowl

a collaborate journey into the magical woods ... to destroy it

the treasure at the end of this dungeon is an escape from this dungeon and we will never escape from this dungeon by riverhouse games @riverhousegames

a lyric game about a never-ending dungeon and those stuck there

kenzie's project by sasha winter @stargazersasha

a Weird Academia horror game for three players

i love you, alive girl by anna anthropy

a 1-page game about writing love letters under surveillance

drifters by gila rpgs

a Weird West game of gunslingers and their guns

past semesters game options:

a dragon game by chris bissette cozy town by rae nedjadi @temporalhiccup

the process:

in the powerpoint introducing the games, i have a more thorough description of each one, and then three examples of inquiry questions that they could use as jumping off points to do their analysis on. the inquiry questions ask things like, what moral stance might this game align itself with, what other stories is this game in dialogue with and to what effect, what does this game have to say about the current state of our society? the students can use these inquiry questions or not, theyre only meant to be examples

the results:

this is definitely the most challenging project for my students, but i think that challenge is good for them! i've had really mixed results, with the most common issue i run into just being surface level analysis. they are, however, 18 and have never done anything like this before (for the vast majority of my students) so a lot of my feedback is just pushing them further and trying to get them to say something interesting. i really love a dragon game and cozy town, but i found they didnt have enough context of ttrpgs and dnd/pf to really Get why a dragon game was interesting, so i replaced it with escape from this dungeon since thats got some more meat for them like voicey rules and characters. and im a big fan of nedjadi's games and wanted to give my students something more cute and fun, but they struggled to find much to read into or say about it that wasnt very surface level. escape from this dungeon and ilu, alive girl are new games this semester so we will see how those go over!!

[a-secret-bolton-vampire]

I absolutely adore Worm and Ward and there are very few things I'd actually complain about either of them. Some of the best fiction I've ever read. But there is a recurring thing within both stories that kinda just feels really shitty?

On occasion, we will get a character (mostly women) who is insinuated to be queer in some capacity only to then firmly deny it in a way that just comes across as slightly mean-spirited and queerbaity, despite having a ton of well written canonically queer characters?

Assault implies Battery is into women and she gets really upset by that. Cassie and Chastity... I mean, even with Cassie's long-winded explanation about how they are totally just besties that ends up reading even more like they are gay and just not out to anyone else. Or when Swansong argues with Damsel about fantasies of having servants and mentions having "cute girls too", only for her to shut down when Damsel asks if she's more "worldly" by saying "we're talking about Rain." Or when Imp taunts Vista/Canary/Sophia/so many others with lesbian innuendo. Or when Regent body-snatches Sophia and has her "confess" her love to Emma to ruin her life. Or, to a lesser extent, when Taylor kisses Rachel and Lisa to cure them of Bonesaw's agnosia plague and Lisa says "no tongue". And this isn't even getting into the writing of character's internal thoughts or even the narrative structure that is so incredibly queer despite that (somehow) not being the intention.

In all these cases, it really feels like there is nothing that could be changed by simply... making them all queer? Battery is into women too, cool, that's fine, doesn't change the fact she loves Assault. Cassie and Chastity are practically girlfriends at this point there is absolutely nothing lost by making them such. Ashley wanting girls in her power fantasy without deflecting away from it again, changes literally nothing in the narrative. Or if Imp really is flirting with every girl she comes across. Or if Sophia and Emma maybe did have a crush, mutual or one-sided.

Of course we do get some really important canonically queer characters. Parian, Foil, Tattletale, Regent, Legend, Kenzie, Sveta, Tristan, March, Amy, Goddess... which makes it more baffling that Wildbow keeps writing in sapphic innuendo as a punchline.

There are legitimately very very few things I'd criticize Parahumans for writing wise but this is one of the few I would. If it was once or twice it'd be weird but it wouldn't feel so targeted as it does when you see how often it happens. Even in Ward where queerness is so much more at the forefront of the story this keeps happening.

Regardless, even with Wildbow shoving in "haha they aren't actually gay" in the story... it doesn't exactly make the story less queer. He keeps accidentally writing Taylor and Victoria and Swansong and so many others as being extremely queer to the point that any deflections otherwise only make it even more obvious they are queer. Seriously, Breakthrough and the Undersiders are a bunch of fruit loops in a rotating polyamorous relationship.

This isn't a hate post, just something I've thought of a lot lately. And it's this that fuels my desire to write Wormfic where the protags are just the queerest little people ever. They are some of the gayest girls to ever gay for girls.

