#my hamster died recently

[cacoetheswriting]

Request!!

Eddie walking in on reader fantasizing abt him<3 and ine thing leads to another they are fucking and then confessing each others love. Smut to fluff basically

If not that’s cool!<3

pairing: roommate!eddie munson x fem!reader [modern day au] word count: 3k

content warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, modern day au, friends/roommates to lovers, smut, suggestive & mature themes, adult language, dirty talk, sexual fantasies, masturbation (f), mutual pining, fingering, allusions to sex

Eddie Munson works shifts.

His schedule is scribbled in black marker and terrible handwriting on the calendar stuck to the fridge of your shared apartment — although, it’s not like you needed to double check when your curly-haired roommate was and wasn’t going to be home, embarrassingly enough, you pretty much had it memorised.

In your defence, it’s not overly hard to remember. 

While your hours are standard, Monday to Friday, nine to five, Eddie works at a nightclub in the city centre — The Black Door. He starts late in the afternoon, so as you come home, he’s rushing out the door with a sandwich between his teeth while he throws on his raggedy denim jacket.

“Have a good night, doll face,” he usually says when you pass each other in the hallway. “Don’t do anything I would do.”

You roll your eyes and usually reply with something you think is witty, if you’re not completely enamored by the way his locks bounce and fall perfectly around his face.

“Try not to burn the place down, Munson. You still owe me half of the rent for this month.”

“Tomorrow,” Eddie says with a grin, “Cross my heart.” He mimics his words and winks, before disappearing down the stairs.

When you close the apartment door behind you with a gentle kick, you have to lean against the frame and take a breath to compose yourself because the feelings you’ve recently developed for your metal-head roommate were too much, too complicated. You needed to try and keep them buried deep.

So, like every other night alone, you do the only thing you can think of to distract yourself and whip out your phone. After some doom scrolling and texting Steve for advice — since he’s the one who gave up his room in the flat, recommending Eddie move in — you open the apps. 

Swipe left, swipe right, left, right, left, left, right. It’s not hard for you to get matches, it’s even easier to get messages which lead to many dates. The odd dinner here, the odd drink there. You like to suggest The Black Door because even though you’re doing this to get over their head bartender, there’s a certain thrill in having him watch you flirt with other guys.

Unfortunately tonight’s date — Tobie with an ie not a y, as specified in his bio — texts to reschedule just as you finish applying some blush pink lipstick. 

Tobie: Hamster died

Tobie: (typing)

Tobie: Next time?

You groan in frustration. Nevertheless, you reply to keep the possibility of a next time open.

You: Sorry to hear about your hamster. Next time, for sure.

Then you type out a quick message to Steve, letting him know he doesn’t need to stalk your location since your date just cancelled. 

Steve: Good. He looked like a douche anyway.

Ignoring Harrington’s comment, you lock the screen then move to the couch where you finish the glass of wine you had poured to drink while getting ready. The alcohol is bitter on your tongue and after you swallow, it makes you feel even more lonesome than moments prior.

Spending your evenings alone wasn’t the worst by any means. You liked to think of yourself as an independent woman and there certainly were other ways you could continue to distract yourself — ways that didn’t involve a man. 

A movie perhaps. Some new Netflix releases to binge watch. Catching up on a favourite podcast. Back to doom scrolling for a minute. Or… You glance at the time on your phone. 7:16pm. Eddie wasn’t due back from his shift anytime soon.

Without giving it a second thought, you lay your head down on the throw cushions and close your eyes. You then proceed to slide a hand down your clothed stomach and you don’t stop, even when you reach the waist of your skirt.

Warmth immediately spreads through you. Even more when you hear a certain sultry voice in your mind, ordering you around. “Come on, doll face.”, or “Show me how much you want me.”.

Well fuck. So much for not thinking about your roommate.

He’s there, behind your eyes. Standing at the edge of the sofa, watching you touch yourself. And he’s doing the same. Fingers wrapped tight around his erect member, rubbing intently while he tells you to keep going and what a dirty, filthy, thing you are.

Cloud nine. Or ten. Who the hell cares. 

You’re lost in your own nasty thoughts, lost in the fantasy, completely oblivious to the sound of metal sliding in the keyhole and the click of the lock. Oblivious to the creak of an opening door and teeter of feet. Oblivious to the fact that there was someone now watching you with their mouth agape.

You’re about to reach that complete high. The mountain top. But then someone clears their throat. No, not just someone. Your roommate, Eddie — and not in your dreams.

Eyes snapping open, your heart drops. You remove your hand from its current position instantly, then slide on the sofa into a seated position, horrified and way too embarrassed to meet his struck gaze.

“Sorry, I-I,” Eddie stumbles and if you had enough courage to look at him, you’d notice he was beet red. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“No, no,” you protest and stand quickly, “I’ll ehh, I’ll go and yeah, sorry you had to see that.”

You continue to avoid his brown-eyes as you rush to your room, locking the door behind you for good measure. Then, since you’ve already lost all self respect and probably also his respect, you slam face first into your bed and scream into your pillow.

What you don’t see is Eddie who grimaces as the shrieks reach his ears. 

He honestly didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything, but it seems if he told you that now, you wouldn’t believe him. He just felt pervy standing there without your knowledge. And would it make it worse if he said he didn’t mind what he saw? That it was actually really fucking hot? Probably, yeah. He should definitely keep his mouth shut.

But Eddie can’t. Not when it comes to you.

Instead, he drops his backpack to the floor and strides toward your bedroom door. One big breath later, he knocks once, twice. No answer.

“Doll face, can you come out and talk to me? Please?”

“Go away, Munson. You’re never seeing my face again.”

He sighs. “Come on, it’s not the worst thing in the world.” Eddie tries to reason. “If it’s any consolation, I didn’t really see all that much. I-I shut my eyes the second I realised what was going on.” It’s a lie, but it’s a white lie. No harm in a white lie.

There’s shuffling inside and the door flies open.

“What are you even doing home so early?” Deflection. Great tactic.

Eddie leans against the frame, stretching his right arm across to pick at painted splinters. “Got into an argument with some weirdo. Bossman sent me home.”

The metal-head must sense your sudden concern because before you can say anything or ask any questions, he says, “And don’t you worry your pretty face about that rent money. I still have a job to go back to ‘cause my actions were in complete self-defence. I was just told to go home and cool off, or whatever.”

You nod, crossing your arms over your chest.

“What did you fight about?”

“Nothing important,” Eddie brushes it off and shrugs after dropping his arm back to his side. “What are you doing here by the way? I thought you had a hot date.”

“Dead hamster,” you say without further explanation, then quickly wonder, “How did you know about my date though?”

“Harrington.”

“Of course.”

There’s a minute of silence. Not awkward, despite everything that’s happened. Quite comfortable actually because that’s how things always are between the two of you.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Eddie asks, another attempt at trying to stir the conversation even further away from what transpired mere minutes ago. “In my room, if you’d prefer that.”

Tried and failed since you glance at the couch and tense all over again. 

There is no way you’re going to sit with him in the same exact spot you just tried to get yourself off to fabricated thoughts of him, all while he walked in on you. You’re probably never going to sit there again, ever.

“We might actually need to invest in a new sofa,” you say, full of shame, and glance up at the curly haired boy.

He rolls his eyes. 

“Would it help if I dropped my pants and—”

“Eddie! Gross!” You screech and smack his chest. “No, it would most definitely not help.”

He shrugs as if it’s no big deal. “Relax, doll face. I was  kidding.” The grin on his face spreads. “At least we know you weren’t thinking about me earlier, judging by that reaction to my very kind offer.”

There must now be a grimace on your face, some sort of physical reaction that you didn’t manage to contain as Eddie’s joke settles in the air around you, because a beat passes and your curly-haired roommate's gaze goes wide. His lips part and something flashes in his brown eyes that you can’t quite deduce, but one thing’s for sure, he knows.

“Oh. Oh.”

Without saying anything else, plausible deniability and all that, you try to shut the bedroom door in his face. Eddie however, has fast reflexes and his foot is now blocking you from doing so. But you keep trying and you lean against the wood, shoving it with your back.

“Now you can really go away, Munson.”

“It’s not—”

“If you utter the words it’s not that big of a deal, I will jump out of my window.”

On the other side of the door, Eddie laughs. “Don’t be dramatic, doll face. No one needs to be jumping out of anything, okay?”

You sigh, looking up at your ceiling as if it held all of the answers.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one having extremely specific dirty thoughts about your roommate.”

Silence. 

Oddly, now it felt slightly uncomfortable. You sense it immediately. The shift in the air. It’s a little unnerving. Okay. A lot unnerving. Which is why, again without really thinking about what you were doing, you stand straight and open the bedroom door to reveal your roommate’s back. He’s staring at the empty wall, hands on his hips.

“You know,” Eddie starts in a quiet tone and you begin to think the worst, (although you’re about to find out there is really no need). “Before you were my roommate, you were Harrington’s smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl roommate.”

“I-I don’t think I’m following.”

Eddie sighs. He spins back to look at you, hands still on his hips.

“Jesus. Okay. Uhm… You’re not the only one with, what is it you said, extremely specific dirty thoughts.” 

You raise your brows in surprise. This is not the turn of events you were expecting.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

And then, for reasons not completely clear in that moment, you laugh. Loud and clear. Velvety. It’s music to Eddie’s ears, so he smiles, watching you. You. Still that smart, funny, beautiful, hot, city girl he had a schoolboy crush on. Even more beautiful when you laughed. And all those nights he’d invite himself over, back when you still shared the flat with Steve, and he’d talk nonstop about this girl he liked but didn’t know how to ask out (you), well, all those nights finally felt worth something because now he knew you liked him too.

