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hischierjustscored · 12 hours ago

Text

accidentally yours.・゜・quinn hughes

summary: you barely remembered putting quinn as your emergency contact until he showed up like the universe's idea of a bad joke

a/n: this is my contribution for the winter fic exchange 2k25 by @wyattjohnston for @hanaaishi 🧡 i still owe you forever for being patient and bearing with me on this!! seriously i mean it!! thank you both for making me a part of another amazing exchange which was my first one ever but i'm so happy that i was!! it was such an experience for me diving into all this and hope i was able to do some justice on my part 🧡 i got too carried away smoothing the final edges, hence the delay again 🥺 i also changed the idea we talked about a little but i hope it's all good in the end 🧡

warnings: mentions of injuries (light concussion, ankle sprain), hospital, parents pressure, overthinking, scratchin on the surface???, and i trusted myself to do a reader insert so bear with me once more

word count: 5.5k

You remember when you were 8 and took your brother’s bike to try out his self-made wood ramps in the garden, only to fall 6ft from the side and drop straight onto your left hip. That day you found out that grass wasn’t nearly as cushy as it looked but it was your mother’s “told you so” you never forget, lingering in your ears from where you sat in the backseat on the way to the hospital.

You also remember your best friend Lia leaving you in charge of booking an Airbnb for your first trip to Austria together, and you were proud of that cozy little place you found nestled in a mountain valley. But the "cozy" and "European" charms you both imagined left you searching desperately for a hotel in the middle of the holiday season instead, and Lia didn't have to say the words. You could hear the "I told you so" for really trusting someone with the username wanderlustgirl98.

And you remember moving to Vancouver a year ago after your studies, taking up your former professor's advice to follow one of its renowned urban development programs and put your "big-picture" skills to work. He didn’t have to try hard to convince you. You’d already been thinking about it for a long time until it felt like your chance to finally prove yourself. Perhaps even more to your parents. A naive part in you hoped you'd fit into their expectations for once. But if you really did, you'd reach out more than just on birthdays and festivities, maybe even give in to that other more vulnerable part in you and tell them how over your head you've been lately or that, deep down, they were probably right about all of this being a huge leap you still weren't ready for.

And you can only imagine…

Told you so.

It long replaced the loud ringing and the whole new level of woozines you felt an hour ago on the bus, as you watched the nurse adjust the brace on your right ankle, all black and chunky.

You sighed heavily for the 5th time in under 2 minutes, because what did you do to deserve all this?

Oh right, maybe being a chronic people pleaser, staying late at work to set other people's shit right. Fixing last-minute deadlines, cleaning up mistakes that weren’t yours, saying yes when you wanted to say no.

But you couldn't help it.

"It shouldn't take more than 3-6 weeks to heal completly, your lucky it's just a moderate strain. Nothing that can't be fixed."

She looked up at you over the rim of her glasses, still perched hideously, before she slowly swiveled back to her desk.

"Can I still work in that thing?", you tried testing out the waters, bending your feet just a little, then more until you sucked in a sharp breath when the pain hit.

"Honey, what do you think this is?", she drawled follwed by a low chuckle as if she couldn't quiet believe this being your first question.

“It’s meant for the healing, you have to keep it still completely and not put any weight on it. And that includes not working."

The last straw keeping you grounded right now is that this could have been much worse.

From the moment the bus driver hit the brakes like in that one Harry Potter scene, your new plateau sneakers giving out on you and your head bracing the inevitable fall on some window. Your initial hope bubble of no one noticing quickly busted as people came to your side, but you brushed them off mumbling that you were fine through the worst cringe of unwanted attention. Until you tried to balance yourself, only to realize you couldn't, and straightening up nearly made you sick.

You shifted, bracing your palms against the mattress to find a more comfortable position, minus flaring your ankle up again. You’d been in this bed for too long, it was driving you crazy.

"But how am I supposed to do that? Other than floating maybe..."

The mocking arch of her brows made the wrinkles on her forehood stand out more, but you couldn't care less, it was the pure frustration blurting out of you at this point you weren't even kidding about the last part. The last thing you needed on your mind was your boss' face to your sick call tomorrow morning. Not with the mayor visiting your office in 2 days, waiting to hear your thoughts on improving Vancouver's climate neutrality through sustainable architecture. And what you’ve worked tirelessly on, perfecting every detail from start to finish.

And you thought if all of this is some sort of reverse karma. Only for being hardworking. Is that a thing?

You were so lost in thought that you didn't notice the shuffling in the room until she came back with something that, if any shred of humor was left inside you, you would've laughed at. But instead, you just slumped back against the headrest, the wave of déjà vu taking you back to when you were 8 looking between the crutches in her hand.

Hardworking karma, reverse karma, just trying as hard as you can karma...

"I think you will be good with these", she offered, leaning them against your bed within reach, "maybe if you try hard enough you will actually float."

Her chumy tone you still couldn't quite feel yet, had your eyes roll back in an instant before closing them, grumbling to yourself, "Just great, really, really, great", but it was a mistake once you did as you fought off the urge to drift off completly.

A piece of mind for the first time in hours. Maybe for the first time in forever even.

The last months have been...immense to say the least, throwing yourself into anything that kept you running on autopilot, saying yes when you wanted to say no, but you needed it.

After the biggest "told you so" that was bound to happen eventually. 2 months from now or more, or perhaps between his work, your work, balancing on a life that went past deadlines and demands, between 2 people who have their own reasons to prove themselves to everything around them, you slipped out of each other’s reach.

But it’s not like there was ever an official you two.

It was just the version of the story you always liked best.

“Here you go, I was able to find one in the random stash we keep in our break room, but it should work though," a voice light and sweet snapped your attention back faster or not fast enough, you didn't know, blinking against the lights now.

For a second, you felt like you were back on the bus with the dizziness and nausea creeping in again.

But no. Just him. It was just the thought of Quinn.

Your weighted gaze shifted to the bubbly blonde next to you, then down to your forearm where she lightly nudged a charger against it, and you suddenly remembered how determined she was to get it for you when you realized your phone powered down.

You couldn’t even text Lia back in time, knowing you were already too late for the rare occassions of missing your daily Facetime calls, with her still being back home in Seattle. Not in a trillion years you expected to feel this way about her, but right now you're glad she is.

Because if she she'd see you like this, she'd already know the answers without you giving it to her, that you take on more than your chronic people pleasing heart could handle sometimes.

And he'd always know too. When to snap you out of it, when to just exist beside you with no words. He'd never have to ask.

"Oh yeah, thank you", you forced out in the most put-together tone you could pull off right now, hoping our smile was convincing enough to distract her from the way your clammy palms were rubbing against the mattress, or the rapid thumping of your heart that you’d see too on your chest if you dared to look down again.

"Just enough to call a Uber and you can take it back."

She gave you a simple half-shrug, taking your phone from your outstretched hand, "It's stuff patients leave behind soo..", and plugged it in for you. But before you could brush her answer off again, the low calling of your last name made you snap to a tall man in the doorway, and his two long strides toward you could either mean more bad or good news.

You held your breath as you listened to him in silence going over your completly normal labs and scans which only told you everyone was making a bigger deal out of this anyway. You were fine, biting the inside of your cheeks reluctantly when he added they'd be filling out a sick report too.

"-though we would like to monitor you here for a night just in case you develop more symptoms that can’t be ruled out from the hit, and given that you already experienced dizziness and nausea-"

No person or force on this earth could make you stay here for one minute longer.

You released your cheeks with a click of your tongue, cutting him off quickly, "Uhhh that's not necessary, I mean I feel way better now and you just said it too didn't you?", which finally made him look up from whatever, clearly taken aback, his suprise mirrowing your own for a different reason.

Plus, you knew your rights. They couldn't keep you hostage here, you were ready to remind him of their own policy.

"I'm glad you do, we just want to make sure that-"

But you barely registered his next words, lost beneath the familiar sound of your phone finally wrapping up in your hands, and you were as happy as a little kid seconds away from unwrapping the biggest gift under the Christmas as tree, just, it didn't ask you to press your thumb down to unlock it as it normally would but...

"Damn it."

The one time your phone decides to ask for your SIM card code, and you’re completely blank.

Hardworking karma, reverse karma, just trying as hard as you can karma...

Yes, you really believed now, you did everything wrong tonight and this was the real karma of it all.

Your thumbs brushed the screen, trying to remember 4 digits like your life depended on it with the only 3 attempts you had.

The day you bought it you scribbled it down, along with the backup code (of course), and put it on your fridge because your memory rivaled that of a goldfish sometimes.

Was it 5678 or 5679?, and you heart dropped as deep as the Marianna Trench when it said only 1 attempt left.

"...and with how things are right now, we wouldn't encourage you to leave on your own. Do you have someone you can call right now to pick you up? Someone safe?"

Was he still talking to you?

"Huh? What?", the phone nearly slid from your grip, your palms starting to clam up again, and he lowered his clipboard studying you with an expression you weren't sure you had the energy to fully read, but it felt too damn close to pity.

"Or anyone we could call...?"

Quinn knew now that he could only trust Jack when it comes to discussing goodreads.com reader's favorites, ideas for lake house interior, and shooting pucks.

Not with anything close to dating. Or helping him out with that.

He was doing just fine. Thank you very much, but he knew Jack. Too much for his own good sometimes.

"Why do you act like you don't want it when you actually do. You need this. Get out of your head.

Sitting in this Italian restaurant that was a little too crowded for it being a secret "gem" as Jack said suggesting it to him, and he didn't even live here, listening to his date "soul-searching" trip to Bali was far from want and need.

He checked her Instagram highlights before, clicking on her profile Jack DM'd him. A friend of a friend. If overpriced veggie bowls and infinity pool thirst traps were anything soul-searching she's deluding both of them, and so was his thinking that maybe he should give this a shot. Getting out his head like Jack said with the season already hitting him with flashbacks he wanted to forget fot the sake of his sanity, and keeping away from anything that kept him running on autopilot.

"It just put everything into perspective", she said, her voice pulling him back just enough to realize he had no idea what she was talking about.

And he knew the moment he looked up from stirring the ice in his water with his straw for the past 5 minutes, there wouldn't be damn thing he'd remember about her either. She was beautiful, that much was obvious. The kind she knew and had probably been told her whole life, she didn't have to try too hard.

He preffered not trying at all. It was his favorite.

Probably ever since you took his drink at the coffee shop one day, the place too crowded for names to be called, just cups sliding across the counter and you didn't even look down at his name scribbled on the side in Sharpie when you slipped past him on the way out, not bothered to notice him eiter. The moment he should've said something, tap your shoulder, say anything when he just kept watching you move outside, tilting your head at street signs like they weren’t second nature yet, checking your phone every few seconds like you had somewhere important to be. Grabbing the wrong coffee without a second glance wasn’t his only hunch that you weren’t from here. Then, the sip. Too strong. Wholebean. Definitely not yours.

You turned back, ready to go back inside, but he already had yours in his hands on his way out to you when they started calling out names again, and no one responded to except for him.

A moment, A pause, your cold fingers brushing against his warm ones, or when you laughed at your mistake all crinkly around your eyes, perharps for the first time in a while that day, that should have been it, but wasn't, because between all of it you just became a part of his routine.

“…And then, on the third day, we did this sunrise meditation hike just me and a few people from the retreat, barefoot, totally disconnected, away from everything."

She kept going, oblivious to the way his focus had disconnected, his mind already elsewhere, lost in the memory of the last time he wanted to get away from everything, and the cushion underneath him slid akwardly when he shifted in his seat.

I wasn't about overpriced veggie bowls or infinity pools. But his favorite place in Michigan. Always.

And he wanted to take you there.

It had been a vague idea, one that had come up in the quiet moments in betweeen road trips and late-night talks at his place that were too deep and glances that lingered too long to mean anything less than what he had already convinced himself was true about you. The same feeling hit him when you gave him that slight curve of your lips, the one that always told him you had him figured out when when he told you about the days being slow and the nights nothing but still stars at the lake house.

"Hmm, that's not true stars are moving constantly, we just don't see it."

He laughed, quiet but warm,"Can you at least pretend to fall for it?" just to get stuck in his throat.

"It never is with you."

"What?"

"Pretending."

It never was with you either.

But it never became anything more than vague. Because there was always something else. Texts left on read for too long, you and your own world to keep up with just as much as he did with travel schedules that blurred weeks into months, not leaving room for things he didn't know how to hold onto. Or someone who didn't know either.

A low buzz from behind, easy to miss if it hadn’t lingered just long enough to jolt him back before he knows. He shifted again, and even though this was only ever one-sided, a genuine "Really sorry, I will turn it off" left his lips as he gawkly reached for his jacket over the backrest.

He hadn’t meant to look, a habit more than anything. But then his thumb hesitated mid-air, double-taking the number.

Unknown. Vancouver area code. Probably nothing. Probably something.

But always a red flag, especially for someone in his industry.

"Thought you were turning it off?", she mused, tipping her wine glasss to her lips, watching him over the rim and he forced a quick exhale, "Yeah, I-", but he didn't have a real answer with the buzzing still alive in his hand.

And he should've turned it off, ignore it, and sit through the night rest of the night pretending like he hadn't already made up his mind about this whole thing.

You need this.

But Jack was wrong.

He wasn't even sure what "this" was even supposed to be. Whatever, it never felt right since the start.

His phone buzzed again with the same caller, but now he thought about it being a perfect timing.

"I gotta take this...", he mumbled, barely shooting her a glance, and he swiped right before his mind could really caught up with it.

"Hello?"

A breath, a pause, nothing good he thinks already but he used it to press his index finger to his ear to drown out the noise, shifing again.

"Uhm, yeah, hello it's Vancouver General Hospital am I speaking to Quinn H?"

Well this was new.

"Depends, who is this?", ignoring the "H" making it sound like a witness protection program name. Not that he planned on correcting them. Or rather, a nurse as she introduced herself, surprisingly professional, enough to raise his interest and, slowly, his concerns too.

"Sir, we have your sister here, she was brought in with a mild concussion and a sprained ankle some hours ago. But don't worry, she is totally fine, she just needs someone to pick her up which is why we're calling."

His brows snapped together, head jerking back to the slightest bit like his brain needed an extra second to process.

"My what? Excuse me?"

Last time he checked it was Jack and Luke. Their parents would never screw them over like that, no way the would forget an entire human being for twenty-something years. Right? Not even back when they first sat him down to tell him he’d be a big brother, and his two-year-old self, without hesitation, decided he wanted a sister. But by the time Luke came, he was bound to live with brothers. He wouldn't change that for the world now.

So when the nurse repeated the words that his sister listed him as her emergency contact Quinn could only stare blankly ahead, "Yeah, I still think you've got the wrong number..."

She is wasting her time on a call when this girl was really waiting to be picked up, and he was just about to put it in terms she’d finally grasp, until-

You.

The noise around him, muffled laughter and the hum of conversation, the restless tapping of manicured nails against the table cloth across him, faded into nothing. And if with his thoughts already going from 0 to 100, this is his breaking point.

Your name.

He cleared his throat, but his voice came out strained, throat too dry, "Come again?"

Of all the names, hitting his ears after all these months but thought more of than he'd ever admit. The name he'd seen on his screen too many times, resisting the urge to check, to ask, to do something.

Everything dropped, turned over, a slow ache pressing against his ribs, too overwhelming and far too familiar.

But his body moved before his mind could catch up, momentum taking over. Someone said his name. Maybe, he couldn't care less. Something about a drink next, about sitting back down, but he ignored it again.

Because you were still ringing in his head, louder than it had in months.

And he wasn’t about to ignore it now.

"He said he's already on his way, shouldn't take longer than 10 minutes"

It made your brows furrow in confusion, "He's in the area?", but you said it more to yourself than to her, not that she heard it either in the crowded waiting room you were sitting in now, your ankle on a cushioned chair they'd given you.

Turns out you had listed an emergency contact the last time you were here, one you didn’t even remember leaving behind. Apparently, hospital policy included holding onto records long enough to make you wait nearly an hour, because the name they had on file was your brother. And, of course, he was on a business trip in Abbotsford, 1 hour away. The only reasonable choice to put down when they’d asked back then. Then again, you barely remembered.

Except for the fact that it was your first public unveiling of a project you led. You had invited your parents, that small, hopeful part of you giving in, calling them, telling them you’d be happy if they came. You were almost surprised by their promising tone, as if, finally, they’d understand this wasn’t just about concepts and sketches but about your dream.

But they didn’t come, texting out of everything, with an excuse that felt too made up. And hours ago, when your stomach had already sunk from scanning the crowd for them every time a new group arrived, it sank further. This time with the mix of one bad shrimp and something stronger you’d used to numb the disappointment.

How could you forget when you really really wanted to.

"Is you brother like...famous or something, because your records were pretty mysterious."

You looked up to the same bubbly blonde nurse, still standing in front of you with her lips pressed together,

"I think we're close enough he'd care to tell me or I would've found out sooner or later, but no, sorry to dissapoint you or anything", you corrected, hoping that was enough while you were already done processing the absurdity of it all. You slumped against the rigid backrest, sighinh as the exhaustion crept in again, but rest was the last thing anyone was willing to grant you right now.

“Your record,” she rambled on, not getting the memo, "it was… kinda mysterious.”

One eye popped open, then another when you saw her crossing her arms now. This conversation slowly glided out of your hands, you just leaned forward, jerking your head to the side, silently urging her to make sense of whatever this was.

"Your record just said Quinn H. and nothing more. I had to call him Mr. H. the whole time, but I figured he prefers this kind of privacy and that's what you want for him too. He didn't tell me his last name though, so like I said, all mysterious."

Your fingers now hoved near the cushioned stool, reaching for your calf to lift it off with more force than you should've and the sting was instant. But it was nothing compared to the irritation climbing its way up your throat where your heart already pounded in it.

Because not your brother was about to walk through that door. The person who should've been here.

No.

It will be Quinn Hughes.

And suddenly you were mid-fall again, right there on the bus, every last bit of control slipping past your grip. Nothing you could do.

Because drunk you put him down as your emergency contact that time. The one you barely remember.

"Wait, no", a breath left you, unsteady, "Call him again and tell him it's a big fucking mistake", your hands twitched in flight mode as you darted between her and the sliding doors open-mouthed, cause you remembered her saying he was only 10 minutes away. 5 even, if you're unlucky.

The same Quinn you stopped talking too, who if you looked into his eyes again, the same on that always made you wonder, if they could get any darker, any greener, would he notice?

