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hyubcore · 1 year

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part two .

we’ll be forgiven together we wait for space together we wait for silence

There was something hauntingly comforting about the whole situation.

There was a distant fire blazing, lighting up the small space surrounding it. He felt tempted to go towards it. Towards light—just like the Walkers.

They loved light. You would think they would be more accustomed to the nighttime the way bats and racoons are. More leeway to attack, no one to spy on you and see your every move in broad daylight. People are more vulnerable. But no, they loved light.

They loved the light the way Yonghoon loved the haunting comfort. Being alone was the last thing anyone would want given the state of the universe at the time, but for Yonghoon—finally, he was alone.

He had become a nomad once things began to settle in. Most people panicked when the beginning of the end had crept upon mankind. People were terrified to lose their lives. Those lives they complained about every day—suddenly, they wanted it back. The seven o’clock alarms and rush hour traffic. But he could escape.

He ignored the fire and kept on.

The sound of Yonghoon’s car became music to his ears as the rumbling of the engine blocked out the sounds of the Walkers moans and groans. He had learned every single word of every single song on the CDs his parents had left behind. In particular, the Theatre of Pain CD by Motley Crue had become almost entirely worn out. But he figured, if a Walker decided to make themselves at home in his vehicle, break the thing in half and end their misery.

There’s no character to the sky above him. It’s a faded blue-grey—no clouds, no sun, no birds. It reflected the way things had become—dead.

He put in a Green Day CD as he drove down the dirt road. He played the music softly so Walkers wouldn’t hear. He focuses on the music, trying to keep his eyes off the few Walkers that were littered around the area. A large, open field stretched across his left side, and on the right, stands what he had assumed to be an abandoned neighborhood.

As he started to turn onto the main stretch of the road, he heard screams. Not just those guttural hisses and moans from the Walkers, but a live, a young scream. There was a human nearby.

He parked his car on the road, taking a stronghold of his knife. He prepared himself to kill anything that posed a threat, even the source of the screams. If there was one thing Yonghoon was beginning to learn since the start of it all, it was to never trust anyone.

The screams were coming from just ahead of him on the side of the road. A puddle of blood had surrounded the body that continued to let out sounds of agony and misery. Yonghoon approached slowly, steadily, keeping his focus on the knife in his hand. As he got closer to the source, it was a short-stacked, obviously younger boy. His leg was wrapped in a thick amount of cloth, which was stained red.

“H-Help—”

“I’m gonna help you. ‘Kay?” Yonghoon inched closer, keeping his distance in case the boy decided to pounce. He noticed the boy tense up at the sight of the knife in Yonghoon’s grip. Yonghoon dropped it on the pavement. “What happened?”

The boy inhaled a deep breath before speaking. “I got shot. Some assholes just drove by and got me, they must’ve thought I was a Rotter or something.”

Yonghoon kneeled, taking a closer look at the wound. It smelled.

“Okay. Can you stand?” Yonghoon asked as he grabbed his knife and put it back in its sleeve. The boy winced as he pushed himself off the ground. Yonghoon wrapped the boy’s arm around his own shoulders as they slowly walked back towards the car. The music was still flooding from the cracks of the windows. Yonghoon felt embarrassed for a fleeting moment, listening to Boulevard of Broken Dreams.

The boy heaved in heavy, slow breaths, and Yonghoon could tell he was trying not to let out any loud noises.

“What’s your name, kid?” Yonghoon asked, trying to spark up some conversation. He realized though that this boy was probably in no mood to be talking when he had a gaping hole in his leg.

“It’s Giwook,” he replied.

“Cool.”

More silence.

“There’s houses over there,” the boy explained as he pointed to his right. “I was going over there then I got shot. I think I saw some light coming from over there.”

Yonghoon made a turn to the right, through a small tunnel of trees looming overhead. The sun tried its best to peek through the branches and shine on them. It was beginning to grow into nighttime, and still, the dead sky wouldn’t drop its guard to give what was left of mankind a nice sunset to look at. Nonetheless, despite the few Walkers that lingered around, the sight was rather beautiful. Again, a calming, haunting comfort.