[kenzies-love-stories]

Oh come on Bella Rewrite (Fem!swan reader x Felix volturi) pt 1

A/n: This is the first reinstallment of my oh come on bella series, I really hope everyone likes where I am going with this, first chapter is still mostly the same just more detailed now and a bit more polished than before. please feel free to request, I am rebranding my blog and need some fresh prompts.~kenzie

Pairing: Fem reader x felix

type and warnings: M for mature due to mentions of murder, suicidal thoughts, edwards a bit of a dick, Bestfriend alice!

word count: 3584

date posted: September, 9th 2024

Life has the tendency to fuck people, I experienced this firsthand. My life has been anything but easy, in fact it has been rather difficult. It all started when I was about 5 years old when my birth parents were murdered. I’m not sure why the culprit left little old me alive, but they did. I woke up in the middle of the night for a glass of water when I found them bloody and lifeless in the kitchen. At the tender age of five my life turned upside down. Chief Swan was the responding officer to my 911 call. I remember when he found me, I was cuddled up next to my bloody mom and dad hyperventilating.

Charlie decided then and there to adopt me out of the system I was about to be put into. Charlie welcomed me with open arms into his life yet despite this I still feel like I don’t belong in the Swan family, I feel like an outcast due to how long it took for Bella and I to get along. Bella was about seven when I came into their life. As any seven-year-old would be she was jealous and scared that this meant her dad didn’t love her anymore. Though I do owe my life to Charlie, if it wasn’t for Charlie whom I now call dad I would most likely be dead in an alleyway by now.

I am two years younger than my adopted sister Bella, which makes me sixteen years old. She and I are learning to get along better as we grow up. I remember the first time she referred to me as her sister, it made my heart feel full, she was thirteen and I was eleven.  Bella and I are relatively cool, but oh my fuck I hate her boyfriend, Edward. He has caused my sister so much pain and so much heartache, plus he reads my mind without my permission. This leads us to where we are now, in a stolen car speeding down the roads in Italy heading to rescue her sparkling boytoy. The only reason I agreed to go is because Alice asked, and I have a hard time saying no to the pixie like girl. She’s one of my best friends.

“Bella, you need to go! He won’t see you coming.” Alice exclaims and lets her out to run the streets of Volterra.

Once we are parked in a parking garage Alice freezes eyes slightly glazed over. “Alice what do you see?” I asked, getting out of the car.

“y/n/n stay here in the car,” Alice pleads with me.

“Hell no! They have my older sister in a room full of less than friendly vampires! Alice, I love you to death, but I am not staying here with Bella in there.” I state looking Alice in her Golden eyes.

“I am not going to win this one am I.” Alice sighs out.

“Nope, not a chance sorry.” I say as we start to walk in the shadowed streets of Volterra towards the castle.

We look down over a ledge and see Bella and Edward talking to two men in grey cloaks. Alice takes my hand in her cold one, “stay behind me.” she quietly whispers to me and jumps dragging me with her.

“Now boys we wouldn’t want to cause a scene now, would we?” she asks purposely shielding me from view of the two men even though they could more than likely smell me, they know I am there.

Curious and tired of standing behind Alice I move very slowly so I am standing slightly to the left but still behind her.  I get a good look at the two men; one is short yet still taller than me with sandy blonde hair and striking red eyes. My gaze switches to the other man who is very very tall, at least 6ft 3, if not taller. He has broad shoulders, nice biceps, and a strong face with the same striking crimson eyes. My breath catches in my throat when his hard red gaze lands on me and I swear I see his eyes soften, “Wait! I told you to stay behind me!” Alice grabs me to gently push me behind her again. She freezes when the tall man growls at her.

‘Wow he’s hot for a vampire.’ I think in my head

“y/n No!” Edward scolds me like a child

“Dammit Edward, I told you to stay out of my Fucking head.” I yelled angrily at him.

“Language little Dove.” I hear a sultry voice say, it sends a slight shiver down my spine and relaxes me at the same fucking time.

“Sorry, but Seriously Edward, stay, out, of, my, head! You are not ruining this trip for me; I was pulled out of bed to rescue your stupid ass, the least you can do is let me have my thoughts in peace.” I sternly grit out.

“You didn’t have to come.” He spat out at me 

I walk towards Edward in anger, “Edward you know better than anyone else as to why I must be here, you are always reading my thoughts, I know you heard them that night and yet you didn’t say anything, I was hospitalized because you couldn’t use your gift for good. If you had told Bella what I was thinking about I could been helped but you only tell her my secrets when it is amusing to you. I am not allowed to be alone until my therapy is up.”