That you mever meant for things to be this way? That it wasn't him, not really but your own mind, the way this new life kept pulling at you, and how you wanted to reach out when things calmed down. When you had space. When you could be the version of yourself that he deserved.

Maybe he was waiting for you. Maybe he thought you didn't care. It was only fair, but it didn't loosen the knot in your chest, nor how you blinked away the sting in your eyes that you told yourself was from the stuffy air with too many people breathing in here.

Because you did. You always did.

"Hey sis."

And in that instant, it felt like all the oxygen had been sucked from the room, how else could you explain the way your lungs refused to function, as if they’d forgotten how, when you snapped your head to where he stood now inches away. How long?

His navy blue shirt was barely visible under his coat, his hair grown out just enough for the ends to curl, for it to peek out from the beanie he held in his hand, looking too good even with his hair tousled still like he'd always did asking you if he looks okay, what you could see him doing in whatever thing you interruped him in before he got here,

It pressed in too heavy, you had to cut through it.

"Why are you here?"

"What happ-"

You barely felt the ache in your ankle over the blood rushing in your ears when you shifted your weight standing now, his gaze dropping to the crutches you stood up without, your brace, the subtle wince you thought you hid. And it was fucking with your heart that he wasn't just looking at you, but like he was piecing something back together.

He parted his lips, but his eyes flicked past yours first, toward the nurse behind you, when his fingers around his beanie, "You were brought in here", he hesistated, "Needed someone to pick you up."

That was the objective, something everyone would've done perhaps if they received such call, being a good or person, or the simple fact that he was your emergency contact.

You needed the subjective.

You huffed, shaking your head, "This is not what I meant. You could have said no."

"I didn't."

"You should have."

The words sounded sharper on your tongue than you wanted them to be, and you didn't know what hurt more, the way his expression barely shifted like he'd expected to be shut down again, because you were getting so good at it, or how your insides churned 360 degrees of how much you already regretted them.

"What do you want me to say? You're the one who put my name down I didn't even knew until now or let you bolt out of here with an concussion like they told me?"

Bolted. Floated. Whatever to get out of here finally.

"Well, neither was I, and I'm fine", you muttered fixing you gaze on the sterile floor instead, on anything but the way how he was fixing you, "but let's just drop it to the part where you go back to whatever you had going on before coming here I guess and me saying sorry for it."

The bittersweet taste in your mouth.

Only when the dull ache flared up in your good ankle did you realize you’d been standing without your crutches all this time. and before you even thought to reach for your crutches, he was already moving. Anticipating. The moment your balance gave out on you, he was already there, steady hands at your elbow and bicep, grounding you before gravity could do worse, and your pulse skipped how easy it was to sink into it.

His breath hitched, and so did yours, the warmth of his touch pooling through your fabric like you swallowed an ember, and his eyes, god his eyes, the darkest green, you don't even have to look up to be convinced about it again, all on you, as he murmured, barely a whisper.

"Don't be sorry, because it didn't mean anything."

Sitting in his car with the seat warmer already on like he remembered how easily cold you can get, watching as he pulled up your adress from his "saved", it fucked with your heart all over again.

You should have protested, insisting you were fine enough to make it out on your own, scoffing when the nurse told Quinn, not you, that you needed monitoring, just in case.

But exhaustion had already settled too deep in your bones, that you were almost thankful for the silence settling between you since he helped walking you out and insisted to drive you home at least.

Almost.

You would’ve been the biggest fool alive if you let this slip again, like you always did, like you always regretted.

"I am sorry though."

"And I told you not to be."

The darkness in his eyes gave way to the streetlights flickering through them as you turned to face him, "You don’t get to tell me what I should and shouldn’t be sorry for, Hughes", you jested and Quinn huffed out something close to a laugh, shaking his head lightly. The soft glow from outside looked too good on him when you stopped at a right light, you swallowed hard, "What kind of brother would I be too?"

You groaned, rolling your eyes. "Oh my god, stop. I didn’t even mean to put you down as my contact."

"Keep it, I don't mind."

"You say that like you wouldn’t have blocked my number by now if you had the chance."

Quinn smirked, tilting his head against the headrest, his eyes flickering toward you. "Would’ve done it already if I wanted to."

Then, before either of you could think too much about it, his hand reached out, his pinky brushing against yours on the center console, like testing the waters, like answering more questions without words. It was enough.

He squeezed your hand once.

You squeezed back. An answer.

#quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #nhl fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine

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letsstaytuned · 3 days ago

Note

"I sometimes believe you must see us all as children with how young we are compared to you," Alastor commented as he leaned over slightly to look over the edge of the boat.

How could he not? Lucifer was talking about the very building and shaping of Hell which was more than multiple lifetimes that Alastor had lived even if one included his afterlife.

As for his question on creation or destruction, Alastor was fairly certain he would do both but he was going to leave out the destruction part of his answer to Lucifer.

"I would create, of course. I'm an entertainer and a musician. I already create—," he paused suddenly, leaning over more. "WHAT is that???"

There was a large shadow under the water next to their boat that was rising towards the surface. The closer the object rose up, it became obvious what it was— a Hell whale and one of the largest of its kind.

The whale breeched the surface just barely and set off a spout before dipping back under the surface. The water sped to the sky and Alastor leaned back away from the edge and moved back towards Lucifer. The water came back down, spraying them along with the boat.

Lucifer threw Alastor a wink, "You know, there was a time you probably would have ripped your own tongue out then call me 'cute'. My how things have changed!" His sites return to the ocean. Everything so far seems calm, but he knows the further out they go the less likely that will be.

"These oceans was nothing more than a lake until Lilith and I shaped it to what it is today. Gosh you would be surprised what hell looked like back then. It wasn't much of anything but brimstone and darkness. Hellborn were very primitive until Lilith's call gave them the drive they needed to create for themselves and to think coherently...." Lucifer hadn't thought about this in a long time.

"Besides her, you are the second sinner to leave Pride." He mused. "I wonder what you'd do if I cut you loose. Would you create or would you destroy, hm Bambi?" Lucifer feels he already knows the answer. It's in his nature as a sinner to destroy but he likes to think Alastor is a bit different. There's something going on in that fluffy head of his. A plan perhaps. Who knows.

#tagging for radioapple #xthedevilscircusx

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cityof2morrow · 2 days ago

Text

TSM-to-TS2: Medieval Traits (Completers)

Published: 1-9-2025 (via Discord) | Updated: 2-3-2025 SUMMARY Here are 32 traits (inventory objects – “tokens”) taken from Sims Medieval (EA/Maxis/Sims Studio, 2011). They use their original icons and descriptions. There are over 60 traits in the game originally, but many have already been made/converted by Cedanyblee (2020), Laura & Mortia (2020A, 2020B, 2020C), Sun & Moon Star Factory (2021-2022; 2023), Fire Flower (2021), and others. Custom historical-fantasy traits are included in the new collection file for convenience. This set only includes traits which have NOT been made already. Documents with links to the other traits are available for download below. DETAILS Requires all EPs/SPs. §0 | Buy > Misc > Misc At the time of this post, these are for storytelling/completion purposes only. These are TOKENS ONLY – they do not alter sims/gameplay on their own. If/when they are incorporated in mods, their custom function(s) will depend on the mods in question. If you use the Medieval Caste traits by Cedanyblee (2020), you’ll see some of the same icons used. Note that CC caste traits have a BLUE background and these medieval traits have a brownish background. Traits from Sun & Moon have a darker brown background. The collection file is REQUIRED to access completer traits in-game.

MEDIEVAL TRAITS (full list)

DOWNLOAD (choose one) MEDIEVAL COMPLETER TRAITS from SFS | from MEGA LIST OF TRAITS & GUIDs from SFS | from MEGA This list includes custom historical-fantasy traits as well! REQUIRED: COLLECTION FILE from SFS | from MEGA This file includes 3t2, 4t2, historical/medieval, fantasy, color, music, hobby, and other CC traits for Sims 2 (and some randomizers). Only visible trait tokens are included, and this file should REPLACE the original “Traits_Collection” file. CREDITS Thanks: Sims2/Simming communities. Sources: Cedanyblee (2020), Laura & Mortia (2020A, 2020B, 2020C), Sun & Moon Star Factory (2021-2022; 2023), Fire Flower (2021), Beyno (Korn via BBFonts), EA/Maxis, Offuturistic Infographic (Freepik), Hexagonal-Bipyramid (2018); Missmck via thesimsmedieval.fandom.com.

#ts2downloads #sims2cc #ts2cc #co2traits #co2simology

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lieutenantfloyd · 2 days ago

Note

Do you know the trend where if you have a significant other in the military you say they can’t come into your house but amendment 2 or 3 which say “ no quartering of soldiers without consent”

That with cyclone or Bob

All Shook Up - Bob x Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Summary: After seeing a trend where military spouses tell their loved ones they aren't allowed inside under the 3rd Amendment, you decide to play a prank on your sweet, returning husband Bob—that is until you get the words out, and he reacts in the only way Bob knows how.

Warnings: fluff, domesticity, husband! Bob, very mild accidental hurt/comfort.

Authors Note: This idea is so funny to me! I'm already working on Beau's version, and I'll definitely be posting that soon.

Read on AO3

The sun had just begun setting when you put your plan into motion. Grinning to yourself as you set dinner to cook in the oven, you check out the kitchen window for any sign of Bob's car. Your husband had been away on a training exercise all week and had just called you thirty minutes ago stating he was close to home.

Minutes later as you spare the driveway another glance, you see Bob climb out of his car, duffle bag slung over his shoulder. You couldn't mask your almost childish excitement as you left the kitchen and trod over to the door. Even after the years you'd been together you never got over just how handsome he was. But today you had other things in mind.

You hear the soft thud of his boots on the porch followed by the jingle of his keys before the door opens.

"Honey I'm home," Bob calls out just as you appear.

His brow furrows when you don't answer, instead just standing and watching him without an ounce of your expected warmth.

"Honey?" He tries again, "Is everything all right?"

You let another long second pass, his brows furrowing, before you answer.

"Oh, yeah," you say casually, "you just can't stay here."

Bob's eyes instantly widen behind his glasses. His gentle gaze fills with a look that is somewhere between confusion and heartbreak.

"I..What?" He questions.

You clear your throat, initial plan shattering but doing your best to follow through with your prank in light of his expression, knowing it'll be easier to explain in the end when you're both—hopefully—laughing.

"It is my right as an American citizen to exercise whatever rights I have the liberty of holding--including the third amendment of the United States Constitution, no quartering of soldiers and related military personnel without consent," You say, still standing in the entryway opposite Bob and the half open door.

Bob blinks, expression leaning more towards the confused end of things. For a second it looks like he's about to say something, only to remain silent. He glances at his hand still holding the doorknob, then over his shoulder outside before slowly— slowly —backing out and closing the door all without a word.

You let the silence hang for a second before you yourself grow confused. You had expected him to laugh or maybe fight back, or...really anything except actually leave . Yet as you're left standing there, your first instinct is to chase after him.

Crossing the distance and pulling the door open, you see him about to get back in his car.

"Bob!" you call out, earning a hurtfully hopeful glance back over his shoulder from the man, "I'm just messing with you!" you continue.

Bob's gaze drops and a brief flash of regret goes through you. He looks genuinely bewildered, as if he's going back through and cataloging months and years' worth of interactions to figure out where all this was coming from.

With a sigh you close the door behind you and step off the porch, padding softly down the steps until you're close enough to wrap your arm around the waist of your hopelessly sweet husband.

"I promise, It's just a prank, Bob," you reassure his worrying mind, "I thought it'd be funny, not that you'd just…”

You trail off, gesturing vaguely at everything as a brief flash of knowing crosses his eyes.

"Oh," he says after a long pause, brows still furrowed but tone far less tense, "I was so confused."

He returns your embrace, setting his bag on the ground and slinging an arm gently around you.

"I thought maybe something happened I didn't know about."

You can’t help but let out a soft laugh as you look up at him.

"You thought I'd kick you out over something you didn't even know?” You ask incredulously.

"Maybe If I forgot an anniversary or didn't text you goodnight–" He stammers, raising his free hand to rub the back of his neck, "I don't know what you think is worthy of invoking the constitution over, but it felt serious."

By now a soft blush has risen onto his cheeks and you can't help but place a kiss there, his flushed skin warmed under your gentle touch.

"You are too sweet for your own good, honey," you muse with a laugh, "You thought this was it? Really?"

"Well, I...It sounded serious!" He defends again with a bashful smile.

You can't help but laugh again, looking up at him in near warm-hearted wonder.

"You're always welcome to quarter here, or anywhere else I stay, for that matter."

Bob lets out a breath of relief, whatever tension was still held in his body leaving as your words provide the last bit of reassurance he needs.

"I...really didn't want to sleep in the car.”

You pat his back with a laugh and guide him up the steps and back inside before closing the door behind you both.

"Welcome home honey," you try again, a hint of joking still in your tone, "A place you'll always have a bed."

"Good to know," he chuckles softly, "Please, don't scare me like that again."

"I promise," You smile, pulling him in for a proper kiss this time, "I'll make it up to you."

"Yes please," he sighs, only to be distracted by the smell of roasting chicken coming from the kitchen.

"You...made dinner?" He asks gently, always so surprised by the little things even when they're a part of your daily routine.

"Of course I did. Can't have you going hungry, now, can we?"

Bob blinks then nods faintly in agreement.

"Good, go get changed while I finish up down here."

At that Bob practically melts in your arms like he does every time he comes home, never more relaxed than he is in your presence—even if it's your attempt at a prank that shakes him up to begin with.

Taglist: @rosiahills22 @marchingicenotes7 @bayisdying @princessofglitterland @callsignaries @blue-aconite @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @shakira-sasha @eliseline @xoxabs88xox @lisedanie @alexxavicry @madamemelancholysstuff @dozcan123 @withakindheartx @teti-menchon0604 @sass-masterkittenmama @kmc1989

#bob floyd #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #bob x reader #top gun x reader #bob imagine #top gun imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick x reader #top gun fanfic #top gun maverick fanfiction #tgm x reader #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic

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accio-victuuri · 2 days ago

Text

i already posted about hui-ge before but the lore behind this person and the fansite is coming up again. more recently, because something xz said in the wuhan loch roadshow is very close to the words they used for an edited photo of wyb. this site has been long closed and inactive and i guess it was for the better considering fans were being too all up in their business. and if it’s true that they are somehow an insider, then it’s best to stop at some point.

i found this post of some more explanations on why hui-ge is known in the fandom & why we think he is in the inner circle. 🫶🏼

1. The website was launched before the 2019 Thailand concert and declared that it was not profitable. Not authorized, a non-profit site. which is kinda weird for a fansite, cause they also don’t sell photobooks or other merch. which may be this person’s own decision — but some see this as a possible hint at why they are doing it. it was a secret way to share things to fans. and knowing how this fandom works, especially with lrlg and other fakes, it’s not far fetched. plus the boys are known to have side accounts.

2. The night before the Thailand meeting, all the fans who went to Thailand were waiting for two people at the airport, he was the only one who posted on Weibo that night saying "No need to wait until tomorrow, "See you", and they really arrived the next morning. 👀

3. The later activities are basically shot from the inside, and there are no pictures from similar perspectives on other fan sites — or even official ones.

P1: 2019 Nanjing Meetup Audience entrance front desk view.

P2: 2019 XZ Milan Fashion Week Inside View

P3: 2019 Starlight Awards front view from the audience. The back view is opposite to the audience view that night.

P4: 2019 New Year's Eve Rehearsal Perspective

P5: 2020 The Untamed 1st Anniversary, this video is basically from the crew. Shooting angle of view. Aerial photography by drone. Close-up of crew props.

P6: Weibo Night 2021 Backstage Perspective: Double Award Preview

P7: 2021 ADLAD Backstage View

So basically, these photos can only be taken by someone who is very close. Especially the backstage ones.

4. Multiple advance notices, including but not limited to event previews notice, the owner’s itinerary, and the owner’s Weibo.

P1: the first one who clearly announced that they will be at the Double 11 night show in 2019.

P2: 2020 Preview that XZ will not participate in any platform double Eleventh Party

P3: 2020 New Year's Eve Preview

this is the more interesting one tho that made cpfs really believe his credibility. First snow in Beijing in 2019 they posted p1 and 10 minutes after this Weibo post, XZ also posted a Weibo post about the first snow. on that day, WYB inexplicably posted a message of "Happy New Year" and deleted it immediately.

BONUS: i also remember him saying in a message to fans that the “clinic is open” days before OOL was announced. there was also a possible clue regarding the cat and shiba inu cake when he celebrated his bday on set of OOL that year.

5. After Weibo started to display IP addresses, only three Weibo posts were posted, and all the IP addresses are in Beijing, and then he retired.

The coincidences also don’t stop here, fans are also seeing some similarity in his captions with the boys’ recent music. especially XZ’s.

we will never know the identity of who this person is but we gotta admit that all the coincidences are too much. how many times does it have to happen for it to be real?

oh hui-ge, you are definitely missed! 🙏🏼

-END.

#yizhan #bjyx #there is no science here i’m just clowning like i always do #i have some more hui ge related posts and mentions on here at some point lol #you just gotta search #but anyway this has always been v interesting

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hungry-eel · 3 days ago

Text

After one year Update

warning contains spoilers

So it really has been some time Since I have made this post. It is probably one of my favorite posts that I have made as well as one of my more well known. As of currently it has now been more than a year since I made this post, and one of the few things that hasn't chanced is my love for Cassius, if anything, it has only strengthened since the post!

Not long after creating the post, I figured out how you could play Granblue Fantasy, and since I began to play more, I wanted to do what I could to not only get Cassius but also discover more about his story and lore which made me love him even more than I already did.

I might as well use this opportunity to take some time, and tell more about what I found out about Cassius' lore, and his lead up to becoming the glutton he is currently. To make things both easier for me and to help fit this post, I will only primarily be going into the most detail in moments where food or eating is involved, if you ever wanted to know more about his character, I can show you where to access the stories.