Driving became more difficult as they entered the neighborhood. Bodies littered the street, along with debris of all sorts. Yonghoon would have been shocked if there were anyone in any of the houses.

“You stay here. I’m gonna find some gauze or something,” Yonghoon said in a low, husky voice. “If any of the Dead Ones pose any sort of threat, just scream. And here—“ Yonghoon took that Motley Crue CD out of the middle compartment and snapped it in two. “You can stab them with this.”

Then he was off. He made sure to lock the doors behind him. He didn’t know Giwook, except for that he was a tough boy for trying to live through a bullet to the thigh, but either way, he wanted to protect him.

Yonghoon checked the houses. He skipped the ones that looked like they had been inhabited by Walkers, or the ones that were burned to the ground, which was most of them. Most of them had already been ransacked.

One smaller house that looked more worn down and barren stood towards the end of the road. It was boarded up. No windows to peek through.

It was obvious someone was in there.

Yonghoon wasn’t sure, though, but tried anyway.

He knocked a few times, waited, to no avail.

He let out a shallow sigh before taking another good look around the house. The area around it was clean. There weren’t any bodies or trash lying around. Yonghoon tried once more, this time, knocking quickly three times, then slowly three more times, then quickly three times. He heard the floor creak inside.

He grabbed a hold of his knife. The person behind the door was just as prepared as Yonghoon was—he pointed a large rifle right at Yonghoon’s face.

Yonghoon put his hands up, keeping the knife in his hands. The guy behind the gun nodded towards the blade, gesturing for Yonghoon to drop it. This surely wasn’t his first rodeo, having to stare down the barrel of a gun. It was how people made conversation with one another nowadays.

“I’m good, I’m good,” Yonghoon repeated with a soft voice. “I just need a little help.”

The guy scanned Yonghoon up and down. Despite the giant gun in his grip, he didn’t look that intimidating. He was shorter than Yonghoon. He had a stout build. He sported a plain, blue t-shirt and some tattered jeans. He gave Yonghoon a glare, one that told him to explain.

“I...I need some bandages. Or something. Alcohol, antibiotics...my friend is shot.”

They both paused, staring each other down. The guy with the gun whistled as he cocked his head back. Upon his cue arrived a much taller guy, however, lanky and nimble. He immediately reached for his pistol at his waistband.

“Where?” asked the short one with a monotone voice.

“He’s in my car.”

The other two in the house exchanged looks. “You got a car?”

“Yeah. I’ve got about three-quarters of a tank left.”

They both lowered their guns. “Take us to the car.”

And so Yonghoon did. They walked back down the road, taking out the occasional Walker. The shorter guy kept his aim on Yonghoon the whole time, though, pressing the tip of the gun between Yonghoon’s shoulder blades. The other guy took bigger strides—either because he had such long legs, or he was eager to see what Giwook and Yonghoon’s Honda had in store. Yonghoon noticed, and looked behind him at the short one.

“We lost our friend,” he said quietly. He had a haunting grit to his voice. “You know your friend’s name?”

Yonghoon swallowed hard. “Giwook.”

The two exchanged glances again. “Not ours.”

Once they made it to the vehicle, Yonghoon pointed towards the passenger’s side. He unlocked the doors and the short guy now aimed his gun at Giwook. It only took one look at the boy to know he wouldn’t be any sort of threat.

Tall boy looked up. “They’re good.”

As their guns were lowered, they all gathered around Giwook as he hunched over in pain. He was sweating bullets—his shirt clung to his skin, his hair was oily and damp.

“How the hell are you still alive?” asked Tall boy. Giwook gave him an annoyed expression.

“Just give us some damn help, okay?”

Giwook leaned his head back as he closed his eyes. Yonghoon put a hand on his shoulder, which made the boy squirm.

“He’s not infected, is he?”

Yonghoon let out a sigh. “No. He just got shot. We just need some stuff to hold him over.”

“Take us to Gwangju, and we’ll take care of your friend.”