Eddie’s shoulders relax and he drops his arms from his hips, sucking in his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You notice immediately, eyes glued to where his points are digging into the flesh of his mouth, and the laugh freezes in your throat. The realisation of what Eddie just admitted dawns on you fully. He’s gotten off on fantasies of you long before you ever saw him that way. You don't, however, get to ask him what any of it means, or where you two go from here, because Eddie makes the decision for you.

He reaches for you. One hand on your jaw, the other gripping your waist. His eyes race over your face, as if he’s taking every little detail in since you’ve never stood this close together. You’re admiring his features too. Memorising each crinkle and line. Each mark and freckle. He’s attractive, for sure, but this close and personal, Eddie Munson is the most alluring guy you’ve ever seen.

“I think I’d like to kiss you now,” he whispers, brushing a thumb over your lips. “Unless you’re still thinking of jumping out the window.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and between your legs. Your gazes latch onto one another and you tip up your chin, inviting him to stay true to his words.

Eddie doesn’t waste a second. He takes your mouth, causing your knees to buckle beneath you, but the hand he’s got on your waist holds you up in place as his lips interlock with yours. The sweetness of the kiss surprises you. It’s pleasant and you find yourself hoping he’ll kiss you this way again, and again. And when the tips of his fingers trail against your cheek, when they travel to the back of your head, settling in place and pushing you in closer, you part your lips and moan softly into his mouth.

He takes this opportunity to slip his tongue in and intertwines it with yours. The hand holding your waist falls slowly, lingering against your body like a shadow as he drops it lower and lower. When he reaches the hem of your denim skirt, he freezes there momentarily.

“I don’t want to overstep, doll face.” Eddie murmurs against your plush lips.

“Please…” You all but whine in response.

“Please what?”

His hazel eyes go dark. Hungry. It sends a shiver down your spine, knowing that he wants you just as much as you want him, if not more.

“Overstep, please.” You slide your nose alongside his, nudging him slightly as you say, “Eddie, t-touch me. I’d like you to touch me.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Swiftly, he pops the button and slides the zipper, letting the garment fall to the ground so that you’re standing in the hallway of your shared apartment with your skirt around your ankles, exposing the black lace of your underwear to your roommate.

Eddie kisses you again. It’s rougher this time, more needy. And while his lips work against yours in perfect harmony, his fingers slide in between your thighs. 

Slowly, Eddie traces your wet heat, teasing with just one finger. Your body is jolting with anticipation. Your skin is soft and warm, writhing under his delicate touch. He can feel tension building as your legs start to tremble and he smirks into your mouth, clearly pleased with himself because he’s barely even touched you. 

Gently, he presses the pad of his index to your entrance, carefully slipping inside as you whimper. He continues pushing in slowly, knuckle by knuckle and you melt around his intrusion. Your arms now pressing your bodies together with all the strength you can muster.

Lewd, wet sounds drift up from between your legs as Eddie begins pumping his fingers in and out of you. Rough. Hungry. He breaks the kiss, crazed eyes looking back to admire your face as you slowly start to come undone. Then you gasp: he curls a finger inside your pussy to mash his palm into your clit, massaging the spot relentlessly.

A moan grows in your throat and your lips part, desperate to let it out. Eddie has another idea though. His free hand clamps over your mouth to muffle the sound. It causes your eyes to widen in shock, but surprisingly to both of you, you lean into it and after a few moments of this treatment, your walls close around his fingers.

You arch your back and Eddie struggles briefly to keep his hand over your mouth. He thinks for a second that maybe he’s being too forceful, forehead to forehead, pushing into you further. Somehow his force only makes you react harder and in a matter of seconds, you deflate, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you cum all over his digits.

Eddie drops his hand from your mouth, grinning. He removes his other hand from between your thighs and you miss him desperately already, though you don’t immediately say because you don’t want to come off as such. He licks his fingers clean then leans down to peck you on the lips as your orgasm haze clears. You can taste yourself on him and it drives you crazy all over again, but when you try to deepen the kiss, your metal-head roommate places his hands on your shoulders and gently pushes you back.

“Let me take you to dinner,” he says simply. 

“Right now?” You pout and manoeuvre your hand in between your bodies to reach for his hard member through his work slacks. “‘Cause I wanna repay the favour.”

Eddie grins then places his hand over yours, intertwining your fingers together. He pulls it out and brings it to his cheek, brushing it softly against his light stubble.

“I am loving the enthusiasm, doll face.” Eddie begins, “But I’d like to try and do this thing right, which means dinner before I further corrupt you, okay?”

“Maybe I’m the one corrupting you.”

“Maybe,” he says with a sly smile, “Either way, the faster we get out of here to grab some food, the faster we can come back and maybe even put that couch to good use.”

You laugh at that.

“So will you stop being stubborn and let me take you to dinner?”

When you nod your head, Eddie’s smile grows even wider. He drops your hand, but only momentarily, to lift your skirt and button it for you. He smooths the material, then once again, he reaches for your hand to lead you out of the shared apartment.

Eddie Munson works shifts.

Only, from now on, whenever he comes home late at night, instead of going to sleep in his room, he stumbles into yours, more than invited.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[astraystayyh]

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you��you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, “you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

[steveseddie]

love is stored in a can of hairspray

rating: t | cw: none apply | word count: 3,189

tags: eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, eddie munson is a sweetheart, steve has a bad hair week and eddie comes to the rescue, fluff, soft boys, first kiss, getting together

for the @steddielovemonth prompt “love is going out of your way to do something you know will make them happy” by @forgottenkanji

a/n: i'm a day late for this one but in my defense i had a wedding yesterday and it was a crazy day! enjoy!

click here to read on ao3

***

There’s a reason why Steve Harrington was dubbed “The Hair” of Hawkins.

In all the years Eddie has known Steve or known of Steve, he’s never seen him have a bad hair day.

It doesn’t matter if it’s rainy or sunny, if he’s wearing a Scoops Ahoy sailor hat or if he’s walking down the halls of Hawkins High or if he’s fighting Demobats in the Upside Down after taking a dive in Lover’s Lake, Steve Harrington’s hair always looked great. Eddie doesn’t know how he does it. Well. He kinda does ‘cause Henderson is a blabbermouth who let Steve’s secret about the Farrah Fawcett hairspray slip one time, but Eddie still doesn’t understand how Steve always makes his hair look like that. He thinks there’s got to be magic involved, a deal with the devil so that Steve’s hair never looks bad.

That is until today.

Eddie arrives at the Wheeler residence and announces himself by ringing the bell three times just to be annoying. He waits for someone to come open the door for him, and in the meantime, crouches down to tie his Converse. The door opens while Eddie is still on the floor and the first thing he sees is a pristine pair of white Nikes that he could recognize anywhere.

“Well, well, well,” he says, tightening the laces and springing to his feet. “If it isn’t my favorite guy in all of Hawkins, I didn’t know you’d be- Jesus H. Christ, dude! What happened to your hair?” He blurts out the last part when his eyes land on Steve’s head. Or the thick untidy mass where his perfect hair should be, with strands matted on his forehead above his furrowed brow.

“Fuck you, man,” Steve grumbles and crosses his arms over his chest.

Eddie feels a little bad, but his mouth-to-brain already leaves so much to be desired around Steve on a good day-

Not that Steve looks bad. Eddie is convinced that he couldn’t look bad if he tried, but right now he certainly doesn’t look like The Hair of Hawkins.

“Sorry, it’s just-” He waves vaguely at Steve’s head. “What’s up with that?”

Steve groans loudly. “A bunch of my products are sold out at every fucking store in Hawkins,” he explains for what seems to be not for the first time today. “Been meaning to drive to the next town over to get them, but I’ve been picking up so many extra shifts at Family Video that I haven’t had the time.”

Eddie nods. Steve told him he was trying to save up money to move out of his parents’ house, but it was slow going, so he started working more shifts recently to speed up the process. He’s been seeing less of Steve because of that, which Eddie hates, but he understands the urge to get out of that house.

“That sucks, man.”

Steve pouts, pink bottom lip jutting out. “Tell me about it, I look-” he gestures at his head and trails off with a huff.

“It’s not that bad,” Eddie says, but Steve raises an eyebrow at him.

“Wheeler asked if a hamster died on my head,” he deadpans.

Fucking Wheeler. He’s gonna make him regret it during tonight’s campaign.

“Please, those kids wouldn’t know a good haircut if it bit them in the ass,” Eddie says, and Steve smiles a little. “Sure, it’s- different. Not what we’re all used to, but you still look-” Handsome, hot, beautiful. “You still look good, Harrington.”

Steve’s cheeks pink up slightly. “Thanks, Munson, but I don’t feel good, I don’t know. It’s just hair and it’s stupid, but I feel off.” He groans in frustration. “Whatever, I’ll just have to wait two weeks and then-”

“Two weeks?”

“That’s when I finally get a day off.”

Eddie blows out a puff of air. “Jesus, Steve.”

“Apartments aren’t cheap, man,” Steve says with a shrug. “But I think Keith might make me manager by the end of the month. That would bump up my pay a bit, I just have to, you know, show him I can do it.”

“You got this, Stevie,” Eddie says, patting Steve’s cheek. “No one rewinds and restocks like you do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but his lips twitch up into a smile.