Lore summary:

So the first story that Cassius debuted in was in Second advent from the society storyline. Though the event story itself doesn't feature that much if any moments with him and food, it does set up more of his background and who he was before becoming a glutton. Cassius was an agent for the moon, which are antagonists for the society story, and was originally sent down to retrieve data for the moon. By the end, with of a combination of his cover found (he doesn't do that great of a job being undercover) and injuries that he had sustained, he had to stay in the sky world. Cassius also thinks about logic over everything else, and everything including his diet, decisions, and battle plans are based on if they are logical or not, and is likely not likely to do the action if deemed illogical

Cassius' SR fate episode is the first moment we really get to see Cassius having food, and what is essentially his introduction to it. The first part involves Beatrix, one of the society members and Cassius' biggest enabler, offering him a loaf of bread to eat after he had expressed that he was hungry. During such she also slathered jam of multiple different kinds across the bread so now it is is one big jelly sandwich. Cassius is reluctant but accepts the bread, and he ate it all with pleasure.

The second part involves Cassius trying ramen for the very first time. He is very skeptical at first, given that it is much more unhealthy than the lowest ranked meals on the moon, yet something keeps drawing him to have more, and keeps returning to the restaurant daily for more ramen, and establishing his ramen addiction.

The next event he would be featured in would actually be a summer event called Cappa Summer Chronicle. Though this event is much more of a filler event, it does feature Cassius trying and eating a large variety of different foods such as rice balls, to candy apples, and Sushi. Trying different kinds of foods, and going to the various food stalls are one of the things he is most excited to do as well.

The next event story he would be featured in is in Spaghetti Syndrome where the main plot involves the moon now wanting Cassius to return, so in order to do that a bounty is set up on him. Like with the previous event, there isn't too much moments where Cassius is eating, but there is a scene where Cassius and Eustace go out to lunch together in which they get omurice, and then afterwards proceeds to overanalyze its taste. There was also a heartwarming, yet funny moment where Cassius did eventually had to go back to the moon and on the trip there, and during that time, he would have flashback memories to the times he was with his friends, and over half of the instances were quite literally food related such as his first time trying jam filled bread, or characters inviting him to look at food stalls.

The next event Home sweet moon, is the main climax of his story where now that he is taken away to the moon, his own people are dissecting his brain and memories, that way they can use his skills and experience on other weapons. Beatrix makes a remark saying that once Cassius returns to the sky realm, states that once he touches the ground the first thing he is going to do is find something to eat, and that statement was also proven true where once he is finally rescued and returned to the sky realms, he wants to eat immediately after someone mentions the word restaurant. He wanted to eat spaghetti in particular as it reminds him as it reminded him of his brain (note he is really bad at jokes).

Post Home sweet Moon:

So after home sweet moon this is where we see more of Cassius settled into his skin, meaning he become much more of a glutton and food addict than he already is. Most I will be mentioning is ether events that have him involved or fate episodes with the exception of Ramen travels given that I already gave a summary of that in my original post.

SSR Fate Episode - This story is honestly really sweet and enduring and is probably a really good epilogue to conclude Cassius' current arc. He invites Lyria, Vyrn, and the MC to go out on a walk with him, and together they would go out and get some of the first he had tried upon arriving to the sky world, Jam filled bread and Ramen. By the end he says that he doesn't really have a logical reason for inviting his friends out for the day, and is also aware that the things that he is eating is unhealthy for him, but is doing these things because he wants to. He finds peace in himself finally being capable in having his own autonomy and decision making outside of his previously set beliefs.

SSR Valentines fate episode - so this one is one of the few Cassius stories that I haven’t read through to its fullest since I don’t have his valentines unit yet. However, from what I can remember Cassius is introduced to the concept of Valentine’s Day chocolate, and tests out why that is the case by making chocolate himself with some children at an orphanage. Also knowing Cassius, he also practically eats most of the chocolate while making it.

Sandalphons Valentine fate episode - Likes with Cassius’ valentine episode, I haven’t fully seen this one in game, but Cassius is heavily featured in sandalphons valentine story as well. In the case with this one, sandalphon learns how to brew various amounts of coffee, while Cassius consumes them with pleasure.

Also quick update but Christmas treated me well because just as I was writing this, a new years event has released called Rowdy Ramen Rumble that features both the return of Cassius, but has him gain weight again! The story is also much shorter than the other ones, but to give a quick summary, Cassius is "kidnapped" by a group of gourmets and essentially force feed Cassius ramen so he can be a taste tester for creating the best ramen. once his friends come and rescue him he eventually changes his mind and help the people who caught him which kind of ramen is the best one.

Conclusion:

Never in my lifetime would I ever expect to be this dedicated to a character to this extent! He’s an incredibly fun and complex character to go through and being that he is both a glutton and has canonical weight gains is the icing on top!

There still many other small stuff that I wish I could share but it would only make this post much longer than it already is. Besides, I highly doubt that this will be the last post I ever share of him.

Either way, thank you so much for your interest and dedication to this post. It always makes me happy that I am able to bring interest to a character that is otherwise very unknown, even within this community!

"The biggest gacha game glutton doesn't exi-"

I am still very new when it comes to granblue fantasy, and as of right now I do not know all that much about the series, and I still won't know that much given that its a pretty old game that I can't access, and haven't head of any recent updates as far as I know. So because of that among other things, I hadn't really known about Cassius or his event story. (Correction: the game is still active and getting updates, just not as much on Cassius)

It wasn't until I was scrolling through some tumblr blogs (which @askbloatedbellyblog thanks for sharing the post that sent me down a spiral) and once I discovered about Cassius and his event story I was hooked! Not only is it one of the only visual novel/gacha games that I have seen so far that actually has visuals of the actual weight gain itself, but its also not done as a one time gag either and we get prolonged scenes of Cassius' overweight state. The story itself is also so good in my opinion! Although the actual content itself my not cater to everyone and their desires, for me, I think the story is one of the best!! It fulfills all of my stuffing fantasies and desires, watching him endlessly devour and gorge on everything that is around him, and finding enjoyment in doing such as well!

No joke, I was so invested in this character and his event story that for a good portion of time that was all I could think about! I wouldn't be surprised if this becomes a bit of a mini hyperfixation for me.

To know more about my research on Cassius himself and his gluttonous pursuits, he is fairly new to the setting as he came from another world, and is leaning to discover both this new world, and how everything works. Along with such he applies ration and logic to everything with very little emotions, isn't surprised by much, thinks very literal mindedly, and comes across as childish and naïve.

His other most notable feature is his HUMONGOUS apatite, and how he is able to eat much more than the average person. He has a very high metabolism so he is able to eat in mass quantities without risking his heath or gaining weight. However, during the Ramen Travels event, he manages to eat so much and in such crazy amounts that not even his metabolism could keep up with him, leading to his eventual weight gain.

Although his original purpose was to try out various ramen noodles, his pursuits evolve into eating everything that he can as much as he can. To give a bit of a perspective how much he actually eats during this event, he hits up multiple desert stalls, wins a food eating contest, tries various kinds of ramen, eats entire menus in restaurants including the main courses, drinks, and deserts, eats whole dishes made to serve a family of six in one sitting, and repeats that behavior consistently every day for weeks on end.

Another part of his endless gluttony is also how Cassius also took the term "There is always room for desert" too literally and came to the belief that no matter how much he eats, there will never be enough food for him to eat, and that there will always be room in his stomach to eat and try more foods.

When it came to his eventual weight gain, although the people around him are concerned about his overall heath encouraging him to lose the weight, Cassius himself doesn't mind the weight gain at all and if anything he actually enjoys it, believing that the feeling itself is satisfying, and that the more weight he puts on the more room he will have for food.

This is a man where if he is not calculating and questioning the things around him, the only other thing that is on his mind is food, and although it may make him seem one note, I find this aspect of him to be a really charming trait of him, especially these are traits that he fully embraces, and not even afraid of gaining weight, which is an unusual trait in other foodie characters.

It honestly saddens me to discover that Cassius barely gets any recognition in general, especially compared to the other characters that I enjoy, and now because he hasn't had that much new content in a long while, he has only barely had any new posts and content made on him in years, so I thought if there was anyone who could bring this wonderful character back in the spotlight, even for just a brief moment, I might as well do so.

Last thing, but if your ever wanting to read the full story for yourself, here is the link to the video down below. Know that the video is incredibly long, but is absolutely worth the watch!

youtube

#hungry boi #foodie #hungry boy #glutton #big eater #stu//ing #cassius gbf #granblue fantasy #update post

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milkoomi · 1 day ago

Text

a guide on becoming an academic weapon. ᥫ᭡

being an academic weapon is one of the top goals for a lot of us. we strive for excellence and hope to achieve top marks in all our classes so that we can continue to reach whatever it is that may be our final goal like getting into a top university, graduating as valedictorian, or getting into the career of our dreams. this guide will be about all the habits of an academic weapon and what tools & methods you can incorporate into your study/school routine!

let’s begin …

୨ৎ — lecture preperation

pre-reading chapters/lecture powerpoints

skim through chapters, make note of important headings, highlight key terms! if you can, look through any powerpoints that will be used for lecture notes as well!

jot down quick notes like vocab terms, key pieces of information, and/or any questions on topics you want to understand further!

read chapter summaries & highlight important headings

set up your notes

if you like to use different note-taking methods, try setting up your pages beforehand! this will take up less time while in class and you’ll come in already prepared to take any notes!

i have a post on note-taking here on my blog that you can refer to for a few different note-taking methods!

begin homework assignments

my professor will publish homework assignments on sunday mornings for each week that we’re learning new material, so if your teacher does something similar or you’re taking an all-online course, start by working ahead on those homework assignments!

getting a head start can …

help with having a better understanding of the material by the time of your lecture

help you apply the knowledge you learned from the assignments into your lecture

help you come up with questions for better comprehension of the topics

help you manage your time better

reduce your work load later on

start creating flashcards

if you’re required to know key terms/vocab, start creating flashcards ahead of time! this will help you get familiar with the vocabulary that’s related to the material and will jumpstart that increase in understanding of what’s to come in your lecture or any required readings!

୨ৎ — smart studying

we’re always told to “work smarter, not harder” and i believe that doing so can help you achieve success more quickly and efficiently! while it’s great to dedicate a lot of time to your studies, it’s not always optimal. spending hours upon hours working with no breaks in between and forgetting to take care of yourself can lead to burn out, so it’s important to find ways to study that not only help you study more efficiently but also work with your learning type!

trial periods

there are a plethora of study methods out there that you can try out to see which ones work the best for you!

posts with study methods ( + how-to’s ) …

how to study effectively - @milkoomi

non-basic study techniques - @glowettee [ this post is PHENOMENAL! mindy includes so many unique study methods— some that she created herself! — that give an entirely new way to study & learn material! 100/10 recommend reading through this! ]

take some time each week to try out a new study method while still incorporating techniques you’re used to! pick one study method for the week & test it out at the start of your study time slot.

trying out new methods/techniques also help with keeping your study routine fresh and it creates a bigger study arsenal for yourself! having multiple ways of studying just means having a variety of ways to learn the material! every method has its benefits, some will help with memorization while others can help with better comprehension!

pick your big 3

amongst all the different study methods out there, you should pick your top 3 techniques that help you the most! they’ll be your ultimate go-to study methods!

factors to think about for your big 3 …

how much time does the method/technique take?

what is your success rate with the method/technique?

how easy was it for you to incorporate the method/technique into your study routine?

your big 3 study methods should help with maximizing your productivity time, help you achieve your desired grades, & be within your limits while studying, meaning it shouldn’t make you feel like you’re stretching yourself thin because, again, we need to study smarter, not harder!

my personal big 3:

Feynman Technique - teaching others

active recall - practice questions & flashcards

knowledge application - making real life connections

textbook tests

i feel like a lot of us view textbooks as these giant, daunting bricks we’re forced to lug around, but they’re required material for a reason! they’re more than just a giant book of “boring” chapters!

a lot of textbooks have mini assessments at the end of every chapter, so take some time to do them! they’re just practice tests and they’ll be extremely useful for active recall (plus, you don’t have to worry about creating your own practice questions!)

୨ৎ — change your mindset

being an academic weapon means having the mindset of an academic weapon. the way you think and feel about your schooling plays a huge role in this!

“i have to” to “i get to”

treating your academics and studies as if they’re chores will make you lose your motivation and passion for learning. getting to have an education is a privilege and i feel like a lot of us forget that. be thankful that you get to pursue an academic career and get the chance to further your education! instead of “i have to study” say, “i get to study”!

getting an education is a beautiful opportunity in life, so practice gratitude when it comes to learning!

self care

i will always advocate for self care because you can’t do your best when you aren’t at your best. being an academic weapon doesn’t mean throwing your entire life away or setting your health to the side to solely focus on your studies. going to the extremes for your academics shouldn’t be normalized.

you don’t need to pull all-nighters every other day to study, you don’t need to work/study for 14 hours, you don’t need to harshly motivate yourself to get back to studying— you need to treat yourself kindly and shoe yourself gentle care.

get enough sleep

shower, do skincare, brush your teeth

keep yourself hydrated & well-fed

get your body moving

make time for your hobbies & things that make you happy

remember to take breaks when your mind & body needs them

don’t sacrifice your well-being to get ahead on your road to success. you’ll only bring yourself farther behind if you neglect your health.

final notes —

becoming an academic weapon is 60% mindset, 40% work ethic. you have to motivate yourself to give your best work, but! you have to take care of your mind and body before you even think about giving your best work. be kind to yourself, affirm yourself that you can do this! you are more than capable of achieving academic success!

the work you put in as an academic weapon has to be work you’re proud of. be sure that you’re using your time wisely, that you free yourself from distractions while studying, that you give yourself enough time to get work done (and take breaks & do something for yourself!), and that you always give it your all when you’re completing assignments, writing notes, or studying.

i know that you’ll be able to truly be an academic weapon! you have what it takes! you just have to remind yourself of your own potential.

with lots of love, faustina 🌷

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svt-rosalie · 3 days ago

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ohh i loved your rosie sick fic....it was cutee. prettyyyy plsssss i want to see jihoon getting mad and being protective over our rosie when she gets mobbed/ stalked / when do over works herself.

. . . ♡ ROSIE ! ? 💻 DRABBLE ★ ﾟ๑

ׁ ׅ ୨ ❪ requested, angst! ❫ ୧ ⊹ ࣪

content warning / anxiety attacks, woozi & seungcheol get angry, mentions of bodily harm, angst, no comfort tbh??

idol doesn't mean your

doll to fuck with.

i-doll, yunjin

It was already a horrible morning for the youngest female member of Seventeen.

Nothing was going well for Rosalie; she thought she lost her passport before boarding her flight to go back to South Korea from California, she dropped her food that she received from the flight attendant for lunch and there were unfortunately no extras for her to eat - so the poor girl was genuinely famished, and to top it all she was only able to get maybe two decent hours of sleep the night before the flight.

So, to say Rosie is having a bad day would be an understatement. At this point nothing could be done to turn her already horrible morning into something better.

But something can definitely happen to make it worse. . . which would be a crowd swarming the exit that Rosalie and her members need to get through to get into their cars. All Rosie yearned at this point was her bed and all these people were making it insanely difficult for her. She was happy to have a mask to cover her irritated expression.

The crowd was overbearingly claustrophobic to look at. Seeing people pushing at one another to get the "best" photo and video of them, trying to hand gifts to the idols --which was pointless sometimes seeing as how the managers and bodyguards always got to it first and shoved the reaching hands down and away-- it made her heart race.

Rosie wasn't necessarily in the back of the group; she was more off to the side. Her mind was so oblivious to everything around her (so it seems her security was too— only focused on the front of the group) including the amount of people stampeding her way from behind.

Rosie yelped as she felt people begin to step on the back of her shoes and shove their phones into her face screaming words of love, in their terms.

More hands were reaching around her with posters, presents and letters for the girl to take or sign. Unfortunately at this point Rosie was circled by way too many people, it was dangerous — the body guards nor her members could see her anymore.

Rosie was scared. “Please back away, please move, please.” She pleaded. It fell on deaf ears. The crowd surrounding her just continued to push and shove trying to gain her attention.

Jihoon was about 20 feet ahead almost to the car when he looked back and noticed the girl was not with any other member or in the car already. Dread filled his stomach, despite what the crew and managers were telling him to just get in the car whilst we go get her. He turned around and basically ran into the crowd surrounding Rosalie pushing people out of the way, not caring if he had to deal with he repercussions the company would set in place.

“Move!” Woozi shouted out loud as he finally got into the center and found Rosalie crouched, covering her ears to block out the shouts.

His hands gently but firmly grabbed the girl to lift her up, pulling on one of her hands to reassure her that it was just him, her partner.

Jihoon held her to her to his side, and rushed the two (security beside them now blocking all paths to get to them) to the doors and inside their company cars.

Once the doors shut and no one could see inside them anymore, the dam broke and flooded.

Rosie was sobbing, her hands too shaky to wipe the tears away.

“Why was there no security behind us? Why was nobody with her?!” Seungcheol shouted, there was no answer. The staff in the front seats were silent as was the other members Woozi, Jeonghan, and Dino.

Rosalie’s sobs were muffled as she was held into her husband’s chest. A place of comfort that she so desperately needed in this moment.

“Can we please go home?” the female maknae asked, her voice cracking. Nobody said a word the whole car ride to their separate homes.

God only knows the rage and heartbreak the members were feeling for their beloved female maknae.

They knew if something like this happened again, words would be said — their idol image be damned.

Woozi’s statement he posted on Weverse that night:

“Today’s actions showed at the airport for SEVENTEENs return home was inforgivable.

Our fellow member and my partner Rosalie was pushed, shoved, shouted at, scratched and knocked over. Not to the lack of security but for lack of respect towards celebrity/idol figures as human beings. I have seen nobody apologize for this happening to her, instead people are stating that this is what she signed up for.

Due to our profession, our private lives have been very public since we were young and yes we chose this lifestyle and we enjoy doing what we love. Our job becomes extremely difficult when we are looked at as circus clowns, payed to do everyone’s bidding. We are human beings, with feelings and emotions despite what most may think.

If something like this is to ever happen again to myself, Rosalie, or any of my fellow members. I will personally take legal action against those who cause or physical, mental, and emotional harm, whether you are fans of us or not.

Stop thinking we are dolls that you can parade around and make do what you want at your will.