“Watch yourself.” he growls standing tall a bit in front of Bella.

“No, you watch yourself! Mr. I’m too good to stay with my sister, if you wouldn’t have left her like you did none of this would have happened.” I find myself walking closer to Edward until I feel arms go around my waist not allowing me to move further.

“at least Bella doesn’t find a heartless killer attractive.” he states

Shocked I let out a laugh and remove the arms from my waist, “Seriously, Y/n!” Bella exclaims

“Oh! Come on Bella! Get over yourself Edward isn’t a saint either. I know he’s killed people too” I state still in the arms of the strong man I don’t know.

“y/n, he kills innocent people.” She whines out like a child.

“And Edward hasn’t?” I question

“don’t talk about him like that.” I roll my eyes at Bella comment. I love my sister but she can be such a hypocrite at times.

Bella comes stepping towards me with fire burning in her eyes. Bella starts to raise her hand when I am pulled behind a strong body and her hand is grabbed. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  A rough voice states.

I see Bella become even paler as she walks back up to Edward. Before anymore commotion could happen, I see a young-looking girl walk towards us, “Demetri, Felix, Aro sent me to see what was taking you so long. “  She stops walking and glances over us, “I can see why, the Masters will be please with this, this way.”

In silence we follow the girl though I am stopped by a cold hand gingerly pulling me back and to face him.  “Are you alright, little dove.” the tall man asks bending down to my height to look me in my eyes.

“Yes, I am alright, thank you.” I feel my face get warm yet I maintain eye contact as I respond.

“Does he always treat you like that?”  he asks as we start to catch up with the others, my cheeks are flushed warm.

“Yeah, he’s a dickh-” “Language Little one.”  I am interrupted by the gaint man whose name I have yet to learn.

“I’m Sorry Giant.” I say shyly walking forward not looking at the man.

“Giant?!?” He questioned sounding a bit offended, maybe.

“Well, I don’t know your name, so Giant it is.” I smile at him softly

“I’m Felix Volturi, what is your name little Dove?” He finally introduces himself to me

“Nice to finally put a name to a face, I'm y/n swan, Bella's adopted sister.”

“A pretty name for a Pretty girl.” he says, and I blush so red, I'm probably redder than Felix’s eyes.

I notice that we are outside the throne room, and I start to get nervous, “Don’t be scared little Dove no one will harm you. He gently leads me into the throne room with his head on the small of my back in an oddly comforting way. I know that deep down I should feel frightened, but I feel very safe with the tall vampire who could kill me with only his pinky finger. We walk in and stop a little bit behind Alice and the blonde vampire.

“Felix how nice of you to finally join us, and you brought another human with you.”

“My apologies masters.” He marches forward leaving me behind Alice to give this other vampire his hand. After a few moments he starts to laugh, “magnifico.” he turns his red gaze towards me, “may I?” he asks as he slowly makes his way to me.

Frightened I look around the room for Felix, “little dove I promise it’s okay, no one is going to hurt you with me around.” Felix says as he gently rubs my back to soothe me.

With one last glance at Felix, I just nod and put my hand out for the vampire to take. “Aro reads thoughts y/n kind of like myself.” Edward states

‘Edward, I thought I told you to stay out of my head.’ I think and then I hear Aro giggle a bit at that thought. He turns to the tired looking vampire and the tired vampire just nods his head, “True mates they are.”

Bella seems to connect the dots faster than I do. “NO! I will NOT allow it,” Bella roughly grabs my wrist and pulls me behind her, I let out a wince of pain. I can see that this visibly upsets Felix, he marches towards Bella with eyes blazing red with anger.

“Keep your hands off of her and get away from her!” he growl out on his way towards her.

Before he can get to Bella, Edward maneuvers past me to push Bella behind him. This causes her to knock into me in the process and I fall to the hard ground, putting my hands out to catch myself before my face hits the hard ground with a groan. The short blonde vampire gently helps me back to my feet, “Are you okay little human?” He asks softly checking on me

“Thank you, I will be fine.” I say with a nod and turn back towards the commotion.

I can see Edward trying to take on the giant Vampire himself which is kind of pitiful to watch as I see Felix throw him around like it was nothing, “wow.” I whisper under my breath memorized.

“Y/n Y/M Swan!” Bella scolds me after they are done fighting, and Edward is back near her.