“If you two are done, we have a campaign to start!” Dustin says, appearing behind Steve and giving them both an exasperated look.

They exchange one themselves at Dustin’s tone, which they agree that he still needs to get in check.

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming,” Steve says and Eddie tries not to jump in excitement when he realizes Steve is staying instead of just dropping off the kiddos. He’s been hanging around more and more during Hellfire meetings recently, even if he still doesn’t want to play. Eddie can’t complain about the last part, he likes just having him there.

He steps inside and Steve closes the door.

Dustin stares at Steve’s head.

“Quit staring, Henderson!” Steve protests and Dustin holds his hands up in defense.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just bad, dude.”

These fucking kids.

Eddie whacks Dustin upside the head. “Just for that, I’m making you roll with disadvantage for every attack you make tonight .”

Dustin’s eyes bulge out. “What! That’s not fair!” He protests loudly as they walk towards the basement.

Eddie suspects that Steve doesn’t know necessarily what that means, but he still gives him a grateful smile.

***

Eddie stares at the bag of hair products in his passenger seat.

He’s always been a whatever shampoo Wayne picks up from the store kind of guy, he’s never really spent money on hair products. Until now. And they’re not even for him.

He just spent a stupid amount of money on them, mostly because, even if he remembers how some of the bottles and hairspray cans Steve uses look like from using his bathroom when he stays over, he wasn’t sure which are the ones that Steve needs. So he bought a bunch of them.

In that moment, he wasn’t thinking about the money or how it might look to Steve that he knew what hair products he uses or that he drove to another town to get them. He was only thinking about Steve’s defeated look every time someone stared at his hair or commented on it, how he self-consciously tried to fix it at work every time a customer came in, how when they hung out at his house he would hide his hair under the hood of a sweater.

But now, parked in front of Steve’s house an hour before their movie night, Eddie does think about what he did- and he seriously considers leaving the bag on Steve’s doorstep and fleeing. It’s too much. It’s too ‘I have a big crush on you and I want you to be happy so bad that I drove to another town and raided the Hair and Beauty section at a store just so you can stop walking around looking like a kicked puppy’.

But at the same time, he did this so he could see Steve smile and it would be a shame to miss it. He just hopes that Steve is too distracted by having his beloved hair products that he won’t think too hard about what Eddie did, or what it might mean.

With a short prayer to whoever’s listening so that Steve doesn’t figure out his crush today and rejects him, Eddie grabs the bag and walks up the driveway.

He knocks on the door before he can talk himself out of it, and bounces from foot to foot while he waits, hiding the bag behind him.

Steve opens the door and when he sees Eddie his eyebrows shoot up in his face, disappearing behind the few hairs that hang over his forehead. Over the last week, Steve experimented with other products, and while he managed to make his hair look a little less like something died up there, it’s still not the same. “Eddie?”

“Hey, Stevie.”

He checks his watch. “You’re early. Actually no, you’re always late so being on time is early for you, you’re like, really fucking early.”

Eddie snorts. “First of all, I’m never late, I arrive precisely when I have to.” Steve rolls his eyes. “But today I’m really fucking early, as you so eloquently put it, because I had to do some shopping first and then I drove straight here. In fact, I come bearing gifts,” he says, hands shaking a little with anticipation.

Steve eyes him curiously. “For the kids?”

“For you, my King,” Eddie says, finally allowing Steve to see the bag and presenting it to him in the most dramatic way. Hinging at the waist, holding the bag over his head, the works.

“Eddie, what are you- wait, is that- oh.” Steve goes silent when realization hits and Eddie starts spiraling. He tries to make light of it. “I humbly present to you the magic potions for your characteristic luscious hair, your Majesty.”

But when he glances up at Steve through his lashes, he looks like he’s close to crying. For a moment, he worries that he fucked up- bought all the wrong hairsprays and shampoos and now Steve is mad at him-

But then Steve is grabbing Eddie’s shoulders and yanking him up for a hug where the bag ends up squished between them.

“Christ, Eddie, thank you,” he says against his shoulder, and Eddie feels a sense of accomplishment wash over him, as well as butterflies flying in his stomach from Steve holding him like this.

One of Eddie’s arms wraps around Steve’s waist. “I don’t know if I got all the right ones ‘cause I have shit memory, but I recognized some of the bottles from your bathroom and the lady at the store helped me find your famous Farrah Fawcett spray-”

He trails off when Steve squeezes him tighter. “I can’t believe you’d do this,” he murmurs, almost to himself, but Eddie hears it anyway.

“I had some shopping to do,” Eddie says casually, but it’s like Steve is squeezing the words out of him with his arms because he keeps talking. “And you’ve been walking around with your head low and those sad puppy eyes all week, and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Steve pulls back and Eddie braces himself for Steve calling him out for overstepping or something, but instead he looks shyly at Eddie.

“I know it’s stupid like, it’s just hair and it shouldn’t matter that much, but it’s just- it’s important to me. I might not like “the Hair” thing but I am like, proud of my hair and this week I just haven’t felt like myself and people keep making comments and-” He shakes his head, a few rebellious strands falling on his forehead. “Anyway just, this means a lot, Eds, thank you.”

“Of course, Steve,” Eddie says with a smile. They stare at each other for a little too long, and Eddie starts fidgeting. “Now aren’t you happy that I got here so early? Gives you just enough time to get through your hair routine before everyone else gets here.”

Steve chuckles. “You don’t mind waiting while I fix this?” He gestures at his head, and Eddie shakes his.

“I can entertain myself just fine,” Eddie says, stepping inside when Steve sweeps his arm over the entrance.

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.”

Eddie grins. “Yeah, go doll up for me, sweetheart,” he teases and hears the way Steve’s breath catches, his eyes widening slightly and his cheeks tinting pink.

Then Steve moves in and places a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek. “Thanks again, Eds,” he says and then he’s running upstairs.

Eddie stands there for at least ten minutes, red in the face, before he can make himself move.

***

Steve still hasn’t come downstairs by the time the doorbell rings so Eddie answers it.

Dustin is at the head of the arriving party and he raises an eyebrow at him when he sees him. “You’re on time,” he says, perplexed.

“And you’re a butthead,” Eddie replies and the other kids snigger behind Dustin. “Are you gonna come in or what?”

With an eye roll that is pure Steve, Dustin walks in followed by Wheeler, Sinclair and Max, and finally Robin and Nancy, who drove them all there.

Buckley narrows his eyes at him as she walks in. “Why are you on time?” She asks. “Unless you got here early so you and Steve could hang out alooone?” The way she says “alone” makes Eddie flush, which doesn’t help deny what she’s implying, even if it isn’t true.

Luckily, at that moment, Steve comes down the stairs and everyone’s attention turns to him.

“Dude, you got rid of the dead hamster finally!” Mike says and Max flicks him in the ear. Eddie smirks, that’s why she’s his favorite.

“He’s back!” Dustin cheers as soon as Steve’s hair is visible. Eddie smiles at the familiar look, but mostly at the way Steve smiles and holds himself, the slouch and the sad puppy eyes gone.

“There’s my handsome best friend,” Robin hoots and Nancy puts her thumb and index finger in her mouth and lets out an impressive whistle.

“Okay, okay,” Steve says, waving off their compliments and reactions as he reaches the ground floor. “Yes, the hair is back, we can move on now. There are movies to watch.”

He starts to usher them in the direction of the living room to get their movie night started now that they’re all here.

“Dude, I thought it would be two weeks before you could buy your hair things,” Lucas says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

Steve freezes, his eyes darting to Eddie before he just shrugs at Sinclair, who probably doesn’t care that much about it because he just accepts that as a reasonable answer and follows the others to the couch.

The same can’t be said about Buckley.

“How did you get your hair products, Steve? ‘Cause I know you didn’t have them yesterday and you were working all day today.”

Their eyes meet again and Eddie gives a small shrug. They both know Buckley won’t drop it until she knows the truth.

“Eddie got them for me,” Steve says, mouth curling up in a smile that he directs at Eddie.

Buckley’s head snaps in his direction too, but she’s smirking, her eyes sparkling. “Oh did he?”

“Uh, yeah, I did.”

“You drove to another town, spent time and money on gas, and then spent more money just to get Steve his hair products?”

“Yup,” he says, popping the ‘p’, trying to be casual, but he can feel the heat on his cheeks.

“How generous of you,” she says but it sounds a lot like, ‘I see you and your big gay crush on my best friend’.

Eddie’s eyes dart to Steve. With their platonic bond it sometimes feels like they can read each other’s minds and Eddie wonders if Steve can see what she sees. He flushes brighter at the thought.

“Come on, Nance, let’s get started with the popcorn,” she says, hooking her arm with Nancy’s and dragging her away, leaving Steve and Eddie alone in the hallway.

“I’m sorry about her,” Steve says with a light chuckle. “And listen I can pay you- for the gas and for the products.”

Eddie shakes his head. “You don’t have to, I told you, they’re gifts.”

Steve ducks his head shyly and a strand of hair falls on his forehead with the movement. On impulse, Eddie reaches out to tuck it back into place. There, now Steve’s hair is perfectly styled again. He smiles. “Besides, it was worth it.”

“Oh.” Steve licks his lips a little nervously and Eddie can’t help but track the movement with his eyes. “You- you must really like my hair,” he whispers, eyes wide and expectant.

Eddie considers taking the out, making some joke about having always admired “the Hair” or something like that, but he finds that he doesn’t want to. Not with Steve looking at him like he would like hearing the truth.

So, Eddie takes a deep breath and hopes that he’s reading this right.