Have a good night.”

click here to join rosie’s taglist!

taglist — @angie-x3 @alixnsuperstxr @allthings-fandoms @peachyaeger @sakufilms @aysxldea @swagcandyfun @wonwooz1 @s4nsmoon @seolarzone @miyx-amour @novwonia @marissa-11 @magicsoyeon @skzfairies @btskzfav @vhsdolly @iamawkwardandshy @yaebbinnie @conniesbbymama @jihoonsbbygirl @kaitieskidmore97 @cheolsboo @mars11rules67 @svt-manon @g4ns3y

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ccazimi · 13 hours ago

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Poltergeist!

cw: sukuna x ghost!reader, pure CRACK, humorous mentions of a foot fetish, heian era au

wc: 2.5k

a/n: perhaps i will continue this idk yet :P

Sukuna had found the perfect place to settle down after years of simply wandering amidst the forest. The shrine was nestled away within a misty crop of trees at the base of a large mountain, overgrown with vines and surrounded by towering cedar and pine trunks.

The wood had faded to a grayish-brown, bright vermillion paint flaked off to leave patches of dull red. It was large enough that the grounds included storage rooms, a sprawling overgrown garden, and servants’ quarters - all laid out behind the grand torii gate.

Perfect. After a few servants and workers he kidnapped from nearby villages, the place had come alive in no time.

What Sukuna didn’t consider was the possibility that the shrine was already inhabited.

It started with nothing more than a cold draft here and then, or an oil lamp abruptly extinguishing itself in the middle of the night. Sukuna swears his memory must’ve gotten worse since he got here too because he swore he’d closed the door to the garden last night, that he’d kept the manuscripts he was reading on the low table beside his futon.

Not to mention that slightly unnerving feeling that he’s being watched sometimes, late at night when he’s alone in his room trying to sleep.

Not even a week later everyone runs to a corridor after one of the maids starts shrieking at the top of her lungs.

Sukuna arrives disgruntled amidst the commotion, utterly aggravated that he was interrupted during a meal out of all times.

“What the hell is this all about?!” He growls, staring pointedly at the young woman who’s clearly been spooked by something.

“I- I think this shrine is haunted, Lord Sukuna…” She replies timidly.

Sukuna crosses both sets of his arms, unamused and looking at the servant like she’s stupid or something. “Haunted, huh? And how exactly did you arrive at this genius conclusion?”

“I- I saw a woman…in white, my Lord. With blood all over her clothes,” She points to the end of the hall, “standing there. Then she disappeared, and a second later I felt cold, icy cold, hands on my arms even though I couldn’t see anything, and…”

Sukuna cocks a slitted brow, wholly unimpressed by her account so far. “And?”

The maid hesitates, rubbing her head awkwardly before continuing. “And then I felt someone kiss my cheek, with the same cold lips.”

Sukuna blinks.

“You’re telling me a ghost kissed you?” He repeats flatly, just to show how ridiculous it sounds.

“Well…yes, my Lord…”

Sukuna wonders if he must have accidentally dropped this one in particular on her head when he kidnapped her from the village.

“Waste my time with some stupid shit like this again, and I’ll personally send you to the realm of ghosts myself. Understood?”

The maid has no choice but to nod in acceptance, as Sukuna commands everyone to get back to work. There’s no way his meal was interrupted for this shit.

Unfortunately for him, that’s not the last he has to hear of these kind of incidents- if this supposed ghost isn’t smooching people, it’s busy scaring the shit out of them. Before long, basically everyone agrees that the shrine must be haunted.

Well, everyone except for Sukuna, of course.

He refuses to entertain these ridiculous ideas, at least not until he sees something with his own (four) eyes.

Never mind all the other strange but small occurrences that have been taking place around him.

Sukuna's sleeping one night when he feels distantly like someone else might be in his room. He stirs a bit, an eye opening drowsily when he sees what seems like the figure of a woman standing by his bed.

He figures it’s one of his concubines looking for a late night fuck or something even though he hasn’t invited any tonight. They get real needy sometimes.

“Leave.” He mutters, closing his eyes again. “Not in the mood to fuck right now.”

“Hah. You couldn’t fuck me even if you wanted to, squatter.”

Squatter?

Well that wakes him up, because the King of Curses refuses to take any form of impudence even in his sleep.

He sits up on his futon. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking t-”

And that’s when he catches sight of you for the first time, a new face that he doesn’t recognize but certainly doesn’t mind looking at.

He squints. There’s something off about you.

You look a little pallid, like you might be sick or something with long unkept hair. Not to mention your white gown is splotched with red, and he swears he can kinda see the back of his room through you.

His gaze drifts downwards, where he notices that your feet are hovering an inch or two above the ground, and it clicks together for him.

“Why the hell are you staring at my feet? Out of all people who could’ve come in and taken over my shrine it had to be a four-armed freak with a foot fetish?”

“What?” His red eyes snap back up to you. “Who dares speak to the great Ryomen Sukuna with such bold impertinence—”

“Oh, shut up already, would you?” You huff. “I’m the shrine maiden that lived, died, and was resting in peace here till you arrived with all your little minions and disrupted my sleep.”

Sukuna scowls, eyes following you as you float around his room. “So, you’re the ghost that’s been terrorizing my servants, huh?”

You roll your eyes. “What, a spirit wants to spread a little love and now it’s called terrorizing?”

“Okay, let me specify: why the fuck are you going around and kissing the attendants?”

“Because you know how ridiculous it sounds to tell someone that a ghost kissed you? You would never believe them. Also, it’s kinda funny.” You’re on the other side of his chamber now, bending over to reach for the pot of sake on a table.

Unfortunately for you, your fingers pass right through it when you try to pick it up. “Dammit, this whole materializing thing takes a bit of practice…”

Sukuna watches as you try, and fail, a few more times to pick it up before finally getting fed up. “Will you stop that? Just tell me why the hell you’re here.”

You sigh, shrugging your shoulders. “I got tired of messing around so I decided it’s time to cut to the chase- I’m here to haunt you.”

One of Sukuna’s eyes twitches, while he stares at you like you have four arms yourself. “Haunt me? Are you fucking serious?!”

“Yeah. Until you get out of here.”

He scoffs. “And who said you could haunt me?”

“Well who said you could squat in my resting grounds. I got here first anyway.”

“I’m not squatting, I live here. It’s not like you do- not anymore, at least.”

You look at him once before turning to the sake pot and swinging your palm at it. This time you do manage to hit it, making it fall noisily onto the wooden floor and spill the alcohol everywhere.

Sukuna stands up, gritting his teeth. “What the fuck are you doing, stop that!”

You stare at him blankly, and Sukuna realizes this is the first time anyone’s looked at him like he’s stupid. “I’m haunting you. I literally just said that.”

A strangled growl of anger gets caught in his throat as he reflexively raises his hand and yells “CLEAVE!”

Thanks to the fact that not only do you not exist in this dimension, but also that you’re already dead, Sukuna manages to do absolutely nothing to you.

Instead it’s the wall of his room that receives the consequences of his rage, a large gash opening up in it as his attack goes right through you and into the wood directly behind.

You burst out in laughter, bending over while he glares at you with such venom it might be enough to actually kill a living person.

He’s just discovered the one thing he hates more than humans: undead humans.

To say the least, Sukuna is not having fun trying to live his life while being haunted by a mischievous spirit that’s hellbent on getting on his nerves in ways he didn’t even know was possible.

“Can you stop rearranging my furniture?” Sukuna growls in exasperation, waking up to find that except for his futon the layout of his room has once again been changed. You’ve really been on a roll with the interior redecoration lately, coming up with a new design every morning for the past week. “How are you even doing that?! You were literally struggling to move the sake pot not that long ago.”

He can’t see you but he knows you’re listening, and he’s proven right when you decide to show yourself. “Concentration and practice, I told you. Though it happens automatically if I’m feeling strong emotions. Besides your room looks better like this, don’t you think? Really opens up the place.”

Sukuna pinches the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath.

Sure, it did open up the place, but only because you decided to take every single object and piece of furniture in the room and pile it right by the door. “When I find out how to exorcise you, you’re done for. I’m going to banish you to hell. You can do as much furniture rearranging as you want there.”

It must just be his horrible luck, because not only were you an extremely irritating spirit, you were apparently quite a strong one too, which he found out after several different exorcision rituals performed by Uraume had failed. The one time he’d thought it worked and was ready to celebrate, was just you pretending like you’d been banished before showing up again not even two minutes later.

He guesses becoming a spirit must also have given you a certification in theatrics too, because you love to pull them out on his servants whenever you’re bored- including but not limited to: running on all fours, running backwards on all fours, contorting your limbs and body in ways that aren’t anatomically possible, turning your eyes white and zooming after people while you screech that you’re going to catch and eat them…

Sukuna’s told his attendants and concubines numerous times that while there really was a spirit on grounds, it wasn’t malevolent and just really liked to fuck with them.

It didn’t ease their fears, with the kind of stunts you pulled off.

Not that you didn’t find pleasure in the mundane as well. In fact he thinks one of the worst things you do is just floating around his room while he’s trying to fall sleep.

Back and forth, back and forth, he sees the pale and slightly luminescent figure just floating across his chambers.

He tries to ignore it but the repeated action itches his nerves, so he closes his eyes but somehow just the knowledge that you’re probably still going back and forth pokes at him, and finally—

“Can you stop that?!”

“I’m bored.” You reply flatly.

“Go be bored somewhere else.” He grumbles, turning into his futon and cushions.

“Do you have memory issues or something? How many times do I have to remind you that I’m haunting you.”

“You’re annoying me, not haunting me.”

For a second he’s sure you’re going to retort back, but there’s a pause, followed by you saying. “Okay fine. I’ll stop. Goodnight!”

He finds it suspicious, especially the cheeriness in which you bid him goodnight.

He doesn’t question his luck though, as you disappear and he starts to feel his lids grow heavy.

And just about as he’s fall into sleep, he feels it—jarring, icy coldness against the hot skin on his back.

He, the King of Curses, shrieks, sitting upright and fully awake.

Beside him is his dear spirit, under the sheets and cackling.

“What the fuck was that?! Get out of my bed, this instant!” He thunders.

“My feet—they were cold.” You reply innocently, batting your ghostly lashes.

He looks at you like he wants to rip you apart, and then tear his own hair out. “Because you’re FUCKING DEAD.”

“I thought you were into my feet?”

“I do not like your feet, I don’t even like feet in general, can you quit with that already?!” Sukuna massages his temples.

“I could’ve sworn I heard you moan when I put them on you, though…”

He can’t even talk because of how mad he is, just lunging to throttle you by the neck purely on instinct. His hand goes right through your ethereal body, and he must really not like the feeling because he quickly retracts his arm with a disgusted sound.

You do nothing but laugh even more, as he cusses you out while shifting away from you on the futon, and burying his head under a bunch of pillows.

Over time Sukuna still does not like you or appreciate your presence, but his curiosity gets the better of him.

“How did you die?” He asks in his room one evening, seemingly with no one else in it.

Just as expected you appear, hovering in front of him and crossing your arms.

“None of your business.” You reply curtly.

“I think it is my business to find out about the spirit that’s haunting me. Maybe it’ll even give me some idea on how to get rid of you…” He adds almost wistfully, imagining a life in this shrine without you throwing things around every day or freaking out his servants.

But all you do is huff and disappear.

Weird.

Normally you always have something to say. Must be a touchy subject, he concludes.

The next time he asks you again- you do actually give an answer, rambling on dramatically about how you “saved the shrine from a monstrous curse” and “sacrificed yourself for the sake of the world”. He snorts skeptically, nearly impressed at your flair for drama.

He asks you again the next day. This time your story was that “a wandering warrior came to the shrine, and fell in love with you.” But according to you, the gods didn’t “approve” of your passionate relationship and decided to curse you, leaving him to walk away heartbroken while you completed shrine duties till the day you died.

You apparently don’t appreciate his suggestion that maybe he left because of how insufferable you must’ve been, considering how many dishes you decided to toss at him before disappearing while calling him a “brute with a foot fetish”.

Each time he asked, you just spun an even more elaborate and ridiculous story from the last, including everything from goblins to tragic prophecies that would’ve made Victorian romances sound like light work.

You must be getting bored too, because now instead of antagonizing him all the time you actually offer some helpful advice occasionally, regarding his evil plans.

Sukuna notices you getting restless, and decides that a bored spirit is an even more destructive one.

So he gives you the task of managing his servants, and scaring them into submission.

He thinks you’re a pretty good manager, because his servants have been so on top of it after you’ve been appointed that he’s barely even had to fire (kill) any. He hears you working from time to time, showing up behind poor unsuspecting maids and telling them “they must do the dishes faster, lest they feel your wrath.”

He still doesn’t like you but he isn’t quite as determined in his search for a successful banishing ritual anymore.

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hongjoongspoetry · 10 hours ago

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I am so ready for this series to see daylight omg!

I don't even know where to start, to be honest. You really know how to make me feel like I'm in the exact setting as the characters. The warmth of the coffee shop mirroring Mingi's personality when he gives the MC a drink, him checking up on her, the little brush of their fingers, her asking him about his glasses, her fixing his glasses for him — it’s so domestic, but with an undertone of complexity that we are still in the dark about. You don't call someone a friend who would defy gravity for your sake 😭 Also, through the first few paragraphs we can evidently see how good relationship they have, just by them knowing each other's every move, fussing and worrying about one another, it's very cute and I like how you didn't need a whole backstory to capture the weight of their "friendship".

Another thing I love about your stories, your MCs are never dull. They always have interests or occupations that are new or "unusual". I don't think I've ever read a fanfic where the MC makes jewellery for a living (that could just be me not being good at finding fics, but I stand by my words!)

“Buy some butter-flavoured popcorn, I forgot to grab some yesterday.” Mingi nodded as he unlocked the door, playfully tugging on my pinkie when I went to open it. I glanced back with raised eyebrows and he shrugged, looking down to the floor like a kicked puppy. I chuckled and squeezed his pinkie back, pulling my hand away as I finally pushed the door open, “Don’t pout, I’ll see you later, yeah?”

Fuck, these two will be the end of me and we're not even that far into the first chapter 😭

She had untameable ginger hair and fiery red lips, her earrings always colourful hoops and her outfit the colours of the rainbow. She was full of energy and life, filling the shop with her radiance much like the sun filled our hearts on a cold winter day. I loved working with her, she saw beauty in everything and offered anyone a chance when they felt useless or good for nothing.

Girl, did you just pull a Stan Lee moment on us and include yourself in your fic? Because if you did, you're a genius and this is amazing 🩷

The whole scene where they are first watching a movie and cuddling together on the couch then making out is so sweet and domestic, and I think it's so funny how the MC refers to Mingi as a good friend. I'm really intrigued on what Mingi's view of this whole relationship/friendship is, and if he sees the MC as a friend too? I doubt it, but I mean, it's still the first chapter so I can't really draw any conclusions. All I know is that the MC has been through stuff and needs time to figure out what she wants/needs on her own, but Mingi is a bubble she can get lost in and not worry about other things. Yet that will probably only hold for so long because she will have to face these things sooner or later, and I wonder what support Mingi will give her then?

A great first chapter, Ari 🩷 I'm really excited to see what the other chapters will have in store for the MC and Mingi. This is just the beginning and I can't wait to see more of their friendship/relationship progress through the chapters. I'm already dying for the domestic setting and couple like exchanges between them, like I need more.

Every time I see you...chapter 1 ↰

...my throbbing heart rate spikes up

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

☆ Warning: none ☆ Word count: 5.3k ☆ Rating: sfw ☆ Genre: slice of life, established situationship, post university setting, fluff ☆ Summary: There was nothing exclusive between the two of you, but somehow you didn't mind being in Mingi's arms, in his presence. A day spent well gets rewarded by a movie night with the person you're the most fond of.

☆ Visuals ☆

M.list

A/N: And so, the first chapter is here! It's a slow ease into their relationship, it will pick up as we proceed, I promise. I hope you find it intriguing, let me know what you thought of this part, I'm curious to hear your opinions! I think this is very different from what I usually write, but soft!Mingi is so dear to me that I sob anytime I write for this series LMAO. The Mingi from this story is canon Mingi, and you can't convince me otherwise lol. Next chapter coming next week around this time! ^^ Check out the vision board I made for this story, as well as Giselle's Dopamine song! Taglist is open for the story! Enjoy! ^^ divider

Taglist: @spicxbnny @hongjoongspoetry

🎧 𝘭 𝒹𝜎𝑛’𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝛼 𝓂𝛼𝑛, 𝒿𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝛼𝑐𝑐𝑒𝑠𝑠𝜎𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑠 / Ⴘ𝑒𝛼ℎ, 𝑦𝜎𝑢 ℓ𝜎𝜎𝑘 𝑠𝜎 𝑔𝜎𝜎𝒹 𝑠𝑡𝛼𝑛𝒹𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑒𝘹𝑡 𝑡𝜎 𝓂𝑒 / 𝛮𝑒𝘹𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝘭 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝒹 𝐷𝜎𝑝𝛼𝓂𝑖𝑛𝑒 / 𝘊𝛼𝑛’𝑡 ℓ𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝜎𝑢 𝑐ℓ𝜎𝑠𝑒 𝑡𝜎 𝓂𝑒 🎧

The scent of ground coffee was potent as the grinder disturbed the otherwise serene atmosphere of the modest coffee shop, located in the heart of the city, right under a publishing company. Thus, it was famous among bookworms, office workers, or high school students who loved to skip their last class of the day, the school was located just a bit further up on the street. I loved this area because it was always busy, littered with people and various shops on both sides of the boulevard, housing hidden gems and other popular hot spots like the Moon & Stars Coffee Ground coffee shop that Mingi worked at part-time. His back was turned to me as he worked the coffee grinder, his exposed biceps bulging as he screwed the top of the lid back shut, finally stopping the grinder. Silence fell upon the coffee shop once again, giving way to the quiet jazz music playing through the speakers. Mingi had the opening shift today, the shop wasn’t opened yet, but I had a few privileges by being his friend, so, I was allowed in as long as I helped with dusting the tables off and changing the flowers which were withering away in the small, cute, orange vases placed on top of each round table.

The coffee shop was an explosion of colours, the walls painted a deep green with low-hanging retro chandeliers that gave the place a moody vibe even during the day. Plants weren’t scarce either, giving the air inside a much-needed refresh from the polluted air coming from the outside. Abstract paintings hung on the wall from artists even I didn’t know, and the counter I was leaning against was a deep maroon, sturdy and able to withhold a few splashes of the drinks placed atop it. A few delicacies were displayed in the window to my left, most of them were still being baked in the kitchen located straight behind the counter, and I picked at the leaf of the small plant absentmindedly as Mingi’s silver rings collided against the shaker he used to combine different coffee grounds. The sun was just rising on the horizon, coating the inside of the coffee shop in an orange hue, a single sunray falling onto Mingi’s dark brown hair, making it appear lighter than it was. I continued watching him in silence, my eyes still heavy from having woken up not even an hour ago.