And so they left Yonghoon there. He had a sour feeling in his stomach, thinking about having to deal with Giwook all the way to Gwangju. Hell, he didn’t even know where he was.

Yonghoon went into the back of the car and grabbed a half-empty water bottle from under the seat. He opened it for Giwook, then instructed the boy to drink. He could barely open his mouth, and the water dribbled all over his shirt. The stench of the boy was unsettling—the combination of his rotting leg and the sweat coating his skin made Yonghoon feel queasy.

After what had felt like a decade, the two finally returned. Only this time, on a motorcycle, and with a box.

Without any hesitation, Short Guy threw the box into the backseat, then took out a roll of paper towel. He handed it to Yonghoon, who was still kneeling next to Giwook.

“Wrap that around his leg. Keeping that bandage on is gonna infect it,” he said. Giwook started to unravel what cloth he had on the wound, the sound of scabbed skin ripping with the cloth making everyone cringe. Yonghoon prepped the paper towel as Tall Guy kneeled next to him.

“I’m Hyungu,” he said, looking at Giwook, then at Yonghoon. His gaze lingered on Yonghoon a bit longer—maybe, because he didn’t want to look at the gory sight of Giwook’s injury—but Yonghoon didn’t mind it. The boy had beach-blonde hair and glasses. Yonghoon was shocked they weren’t broken or anything yet. In fact, he looked rather clean compared to his accomplice.

“Nice to meet you, Hyungu,” Yonghoon replied as he helped Giwook. He held up the old makeshift bandage, throwing it behind them as he made a disgusted face. Hyungu looked closer at the wound.

“Is there an exit wound?” Hyungu asked as he watched Yonghoon wrap the towel around Giwook’s leg. Over in the distance, Short Guy was fueling up his bike. From afar, he looked more intimidating. He had a sheer buzz cut for hair, and sported a few tattoos, at least in the spots that were visible.

“Don’t know. It just hurts.” Giwook seethed through his teeth as the fresh cloth touched his skin. Yonghoon winced, as if he could sense the pain Giwook was in, coursing through his own veins. The sight of the wound alone made his stomach turn.

Before Yonghoon could wrap the towel around, Hyungu grabbed his hand, stopping him. Their eyes met and Yonghoon’s face washed over with confusion. Hyungu looked over towards his partner, whistling to grab his attention.

“Harin,” he shouted. “Throw me your canteen.”

Without hesitation, Short Guy—presumably Harin—tossed over a small container, Hyungu catching it in his hands without any sort of struggle. Hyungu grabbed some of the paper towel, pouring a little water on the cloth then wiping it over Giwook’s leg. The younger boy let out a painful noise of misery. Hyungu let out a shallow chuckle.

“Sorry,” he said as Yonghoon grabbed the boy’s forearm. They finished patching up Giwook.

“What exactly is in Gwangju?” asked Yonghoon. He stood from his kneeling position, which sent a sore pain through his knees and ankles. He walked around to the other side of the car and leaned against the door.

“Some refugee camp. We were headed there, then got separated from one of our own. We think he’s probably headed there.”

Yonghoon looked inside the car at Giwook, who had his eyes closed as he held his thigh.

“They could help your friend,” Harin added. “And besides. We’re running out of resources here.”

Harin started his bike as he secured the small bag on the back of his bike, tightening the straps around the seat.

“Do you know how far it is?” Yonghoon asked. Hyungu went back to the car, grabbing something from the box from earlier. He pulled out a tattered map. At first, seemingly useful, until Yonghoon joined Hyungu in examining the paper which had its words faded beyond recognition. The roads printed in the ink looked just like streaks of yellow sun rays on the paper. Hyungu held the paper close to his eyes, examining further.

“We just need to head south. About 100 miles.” Hyungu folded up the map, putting it into the pocket of the flannel he wore. “It shouldn’t take more than a day or two.”

And so they prepared for their trek. Yonghoon hoped and prayed for the mileage on his car to do him some justice, for he really had no idea if what was left would get them to their destination. Either way, he was determined to get Giwook some real help.