“I do, I really like it, but it’s not just that. You could walk around with a hamster on your head or get a buzz cut like El, and I’d still like it. I just. I like you.”

A slow grin appears on Steve’s face. “You really think I would look good with a buzz cut?”

A nervous laugh tumbles over Eddie’s lips. “Out of everything I said that’s what you-”

Steve shakes his head, cupping Eddie’s jaw with one hand and effectively shutting him up. “No, I- I like you too, Eddie.”

He sighs in relief. “Oh, thank God.”

And then, he grabs a handful of Steve’s shirt and pulls him towards him, crashing their lips together.

The moment they touch, Eddie lets out a low whine before he remembers that the kiddos are in the next room and Buckley and Wheeler could walk out of the kitchen any minute. So he tries to keep it down as he licks into Steve’s mouth, even if Steve kissing back just as passionately should be enough to drag more noises out of him.

It’s not until Eddie’s hands start moving from his shoulder to his neck on the way to his hair that Steve stops him, his fingers grabbing a hold of Eddie’s wrist and pulling away just enough to speak against Eddie’s lips.

Eddie chases after Steve’s mouth with another whine.

“Jesus,” Steve gasps. “We probably should- If this week proved anything is that out friends are overly invested in my hair so they’ll notice if you mess it up with your hands.” Eddie makes a disgruntled sound. Steve’s fingers catch one of Eddie’s curls, twirling it around it. “But if you want, after everyone leaves you can stay and I can, you know, pay you back for this.” He gestures at his hair.

Eddie’s brain must be melting out of his ears from kissing Steve because he dumbly says, “I told you that you don’t have to-” before he understands the meaning behind the words when he sees Steve’s smirk. “Oh. Yeah. I can think of a few ways you can do that.”

The way he waggles his eyebrows makes Steve giggle adorably, but before Eddie can kiss him about it, Robin pops her head out of the kitchen, making them jump.

“If you two are done giggling like teenagers, come help with the popcorn before the actual teenagers start a riot.”

“Aye, Captain Buckley,” Eddie says with a two-fingered salute. This time Steve muffles his giggle behind his hand.

With the other, he grabs hold of Eddie’s and starts dragging him to the kitchen. The whole time, Eddie feels like he’s floating.

He’s happy he made the trip, he’s happy he got Steve his hair products, he’s happy his hair are back to normal.

And he’s even more happy that he gets to mess it up later when he kisses Steve again after everyone leaves.

[chamsthoughts]

Recently I’ve been thinking about a bsd au where everything is the same other than the fact that Mori gave dazai an emotional support hamster during the 15 arc.

I came up with this like a year ago, I just like thinking about it.

During the Rimbaud fight when dazai is slashed across the chest with the scythe he panics coz his hamster was in his pocket (it’s fine!!! Dw)

Chuuya: wtf is that???

Dazai: Mori gave it to me to teach me the value of life and responsibility or whatever

Chuuya: and you listened to him??

Dazai: ofc not, the first chance I had I tried to throw him off a bridge …. But then he looked at me with those eyes and adorable face… if im capable of love in my cold, dead heart then I love Squash more than anything in this world

Rimbaud (yes he’s also invested in the hamster): Squash??

Dazai: he would’ve been squashed if I didn’t love him

When Squash died Dazai and Chuuya held a funeral for him, Odasaku gave a very moving speech, there were tears 🥲

(Dazai would also call Squash Pumpkin as a nickname coz he can)

[qiutls]

TNGDH 021

After doing it a few times during the festival, it was now easy to avoid Kyle's eyes and turn into a person. In the first place, except for that day when I met with Sen, I've been spending hours together with him, so I had no time to worry about getting caught.

"You're a magician?"

"Yes, but I'm not that talented, I just do this and that..."

"I see."

I drank the tea and ate the scones he prepared while I lied nonchalantly.

I'm sorry for lying but it's better this way, just in case I need a cover-up in the future.

If Kyle goes on an expedition, there would be a good excuse to accompany him. If he goes on to subjugate demonic beasts as written in the novel, as a magician, I can go with him.

"Rather than that, can you really spend time with me like this? Don't you have any work to do?"

"Do you want me to leave?"

"No....."

I'm not making you leave ah. I'm just wondering if you're really this free. It seems like the grand duke has a suspicion disease after I disappeared unexpectedly twice.

I turned my head, slightly guilty at the situation. Then his hand reached out and turned my face back to look at him.

"It's polite to look at each other's face while talking."

"I'm sorry I'm a man who isn't well versed in aristocratic manners."

"You should learn from now on."

"Why should I?"

He came closer and whispered.

"Aren't you my companion?"

A sin committed once lasts a lifetime. I looked at him miserably.

'How many times has it been now?'

Even beef bones won't be used as much as Kyle uses this companion comment. He has been using it to blackmail me whenever I tried to avoid answering his questions or to leave early.

You're someone who died without a companion in the original novel. Is that why you're obsessed with companions? To be honest, it's not that you didn't want to date anyone, it's that you couldn't right?

My mouth was itching to shoot back the comment at him but I forced myself to hold it in. Kyle who has been staring at me suddenly let out an airless laugh. He had a strange yet comforting smile plastered on his face. His bright expression pulled me in and before I knew it I had been staring at him as well.

"I feel comfortable with you."

"....."

"I know it probably sounds strange, don't think too much about it."

I have nothing to say if you tell me those words with such a soft smile.

Are you doing this on purpose?

I couldn't do anything except stare at him, I only came to my senses when he offered another scone to me.

"Since you're a magician, can you take a look at my magical beast? You can take a look at it whenever you're free."

I was about to bite into the scone then stopped after hearing Kyle's unexpected words.....That's strange. Did you just ask me, to take a look after.....ME?

I put down the scone and asked him again, this time listening with full attention.

"...What?"

"I asked if you could take a look at the magical beast I'm raising in the study."

I guess I didn't hear it wrong.

Looking alternately at the scone in my hand and at Kyle, my appetite dropped. Even though the desert looked delicious, I felt like I would get an upset stomach if I ate it now.

But Kyle didn't seem to mind my actions and continued pensively.

"I'm worried because he doesn't seem to have any appetite recently. And he's been lazy as well. He used to be a very active guy..."

Don't edit your memories ah! When have I been active? Apart from running on the wheel in order to get the skill, I was always lying down! You don't even know your own hamster.

"I think it's because, it's already in the growing stage, yet there's no signs of a mana stone forming inside him. I decided to periodically inject magic power (mana) as advised by the doctor but..."

".....Magic power?"

What's this? Who told you to do that?

"Since it's inevitable that it will suffer from the mana injected, I thought it would be a good idea to let you meet it and see if you can help."

"What...."

What? What's this situation?!

I can't even say no to his requests..... I closed my mouth and urgently called the system.

Hey! HEY! Hurry up and come here!

[ ……(*￣０￣)ノ ]

Why do you look like you've just woken up? I clenched my fist and looked at the blue system window in front of me.

'Hurry up and navigate to the Fruit Store or whatever it's called!'

[ ……. ] [ ……. ] [ ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆ ] [ The Nut Store! ]

After a bit of loading, the shiny emoji came into my vision. I clicked my tongue upon seeing the decorated sign below it. Don't you get tired doing all of this?

I ignored the small letters that said renewal open and quickly scanned the store.

[ Mini mini Brazil Nut Madeleine, consumes 2% miracle value, in turn your body gets smaller for 30 minutes. It's even smaller than a hamster! ]

[ Hurried Almond Financier, consumes 3% miracle value, in turn you're able to run faster than usual. ]

Give me something useful please, what's the point of these items ah? If I wanted to be small, I'll just turn back into a hamster.

I finished reading page 1 and was about to turn into page 2 when I heard Kyle sigh.

"A magician, you say..."

"What are you thinking about, Your Highness?"

"I just thought, it's quite a relief."

"Why?"

"There has always been a shortage of magicians in the Blake estate. It hasn't been long since I became the leader, and I've had a lot of accidents at the Wyvern nest survey last year."

He looked at me expectantly.

No, I can't think of an excuse. Stop looking at me with such a face. How am I supposed to hold my ground, my expression turned to guilt. 

I moved my hand to cover his eyes, but of course my feeble efforts were rendered useless in just three seconds as Kyle held my wrist in place.

"The work at the estate is hard. I'm really so busy these days."

I made a vague excuse first, just in case he asks for another favor.

Even though the "Summon" skill was upgraded, it was only up to two hours. I can't do much with the time I'm given, and it's not like I can lie everyday that I need to go to the bathroom before I disappear again.

"....Is that so?"

Kyle's face was tinted with disappointment. I felt apologetic seeing this unfamiliar expression on him.

Why are you so disappointed ah? I'm a fake magician who can't even do basic spells. The only spell I know is how to turn into your hamster, Cashew Nut.

'Can you even consider that as a magic spell?'

The system just transforms me back and forth.

In any case, it's better to find a magician who's actually knowledgeable, rather than choosing me. But still... If you're this disappointed.

I added gently, as if teeming with good intentions.

"There's still enough time to look for magicians before the demonic beasts' subjugation expedition happens."

There was something that came to mind after I said that sentence.

The Northern festival was held during the coldest and darkest days of winter. After this tumultuous atmosphere, the Blake estate started preparing for a massive reconnaissance.

There are many reasons for this reconnaissance, the main purpose was to bring back the vigilance that was loosened during the festival. It was a reminder that no matter how good the life in the North is, it is still a dangerous place full of demonic beasts.