The world was still quiet outside, but those who started their jobs early or had to travel longer were out and about, all quiet and not bothering each other as they walked down the sidewalks. The coffee shop had half an hour before it would open, and by that time I would be gone, headed to the store I worked at. We were lucky that our workplaces were relatively close to each other, if we were in a hurry, we could make the walk last roughly ten minutes. The thought of having Mingi just around the corner was comforting for some reason, perhaps knowing that if I texted him that I needed him for something, he’d come running around the corner brought a sense of security with itself. I was used to having Mingi by my side, ready to drop everything if I needed his help or assistance with something. He was a good friend, dependable and trustworthy, loyal beyond what could be considered healthy. I smiled as Mingi lightly swayed his hips to the music, the dark green apron tied around his waist accentuating the tininess of it. The sweet scent of salted caramel made saliva gather in my mouth, and I knew Mingi’s intention before he had even turned around.

“You haven’t dozed off, sleepyhead?” He asked with a chuckle, his voice quiet and a deep rumble in his chest. It had always been like that, gravely with a rasp to it, yet warm in tone and used with gentleness. Mingi wasn’t the type of person to shout, perhaps if he got too excited his voice would raise a few octaves as he was carried away by his exhilaration, always eager to share it with someone as his eyes sparkled like the stars on a clear stary night.

“Not yet,” I answered, chin resting in my palm as Mingi leaned his hip against the counter, searching for the right lid for the cup he held, “It would be a bit difficult while standing up, I’m not like you.”

That made Mingi chuckle as he threw me an amused glance, his heavy and sharp eyes friendly as they crinkled at the ends. He found the right lid for the cup and placed it on top of it, pressing down thrice to make sure he had placed it on correctly. Then, he slowly pushed the warm container towards me and I smiled, accepting the coffee wordlessly. Our fingers brushed together and I felt a rush of warm tingle through my hand, making my smile widen as did Mingi’s, his eyes becoming smaller with the action.

“Thank you,” I muttered as I raised the sweet coffee to my lips, taking a cautious sip since it was still hot. Mingi hummed, crossing his arms in front of his chest, and his taut chest muscles pulled at the form-fitting white tee he wore. It was warm inside the coffee shop, but I wondered how his exposed arms weren’t covered in goosebumps yet. My cardigan was warm, yet I didn’t look forward to when I’d have to step outside into the crisp morning air once again. Mingi’s necklaces were nicely layered, his outfit simple but put together with a good eye for fashion, “Did you forget your glasses at home once again?”

Mingi’s eyebrows slightly furrowed and he reached up with a hand to touch the bridge of his tall nose, having to check physically that his glasses were missing or not. I shook my head with amusement as I took a small sip of the salted caramel-infused drink, “Seems like you are the sleepyhead.”

“No, it’s here,” Mingi argued, leaning down and reaching forward, arm getting lost in the counter as he felt around for his glasses. His thick eyebrows furrowed, and from his position, they framed his eyes, making his already sharp features sharpen even more. He liked wearing his hair brushed back and out of his eyes lately, the length not quite ready to require a cut, but annoying enough to make Mingi complain about it every once in a while, “See?”

He stood up straight, his height almost intimidating as he leaned forward, shaking the glasses in front of my face before he wore it, the rim thick, boxy, and black. The shape suited his face and softened the intimidating features he was born with, making him look cute. I reached forward, hip digging into the counter, to push the glasses further up on his nose because he had a habit of looking above the glasses instead of through like he was supposed to. Mingi pouted at the action but leaned into my touch, his plush lips jutted out reminding me of our adolescent days when he was nothing but a sulky boy, hating his round-rimmed glasses and always complaining about his school uniform, which didn’t fit him because it was a hand me down. It had taken a few years of maturing for Mingi’s muscles to grow out, strengthened by Pilates, his guilty pleasure as he liked saying. The few classes I accompanied him had me convinced that Pilates was invented for those who craved to have their muscles burning for days, a sort of masochism that I found no joy in.

“You should wear it more often,” I noted, raising an eyebrow as Mingi playfully rolled his eyes, “before your eyesight worsens, of course.”

“Right,” He mock-saluted, leaning just a bit over the counter to be closer to my face, “You’re starting to sound more like my mother each day, Y/N, it’s a bit freaky.”

I chuckled and rolled my eyes, reaching out to flick his forehead, but he knew me too well and dodged my inoffensive attack in time. But before I could retract my arm, he grabbed my wrist with his large hand and brought it down to the counter, gently keeping it in place as his larger hand caged mine against the surface. It was a small effort to make physical contact and I didn’t hate it, I rather enjoyed the small moments of intimacy we could share freely when it was just the two of us. Mingi was an affectionate person, he didn’t shy away when he needed a hug or just a little bit of support, arms wide open and eyes soft as he batted his long eyelashes at you. I hummed and basked in the peace that enveloped us around, something we both enjoyed on quieter days. There was no need for loudness or boisterous behaviour, we already knew who the other was, and there was no need to show off anything.

“Let me play the role of a concerned mother for a bit longer, then,” Mingi snorted, glancing at the clock on the wall to make sure he didn’t keep the coffee shop closed for longer than the program said, “Did you start your research on your final coursework?”

Mingi liked to stay ahead of his assignment deadlines, but sometimes laziness got to him like to any other person. But he hated having to hurry and half-ass his work so that rarely happened. Unless he was loaded with coursework, his assignments would be handed in weeks before their deadline.

“Yes and no,” Mingi sighed, his soft fingertips gently tracing my skin, “I’m supposed to meet with my coordinator this week so that we agree on a subject, I have too many ideas to choose from and I know he’s not fond of research that goes past the twentieth century.”

I nodded, taking a larger sip of my coffee, I could already feel it rejuvenate me, the sleep was gone from my eyes and my body felt less sluggish. It’s a wonder I even managed to get out of bed today, “And let me guess, you want something that deals with the nineteenth century, huh?”

“You know me too well,” Mingi chuckled with a shake of his head, taking his hand off mine as he reached out, swiping his thumb over the corner of my mouth. I looked down at my cup of coffee and ignored the skip of my heartbeat, my cheeks feeling a bit warmer than before, “Maybe I’ll manage to convince him, who knows…what about your day? Do you have a lot of work to do?”

“Not that much, we got three commissions this weekend for five pieces, I’m hoping to get the larger necklace done today,” I answered, glancing at the clock on the wall, and realised I’d have to leave in five minutes if I wanted to make it to the store before it opened.

“You’re always quick, I’m not worried about it.” Mingi winked with a bit of a struggle and I smiled, humming because I knew he was right. I had been making jewellery for a long time now, I was becoming faster and faster at crafting lately, it was rather a blessing since we could have plenty of orders coming in on busier days.

“I’m going to go now,” I said as I grabbed my bag off the floor, throwing it around my shoulder as Mingi nodded, grabbing the keys to come and unlock the entrance door for me, “Are you coming over tonight?”

“Yeah, want me to bring anything?” Mingi asked as he came around the counter and linked our pinkies together while we walked to the door. I quickly did a mental check if I had everything we’d need for our movie night, then remembered that I was out of popcorn…the most important snack of the night.

Mingi hummed as he came to the door and leaned against it as I exited, giving me a small smile, “See you, have an easy day.”

“You too, Mingi.” I waved before turning around to head down the street, which was slowly filling up with cars and people as the city awoke, the sun higher in the sky. I could feel Mingi’s eyes on the back of my head, and I didn’t have to turn around to know he’d stay in the doorway, watching me until I crossed the crosswalk and turned the corner, disappearing from sight. The thought of having someone who cared for my safety and looked out for me wasn’t too bad, but I thrived on my independence and wouldn’t have struggled if Mingi wasn’t so sweet to look out for me. Even so, the lingering warmth in my chest due to his attentiveness wasn’t too disheartening.

By noon, the city had fully awoken and was bustling with restless people going on about their day. The jewellery store I worked at was on a side street, so, we were away from the rambunctious traffic and the impatient drivers that honked their car’s horns at the smallest inconvenience. That didn’t mean, however, that our store was one filled with quiet and calm, it was quite the opposite if our clients proved to be teenage girls looking for beaded friendship bracelets, or colourful rings with gemstones of which attributes they didn’t know about so they asked me or my boss, who was a lovely lady in the forties. She had untameable ginger hair and fiery red lips, her earrings always colourful hoops and her outfit the colours of the rainbow. She was full of energy and life, filling the shop with her radiance much like the sun filled our hearts on a cold winter day. I loved working with her, she saw beauty in everything and offered anyone a chance when they felt useless or good for nothing.

Her store, much like herself, mirrored the same brightness its owner carried. The walls were a light orange with yellowy rays painted on the opposite wall to the entrance, mimicking the warm sun beaming down on Earth through the clouds. Wooden shelves were set up across from the front desk, framing the walls with quirky designs that held the handmade jewellery we worked on day, and sometimes even at night. The floorboards were a rusty copper, and much to everyone’s surprise upon a first encounter with the store, a gorgeous Persian carpet was laid down with intricate design that just brought the aesthetic of the whole place together. The back room was small and hidden behind a beaded curtain right behind my back, offering a perfect escapade when the day was getting too long and the customers were too demanding. Incense always burned, coating the store in a woody scent that felt refreshing but sometimes nauseating if my boss left it on for too long, the ceiling fan thankfully dispersed the strong scent evenly.

The store wasn’t huge, but it felt inviting even upon one glance, and our customers felt cared for whenever they entered and we listened to their requests closely. Having landed this job was just as random as me deciding one day that I wanted to attend a Fine Arts course, focusing more on crafts and clay making. The few vases I had designed were displayed on the higher shelves where it was harder to reach and accidentally break them, my boss was more than happy to sell those too in her store. We both contributed with a little something of ours to the store and that’s why it worked out so nicely, just two fundamentally different people who enjoyed the same arts were brought together to attempt to make something beautiful and long-lasting.

I was tying the knot to the custom-made bracelet one of the teenagers had asked for when her friend walked up to the front desk, eyebrows furrowed and phone in her hand. She held two crystals in her palm, looking at them sceptically.

“Which one is the rose quartz?” She asked, her voice loud and a little rough as she let the crystals fall onto the glass counter. I glanced down at them and pointed at the clearer one on the left.

“That’s a clear quartz, the other one,” My burgundy nail pointed at the pinkish crystal, “is the rose quartz. Which one are you looking for?”

“Rose quartz,” She answered quickly, pushing at the rose quartz with narrowed eyes, “Is it true that it attracts love? Will I find a boyfriend if I wear it all the time?”

“Depends, are you a Taurus or Libra?” I asked as I leaned back in my chair, my boss was on her break and, meanwhile, she knew more about crystals, I had learned this and that from her throughout the years I’ve worked here.

“Not really…” The girl muttered as she shared a look with her friend, who had taken the bracelet I made for her to try it on. The strings I used were yellow and brown, a nice combination of colours, personally not my favourite, but it worked well with her complexion and it was also what she had asked for.

“Well, I heard it’s better if you have Venus in your chart if you want to wear a rose quartz,” I hummed, looking up at the ceiling in thought before I shrugged, “Rose quartz is good for emotional healing too, not just attracting love. But if you think it will help, you could try it out…”

“Do you believe it works?” The girl asked, her eyes just slightly widening. I chuckled, deciding to be honest with her.

“No, but that’s just me. Maybe it’ll work for you.” The girl just nodded, looking at her friend for another opinion. She just shrugged and told the girl to do whatever she wished. Their third friend walked up to the counter and told them that she wouldn’t buy anything today, so they could head out if everyone was ready to leave.

“I’ll buy it.” The girl said as she placed the crystal on the counter and I nodded, grabbing a small plastic wrap for her to store it in until she got home. I scanned the items and told the two girls the price of their purchase, watching them with amusement as they left the store in a hurry, words leaving their mouths in a hurry before they were even out of the store. I settled back into my chair and grabbed my bottle of water to take a gulp, my fingers aching just slightly from the various jewellery I had managed to make until now. The shop was rather busy today and my boss was excited as she whirled around, helping customers out with choosing items for themselves or as gifts.

My phone pinged before I could reach for it, and Mingi’s name lit up my screen as I unlocked it. I tapped on our messaging app and opened our conversation, gasping quietly when I was presented with a picture of a black and white spotted cat, emerald eyes staring curiously into the camera, head tilted to the side in wonder. Its ears were pointed backwards and I could practically hear Mingi cue at it. He loved kittens more than anything and had always wished to buy one, but he thought he was too busy right now to care for another little life besides his.

Mingi: Look how cute she is!! I’ve been feeding her for two weeks now, I’m 100% sure she knows who I am. I’ve named her Genie, isn’t she just so adorable? Me: Man, she really is adorable! I wish she was around when I’m at the shop, pet her in my place too! Genie because she grants wishes?

Mingi: Not more adorable than me, right?? I bet she’d love you too…but I’m her favourite, I just know it. I wanted to name her Greenie at first, but that felt weird. Genie, however, isn’t too bad. No reason for why I gave her that name, though… Me: I think she might be more adorable than you, Mingi… Wait until she meets me, you won’t be her favourite anymore, mister… Your mind sometimes is a mystical place, Mingi, I wonder what goes on inside of it

Mingi: Well, right now I’d like to be in your arms sitting on the couch or something… Something like…being the little spoon because I fall asleep faster when you wrap yourself around me… That’s what I’m thinking about right now instead of making sure I don’t burn the next batch of apple pies, do you want me to put some aside for tonight? Me: You are so cheesy, Mingi, anyone else would block you… I knew you liked being the little spoon, now I even have receipts of it, hah! I had muffins yesterday, so no thank you! Now stop texting and focus on your work, man. Mingi: Right, see you later, woman. Muawh

I chuckled and shook my head, setting my phone to the side with a smile on my face as I opened the new email we had gotten while I was texting Mingi. Seems like the week just started and we’d barely have any time to breathe between all these commissions.

My living room was covered in darkness aside from the flashing lights of the TV, the movie playing at an acceptable volume to not disturb the neighbours or deafen us. The blanket was fluffy and draped over our legs, mine pulled underneath me while Mingi’s were propped up on the coffee table. His legs were long enough to reach it if stretched out, and I might have envied him for that for a long time. Our hands were intertwined underneath the blanket and placed on Mingi’s thigh, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing against my knuckle every once in a while. Our shoulders brushed together and I would shift around from time to time, to try and keep my ass from going sore. Mingi, on the other hand, had no issue keeping his initial posture for hours on end. The blackout curtains were drawn together to offer us privacy since I only lived on the second floor, and the butter-flavoured popcorn Mingi had brought had been long eaten.

We had been watching the movie in silence for over an hour now with the occasional commentary coming from Mingi about how cool Captain America was. No matter how many times we’ve seen this movie, it never got old or boring. Perhaps it was Chris Evans’ face that made the viewing more pleasurable, alongside Scarlett Johanson, but we were both pretty hooked on the plot despite knowing what came next. There were small easter eggs that we hadn’t noticed before, so there was always something new that one of us accidentally discovered during our rewatches. I felt warm all cosied up next to Mingi, a bit even sleepy as his familiar cologne eased my tense muscles after the long day I’d had. My wrists were sore from all the crafting at the store today, I had even brought home a bracelet that I had to finish for tomorrow. I was too tired to work on it now, but I could thankfully get it done in the morning in thirty minutes.

As if Mingi had read my thoughts, he grabbed my wrist with both hands and slowly started rubbing it, creating heat and gently massaging the tense muscles of my hand. I smiled and playfully grabbed at his fingers, making him chuckle under his breath as the Winter Soldier appeared on the screen for the first time, the car the characters had been using now nothing but a mess of scrapes. I could see Mingi angle his body towards mine from my peripheral, and he licked his plump lips before he cleared his throat.

“I’ve been thinking…” He started quietly, his forehead slightly creasing as his eyes bled into the side of my head. I turned my head away from the TV, familiar with the scene already. The light lit up Mingi’s face, his glasses creating a tiny shadow over his face as I raised my eyebrows at him to prompt him to continue, “So, we’ve both been working hard, and I could use a vacation before my last exams come up. I know I should be studying, but at this point, I feel like I could recite any textbook you hand me, I really need a break. You’ve also been working a lot, and you didn’t take vacation off last year, so…”

I hummed, curious as to where this was headed, “So?”

“Let’s get away for a few days, I’ve been looking for a nice little cabin somewhere in the mountains. Not too far though, I know you don’t like long car rides.” Mingi grabbed my other hand and started massaging that one too, making me sigh in contentment as my hands now tingled with warmth, the tenseness gone from them.

“Just the two of us?” I raised an eyebrow, the idea actually sounded appealing. I could use a break from the hustle and bustle of the city.

“Yeah, just us.” Mingi nodded, smiling a little as I contemplated his offer for a second. I would have to visit my mother before we left, and I’d have to let my boss know in time, but other than that, it sounded like a plan to me.

“Sure, I’d love that.” I smiled and Mingi’s eyes lit up, fingers intertwining with mine as he squeezed our hands together. I chuckled at his excitement and let my eyes run over his face, taking in the softness in his eyes and the curve of his gorgeous mouth. Something in my gut coiled as my hands continued tingling with electricity, and I licked my lips as I leaned forward, eyes set on Mingi’s parted lips. He mirrored my actions and leaned forward, closing the distance between us confidently. His lips were warm as always and faintly tasted like the marshmallows he kept stuffing himself with not even half an hour ago, another guilty pleasure he seemed to have. This one, however, I could understand and even support.

Our bodies leaned closer as I raised my free hand to hold his jaw, tilting his head slightly back so that our lips pressed together a bit firmer. Kissing him always brought a wave of excitement, an electrifying spark running up my spine as our lips moved languidly, taking their time since there was no reason to hurry. He was sweet and gentle even with his kisses, always allowing me to set the pace as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip, his long nose digging into my cheek. Mingi wasn’t a messy kisser but he had never shied away from a little saliva, and there was nothing he loved more than tracing his tongue against mine, sucking on it to deepen the kiss even more as he brought me halfway into his lap. Our hands parted as I grabbed his shoulder and swiped my tongue against his, a content sigh catching in the back of Mingi’s throat as his hand pressed into the small of my back, warm and burning through the fabric of my thin blouse. I could never get tired of his lips, sometimes kissing Mingi was so disorienting that we’d lose track of time, our lips almost as if glued to each other.