“What, it’s not my fault!” I exclaim, He’s hot I think in my head

“He kills people Y/N!” Bella tries to argue

“Oh, Come on Bella get over yourself! Edward is no saint either.” I shoot back, this makes Felix look at me with pride and Edward glares back at me.

“Cullen, you better relax your gaze when you look at her before I relax it for you.” Felix shoving a cloak into his arms roughly before making his way to me.

“Are you alright?” he asks me wiping some hair out of my face and placing it behind my ear.

“yeah, I am fine Felix, thank you.” I say blushing

“Demetri please escort them out.” Aro states going to sit back on his throne.

I start to walk towards the door behind my sister, “Not you y/n, we have a lot to discuss.” Aro states

Bella stops walking and turns, “I’m not leaving her alone, what needs to be said can be said here and now.”

“Y/n you are to stay here in Volterra with Felix.” Aro bluntly states

I feel my face get hot and my hands start to shake, my breathing quickens; I am going to have a panic attack. Felix can sense my accelerated heartbeat and brings me into a comforting hug. A gentle almost nonexistent humming rumbles in Felix chest starting calm me down.

“She can’t stay, she’s only 16.” Bella tries to reason with the old vampire king

Once I am calm enough, I turn in Felix’s arms looking up into his eyes, “Please allow me to return to Forks long enough for me to graduate, after my graduation I am more than willing to come back and stay with you no complaints.” I plead with the gentle giant.

“Do I have your word?” Aro questions

“Of course, I never break an oath.” I state sincerely

 Aro waits a moment “Very well, you may go back...but only until graduation, in two years Felix will be coming to bring you home.”

“Thank you I am so grateful.” I say with a serious tone.

“You may all leave at sundown until then you will be brought to a different room. Dinner will be here shortly.” The blonde king grumbles out.

I turn and look up at Felix, I wrap my hand under his arms as I am to short to reach his shoulders with my 5’4 frame. I squeeze him as tight as I can which doesn’t do much to him, after a second he gently places his arms around my waist, “When will I see you again?” I ask meekly resting my chin on his chest straining my neck a bit

“I will try my best to visit you when I can Little one but I am not certain.” He says and gently kisses my forehead with his cold lips, “Now go with Demetri.”

Demetri leads us to a different room, “Don’t leave here until sundown.” He states and turns to leave, smiling at me softly on his way out.

I am stuck in this room with Alice watching Bella and Edward being all lovey Dovey. After about an hour of the torture of watching the couple, the door opens and a person walks in, I don’t pay it any mind as I think it is just Demetri. I am very much pleasantly surprised when I hear the voice of the one and only Felix, “Little Dove, will you please come with me.”

Bella and Edward both perk up at this question, “No she isn’t leaving this room with you!” Bella exclaims

“Bella let her go, Felix won’t do anything to hurt her, in fact she is the safest with him than anyone else, vampire or otherwise, there is no one safer for her to be around.”  Alice comes to my aid by saying this.

Without another word from my sister or Edward I take Felix's outstretched hand and allow him to gently pick me up off the cold stone floor.  He doesn’t release his gentle grip on my hand once I am standing. He keeps my hand in his as he leads me through the castle. We stop as he opens a new door, “Lady’s first.”

I walk into what seemly is a bedroom, I can feel my nerves slightly rise when he shuts the door behind him. “Hey, it’s okay, relax cara mia it’s okay. I figured that you would want to talk somewhere more private.” He says while sitting at a table by a huge bookshelf. Amazed, I walk over to the bookshelf and gently run my fingers along the leather spines of the books as I walk past them in fascination. Most of these are first editions kept in pristine condition, these books are very much loved.

I stop when I hear his voice, “Do you like read?”

I turn my attention to him, back now to the bookshelf and I answer, “Very much so,” I pause, “Have you read all these?”

“Yes, I have actually, you have a lot of extra time on your hands when your immortal.” he jokes, “so tell me, what’s your favorite genre of book.”

I kind of giggle out of embarrassment, “As ironic as it sounds, I really enjoy fantasy.”

Felix nods his head and makes his way over to the shelf directly in front of me. He gently places one hand on my hip and with the other he reaches to the top of the bookshelf with minimal effort. He pulls a small but thick leather book from above my head.

When he brings the book down to my height his cold hand releases my hip to present the book to me, “Here little Dove, this one is called The Bloody Chamber, it was published in 1979 and it is a collection of short stories.”