Another reason is probably the training of the newly inaugurated knights. At this time of the year, knights who were apprentices in the past will get to experience combat since their inauguration.

"The ceremony for the new knights....."

Kyle replied slowly,

"We did it during the festival, I remember it was pretty big this year since there was a lot of new recruits."

"Haha... I think I was pretty busy back then."

Kyle glanced at me suspiciously. I know I didn't have anything to be busy about, but just forget about it, let's move on! I ignored his piercing gaze as I recounted the events.

A knight's inauguration that was larger than usual.

The chandelier dropping in the middle of the banquet.

And then, a large scale reconnaissance.

I'm pretty sure at this time, Kyle...

[ The Duke of Blake is attacked during the reconnaissance and suffers a heavy injury on his right arm. ]

The system narrated the content from the original novel.

I asked a question quietly. 

'Will this injury, affect how he dies?'

After a moment of silence, the system answered succinctly.

[ That's right. ]

The sentence shone brightly in blue and it gave me chills. His fated death struck me with renewed vividness.

'Right...'

Kyle's death is now just 15 days away.

According to the original story, he started to confront Belial through the chandelier incident, and was attacked at the reconnaissance. Then he was stabbed to death by a strong man at his own castle.

Just because I changed a small part of the plot, doesn't mean I changed his fate entirely. Miracles don't happen that easily.

What now... What should I do?

"Hey."

"....."

"Shu."

"....."

"Shu!"

Kyle put his palms around my cheeks and I came to my senses when his cold hands touched my skin.

"Ah."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

I took a quick breath and tried to move my stiff fingertips.

"I'm alright."

He didn't seem to believe my words, but he didn't pressure me into confessing.

"I was just thinking about something for a moment."

Kyle frowned at my words.

"What were you thinking about that made you so pale?"

I couldn't answer honestly so I just shut my mouth.

Come to think of it, I always avoided his questions this way. Either I start talking fast, saying random excuses or I just shut up entirely. It must look suspicious.

But it can't be helped. Anyways, I changed the subject as naturally as I could and leaked the plan I had in mind in advance.

"Your Highness, may I follow you on this large-scaled reconnaissance?"

He answered straight away, as if it was not a difficult decision.

"Sure, but have you ever been outside the territory?"

"No."

"The north is much more dangerous than you think. At the snowfield, humans are the first learn how weak they are."

"....."

The outside, is entirely different from the Blake estate, as the grand duke described.

I gulped down and looked him in the eye.

"It will all be alright if Your Highness is there to protect me."

Protect me, Kyle, and I'll protect you. You might not know, but our fates are linked. Our survival depends on each other.

Kyle whispered back.

"Do you trust me?"

"Isn't it natural that the people of this land trusts you?"

"I know."

He said with a mischievous smile on his face.

"But I was asking you."

Acting like a hooligan. You already know the answer.

I squinted at him, pretending to look hateful.

"Of course."

"All right, I'll be responsible in protecting you, but, how are your horseback riding skills?"

"Ah."

Well how should I explain this... During our school trip, they went to Jeju Island and everyone rode a pony, but I was left behind doing homework at school.

Before I could answer anything, he added.

"Actually, it would be difficult to ride alone with your injury."

Fortunately, he didn't seem to think of leaving me behind.

But wait, what? Don't tell me? You're thinking of giving me a ride?! In front of all the new recruits??? Wait, no!

'.....Should I not have told him that I wanted to join?'

I bit my lips in order to calm down the goosebumps on my arms.

"....Thank you for being considerate, Your Highness."

When he leaves, I must learn horseback riding immediately!

t/n : longest chapter yet! thank u for all the ko-fis~ also posting twice today since I might not be able to do so tomorrow!

[flamingspud]

I saw someone make an AITA style post about one of their fics, so I decided to give it a go with the events from this one:

(enjoy ;))

AITA for killing my nephew’s (11m) hamster and blaming it on my other nephew (14m)?

Alright, I know the title sounds bad, but please hear me out before you judge me too hard.

I (42m) have recently been staying with my ex-wife (43nb) until I can properly figure something out. Well, a little while ago my youngest nephew (who I will call G) brought home two hamsters. All was going well until a few weeks ago, when one of them went missing. Everyone turned the house upside down looking for it, but no dice. 

The next day, G set up some treats in the kitchen and my ex asked if I could keep an eye out for the hamster, as I was on the couch and it was a school night. I said sure.

About an hour later, I still saw no sign of the hamster, so I decided to get a snack from the fridge, when suddenly the hamster appeared. Under my foot. 

I quickly cleaned up, and knowing G would be devastated, I buried the hamster in the back garden. 

Unfortunately, his brother, J, saw this, and demanded I give him money or he would tell his brother. Not wanting G to go through that, I agreed.

I had thought G would forget about the hamster eventually, but a few weeks passed and he was still as persistent as ever, so my ex-wife, who somehow knew what I had done, told me I needed to tell G his hamster wasn’t coming back. 

Not wanting to traumatise him more than I needed, I told him that the hamster died on its own, but this led G to the conclusion that the hamster’s death was his fault. 

Now, this is where I might be the asshole. I didn’t want him to carry this burden through life, so I meant to tell him that I was the one who killed his hamster, but what slipped out was J’s name…

I tried to assure G that it was an accident, but he went straight to confront J, who then tried to prove his innocence by digging up the dead hamster, and now everyone’s mad at me.

So, Reddit, am I the asshole?

[thebreakfastgenie]

Please tell us more hamster lore

My hamster Mo, the one who learned how to open his cage, also reliably came when called. So I woke up very early in the morning on Thanksgiving when I was like nine or ten and thought I saw movement so I said "Mo?" and he came running and beamed up at me from the floor next to my bed like "look at me! I'm out!" because he was a little shit.

Mo also knew how to open a hamster ball from the inside. I had another one later who chewed the tabs off the lid so it no longer closed, but Mo didn't do that, he just figured out how to unlatch the lid from the inside and he was a bigger hamster so he could get the job done physically. I kept leaving him in a room in his ball while I was cleaning his cage and coming back to find him running loose unsupervised (which was not safe, even in my room, and he was often in the ball in even less hamster-proofed rooms) and my mom kept chastising me for not latching the ball securely and telling me I had to pay closer attention while I insisted I was. We started having my dad sit in the room while Mo was running in the ball to supervise him so he was getting chastised too for not watching closely. And then finally one night we caught Mo in the act of opening the ball and I had proof he had been framing us. My mom did apologize to me lol and to be fair, it's much more believable that a 10-year-old didn't latch a ball correctly than that a hamster was just routinely opening it.

Mo was a genius but he would periodically go insane and stuff his plastic tubes with tightly packed bedding. He had two habitrail cages connected by a fairly long tube system because the space I had for the cage limited the layout a little bit. The two cages were parallel and thankfully connected by a tube on each side, so he had two routes, but he did periodically stuff both of them at the same time and we'd have to empty them out at 6am before leaving for school. And then one time he somehow managed to Cask of Amontillado himself in the middle of a tube with tightly packed bedding both in front of him and behind him. My mom recently saw an X-ray video online of a hamster turning around in a narrow space and sent it to me like "that's how he did it!!!" Fortunately I noticed what he'd done pretty quickly so we were able to free him before he like got dehydrated.

At the same time as Mo I had Snowball who was pure white and looked exactly like a small Snowball when she was curled up. Mo and Snowball had to be separate because they were a male and female and also because Syrian hamsters are solitary and will be aggressive toward each other. The only reason I had two at the same time is that I had seen both of them at two pet stores and had trouble deciding and when I was looking at Snowball at the worse pet store the employee tried to get her out to show her to me (competent employees always use a box for the smaller animals, she just grabbed her with her hands) and dropped her. Snowball was a teeny tiny baby hamster who fell four feet onto a concrete floor and she was stunned for a bit but alive and started to regain function after a few minutes. The manager (who felt bad about the whole thing and was generally doing her best) didn't want to let me take her but I was insistent and, well, see how well you hold up against a tiny 9-year-old with round glasses and long pigtails lecturing you about how if the hamster is going to die she deserves to die in peace and quiet while the mom just kind of looks at you like 🤷‍♀️

I knew there was a chance Snowball wouldn't make it but I believed in her. My parents were convinced she was going to die so they took me back to the better pet store to take Mo too, since I'd been attached to him too and they figured having another hamster already would be better when Snowball inevitably died. But Snowball was a survivor so I had two hamsters which is twice the work because they needed totally separate habitats but #WorthIt. Snowball grew from teeny tiny to a good sized female Syrian hamster and was the most athletic hamster I ever had. They all climbed the bars on the cages but she literally did pull-ups. I swear she did it on purpose. She was buff. The only lingering physical symptom was that her urine was always weird, but it didn't seem to cause her any pain and she lived to be two years old which is good for a Syrian, the normal lifespan is 18-24 months and 18-20 is really more common. I think she probably had traumatic damage to one kidney from the fall but had enough function to get by. Her traumatic beginning did understandably make her hate most humans. I was very gentle and patient with her and in time socialized her to be a totally friendly pet with me but she never liked anyone else. She tolerated my mom enough that my mom could take care of her if I wasn't there and could pet her when I had her out but she was a one-person rodent because I was the only one who believed in her and saved her life.