Inhaling through my mouth, I let Mingi press small kisses to my chin and mouth, muttering something I couldn’t understand before I captured his lips again, adding just a bit more passion into it as I felt a suffocating emotion build in my chest, heavy and demanding as if having Mingi like this wasn’t good enough. I had always craved more despite having everything I could ask from him, it seemed that I hadn’t been fully satiated just yet. It was a peculiar feeling, but I couldn’t ignore the fire and knot in my stomach anymore as he lapped at my tongue, his fingers gently holding my jaw as if he was afraid I’d slip away. Tonight was a slow evening, I was content with being in his arms, content in wrapping myself in a cocoon of safety that helped me forget the hardships the day had brought with itself. Pulling apart, I pressed a chaste kiss against his swollen lips and cradled his cheek, feeling how warm it was. Before I could completely pull back and sit back next to him, Mingi grabbed my arm as he readjusted himself on my spacious couch, opening his legs up so that I could sit between them. I climbed over his leg and settled down, adjusting the blanket around us so that it would keep his legs warm too as Mingi’s arms wrapped around my torso, nose nuzzling into my nape as he exhaled loudly.

“Do you think Natasha and Steve should’ve ended up together?” He asked quietly, mumbling it into my skin, and I laughed, looking back at the TV.

“I think they were too different for it to work out, and Steve was still in love with Peggie,” I answered truthfully, watching Chris Evans lean against the doorframe in nothing but a muscle white tee, a few bruises here and there, jeans, and a white towel to clean his hands in.

“I think Natasha would’ve been able to show him a new world, I wanted them together.” I didn’t have to look to know that Mingi was pouting, I could hear it in his voice.

“You say that every time we watch this movie.”

“Right, my thoughts won’t change on a random afternoon.”

I chuckled as silence fell upon us once again, wrapped around in the blanket and Mingi’s warmth, with his arms around my body, I felt the safest. It was a weird feeling that never developed into something I could completely understand, but there was something about Mingi’s presence that made me feel at ease, like the earth outside us would keep on turning around its axis and we wouldn’t miss out on anything because here, in each other’s arms, we had everything we needed. It was something I had never felt with anyone else, not even with my ex-boyfriend I thought I would end up marrying. There was something so gentle about the silence between Mingi and me, the understanding without spoken words, the warmth of a simple caress, the reminder that we were there for each other by the simplest things only made my chest tighten as the TV screen blurred, making me wonder whether I had gotten teary-eyed or just extremely sleepy.

Here in Mingi’s arms, in a dark living room lit up by the movie that we were watching for the nth time, I wondered if I could ever again trust that love existed, trust that there was indeed a person that was yours, meant to be with you without hurting you. I wondered if Mingi ever thought about it, if he wondered where his person was. Perhaps he didn’t care about such things and that’s why he wasted his days away by my side, smiling from ear to ear with glimmering eyes full of hope and something I could never truly understand. I grinned when I felt his feet rub against mine playfully, it was his way of letting me know that he wasn’t so lost in the movie that he wasn’t aware of me anymore. I sighed and relaxed into Mingi’s body, letting the doubtful thoughts and feelings simmer in a deep cavern of my heart for the rest of the evening.

>> next chapter

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doritochoi · 1 day ago

Text

pairing: king elf choi san X human!reader

genre: fantasy, smut, slow burn, dark romance, supernatural, royalty, forbidden desire

word count: 11,6k (42 minutes)

warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, blood and injury, dark themes (including fear and death), morally gray characters, power imbalances, explicit language, eventual explicit content (smut), themes of captivity, slow trust-building, mentions of magic and curses, and emotionally intense scenes.

A/n: Hey everyone! I’m so sorry it’s been such a long time since I last posted—I’ve been swamped with school and barely had time to write anything. Recently, I rewatched The Lord of the Rings, and it completely inspired me to create a story with a similar vibe. I hope you’ll love this twisty, magical world as much as I enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think! 💗

Your village sat on the edge of a dark forest, a place where sunlight rarely touched the ground. It was a simple life, full of chores and quiet days. People often told stories of the forest—how it was sacred, forbidden, alive in ways no one could explain. But you never believed those stories. To you, they were just warnings to scare children, until the night the creatures came. They arrived without sound, like shadows in the dark. Their glowing eyes and twisted forms were unlike anything you had ever seen. They destroyed homes, set fires, and dragged people screaming into the night. Your family begged you to run, to leave them behind and save yourself. You didn’t want to go. But when you saw one of the creatures tear through your neighbor’s door, you had no choice.

So you ran

The hills stretched endlessly before you, but you could feel it—their eyes on you. One of them was still following, its growl echoing in the distance. When you reached the edge of the forest, you stopped. The trees were massive, their trunks twisted and ancient. The stories of the elders whispered in your mind: “The Forest of Luthënar is no place for mortals. Those who enter are never seen again.” But the growl behind you grew louder, and you knew there was no other way. You stepped into the forest.

The air changed immediately. It was heavy, damp, and strangely silent. The only sound was the crunch of leaves beneath your feet as you pushed deeper into the woods. You could hear the creature behind you, crashing through the trees, and your heart pounded. The forest didn’t seem to want you there. Roots twisted up from the ground, trying to trip you. Branches reached out like claws. You dodged them as best you could, but you were already so tired. When you glanced back, the creature’s glowing eyes locked on yours. It was fast—too fast. You tried to push yourself harder, but the forest was too wild. Your foot caught on a thick root, and you fell. Pain exploded in your head as you hit the ground. The last thing you saw before everything went dark was the forest above you, the trees twisting together like they were closing in.

When you opened your eyes, it wasn’t the forest floor beneath you. You were lying on something soft, like a bed, and warm light streamed through the air. Slowly, you sat up, wincing at the ache in your body. The room around you was unlike anything you’d ever seen. The walls seemed to be made of living wood, with golden light shining through cracks in the branches. The carvings on the ceiling looked ancient and beautiful, full of strange symbols and patterns. You looked down at yourself. Your old, dirt-stained clothes were gone, replaced with a soft tunic. Before you could wonder what had happened, a voice cut through the silence. "She's awake". You turned your head to see a man standing by the door. He wore silver armor that gleamed in the light, and his sharp features were cold and unreadable.“Bring her to the king,” he said. Two other guards stepped forward, their expressions as blank as stone. They helped you to your feet, ignoring your protests, and led you out of the room. The halls were like a maze, carved from the trees themselves. The air was thick with magic, and the light seemed to shift and shimmer. But you didn’t have long to look before you were brought to a massive room. At its center was a throne made of twisting branches and silver, and sitting on it was the most striking figure you’d ever seen. Choi San, the king of this strange, hidden realm. His hair was short and dark red, a deep color that reminded you of embers. It framed his sharp features perfectly, his piercing eyes watching your every move. He was dressed in robes of dark green and black, lined with silver thread that shimmered as he moved. San sat with one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed but his presence overwhelming. He studied you carefully, his gaze moving from your face to your hands, as if searching for something. The longer he looked, the smaller you felt. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice low and cold. You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. “I… I didn’t mean to come here,” you said, your voice shaking. His gaze didn’t waver. “And yet, here you are.”, “I was being chased,” you said quickly. “By something… I didn’t know where else to go.” San tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing. “I didn’t mean to—” ,“Silence,” he said sharply, and you froze. He rose from his throne, the movement so smooth it seemed unnatural. As he stepped closer, the light caught the silver embroidery on his robes, making it seem like he was glowing. “You entered the Forest of Luthënar, knowing nothing of its laws or its dangers,” he said, his voice calm but dangerous. “Do you have any idea what this place is?”. You shook your head, trembling. “This is no place for mortals,” he said, his eyes locked on yours. “And yet… you’ve survived.” For a moment, he stood there, his expression unreadable. Then, without looking away from you, he spoke to the guards. “Take her to the dungeons,” he ordered.

The days in the dungeons bled into weeks. Weeks into months. Time became a haze of cold stone, fleeting dreams, and the weight of unspoken words. The guards came and went, wordless as always, their presence a fleeting shadow. Yet, despite the monotony, there was a shift in the air—a tension that hadn’t been there before. You noticed it in San’s visits. At first, he had come to question you, his cold eyes cutting through you as he demanded answers you couldn’t give. Over time, those visits grew less frequent. But when he did appear, something in his gaze lingered too long. His sharp features—too perfect to be mortal—softened ever so slightly, as though he were searching for something he could not name. You had long since stopped trying to understand him. Yet, even in the dim silence of the dungeons, you felt his presence looming, like the whisper of a storm on the horizon. That night, you were jolted awake by the sound of iron scraping against stone. The cell door swung open, and two guards stepped inside, their expressions as impassive as ever. “Up,” one of them barked. You blinked, groggy and disoriented. “What’s happening?” The guards didn’t answer. They seized your arms with unyielding force, pulling you to your feet. You struggled, fear clawing at your chest. “Where are you taking me?”, “Silence,” the other guard snapped. You had no choice but to comply as they dragged you through the winding corridors. The forest palace was silent, the usual hum of its magic muted as though it, too, were holding its breath. When they threw open the doors to the great hall, the sight before you stole the air from your lungs.

The room was vast, its walls carved from living trees that stretched impossibly high, their branches intertwining to form a ceiling of shimmering leaves. Light cascaded down in ethereal beams, casting the hall in a golden-green glow that felt both warm and foreboding. Intricate carvings adorned every surface—scenes of battles, feasts, and stories long forgotten by mortals. And at the center of it all, on a throne of twisting silver and ebony, sat him.

Choi San.

The Elven King.

His presence commanded the room, even as he sat in stillness. His dark red hair, like the embers of a dying fire, caught the light in a way that seemed otherworldly. His robes, deep green lined with silver, draped elegantly over his lean frame, accentuating the sharp angles of his face. He looked as though he had been sculpted by the gods themselves—beautiful, cold, and untouchable. Yet, his expression was far from serene. His jaw was tight, his piercing eyes fixed on you as though you were a puzzle he couldn’t solve. At his side was a long table, its surface littered with scrolls, maps, and what looked like an ancient goblet. The guards shoved you forward, and you stumbled, landing on the cold stone floor before the throne. You winced, the impact jarring your knees, but you barely had time to register the pain before something clattered onto the ground in front of you.

Your medallion.

The delicate chain glinted in the soft light, and the pendant, a green, pearlescent leaf. For a moment, you simply stared at it, your heart thudding in your chest. San rose from his throne with the grace of a predator. Every movement was calculated, his robes shifting like water around him. He descended the steps slowly, each step reverberating in the silence until he stood over you. “Where did you get this?” he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. You looked up at him, confusion and fear warring within you. “It—it’s mine.”

“Do not lie to me.” His tone was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade. “This medallion… it does not belong to you.” Your brows furrowed. “I’m not lying. I’ve had it for as long as I can remember.” He crouched before you, his piercing eyes boring into yours. “You expect me to believe that a mere mortal stumbled into my realm, wearing this?”His fingers brushed the medallion, and you flinched at the sudden intensity in his gaze. He wasn’t just angry, he was shaken.“I don’t understand,” you whispered. “What does it mean to you?”San straightened, his expression unreadable. “This medallion,” he said slowly, “belonged to my queen.”His words struck you like a thunderclap. You stared at him, your mind reeling. “Your… queen?”San turned away, his posture rigid. “She is gone,” he said quietly, his voice laced with something you couldn’t place—pain, perhaps, or anger. “No one but her could have possessed this medallion.”

“I swear,” you said quickly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know how I got it. I’ve had it since I was a child. My family said it’s always been mine.”He turned back to you, his expression unreadable. “You expect me to believe that this—this artifact—found its way to a mortal child by chance?”

“I don’t know!” you cried. “I’ve never understood what it was. It’s just… always been there.”His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he would lash out. Instead, he moved to the table beside his throne. With a sudden sweep of his arm, he sent everything on it crashing to the floor—scrolls, goblets, and maps scattering across the stone. The sound was deafening, echoing through the hall like a storm breaking.The guards shifted uncomfortably, but San ignored them. He leaned heavily on the table, his head bowed as though trying to gather his thoughts.When he finally spoke, his voice was low and strained. “My queen,” he said, almost to himself, “was the only one who could wear this. It was bound to her.” You swallowed hard, unable to look away from him. “I don’t know why I have it,” you said softly. “I just… I’ve always had it.” San’s gaze snapped back to you, and for a moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—recognition, perhaps, or even fear. But it was gone in an instant, replaced by the cold, unyielding mask he wore so well.“Take her back to the dungeons,” he ordered, his voice like ice. The guards moved to seize you, but you resisted, desperation bubbling to the surface. “Wait! Please, you have to believe me—”

“Enough!” San’s voice thundered, the power behind it shaking the very air. “Take her.” The guards dragged you away, your protests falling on deaf ears. As the doors to the great hall slammed shut behind you, you couldn’t shake the image of San’s face—the way he had looked at you, as though you were a ghost from his past.

A few years ago

The medallion had always been there, as much a part of you as the blood in your veins. From the moment you drew your first breath, it had hung around your neck—a delicate green leaf with a pearlescent glow, suspended from a fine silver chain. No one had ever told you where it came from. No stories, no whispered truths. Just silence.

Because the truth was, no one knew.

You had no parents. At least, not the ones who gave you life.

The family who raised you—the kind, hardworking couple who had taken you in—had always been honest about that. They told you how they’d found you on a stormy night, abandoned on the edge of a cliff overlooking the restless sea. You were swaddled in soft, unfamiliar fabrics, cradled in a small wicker basket that was damp from the rain. The medallion was clasped around your tiny neck, its glow faint but unyielding, as if it were alive. It had been your father, a woodsman by trade, who had spotted you. He was out hunting for game when he heard your cries, faint and fragile against the roar of the wind. At first, he thought it was the wail of some forest creature, perhaps an injured fawn or a lost bird. But as he approached the cliff’s edge, he saw the basket. His heart stopped. “What kind of monster would leave a child out here?” he had whispered, his voice shaking. The storm had been unforgiving that night. Rain lashed at the rocky cliffs, and the sea churned below, its waves crashing with a violence that seemed determined to swallow the earth whole. If he had arrived even moments later, the wind might have swept the basket into the abyss. Your mother had wept when he brought you home. “She’s so beautiful,” she had said, her voice thick with emotion as she gently cradled your tiny form. “Who could leave her out there like that?” You were a mystery to them. A miracle, perhaps, or a tragedy they would never understand. But one thing was certain—they couldn’t turn their backs on you. “We’ll keep her,” your mother had said firmly, wiping her tears. “She’s ours now.” And so, you grew up in a small, humble home at the edge of the village, surrounded by love and warmth. Your adoptive parents treated you as their own, raising you with care and devotion. They taught you how to tend the garden, mend clothes, and read stories by the firelight. They were simple people, but their love for you was boundless. But the medallion was another story. It hung around your neck every day, an unspoken part of your existence. No one in the village could make sense of it. The local blacksmith once examined it, running his calloused fingers over the smooth, pearly surface of the leaf. “It’s no metal I’ve ever seen,” he had muttered, his brow furrowed. “And this shimmer… it’s not natural. Almost looks alive.” The village elders, who prided themselves on their knowledge of lore and legend, had no answers either. They spoke of old magic, ancient forests, and forgotten kingdoms, but none could explain how such an artifact had come to be with a child like you.

Your parents had little interest in the medallion’s origins. To them, it was just another part of you—something they loved because it was yours. But to you, it was a question that lingered in the back of your mind. Who had left you on that cliff? Why had they given you this strange, beautiful thing? And why, no matter how far you wandered or how many years passed, did the medallion seem to hum faintly against your skin, as if it were alive?

As you grew older, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the medallion was more than it seemed. You tried to ignore it, focusing instead on the simple joys of village life. Helping your parents in the fields. Watching the sunset from the hills. Listening to the crackle of the fire as your mother sang soft lullabies. But the medallion was always there, a silent companion. Sometimes, when you were alone, you would take it in your hands and marvel at its intricate design. The leaf was perfectly formed, each vein etched with delicate precision. Its green surface shimmered with an otherworldly glow, shifting between shades of emerald and pearl. You never dared to take it off. It wasn’t just because of its beauty or its mystery—it was because, deep down, you felt that it belonged to you in a way that nothing else ever could. As though it were a part of your very being. The villagers sometimes whispered about you, though never within earshot. They didn’t mean to be cruel—it was simply human nature. The child with no past. The girl who wore a medallion of magic. The one who had survived against all odds. “She’s special,” some would say.“Or cursed,” others would mutter. Your parents shielded you from the worst of the gossip, reminding you daily that you were loved. But the whispers followed you, a quiet shadow you could never escape. And now, as you sat alone in the cold darkness of the dungeon, the weight of those whispers pressed down on you. The medallion, which had always been a source of comfort, now felt heavier than ever. San’s words echoed in your mind. “This medallion belonged to my queen.” How could that be possible? You had worn it for as long as you could remember. You had no memory of his queen, no connection to his world. And yet, the look in his eyes when he saw it… It was as though he had seen a ghost. Your fingers brushed the medallion’s smooth surface, the faint hum of its magic resonating against your skin. It was warm to the touch, a strange contrast to the chill of the dungeon air.

In the great hall, San stood by his throne, his fists clenched at his sides. The medallion haunted him. He could still see it gleaming in the faint light, just as it had all those years ago when his queen had worn it. His queen. The one he had loved beyond reason. The one he had failed to save. He turned toward the table, his mind swirling with questions he couldn’t answer. Who was this mortal girl? Why did she bear the queen’s medallion? And why… why did she feel so familiar?San’s fingers trembled as he brushed the edge of the throne. He had spent centuries burying the past, locking away his grief and guilt in the deepest corners of his soul. Yet, with one look at her—at that medallion—everything had come rushing back. The storm outside mirrored the one within him, lightning flashing across the forest as rain pounded the palace. He closed his eyes, his jaw tightening. “I will find the truth,” he murmured, his voice barely audible. “No matter what it takes.”