I gently run my fingers over the leather cover with gold writing across it. “Felix, this is a first edition, I can’t take this back to Forks with me.”  I make eye contact with his memorizing red ones, which I noticed are brighter now that he has fed.

“yes, you can, I trust you to take care of it.” He states like it was the most obvious thing ever.

With a smile I pull him in for a hug “Thank you Fe! I’ll take really good care of it.”

“I know you will.”

“Fe?” I question

“Yes Dove?” he replies looking down at me

“How tall are you?” I question

“I’m 6 foot 7.” he replies with amusement

“How is that even possible.”

“I was a gladiator before I was turned by Aro.”

“Really? That is so cool!” I pause before questioning. "Will you help me with my history test next year.”

“Of course, once I figure out contact information that is.” Felix states

My smile dropped slightly, my phone... I left it back in forks, “I left my phone in forks, and I don’t know my new phone number yet.”

“you’re okay, I need to get myself a phone anyway, until then how about I write to you.”

“I would really like that a lot Felix.” I look and see that the sun is starting to set over the horizon.

“I should probably get you back to your sister before she thinks I ran away with you.” he jokes and leads me back to the room we were waiting in.

I giggle as we head towards the small room, “Yeah that’s probably for the best unfortunately.”

“Don’t you worry Dove soon I won’t have to give you back.” He smiles out.

“I really hate goodbyes, so I’ll see you later Felix.” I say feeling my tear ducts start to swell with tears as I already feel such a strong pull to him.

“See you later Dove, Stay out of trouble for me okay.” He says handing me the book from earlier.

“I promise, stay safe please.” I say grabbing the book with our hands accidentally touching.

Before I go, I stand on my tippy toes and place my hands on his shoulders to help steady myself; he places his hands on my hips to steady me further. I gently kiss him on the cheek as a goodbye gesture. I make my way over to alice with a small smile. As I walk away arm and arm with Alice, I see his eyes widen slightly in shock.

Alice and I let Bella and Edward go in front of us, “So did he follow through with kissing you?” she asks teasingly

“What no, we just talked and he gave me a book. It was really sweet” I smile sweetly

“You like him already, don’t you?” she asks

“I’m pretty sure I might, I do feel safe with him.” I state

“You and him are going to be really happy, I’ve seen it. You both are going to bring out the good in each other.” she finishes her statement fondly. “It was honestly what I was wishing for Edward and Bella too but it’s not looking very good.”

When Bella and I finally make it home we face the wrath of Charlie Swan. It was more so pointed at Bella than myself. This is because she left me no choice, I had to go. Bella had to be home by 4 pm every day, I however got to stay out until 5pm. Our punishment is going to be in effect until the end of the school year. I run up to my room after we are done with Charlie’s lecture, and I sit on my queen size bed. I gently opened the book that Felix had given me. I let my eyes scan the words on the pages only carefully turning them with the softest touch to not transfer too much of my skin's oils back on to the original parchment.  

I read the first short story before putting my bookmark into the book and gently placing it on the bookshelf where it will remain safe. I crawl into bed and place my head on the pillow as I start to drift off into a deep sleep thinking of Felix. I hope I get a letter from him soon.

taglist:

@small-town-wayward-daughter @venusdelaroix @trashy-panda777 @kezibear143 @smithmallory13 @im-as-mad-as-a-wax-bananna @sunsetswurve @believinghurts

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@melinsk1 @ssa--holmes @artaxerxesthegreat @jenfox25 @lacychick @smileykiddie08 @xxx-wounded-angel-xxx

[ahmedfreepalestine]

Tales from the Heart of the Siege: We Are the Ones Who Remain"💔

A life of tragedy, exhaustion and death.😭

The bombs of death still rain down on us relentlessly. Homes are crushed, lives are extinguished, and the dream of living in peace fades away under a war of extermination that spares neither the young nor the old. In northern Gaza, the invasion continues to steal life from our hearts, and hunger drains what remains of our bodies, already exhausted by pain.

Please support and donate🙏🍉

Every morning, we wake to the sound of explosions, like a dreadful symphony that never leaves our ears. The fighter jets hover over our heads, casting shadows of death. We live each moment waiting for what comes next, not knowing if it will bring more death or another loss of dreams and loved ones. We write from the heart of destruction, we live in the embrace of rubble, our souls still awaiting salvation, but we stand firm.