A couple weeks after Mo escaped Snowball also popped the cage open. She was smart but I don't think she understood how opening the cage worked quite as well as Mo did but she did it and she got out of her cage, off the dresser it was on, across the room, and somehow climbed up into a child-sized wooden chair and used the (fairly precarious) stack of books and stuff to get onto the table Mo's cage was on and then climbed up the outside of his cage and went to sleep on top of it. I woke up it the wee hours of the morning, saw a blurry (my glasses were not on) white shape on top of my hamster's cage and was so confused. I went over and realized it was Snowball and she was so still I thought she was dead but I touched her and she woke up and I was like hello???? At this point I had been through enough incidents like this that despite being like ten years old and extremely groggy I had the presence of mind to put her in the hamster ball until we could figure out how she got out of the cage in the first place so I did that and went to wake up my parents who didn't believe me and kept asking if I was dreaming. After a few minutes they realized it was real and my mom to this day is like "can you blame us? that was insane" and I'm like can you blame ME for being offended that you thought I was dreaming when I just lived through all that?? Also later I found out Snowball had stolen an entire box of treats while she was out and stashed them in the back of my closet.

We came up with the miniature bungee cords after that lol.

It wouldn't have been good for Snowball's health to breed them and also hamsters have litters of up to ten and finding good homes for them is really hard so it wouldn't have been responsible but I always wanted to breed Mo and Snowball because their offspring would have been super hamsters.

This is already super long but next time I'll tell you about my first hamster Sunny who's the reason I knew how to act in the event of a hamster escape.

[writer-or-whatever]

Sleight of Hand

The other piece of HorrorComedy flash fiction that I wrote semi-recently and finally posted (find the other here). Read under the cut or on AO3.

Summary: Caroline moved to the foothills to have an escape. She gets to work nine to five and then the world is her oyster from five to nine—that’s what the real estate agent promised. She hasn’t been on a walk once in the six months that she’s lived here. Today that changes.

Rating: T | Word Count: 1.5k | Horror & Humor

It’s a nice night for a walk. The air is cool and fresh with the rain of the morning, but the evening sky is clear, with no sign of the clouds that did nothing but drizzle over the earth all day. The fresh air and crisp smell of early fall coaxed Caroline out of the house and into the woods behind it, not that it was hard.

She’s been caged in all day, running furiously on the corporate hamster wheel from the comfort of her couch. There is no boundary between work and home—everything is just a maudlin slurry of exhaustion. A rat race with no finish. But the trees out back know nothing about that kind of existence. They have been there longer than she’s been alive, even the saplings. They stand firmly in place—tall and steady with deep roots—and they do not let Jane from Accounts Payable bully them in a conference call. They call to her every time she glances out of the window and sighs. Come take a walk. It’s good for you. Touch some grass. Please, we’ve plenty of it. Come and play.

It’s hard for her to say no.

Caroline moved to the foothills to have an escape. She gets to work nine to five and then the world is her oyster from five to nine—that’s what the real estate agent promised. She hasn’t been on a walk once in the six months that she’s lived here.

Today that changes.

She pulls on her jacket and her hiking boots—brown suede and red laces just like in Wild—and grabs a water bottle. She’s going to enjoy herself. This will be good for you; that’s what all the books say. “I hiked the PCT! It saved my life!” “I used to be a corporate drone, but then I discovered the wonders of nature!” “Henry David Thoreau was right! Returning to nature is the only way to fix us!”

Caroline is full of gusto and grand poetic notions for the first mile. She is going to do this every day! It is gorgeous and refreshing! She has been wasting her life away behind a screen—man was not meant to live under the yolk of a machine!

The second mile passes in a more subdued manner. She appreciates the birdsong and the lichen, and she has realistic expectations. Probably not every day, but some of them surely. Once a week is probably doable.

She doesn’t take in any glorious wonders of nature in the third mile. She’s too busy thinking about what Jane from Accounts Payable meant when she called her “endearing” before she shot her proposal down. She checks her watch, the little rectangle glows faintly blue back at her: 6:15. Caroline hasn’t logged off this early in months. Her coworkers are surely all still pecking away at their keyboards. Her boss is probably still online. They’ve probably had another meeting and were confused by her absence. They’re probably having another right now. About her. She has to go back and check. She’s wasting precious time out here. She has to work harder if she ever wants a chance to retire. She’ll be forced to work until she dies if she doesn’t get back online right this minute. She–

She can’t find the way back. She has been following a trail, hasn’t she? Caroline looks around. There is no trail. The ground beneath her feet is indistinguishable from that around it. There is no path. Surely there was a path?

She can’t remember. The siren song of the woods was so strong—she followed it right out to shore and now it’s dashing her against the rocks. She’s going to die here. She has no wilderness skills—she got bored halfway through the drive to her first Girl Scouts’ camping trip and made her mom turn right back around—what made her think she could just go gallivanting off into the woods?

She turns back the way she thinks she came. She pulls out her phone and opens the compass app that came pre-installed; she is facing southwest. Caroline doesn’t know which way she came from, and this does not help. She tries walking this way anyway. It’s a complete 180 degrees from where she was going, so it must be from whence she came.

She makes it one mile. She doesn’t remember if she’s seen this tree before. Maybe that rock looks familiar?

Another mile. The trees don’t look any thinner. Did they close in around her slowly on the way out? Or was she deep in the thicket from the start?

Another half mile and she needs to sit down. Her water bottle is empty. She is so tired. What was she thinking? There is a log just a little further. That will be as good a place as any to rest for a minute.

She sits down on the log, and it’s not as hard as it looks. It has moss growing over it, and the wood is soft and damp. She pulls at the bark absentmindedly and it comes away easily. Nothing like the hard trees that tower around her. Will she be this soft and pliable when she returns to the Earth?

Before she can do something stupid—like lay down and let the forest grow over her—she spots movement from behind one of the trees in the direction she’s been walking. Help at last! Thank god!

It’s probably one of her neighbors. There are other cabins and cozy little houses on the edge of the wilderness out here. She hasn’t met any of the other residents, but she’s seen the lights on in their windows. Maybe she can introduce herself now—find a hiking buddy. Isn’t that what all the true crime podcasts recommend? Never wander into the woods alone.

A figure emerges from behind the trees. Its arms are long and spindly, like the branches around them. Their face is obscured by a hanging curtain of dark hair, which goes undisturbed by both wind and breath. The wind is cool where it rustles Caroline’s hair and coaxes wisps of it out of her ponytail. She stares at them, paralyzed. She can’t even blink.

But she must have, because in the space between one moment and the next they’ve disappeared. And she didn’t see it. She must have closed her eyes—in fear or in disbelief or in prayer, she doesn’t know, but she must have had them closed because the figure is gone now and things don’t just disappear. Maybe it wasn’t ever there. She’s stressed, she’s lost, she’s tired. Weirder things have happened. Brain chemistry is odd like that.

The figure emerges from behind another, thinner tree much closer to her. It is too big to have been hiding there. But there it is, peeking its head out from behind it. Looking at her.

She still can’t see the face—dark hair is still hanging in the way of it—but that doesn’t matter. She can feel the weight of its eyes on her. The hair on the back of her neck stands on end. How is it hiding there? And how did it get so close. It moved more than 100 yards in that fraction of a second. This isn’t real. It’s not happening. She’s imagining it. She should shut her eyes and take a deep breath. She can’t.

If she takes her eyes off that thing she is going to die. If she makes even the smallest movement, it is going to get her. If she keeps looking at it then she’ll be okay. It cannot get her if she does not let it.

It ducks back behind the tree again. She can’t see it—it moved faster than the first time. Caroline is going to die, she’s certain of it. This thing is going to get her. She won’t even see it coming. The feeling of being watched comes again from her right. She doesn’t want to look. She doesn’t want to know. She turns her head anyway.

It is sitting next to her, the soft wood of the log creaking underneath the added weight. It’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with her, as close as it can get without touching. It’s roughly the same size as she is, though she swears it was taller before and thinner beside. Now they’re both midsize. The lanky hair that still covers its face is Caroline’s bright box red and the roots are her honey blonde.

It reaches one of its hands toward her face, and the fingers are spindly but slowly shrinking and reforming. The sound of bones snapping and crunching makes her stomach churn. They’re bringing that rippling hand toward her face. She can’t move—she can’t even blink—she is going to watch as it reaches right into her. The hand skirts around to the far side of her head at the last second and hovers near her ear. Then it pulls its hand away quickly and she screams.

There is something in its hand. A coin. This thing, now wearing her face, grins back at her, smiling with far more teeth than she’s ever had. It hands her the coin.

“Ta da!” It says. It has her voice.

[ryuichirou]

Replies

thestarlightfae asked:

Time for a question dump! Feel free to pick and choose which questions to answer, or not answer at all. LMK if this kind of ask is annoying to you please! Like, say it is annoying. I am autistic and will not understand it unless you say it outright. Alright! Here we go!

You know, I think I’ll answer pretty much all of your questions today! The only one I’ll keep for later is the “Twst boys as animals” one, because I really want to think about it + that would make this post way too long lol

I feel like I talked about a lot of these at some point, but it’s been a while, so replying again definitely wouldn’t hurt.

And no worries at all; if there were any uncomfortable questions, I’d just skip them. I like the format, it’s refreshing.

What are your favorite animals?

Both of us love a lot of animals… but mostly cats! Especially Katsu, Katsu is like a priest in the cat church. Sometimes I feel like Katsu and Mila (Katsu’s cat) speak the same language.

I also love snakes and lizards! And ever since my mom got a dog, something in my brain chemistry changed, and now I can’t look at dogs without wanting to cry because they are precious.

Do you have any pets? If yes, what are their names? Can we see pics?