The throne room was steeped in shadow, its once-grand walls shrouded in an oppressive gloom that mirrored the heavy silence within. The shimmering light that once filled the halls of the forest palace was absent, as if even the magic of Luthënar had withdrawn. The air itself seemed heavy, thick with a sorrow that no amount of time could dispel. Choi San sat on his throne, his posture regal yet tense, his fingers curled around the armrests as though they were the only thing anchoring him. His features—carved sharp as if by the hands of a master sculptor—were thrown into relief by the faint glow of a single enchanted lantern. The play of light and shadow etched every emotion onto his face, though his expression remained unreadable to all but himself. He was alone, as he had been for what felt like an eternity. The throne room was empty save for him, and his thoughts were loud enough to drown out even the faint whispers of the palace’s magic. His gaze wasn’t fixed on the doors, the floor, or even the medallion that lay on the table beside him, but somewhere far away—on a memory. Memories of her. In his mind, she was vivid. The soft curl of her smile, the warmth in her voice, the way her laughter could fill even the coldest corners of his heart. His queen. His beloved. She had been everything to him, a light in a life that had grown increasingly dark. He remembered the way she would stand beside him at this very throne, her presence a calming force even amidst the pressures of ruling. She had been wise, compassionate, and stubborn in the way only someone who truly cared could be. He had loved her strength, her kindness, her fire.

The sound of footsteps broke through his reverie, echoing softly in the vastness of the throne room. San didn’t look up; he didn’t need to. There was only one person who would dare to intrude on his solitude unannounced. “Wooyoung,” San said, his voice low but commanding. From the shadows stepped a figure, his presence lighter but no less commanding than San’s. Wooyoung was a king in his own right, ruling a distant realm that thrived on its trade and opulence. He was as charming as he was dangerous, his sharp smile often masking his sharper wit. His long, raven-black hair was tied loosely at the nape of his neck, and his deep crimson robes shimmered faintly as he moved. “You didn't move on, I see...,” his voice carrying a teasing lilt as he approached the throne. “It’s been centuries, San." Wooyoung continued, casually placing a hand on the edge of the table beside San. His gaze dropped to the medallion. He sighed, pulling up a chair and sitting across from San, his posture relaxed but his gaze sharp. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” he said. “The past is the past, my friend. You need to let her go. San’s hand twitched against the armrest, the first sign of movement since Wooyoung’s arrival. “Let her go?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper, but the weight of it filled the room. “You speak as though it’s a choice.” San’s gaze finally rose, meeting Wooyoung’s. His eyes were dark, haunted. “She was my life,” he said simply. “How do you let go of that?” Wooyoung leaned back, his expression softening for the first time. “You don’t,” he admitted. “Not completely. But you can’t keep drowning in it, either. It’s been centuries, San. Do you even know who you are without her?"San’s gaze shifted back to the medallion. Its faint glow was hypnotic, pulling him into memories he’d spent lifetimes trying to forget. But it wasn’t just the past that haunted him now—it was the girl.The mortal who had appeared in his realm wearing this.“She’s connected to her,” San said finally, his voice rough. “The girl. I don’t know how, but she is.” Wooyoung arched a brow. “The one you’re keeping in the dungeons?” He let out a low whistle. “I heard rumors, but I didn’t think they were true. What do you mean she’s connected?” San’s lips pressed into a thin line. “She wears the medallion.” Wooyoung’s casual demeanor faltered. He straightened in his seat, his playful smirk replaced by genuine curiosity. “The medallion? Her medallion?” He nodded. “She says she doesn’t know where it came from. That she’s had it since birth.”, “And you believe her?” Wooyoung asked, his tone skeptical. San didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he stared at the medallion. “She has the same look in her eyes,” he said quietly. “The same fire. I don’t know if it’s a trick of fate or something worse, but I can’t ignore it.” Wooyoung frowned, tapping his fingers against the table. “You’re playing with fire, San. You know that, don’t you? If she’s truly tied to your queen, then the answers you’re looking for might not be the ones you want.” San’s eyes darkened. “I don’t care what the answers are. I need to know.”

When Wooyoung left, the throne room fell silent once more. San remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the medallion. The memory of her face lingered in his mind, as vivid as it had been the day he lost her. And somewhere, in the cold darkness of the dungeons, you sat alone, the medallion around your neck glowing faintly against your skin. San leaned back in his throne, closing his eyes as the weight of everything settled over him. The medallion, the girl, the past—it all pointed the one truth.

The night was quiet, almost too quiet. You woke with a start, unsure what had disturbed your restless sleep. As you looked toward the heavy iron door of your cell, your heart stopped. It was open. The faint glow of magic that usually sealed it was gone. The air was still, but there was a strange feeling in your chest—a sense that this was your chance. You didn’t know why the door was open or how it had happened, but you weren’t going to waste it. Slowly, you crept toward the doorway, your bare feet silent against the cold stone floor. The corridor was dark, the flickering torches along the walls barely lighting the way. You hesitated for a moment, listening for any sign of guards, but the silence was complete. Taking a deep breath, you moved forward. The palace halls were a maze, and you had no idea where you were going. All you knew was that you needed to get out. The night air hit you as you stepped through the large wooden doors at the end of the hall. You were outside. Free.

The forest stretched out before you, endless and dark. The trees were massive, their twisted branches blocking out the moonlight. Shadows danced between the trunks, and the air was thick with damp earth and decay. Every step you took was a gamble—roots jutted out from the ground, and the uneven forest floor threatened to trip you. Your breath came in gasps as you ran, clutching the medallion at your neck. You didn’t know where you were going; you only knew you had to keep moving. Then, the sound you feared the most broke through the silence: a horn. The guards had discovered your escape. The sound echoed through the forest, a low, haunting note that made your chest tighten. You pushed yourself harder, your legs burning as you stumbled through the undergrowth. In the distance, a small, crooked cabin came into view. It looked abandoned, its roof sagging and the wooden walls blackened with age. But it was better than nothing. You slipped inside, shutting the door behind you as quietly as you could. The cabin was cold and smelled of mildew. Dust coated every surface, and cobwebs hung from the ceiling. It was dark, the faint moonlight filtering in through cracks in the walls. You huddled in a corner, trying to catch your breath.

You were safe. For now.

The horn’s sound reached every corner of the palace, waking the guards and setting them into motion. They rushed through the halls, their armor clinking, until they reached the throne room. Choi San sat on his throne, his head bowed as he stared at the medallion in his hand. He had been holding it more and more often lately, unable to let it go. It was the last piece of her he had left. “My king,” a guard said, his voice shaking slightly. San didn’t look up. “What is it?”

“The girl,” the guard began nervously. “She’s escaped.” San froze, the medallion slipping from his fingers and landing on the floor with a soft clink. He lifted his head slowly, his sharp eyes fixing on the trembling guard. “What did you say?” His voice was quiet, but there was a deadly edge to it. “She’s gone, my lord,” the guard stammered. “We don’t know how. The dungeons were sealed, but she—”

“Enough,” San interrupted coldly, rising from his throne. Without another word, he strode toward the stables. The guards followed for a moment, unsure of what to do, until he raised a hand. “I will handle this myself,” he said firmly.

San’s horse was a massive black stallion, its coat gleaming like polished obsidian. The animal snorted, its breath clouding in the cool night air as its master approached. San mounted swiftly, his movements precise and controlled. He urged the horse forward, the forest swallowing them both. As the horse galloped through the dark woods, San’s mind was far from the present. His thoughts were filled with her—his queen. She had been his light, the one thing that made eternity bearable. Her laughter had warmed even the coldest corners of his heart, her touch grounding him in a way nothing else ever could. With her, the world had been full of color and life. Now, everything was dark. The palace, the forest, even his heart. He had tried to move on, to bury her memory deep, but it was impossible. The guilt, the loss, the weight of her absence—it consumed him. And now, this mortal girl, with her strange presence and the medallion, had brought it all back. “She’s connected to her,” he muttered to himself. San’s jaw tightened. He didn’t care about the risks. He needed answers.

The cabin was small and dimly lit, its wooden walls creaking softly as you leaned against them, trying to catch your breath. Your chest rose and fell as you gasped for air, your legs trembling from the mad sprint through the forest. Outside, the sound of horns echoed faintly, the guards’ warning carrying through the trees. You had escaped—for now—but the fear still gripped your chest like a vice. You thought you were alone. But then, out of nowhere, a voice startled you. "Who are you, my dear?" It was soft but sharp, the kind of voice that made you freeze in place. Your heart skipped a beat, and your wide eyes scanned the room. A figure stepped forward from the shadows in the corner of the cabin. It was an elderly woman, hunched slightly with age but somehow commanding. Her silver hair was wild and long, framing a face lined with time. Her dark, piercing eyes locked onto you, making you feel as though she could see every secret you didn’t even know you had. Her clothes were patched and old, layers of earthy tones that seemed to blend with the forest outside. "I—I didn’t know anyone was here," you stammered, your hand gripping the door behind you as if preparing to run again. The old woman’s eyes dropped to your chest, and her breath hitched. "That medallion..." she whispered, her voice shaky. "How do you have that?" Your hand instinctively touched the necklace that hung from your neck, the one you had always worn. The smooth surface of the green, pearl-like pendant felt strangely cold beneath your fingers. "I—I’ve always had it. It’s mine," you replied. The woman stepped closer, her hands trembling slightly as though she wanted to touch it but stopped herself. Her face was pale, her expression unreadable, but there was something in her eyes—shock, disbelief, maybe even fear. "You look just like her," she murmured, almost too softly for you to hear. "Like... who?" you asked, your voice shaking. Something about her gaze made your stomach churn. She gestured to a chair by the fireplace. "Sit. There is much you don’t know." You hesitated but eventually sat, too tired and too confused to argue. The old woman lowered herself into a creaky chair across from you, her movements slow, as though the weight of her words was already too much. "That medallion," she began, "is no ordinary piece of jewelry. It was made long ago, in the heart of the Forest of Luthënar, from the bark of the Eldertree. The Eldertree is a sacred tree—older than memory itself. Its wood glimmers like moonlight, and its sap is said to hold the power of life and death. This medallion... it was crafted using that sap, along with the dust of rare stones found only on the darkest nights. It is unlike anything else in this world." Her voice was steady, but her words left you reeling. You glanced at the medallion in your hands, its soft glow catching the faint light of the fire. It had always been a part of you, but you’d never thought it was anything more than a family heirloom—or at least, that’s what you’d told yourself. She continued, her voice heavy with meaning. "The one who wears that medallion is bound to a powerful fate. It carries the blessing—and curse—of rebirth. Whoever wears it... their soul will return again and again, until their purpose is fulfilled."

"Rebirth?" you echoed, shaking your head. "That’s impossible. I’ve had this medallion since I was a baby. I was found with it."

Her sharp eyes bore into yours. "Yes. You were found. Left on the edge of a cliff, I’d wager. You were not abandoned by chance, my dear. That medallion belongs to a queen—a queen who lived long ago, a queen who ruled with strength and love. A queen who died... far too soon." You blinked at her, your mind struggling to process what she was saying. "A queen? No, that can’t be true. I’m not a queen. I’m just... me."

"You are her," the woman said firmly, her voice shaking slightly. "You are his queen. The medallion ensured your soul would return, though you may not remember. You may not know who you were, but the soul never forgets. It always remembers." You stared at her, your hands tightening around the medallion as if it might slip away. The words felt impossible, and yet... a strange uneasiness stirred within you. A faint flicker of something—like a memory just out of reach—tugged at the edge of your mind. "But... if that’s true, why don’t I remember?" you asked weakly. "Because memories fade with each new life," she explained, her voice soft now. "The mind forgets, but the soul holds on. That is why he could not destroy you, no matter how much anger he felt. Somewhere in his heart, he knows who you are, though he does not yet understand." You shook your head, leaning back in the chair as your world seemed to spin. This was too much. Too strange. Too... impossible. "You’re wrong. He doesn’t care about me. He threw me in the dungeons. He—he hates me." The old woman’s face softened, her eyes heavy with sorrow. "He does not hate you, my dear. He hates himself—for failing you. For not protecting you in your first life. His heart is broken, shattered by grief. And now, seeing you again... it terrifies him. He cannot face the past. But he cannot turn away from you, either. That is why he is searching for you now." Her words sent a chill through you. "Searching... for me?" you whispered. The woman nodded grimly. "He will not rest until he finds you. He cannot. His soul is as bound to yours as yours is to his." As if on cue, the distant sound of hooves reached your ears, faint but growing louder. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared at the door. The woman rose slowly, her gaze shifting to the window. "He’s here," she murmured. "You cannot run from him forever. The truth will follow you, no matter where you go."

The cabin door creaked as you stepped outside, the cold night air hitting your face like a warning. You didn’t dare look back. The old woman’s words still echoed in your mind, but you had no time to think about them. You ran, the medallion bouncing against your chest as your feet pounded against the forest floor. The woods were even darker now, the moon hidden behind thick clouds. The trees closed in around you, their twisted branches reaching out like claws. Sharp twigs scratched at your skin, and the uneven ground threatened to trip you with every step. You had no idea where you were going—only that you had to get away. And yet, no matter how fast you ran, you could feel it. Him. Choi San. His presence wasn’t just a shadow in your mind; it was something tangible, closing in like a storm. Then, the growl stopped you in your tracks. It came from somewhere in the darkness, low and guttural, sending a chill down your spine. Slowly, you turned toward the sound, your breath catching as your eyes adjusted to the gloom. A massive wolf stepped out of the shadows, but it wasn’t like any wolf you’d ever seen. Its fur was black, its body rippling with unnatural strength. But the most terrifying part was its three heads, each one snarling, each mouth lined with jagged, dripping teeth. Its glowing red eyes locked onto you, and all three heads tilted slightly, as though it were studying you. A low, menacing growl rumbled from its chest, vibrating through the ground beneath you. Your legs refused to move. Fear gripped you, freezing you in place as the creature came closer. The wolf growled louder, its heads snapping toward you in unison. Your heart raced, your mind screaming for you to run, but it was too late. The beast crouched, ready to pounce. Then, like a flash of lightning, something silver sliced through the air. A sword struck the wolf with deadly precision. In one clean motion, the blade severed all three heads from its body. The creature’s snarl turned into a wet, gurgling sound before it collapsed to the ground, lifeless. You stared, frozen in shock, as the three heads rolled away, their glowing red eyes dimming. The body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling around it. For a moment, the world was still. Then, the sound of boots crunching through the leaves snapped you out of your daze.You turned, your wide eyes meeting his. Choi San stood there, his sword still dripping with the creature’s blood. He looked like something out of a legend, his sharp features illuminated by the faint glow of the moon. His black cloak shifted in the breeze, and his amber eyes burned as they met yours. He took a step closer, his gaze sweeping over you. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something intense, searching. "You..." he said softly, his voice rough but steady. "It’s you." You backed away instinctively, your pulse racing. "I-I don’t know what you mean." San sheathed his sword with a swift, practiced motion and took another step forward. "You don’t understand, do you?" he asked, his voice low. "But now... now I see it."

"See what?" you asked, your voice trembling.

San’s eyes flicked to the medallion around your neck. His expression shifted—confusion, pain, and something else you couldn’t name flashed across his face. "That medallion," he said, his tone almost accusing. "It belonged to her. To my queen." You instinctively clutched the medallion, shaking your head. "I’m not her," you said firmly, though your voice wavered. "I don’t know what you think I am, but I’m not—"

"You are," he interrupted, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He looked at you like you were a ghost, someone he thought he would never see again. "I didn’t want to see it before. I couldn’t. But it’s you. You’re her." You stared at him, your mind spinning. The old woman’s words echoed in your mind: You were his queen. Reborn. "No," you whispered, shaking your head. "You’re wrong. I’m not—"

"I know what I see. You have her face, her soul. That medallion... It wouldn’t be with you unless-" He stopped, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought. Tears pricked your eyes. "I don’t know what you want from me," you said, your voice breaking. "I don’t know anything about a queen or a past life. I’m just me." San exhaled sharply, running a hand through his dark hair. He looked at you with a mix of frustration and anguish, like someone fighting a battle within himself. "You don’t remember," he said softly, almost to himself. "Of course you don’t." His words made your chest tighten. You wanted to argue, to deny everything, but deep down, something about his gaze, his voice, made you hesitate. San took one last step toward you, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from him. "Whether you remember or not," he said, his voice low, "you’re here. And you’re mine." The words sent a shiver down your spine, and you weren’t sure if it was fear, anger, or something else entirely. "I don’t belong to anyone," you managed to say, your voice trembling but defiant. San’s lips curved into a faint, bitter smile. "You always said that," he murmured, almost fondly. San moved closer, his steps slow and deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.

You instinctively backed away, your heart racing in your chest, but it was no use. The rough bark of a tree pressed into your back, halting your retreat. You were trapped. His imposing figure loomed over you, his broad shoulders blocking out the faint light of the moon. The cool night air felt suffocating as his amber eyes locked onto yours, piercing through every layer of your resolve. For a moment, neither of you moved, the tension between you thick and electric. San’s gaze flickered, his eyes traveling from yours to the medallion hanging around your neck. Then, slowly, they dropped lower, tracing the line of your jaw, lingering on your lips.He licked his lips, his hand moved upward, brushing against the medallion with a featherlight touch. The cool metal shifted against your skin, and his fingers followed, grazing your collarbone. "You still don’t understand, do you?" he murmured, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver down your spine. "I..." You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat. His presence was overwhelming, and your mind was a storm of confusion and unease. San leaned in, his face so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes searched yours, as though trying to find answers you couldn’t give him. His free hand slid to your waist, his fingers pressing firmly but not harshly, grounding you to the moment. "Even if you don’t remember," he said, his voice softer now but no less intense, "your soul does. I can feel it." You stood frozen, your back pressed firmly against the tree. Your breath came in shallow gasps, your chest rising and falling with every labored inhale. His words left you shaken, but it wasn’t just what he said—it was the way he looked at you, like you were something precious and fragile, yet completely untouchable. He leaned in further, the space between you vanishing until his body was almost flush against yours. His hand on your waist tightened slightly, and you felt the strength in his grip—not rough, but possessive, as though he were afraid you might disappear if he let go. Your mind screamed at you to push him away, to break free, but your body refused to move. It wasn’t fear that rooted you in place; it was something far stranger. His presence, his touch, the raw intensity in his eyes—it all held you captive. "You’re afraid of me," San said quietly, his lips so close to your ear that the words sent a ripple of heat down your neck. "But you don’t have to be." Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, your thoughts a jumbled mess of defiance and confusion. "I’m not afraid," you whispered, though even you didn’t believe it. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. "Then why are you trembling?" You didn’t have an answer. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides, but you couldn’t summon the strength to push him away. Instead, you looked up at him, your wide eyes meeting his, and for a brief moment, the world around you seemed to fade. San's hand remained firm on your waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your tunic, grounding you as the world seemed to tilt around you. His piercing gaze remained locked on yours, flickering with emotions you couldn’t name. It was as if he were searching for something—some hidden truth, some unspoken connection. His face was close now, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, steady and measured, yet carrying an intensity that made your heart race. Your back pressed harder against the rough bark of the tree as he leaned in, his presence overwhelming but strangely magnetic. "You don’t even realize it, do you?" he murmured, his voice a soft rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. "Realize what?" you whispered, your voice trembling. "That you’ve always been mine."