Despite every attempt to displace us and break our spirits, we are still here. We are not refugees on our own land, and we will not leave this country no matter how hard the circumstances become. We have endured hunger, endured loss, and said painful goodbyes to our loved ones, and every day we continue to bid farewell to those we love. We are the ones who remain, clinging to this land as if it is part of our very souls.

They do not control our destiny, for the pain they intended to break us with has instead built our unyielding resilience. We do not merely live here as others do—we fight to survive every moment. We escape death every second because this land is all we have. It is our identity and the undeniable right that cannot be bargained away.

Today, northern Gaza stands proud, like a rock that refuses to break. They may believe that death will force us to leave, but they do not understand that we have chosen life on this land as our eternal path. We do not choose to flee; we have chosen to live here despite everything.

We are the ones who remain, and we are the ones who will continue. This land is our blood and soul, and no one will uproot us from it. We resist not only for survival but for dignity, for honor, and for our right to exist.

Please donate, help and highlight my campaign. That's very kind of you.🌸💔🇵🇸🔴🙏

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[moremaybank]

-͟͟͞☆ pining best friend!jj headcanons...

warnings mentions of menstrual pads/tampons, mentions of being drunk/high (barely)

jj masterlist

❥ he keeps hair ties around his wrist, strategically mixed in with his bracelets, and stashes a few scrunchies in the pocket of his backpack because he knows how much you hate it when your hair is flying around in your face (especially when it's getting stuck in your lip gloss). bonus points if you have textured hair and wear a bonnet while you sleep because he'll totally buy (steal) you one and keep that on him, too (for impromptu sleepovers)

❥ he practically lives in your room/house

❥ he can measure precisely how sad you are depending on what song you're listening to

❥ stargazing and having conversations about everything and nothing

❥ tucks you in when you fall asleep without a blanket or on top of the covers

❥ (for those who have/experience periods) he's too embarrassed to go out and buy you pads/tampons (only because he doesn't know what he's doing and is so adorably nervous about it), so when you aren't looking, he'll steal a few of yours and keep them at the chateau for you. he even keeps some at his house on the off chance that you come over

❥ i've talked about this in the past, but he'll take your makeup off and do your skincare for you if you're too drunk, high or just plain exhausted

❥ he's clingy as fuck when he's tired and will make you his personal body pillow

❥ will deny it to the group's faces but he loves to sing/dance to taylor swift with you, especially in the car (#carpoolkaraoke)

❥ when you're baking/cooking, he'll dip his fingers into everything and give it a taste test because he loves the look on your face when you 'scold' him

❥ always has a hoodie on/with him because he knows you're too stubborn and will deny that you'll get cold (even though you definitely will)

❥ dragging you out of bed at 3am for slurpees

❥ constantly finding ways to touch you

❥ asks you to teach him how to braid hair

❥ he'd steal one of your rings and loop it onto his shark tooth necklace so you're always with him

❥ if you have a dog, cat, etc., he'll carry them around your face like they're his baby (which they are)

❥ hogs the covers and yanks them off of you so you have to move closer to him/cuddle with him

❥ takes you for night swims at the beach/at the chateau

❥ picks random flowers for you, sometimes he'll put them in your hair

❥ he always carries your bags for you

❥ opens every single door for you (he's such a gentleman, i love him)

❥ if he's close with your parent(s)/guardian(s), he'll come over solely to hang out with them (and revel in the pout on your face when you realize he isn't there to chill with you)

❥ the type to binge-watch your shows with you and ask a million questions about the characters/plots but refuses to watch it on his own

❥ plays with your stuffed animals and gives them all different voices (and definitely steals one when you aren't looking)

jj tag list (join here!): @maybankslover @kittyqrt @v-velvetykisscs @hobiibobii @rafesdior @fool4him @hemogloban @pankhoeforlife @rafesmuse @lyn07 @houseofperfecttaste @qualitybelieverflower-blog @dudenhaaa27 @princessbetsy123-blog @tori-loves1 @alexxavicry @kenzi-woycehoski @elijahssuit @skydisneylover @adoreyouusugar @obxjjpouge @conniesanchor @baby-maybank @angel037 @wotfasked @rafelover @penny4yourthoughts @nerd505 @xngelsau @maybank-archives @p4nkowrld @spideybrina @pankowperfection @demiioxox @adr1an4 @lov3r0fr0ck @ellesalazar @buckyisveryhot @hoeforstarkey24 @aliyahsomerhalder @thelastgreatamericandynasty1989 @1spiderman1 @tell-me-when-you’re-ready @rosie-anne @slytherhoes @taintedxkisses