Did you used to have any pets? If yes, what are were names? Do you have pics? Can we see them?

Unfortunately, I don’t have any pets… To be honest, I am too unsure about being able to take care of anything, I’m killing my plants all the time lol I used to have a grey kitten when I was like 5 (my parents took it away) and two parrots (yellow and blue) when I was 9-10 (both suddenly died…). And unfortunately I don’t have pics of them.

Like I already mentioned, Katsu has a cat <3 (Katsu used to have a guinea pig, hamsters, a rat, and a cat back in childhood.) Mila is adorable and very loveable, and also sneezes a lot… She’s an old lady, but still pretty spunky and talkative. I want her to have all the kisses and treats she wants…

Do you and Katsu ever disagree on if a character is top or bottom?

I don’t think so. I don’t know why, I guess it’s because we generally prefer the same types of characters to play a certain role. We do have discussions sometimes when we’re not sure what to do with the guy… Katsu also loves to hit me with “but what if he is a bottom though?” while fully believing that the guy is a top just to see if I’m going to hesitate or not. Or maybe just to mess with me lol

What are your favorite platonic relationships in Twst?

Octa-trio is fun, any other top with Ortho is fun, also Rook and Trey are a funny duo, and Vil and Idia… A lot of them are very good, to be honest.

Do you have a minimum age for discussing characters on here? Like, would you talk about Cheka? I'm not into that, irl or hypothetically so I wouldn't ask about him in a romantic/sexual way, but I am curious.

Not really. Everything is on a case-by-case basis, and if we’re not comfortable with something (either in general or uncomfortable with posting it), we just won’t post it at all. It’s mostly about people overreacting about literally anything we say.

How old were you two when you started drawing?

Did you learn to draw together? Your drawing styles are really similar.

I’m the only one who actually draws :) My mom said that I got my first crayons when I was 4 and has been drawing ever since, but I started to draw anime/people when I was 11-13. When I was 16-18, I started to actually work on bettering my skill, now with Katsu’s help.

We say “our drawings” because a lot of time we’re working on them together, especially if it’s the bigger pieces. We either discuss the idea together or Katsu comes up with stuff, then helps me to pick the best thumbnail, find references and inspirational pictures, gives me tons of feedback and keeps me focused and entertained by talking with me while I draw. Those artworks (the anniversary one, the Octa/Idia one are some recent examples) feel like projects sometimes, and I really feel like we did them together. Plus, a lot of sketches that I do myself are based on our discussions, AUs and inside jokes. But the more serious/complex ones have much more of Katsu’s direct influence.

In a way, despite the fact that Katsu doesn’t draw, we did learn together because Katsu is figuring everything out at the same time as me lol Me learning how to draw was just Katsu and I going “hey does this look right?”, “you should learn how to draw ears, the ears don’t look good” , “you keep forgetting about this bone” and “I hate how it looks, please tell me honestly if it looks bad” every single time I draw something. It’s been a long journey, we’ve been drawing together for more than 10 years now…

Also I am kind of wondering which artworks you thought could be mine and which ones are Katsu’s… hehe.

How long have you known each other?

14 years! <3 We started dating pretty early on; and we just had our anniversary a couple of weeks ago.

That is all for now! Once again, please tell me if I am annoying either of you in anyway or stepped over any bounderies!

You’re not annoying at all! No worries. Like I already mentioned, if there were any uncomfortable questions, I would’ve just skipped them. I know that people are mostly here for the twst boys, but talking about these things is a good change of pace every once in a while.

Thank you for your questions, I hope you (and anyone who is still reading) enjoyed the post.

[catch1ngmoths]

I don't know if I should send you an ask since you need to rest, but I lost one of my pets (a hamster to be exact) and I wanted to know what it would be if Alex's s/o lost one of her pets 🥺 srry I think I'm in love with your hcs

₊✩‧₊˚౨Kiss me until my lips fall off ৎ˚₊✩‧₊

Summary: Alex comforts you and reacts to you losing a pet

Note: okay so normally I do the recent requests last but I didn’t wanna make you wait, I hope your doing okay! I’m sorry for your loss :(

Y/P/N = your pets name

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹

Alex was in his apartment, editing a video for YouTube when he gets a call. He’d be exited when he sees that it’s you calling but his smile fades when he hears your voice along with a sniffle.

“Amor…what’s wrong.?” He says with slight hesitation and worry in his voice. On the other side of the phone, your eyes were filled with tears. Before you spoke into the phone, “Lex.. y/p/n died..” you sniffle

You hear a gasp on the other end of the phone. Alex frowns, getting up from his seat and walking to his keys in the living room. “Do you need me to come over? Anything you need baby.” He says, holding his keys in his hands. Ready to walk out the door as soon as you give him the cue

“Please…” you say quietly into the phone, wanting nothing more then to be in the arms of your lover during this time. “I’m on my way.” He says quickly, closing his door and walking to his car. Within a few minutes, you heard a knock at the door.

You walk to the door, soft tears falling from your face. You felt like you’d never stop crying, you missed your pet more than anything. As soon as you opened the door and Alex locked eyes with your distraught face, you were enveloped into a soft embrace

He rocks y’all’s interlocked body’s back and forth, rubbing your back softly. You nuzzle your head into his neck, as tears well from your eyes. “Shhh…it’s okay amor. It’ll be okay.” He whispers to you, feeling tears well into his eyes as well at your upset face.

He holds you in his arms, kissing your head every now and then. He slowly pushes you away from his body, holding your face. “It’ll be okay amor, do you wanna go lay down” he says softly, kissing your nose.

“Y-yeah..” you say, your voice scratchy from crying. He nods grabbing your hand and leading you to your room. He pulls you down on your bed with him, pulling your body into his chest. He rubs your back comfortingly as you both talk to each other about y/p/n and how much they meant to you.

Alex comforts you, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings each time you get upset again. He lets you cry it out into his chest, giving you butterfly kisses as you slowly fall asleep together.

✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹ ✮₊⊹₊⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆₊ ⊹

[emojellyace08]

Lookism Random Headcannons (Because why not?)

Read the recent chapter recently and I am excited about the King of Soul's entrance (if ever)

Daniel watches anime since he thinks it's more entertaining than dramas. At some point he also wanted to become a manga artist but quickly gave up on it. His favorite is probably the classics (Naruto, One Piece, One Punch Man, DBZ, and he also likes the recent ones.)

Zack and Johan used to watch WWE matches together while Mira scolds them that they scream too loud when they're watching Royal Rumble lmao.

Undertaker was Johan's favorite WWE wrestler but thinking about it makes Johan embarrassed since he doesn't want to be seen as an edge lord or "emo or a goth" lol. Zack Lee's favorites are probably Edge, Brock Lesnar, and Randy Orton (idk I watch a little bit of WWE in my free time don't blame me).

Since Jay lived mostly alone in his apartment for who knows how long, he was thought by his butler to cook his own food since he doesn't really want to depend on them fully and make them exhausted. (Plus he's mostly bored, so why not cook and bake?) He almost burned his apartment once trying to fry an egg at first.

Hudson might not admit it but he also binges anime like Daniel. He believes that Makima sucks and the ones who defends her are simps (I mean she's a well written antagonist but her personality is a no).

Goo Kim = Cat Girl/ Cat Boy enthusiast (likes wearing low-budgeted cosplays A LOT for his own entertainment).

Goo Kim had stolen Gun's credit cards for his own shopping spree. Not once, not twice, but MANY TIMES.

Samuel might not admit it but he actually likes Jake and Big Deal. He just keeps denying it because of his ego issues.

Jerry had once owned a winter dwarf pet hamster. He properly took care for it for like 2 years and named her Bisky. But since hamsters have short lifespans, it died later on and he cried and didn't sleep well the following days since he missed her deeply. The shrine of it is still staying still on his backyard and he mostly replaces the flowers everyday or i he's not busy to pay tribute to her.

Daniel wanted to learn how to play the guitar or a ukulele but since his mom was struggling with their budget he cannot ask her to buy him one.

Jay can play drums (and teaches Daniel when having sleep overs!)

Mary can play bass and a little bit of guitar. And she secretly listens to rock, metal, and the alternative style of music since she doesn't want to be teased as emo by Vin the asshole lmao.

Avril Lavigne is the reason why Mary dyed her hair blonde you can't change my mind (not forcing you but listen to her music IT'S SO GOOD). She would like to have a friend (if not a girl friend not a girlfriend) who shares the same music taste with her to start a band.

Zack and Vin Jin used to bully kids on Roblox to boost their ego (Zack stopped because of his character development but probably Vin still does it lol).

Younger Kouji had once ate lots of candies and sweets to be "smart like L" from Death Note but almost got diabetes.

Gun and DG wears lip balms to keep their lips plump and smooth. DG had once teased Gun about being a model while Gun just smirks about it.

Mira SECRETLY LIKES Ayesha Erotica's music because of the edits on TikTok but since it's mostly explicit she's refraining to add her compositions on her Spotify playlists.

Since Vasco is mostly hardworking, there are times that he passes the exams (with the help of Jace and other Burn Knuckle members). But he just cannot push himself more to pass the Mathematics exams.

Eli had once tried to kiss Warren after their fight because of his innocence and curiosity before all the Hostel Drama. (I personally don't ship them but I just feel like it's something past Eli would do). They both cringe when they both remember it.

Doo Lee was once a Twitter influencer but because of his past dramas he was cancelled in social media.