The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable, as if they carried the weight of lifetimes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your breath mingling with his as he drew even closer. His eyes lingered on your lips, and you felt the moment stretch, a taut thread about to snap. And then, it did. San’s lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as if testing the waters. The touch was featherlight, sending a jolt of warmth through your entire body. Your breath hitched, and for a moment, the world seemed to pause. But he didn’t stop there. The hesitation melted away as he deepened the kiss, his hand sliding from your waist to the small of your back, pulling you closer. His other hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently against your skin. The kiss was slow yet filled with an intensity that made your knees weak, a mixture of longing and something deeper—something neither of you could name. You didn’t know why you didn’t push him away. Every rational thought told you to, but your body refused to obey. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, your hands instinctively gripping the front of his cloak for balance. When he finally pulled back, just enough to look at you, his breathing was uneven, his eyes searching yours with a vulnerability you hadn’t expected. "Why don’t you stop me?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your lips tingling from the kiss, your mind spinning. "I... I don’t know," you admitted, the words trembling as they left your mouth. San’s gaze softened, but his intensity didn’t waver. "You may not remember me," he said, his thumb brushing your cheek again, "but I’ll make you remember." His words sent another shiver through you, and you realized with a pang of confusion that you weren’t sure whether you wanted to run or let him consume you entirely.

San’s hand remained steady on your waist as his other brushed against your cheek, his amber eyes pulling you into their depths. His gaze softened, and for the first time, there was something almost tender in his expression, though it was tinged with hesitation. “Close your eyes,” he said quietly, his voice low but commanding. You hesitated, your breath catching in your chest. “Why?” He tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a faint, almost bittersweet smile. “Just trust me. Close your eyes.” Something about the way he said it left no room for argument. Slowly, you let your eyelids flutter shut, the tension in your shoulders still refusing to leave. You felt the faint warmth of his hand against your skin, grounding you, and the low hum of the medallion against your chest seemed to grow stronger.“Now open them,” he whispered, his voice brushing against your senses like a breeze. When you did, the world around you was transformed.

The dark, tangled woods were gone, replaced by a vibrant, sunlit forest. The trees stood tall and proud, their trunks wrapped in soft moss, and the air smelled of wildflowers and fresh rain. Birds chirped overhead, their songs mingling with the laughter of children. In the distance, you saw them—small, carefree figures running and playing among the trees, their joy infectious. The world here was alive in a way you had never seen before, every corner of it glowing with a warmth that made your chest ache. You turned to San, your eyes wide with awe. “What... what is this?”. “This,” he said, gesturing to the beauty around you, “is what it used to be. The forest before it was tainted by loss. Before... everything changed.” You couldn’t find the words to respond. It was breathtaking, magical, and yet there was a strange sense of familiarity in it all, like a distant memory stirring in the back of your mind. San reached for your hand, his touch firm but careful, and began leading you down a soft, well-worn path through the trees. You didn’t resist, too captivated by the scene unfolding before you. The laughter of children faded as you walked, replaced by a stillness that made your heart ache. The trees grew taller, their branches arching over the path like a natural cathedral. And then, through the gaps in the trees, you saw them.

There, standing in a sunlit clearing, was... you.

You gasped softly, your grip tightening on San’s hand as you took in the sight. The version of you from the past was radiant, dressed in a grand crimson gown that shimmered like liquid fire in the sunlight. The bodice hugged your form perfectly, while the skirt flared out in soft, sweeping folds, its intricate embroidery glinting faintly. Around your neck hung the medallion, its glow unmistakable even from a distance. You stood next to him—San. Or rather, the San of that time. He was dressed in dark armor, elegant yet strong, with intricate designs etched into the metal. His expression was softer than the San you knew now, his lips curved in a rare smile as he gazed at you. You both looked... perfect. A king and queen. Your throat tightened as you watched. “Is this...?”

"This is who we were", San said, his voice quiet, almost reverent. The memory played out before you like a dream. The two of you were speaking softly, though you couldn’t hear the words. San reached out, his hand brushing a stray strand of hair from the past you’s face, his touch filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. But the peace didn’t last. The skies darkened, and the sound of distant horns broke the stillness. Shadows moved through the trees—soldiers, weapons drawn, marching toward the clearing. The air was heavy with the tension of an impending battle. You saw yourself arguing with San, your face set with determination, his with frustration. “You can’t fight,” the past San said sharply, his voice firm but desperate. “I won’t hide while my people suffer!” the past you shot back, her voice ringing with defiance. San grabbed your arm, his grip firm. “You are my queen. You’re meant to lead, not die on a battlefield!”

“And you’re my king,” you replied, your tone softer now but no less resolute. “If you’re fighting, then so am I.” The memory blurred as the battle began. Swords clashed, shouts filled the air, and the forest was soon alight with chaos. You could only watch as the scene unfolded, your past self moving through the battlefield with grace and courage, the medallion glowing faintly as if feeding off your resolve. Then, the focus shifted. You followed San as he was drawn away from the main battle, his opponents forcing him deeper into the forest. Their swords clashed, the sound sharp and violent, until he finally struck them down one by one. But you didn’t know that. The past you, frantic and desperate, ran after him, your gown torn and dirtied from the fight. You called his name, your voice trembling with worry, but the forest seemed to swallow the sound. When you finally stumbled into a small clearing, it was empty. Or so you thought. A figure stepped out of the shadows. You couldn’t make out their face, only the glint of the blade in their hand. You backed away, clutching at the medallion as if it could save you, but it was too late. The blade pierced your chest, cold and unyielding, and your breath left you in a ragged gasp. You fell to your knees, blood pooling beneath you, staining the earth red. You tried to speak, to cry out, but no sound came. And then, through the haze of pain, you saw him. San. His sword slipped from his hand as he stumbled forward, his face pale with horror. “No...” His voice broke, raw and filled with anguish. “What have I done?” You stared at him, confusion and betrayal etched into your features as you tried to understand. It was his blade. His hand. The person you trusted most had ended your life.The last thing you saw was his face—haunted, broken—as the world faded to black.

You gasped as your eyes flew open, your chest heaving as if the blade had struck you again. The forest of the past was gone, replaced by the cold, dark woods of the present. San stood before you, his face pale, his expression unreadable."You..." you choked out, your hand instinctively clutching the medallion. "You killed me." His jaw tightened, his eyes filled with something between guilt and desperation. "I didn’t mean to. You have to believe me—I never meant to hurt you." Tears burned in your eyes as you took a shaky step back. "How could you? I trusted you. I... I loved you."

"And I loved you," San said, his voice breaking. "More than anything. That’s why it destroyed me when I saw what I had done. Why I’ve spent centuries trying to atone for it. Why I couldn’t let you go." You shook your head, tears streaming down your face. "You don’t get to decide my fate," you whispered. "Not then. Not now." San reached for you, his expression pleading. "Please, let me explain—" But you didn’t let him finish. You turned and ran, the forest swallowing you once again as the weight of the truth threatened to crush you. The forest seemed endless, its twisted shadows reaching for you like hands trying to drag you back. You didn’t care where your feet were taking you—you just needed to escape. His voice, his eyes, the memories of what he had done... it was all too much. Branches scratched at your arms, roots threatened to trip you, but you didn’t stop. Your legs burned, your chest ached, and yet you pushed forward. But then, out of nowhere, he was there. San stepped out of the shadows ahead of you, his tall frame bathed in faint moonlight. Your breath catching as you stared at him, frozen. His chest rose and fell quickly, his breathing ragged, and his dark hair fell loosely over his forehead, damp with sweat. His shirt hung open at the collar, revealing the faint sheen of his skin, the lines of his chest rising and falling with each unsteady breath. The way the moonlight hit his sharp features made him look impossibly beautiful, almost unreal, but the intensity in his amber eyes grounded you in the moment. “Don’t,” he said, his voice raw and desperate. “Don’t run from me.” Your throat tightened, and you instinctively took a step back, your body trembling. “How did you—” The words barely left your lips before they faltered. San didn’t answer, but his gaze burned into yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. His lips were slightly parted, his jaw clenched, and there was something in his expression—something between anguish and longing—that sent a shiver through you. You took another step back, then another, until your back hit the rough bark of a tree. The impact made you gasp, and you realized, too late, that there was nowhere left to go. San moved closer, his steps slow but deliberate, like he was giving you a chance to stop him—but you didn’t. You couldn’t. His broad shoulders seemed to block out the forest around you, his presence commanding every part of your attention. “I told you not to run,” he murmured, his voice strained, his eyes flicking down to the medallion around your neck before returning to your face. He lifted a hand, bracing it against the tree beside your head, trapping you without touching you. "Why can’t you just leave me alone?" you whispered, your voice trembling, though you didn’t know if it was from fear or something else entirely. San exhaled sharply, his free hand running through his messy hair, his frustration clear. “Because I can’t,” he said, his voice low and uneven. He leaned in slightly, the space between you growing smaller with every word. “Don’t you see? I can’t stop—I can’t stop being in love with you.” Your breath hitched, and your heart felt like it had stopped. His words hung in the air, heavy and raw, like they had been torn from the depths of his soul. “Even after all this time,” he continued, his voice soft but filled with a desperate edge, “even after everything I’ve done, I can’t stop. You’re in my blood, in my soul. You’re... you’re everything.” Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words crashed over you. “You don’t mean that,” you said weakly, your voice breaking. “You can’t mean that.” San’s hand moved, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently it sent a shiver down your spine. His touch was warm, grounding, but it only made your emotions swirl more chaotically. “You don’t believe me?” he asked, his eyes searching yours. His breathing was uneven, his chest rising and falling just inches from you. “Then tell me to leave. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t feel it too. Tell me, and I’ll go.”

Your breath trembled as you stared at him, his amber eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made it impossible to think straight. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his body inches from yours, yet he didn’t move any closer. He was giving you a choice. "You want to know what I want to tell you?" you whispered, your voice shaking as you fought the storm of emotions swirling in your chest. San didn’t speak, his lips parting slightly as he searched your face. His silence was answer enough. He was waiting, bracing himself for the words that might finally break him. Your heart thundered as you stepped forward, closing the small distance between you. His eyes widened slightly at your movement, his breath catching as your face came closer to his. “I want to tell you this,” you whispered. Before he could react, your hands reached up, gripping the edges of his cloak, and you pulled him down to you. Your lips crashed against his in a kiss so desperate, so consuming, that it left no room for hesitation. San froze for a heartbeat, as though he couldn’t believe what was happening, but then he melted into you. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you flush against him as he deepened the kiss with a hunger that sent heat rushing through your entire body. Your fingers tangled in the fabric of his shirt, clutching him as if you were afraid he might disappear. The world around you seemed to blur, the forest and its shadows fading into nothing as his warmth surrounded you. The kiss was fierce, filled with longing and pain and something else—something that felt like hope. San’s hand moved to cradle your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as his lips moved against yours. He kissed you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered, like he was pouring centuries of heartbreak and love into this one moment. His breathing was still ragged, but now it was from the sheer intensity of it all. When you finally pulled back, your forehead rested against his, both of you breathless. His amber eyes searched yours, his expression torn between disbelief and something deeper—something that made your chest tighten. "You..." he started, his voice hoarse, his grip on your waist tightening as though he feared you might slip away. "Why—"

"Because I couldn’t lie to you," you interrupted, your voice still trembling. "No matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you to go. I couldn’t stop myself. I can’t." San closed his eyes briefly, his hand tightening against your waist as his other stayed cradling your face. "You don’t know what you’re doing to me," he whispered, his voice cracking slightly. "Maybe I do," you replied softly, your lips still tingling from the kiss.

San’s breath was uneven as he held you close, his forehead still resting against yours. The space between you had vanished, replaced by something undeniable, something neither of you could fight anymore. Then, his lips brushed against your jaw. Your breath hitched, your fingers curling against the fabric of his cloak as warmth spread through your body. “San...” you whispered, unsure if it was meant to stop him or urge him on. He didn’t respond with words, only with actions. His mouth moved lower, trailing kisses along the curve of your jaw before reaching the delicate skin of your neck. His lips fit there so perfectly, as if they had been meant for this. A shiver ran through you as he lingered, his hands tightening their hold on you as if anchoring himself. Each kiss was careful, like he was relearning something he had once known by heart. His nose brushed against your skin as he exhaled softly, the warmth of his breath sending a rush of sensation down your spine. “You taste the same,” he murmured against your throat, his voice low and laced with something dangerously close to need. You swallowed hard, tilting your head instinctively as his lips moved lower. Your mind was spinning, every nerve in your body awake under his touch. “San...” you tried again, your fingers gripping his shoulders. “We shouldn’t—” He pulled back just enough to look at you, his amber eyes dark and unreadable. "Then tell me to stop," he challenged softly. You opened your mouth, but the words never came. You couldn't say it. San's lips curled into a knowing smirk, his fingers reaching for the fabric draped around your shoulders—a soft, flowing cloak lined with delicate silver embroidery. With one slow, deliberate motion, he pushed it off, the fabric slipping from your body and pooling at your feet. The cool night air kissed your skin, but it was nothing compared to the warmth of him, of his hands sliding gently over your arms."You’re beautiful," he murmured, his gaze drinking you in as though committing the sight to memory. You shivered, though not from the cold. His lips found your neck again, this time pressing deeper, lingering longer. He kissed and nipped gently, his touch slow and teasing. Your breath came in soft gasps as he traveled lower, his lips brushing just above the lace of your bra, his fingers ghosting over your waist. Your hands found his hair, threading through the soft strands as you fought to stay silent. But when his lips pressed just above your collarbone, a quiet, shaky breath escaped you.

San's mouth paused, his lips still touching your skin, as he waited for your reaction. The sound of your shaky breath was like a spark to dry kindling, igniting a fire within him. His hands, already warm on your skin, seemed to burn with an inner heat as he slid them up your back, his fingers tracing the delicate lace of your bra. The touch sent shivers down your spine, and you felt your nipples harden in response, straining against the fabric that confined them. His lips, still pressed against your collarbone, curved into a gentle smile, as if he knew the effect he was having on you. And then, with a slowness that was almost torturous, he began to kiss his way down, his mouth tracing the curve of your breast, his tongue darting out to tease the lace that covered your nipple. Your hands, still threaded through his hair, tightened, pulling him closer as you arched your back, offering yourself to him. The night air was cool around you, but you felt only heat, only the burning desire that seemed to emanate from San's very pores. His fingers found the clasp of your bra, and with a deft touch, he released it, the lace sliding away from your skin like a whispered promise. Your breasts, freed from their confinement, seemed to swell, the nipples hardening further as San's mouth closed around one, his tongue swirling in a maddening rhythm. You felt your breath catch, your body arching further, as he sucked, his lips pulling gently, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. And when he finally released you, his eyes locked onto yours, burning with a fierce inner fire, his voice low and husky as he whispered, "I've missed this, missed you, missed the way you respond to me" As San's eyes held yours, his hands began to move, the fingers that had so deftly undone your bra now working to release the buttons of his pants. The sound of the zipper lowering was like a promise, a hint of the pleasure that was to come. His eyes never left yours, his gaze burning with an intensity that seemed to sear itself into your very soul. The pants, once undone, slid down his hips, revealing the hard, muscular thighs that had been hidden beneath. And then, his hands moved to his underwear, the last barrier between you and the desire that had been building for so long. The fabric slid down, and San's erection sprang free, hard and proud, the head glistening with precum that seemed to bring you closer. Your breath caught, your heart racing with anticipation, as San's hands moved to your hips, the fabric was pushed up, bunched around your waist, and then his hands were on your thighs, his fingers tracing the curve of your legs before moving to the lace of your panties. The touch was like a spark, igniting a fire that seemed to burn away all reason, all thought, leaving only the desire that had been building between you for so long. "I want you," San whispered, his voice low and husky, his eyes burning with a fierce inner fire. "I want to be inside you, to feel you around me, to make you mine."

His hands grasp your hips, his erection pressing against your inner thighs. You feel the tip of his cock teasing your entrance, sending a rush of anticipation through your body. With a gentle thrust, he slides inside you, filling you completely. The sensation is almost overwhelming, his length stretching you to your limits. Your muscles clench around him, holding him tight as he begins to move, his strokes slow and deliberate at first, then growing faster and more intense. The friction builds, a burning heat that spreads through your core, threatening to consume you. His breath is hot against your skin, his lips tracing the curve of your neck, sending shivers down your spine. One hand remains on your hip, holding you in place, while the other reaches down to find your clit. His thumb brushes against the sensitive nub, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. He begins to rub your clit in slow, gentle circles, the pressure building as he continues to move inside you. The combination of his cock sliding in and out of you and his thumb teasing your clit is almost too much to bear. Your breath catches in your throat as you feel yourself being pushed closer to the edge. His thumb moves faster, the circles tightening as he senses your impending climax. The sensation is intense, your body coiling tighter and tighter until you're not sure how much more you can take.

The forest was quiet now, the air thick with the scent of earth and the lingering warmth of your bodies. The only sounds were your soft, uneven breaths, still tangled together in the aftermath of what had just happened. San held you close, his arms wrapped securely around you as if afraid you might disappear. His skin was warm against yours, his chest rising and falling in time with your own. The rough bark of the tree pressed against your back, but you hardly noticed. The only thing you could focus on was him—his touch, his presence, the way his fingers traced gentle patterns along your spine.He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. His amber gaze was softer now, no longer filled with the tension and desperation from before. Instead, there was something deeper—something that made your breath catch. His hand came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing delicately over your cheek. His lips curved into the faintest of smiles before he leaned in, kissing you again—slow, unhurried, savoring the moment. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I love you, my queen.” The words settled over you like a warm embrace, wrapping around your heart and holding it tight. You smiled, your fingers threading through his dark hair as you whispered back, “And I love you, my king.”

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