Jibeom accidentally smashed Jihan's face when they were little when they are trying to imitate WWE stunts. Jichang was surprised to see his little brother's teeth getting cracked and falling off and he just didn't cried (it was Jibeom who shed tears because of guilt lol).

Crystal is a big fan of "vintage-core" or everything around the older eras because she believes that it doesn't only represents the beauty and evolution of human pop-culture but it also represents history. She always won on auctions to buy antique stuff and mostly donate it on museums to preserve it's structure while she kept some on her room. She almost got canceled by bidding on an authentic Marilyn Monroe's lipstick but she later on posted on Twitter that she donated it on a museum (which is not a fake news).

Gun doesn't eat too much fast-food products because he believes it's unhealthy and has chemicals to make the customers' crave for more (Goo teases him about this by dramatically eating an order of a large McDonald's French Fries in front of his annoyed face).

Ryuhei never kissed a woman in his life because of his nervousness. He secretly was weirded out by it so he lies that he had slept with many women to not be bullied by other people.

Vasco doesn't know how to properly wear a watch and a belt (ngl same I'm that stupid). He also doesn't know how to tie his shoe lace.

Jace prefers dark-chocolate rather than milk or white chocolate. Because he believes that since it has more cocoa content it can boost more of his energy and sharpen his mind and focus especially when taking his exams and quizzes.

Sally's favorite color was purple as she planned to dye her hair with her color of choice with a mix of indigo. But since she's afraid that it won't suit her, she changed her plans and went on to dye her hair with strawberry pink. She didn't expected it to look magnificent on her since Warren complimented her, so after that her favorite color was switched to baby or strawberry pink.

Mitsuki thinks that K-Pop music is cringe but she secretly has BTS, Twice, and Blackpink on her Spotify playlists. Ryuhei found out about this and she was pissed off up until this day lol.

Doo Lee once had a girlfriend who uses him for the money. She later on cheated with a new "handsome and charming" guy and when Doo found out he was FURIOUS. He later on was captured on camera beating the dude and when people found out he was canceled again on social media (pretty privileges never ends). He later on begged Daniel and Duke to make an apology video for him which looks so weird and scripted since Doo was pushing them. But luckily the drama heated down.

Magami Kenta's favorite vape flavors are watermelon, strawberry, and coffee.

Joy is very talented and skilled with nail art and she sells her products in a decent price even if it's REALLY DETAILED and well-crafted.

Sinu Han is a COMIC BOY FAN. Whether it's DC Comics, Marvel Comics, or even manga he's going to buy it. He later on posted on Twitter about how Gojo shouldn't have died since he relates to him so much (he was later on bullied by Samuel that he sounds like a weeb lmao).

[sk8termikey]

Chapter 8 of 21 Questions

better interface on wattpad

It was time for Matt and his brothers to film another car video. This would be entitled WE RATE YOUR PETS (very scary or cute) and although people could guess from the title what it would be about when the video would come out on a Friday, Matt started explaining the point of it:

“Well, actually a fan said ‘rate our dogs’ so Nick said ‘oh my god, let’s rate people’s pets’. And then he put on the Instagram story ‘rate all different types of pets’ so you guys sent your birds, your cats, your dogs, your lizards, your cows, your horses, your mice–”

“YOUR MOM!” Chris interrupted Matt as the latter let out a small laugh and covered his mouth when doing so while Nick widened his eyes in the backseat.

As Matt pulled out his phone to start looking through the pictures of animals they’ve been sent, Chris and Nick warned their viewers that they should not be hurt by whatever they could say about the pets they would rate.

“It’s just like a funny game, we actually love all animals”, Chris clarified in case people would start criticising them for being too harsh and honest during the video.

~~~

The triplets had started rating a couple of animals when the camera cut – funny enough – due to them talking about their new project coming soon:

“We’re interrupting today’s car video to plug Cut the Camera Podcast on all platforms”. Nick was indeed promoting what would be released in a few days as Matt added that a trailer giving a preview to their fans was already out since the beginning of the week.

~~~

After being brutally honest towards every dog that they saw, the mood changed in the car as Nick announced with a frown that the next dog they were about to rate had died recently.

“Rest in peace, Sam.”

The brothers let out an aww when looking at Sam’s picture as they found the dog adorable. Nick was still acting considerate of Sam the dead dog as he concluded:

“Well, I’m happy that Sam had owners that loved him”.

“Me too”, Matt agreed.

However, Chris decided to ruin the sweet moment:

“What if they neglected Sam–”

“No.” Nick immediately stopped Chris from saying more as he knew his youngest brother would just talk shit.

~~~

After rating a horse that they really badly judged, the triplets did a 180° when they came across a picture of a pug and a cat, which they were all enjoying. Although the three were ecstatic while looking at the photo, Matt was the most fascinated out of them as he took the phone to admire the two pets more closely.

“Oh. My. God”, Matt gasped at the picture. “Wow.”

The triplets kept admiring the picture and couldn’t stop smiling at how cute they thought the two animals were.

~~~

“Oh wow…” Matt started as he was frowning at the new picture he was about to show his brothers. “Look at Bernard, who names their pet Bernard?”

“Well, it’s your middle name so you don’t have any right to judge this poor animal Matt”, Nick retorted.

“That’s– that’s a Google search”, Chris immediately reacted as the cat looked weird to him. “Ain’t no way that’s her dog”.

The triplets all started laughing at Chris’s comment. Although the picture was a bit funny, it was still obvious that Bernard was a cat – his owners will probably feel outraged when they hear what has been said about their beloved pet, but then also over the moon that he appeared in car video, and finally amazed at the coincidence that Matt was the one to choose the photo amongst what might have been thousands of others.

“I mean, I thought that was a hamster so–” Nick nervously laughed as he and Chris were just weirded out by the pet.

“I think he’s a cute cat”, Matt said to try and hype up the pet. “It’s just the angles”.

~~~

After having rated a dozen of pets – a certain favouritism towards dogs was to be noticed, Chris chose to end the car video by asking his brothers which animal they would be. As Matt replied that he wanted to be an owl and Nick had no answer to give, Chris announced with a serious face that he would be a serpent as the camera went closer to his face. Then as this is how they usually ended their Friday videos, Matt brought the camera to his mouth and let out a small scream to conclude.

“No but”, Matt started as he turned to face his brothers after turning off the camera. “I wanna know who the fuck names their cat Bernard. Poor thing is not a middle-aged man.”

“Yeah like, did they do that because of you or is it just a coincidence?” Chris wondered.

“Honestly it sounds like a huge coincidence to me”, Nick tried to find the most reasonable explanation. “But in the very little possibility that they did it on purpose, they didn’t choose the best triplet. I think we can all agree that out of our three middle names, Owen would be the least worst for a pet.”

“Well thank you Antonio”, Chris turned to the backseat and gave a genuine smile to his brother. “Bernard, you can suck it.

Thank you for reading. Votes and comments are always appreciated if you like this story :) The story is co-written w @/little_grapejuice on wattpad

[webism]

WRBISMIIIIIII

it's me! Angel. I missed you, alot. But the recent days have been so busy i have also missed my husband. How have you been? I hope you missed me too. Here's a smooch (mwah) and head pats (we will fuck later relax)

-✨ angel <333

i miss YOU MORE BABY cant wait to fuck but smooches and head pats work for the meantime MWAYHHHH ive been alright im not in the writing flow atm the hamster on a wheel in my brain just combusted and died so im a little behind but oh well

HOW ARE YOU MY BEAUTIFUL ANGEL

[miradelletarot]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love 💕

Sorry this took *forever*, Anon. I think this summer my brain is the equivalent of scrambled eggs, and I'm sure the hamster running things has died from exhaustion. (sorry lil guy.)

Anyway, if you hadn't seen it, I already posted this here! I honestly haven't done much recently except for edit and repost Chapter Three of The Weave and the Vines, so if that's something that interests you you can check out the UPDATED chapters 1-3 here!

[istherewifiinhell]

bleh okay

I WILL SAY ALSO. losing my mind like. see no see. cause. i kinda. have the picture. of what the emotional arc is here. i for various reason of circumstance PREVIOUSLY in my life id never been their doing real end of life feelings. experiencing. pet deaths. i had some that died when i was. baby years old. (0-7????) but other than one hamster (:/) it was either run aways or just not in my life any more.

but then this CRAZY THING HAPPENED. of. my fucking cat dying. SIXTEEN DAYS AGOOOOOOO. so yes. so yes. im very sad about my dog dying. 2 days ago. yes i miss him. yes my house is weird and empty. yes i will have to get used to 1000 things about not having my dog anymore. agonies and agonies.

but i still eat. i still doing my interest things. i play games and watch videos. i might have to shift my weekly movie to monday again...... BUT LIKE. yeahyeah. i keep sitting down and entering the Dead Pet Dimension. and wallow. okayyyyy? its a process. that i. JUST FELT. i was on the upswing of. so yes. so yes. im in it. jesus.

honestly if anything i should just sit down and cry as apology to my sweet boy for being so pissed im not sad enough about losing him. but thats just the insanity talking and i dont believe it. so. whatever. i miss him. he didnt like hugs or pets or really much any of that shit. i dont get to do that again but he woulda just grumbled anyway. but i guess im also picturing him most recently. and he wasnt at his best.

[werebutch]

My sister is jealous of my animals I guess and she really wants ferrets. But dude she can’t even do the cat litter when I ask her to…and I RARELY ask her. I don’t see how she thinks she’s ready for her own animals. The last hamster she bought ended up being my responsibility and her more recent betta died in no time. She’s insane