Hyungu drove with Yonghoon and Giwook, Harin led them on his motorcycle. Despite the peaceful feeling that surrounded the group, Yonghoon clenched the wheel so hard the entire time. His fingers began to cramp up. His knuckles went white.

He didn’t relax until they reached the highway—littered with cars and bodies.

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nyamadermont · 20 days

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This Isn't Going to Work

Angstpril 2024: Day 6 (1368 words)

“Lin, this isn’t going to work. I only have a couple of days in the city and I can’t predict when the baby will come. If you can’t take a day or two off to spend with me, I’ll just stay on the Island and not interrupt your schedule.”

“But Kya, I want to see you. It’s been months, and I miss you. We’ve been planning this raid for six months. I would risk my officers’ lives if I just took vacation time right now. Never mind what the council would say.”

“Oh, don’t bring my brother into this, Lin,” Kya groused.

Lin scoffed. “Your brother would be mad at me, but more for making you unavailable. He’s been on my back for three years to take a vacation.”

“Tenzin and I agree on something other than the fact he’s lucky Pema puts up with him.”

Lin froze.

Through a clenched jaw, she managed to respond. “No, I’m sorry, Kya. You’re right. This visit isn’t going to work out.”

click

***

Lin frowned at the timetables and weather charts spread out over Katara’s dining table. She was nearly in tears as she said, “Kya, this isn’t going to work. I have been gone for two weeks already. I’ve got to get Saikahn back to his usual duties. This election is in two months, and I have security to work out across the city.” She dropped her face in her hands. “I want to stay.”

Kya reached over and pulled one hand away and gave it a kiss.

“Lin, dear, you hate it here.”

Lin scoffed.

“I don’t hate you,” she muttered so softly Kya nearly missed it.

Kya kissed Lin’s hand again before settling her cheek into Lin’s palm.

“I don’t hate you, too.”

Their eyes met and they laughed.

Kya sighed.

“Well, if this isn’t going to work, you’d best pack. You know what Tenzin is like when he’s decided a problem is not going to fix itself. I’m sure he is going to have Korra on a meditation regime like none we’ve ever seen before.”

There was no laughter over the fate of two benders going home without their bending.

The door nearly broke from its hinges as Mako came bursting into the room. “Chief! Korra’s back! Everything is going to work out!”

***

“This isn’t going to work. We should just go home,” Lin growled, her stomach churning. Her feet were encased in soggy leather rather than her standard uniform boots. Everywhere, the riotous green growth was oppressive in its pervasiveness. They could only see so far ahead before yet another tree turned them aside from their best guess of a path.

The earth under her feet was saturated, and the water blurred her seismic sense. Kya, meanwhile, seemed almost to tiptoe through the reeds and rushes.

Lin paused a moment to admire the one spark of beauty in this spirits-forsaken swamp.

Except, of course, the spirits had not forsaken this awful place. They had both had visions the night before, and Lin was embarrassed by what Kya had heard.

“Lin, I have a good feeling. I bet Toph is just past that tree over there. Trust me.”

The cackling laugh seemed to come from everywhere but above them.

“Trust? Kya, you should know better than that. Lin won’t trust her own two feet.”

The tiny, wizened form of Lin’s mother emerged from behind the very tree Kya had indicated.

“Hey, Chief.”

Lin shook her head and sighed. “Hey, Chief.”

A few minutes’ worth of backtracking brought them to Toph’s small abode. She negligently raised two stools for sitting, then returned to her own reclining seat.

Kya’s stomach gurgled, so she started opening their pack. “Toph, we brought some food with us. We thought you might like something other than wet mushrooms. We just need a little larger fire to cook everything.”

“That isn’t going to work. The swamp and I have an arrangement, and that fire doesn’t get any bigger. It’s either good enough, or it’s not.”

***

Kya was perplexed by the instructions in the note in her hand. Lin told her to arrive at a very specific hour at the delivery entrance to the Republic City History Museum, and to wait for her.

After a short wait, she began to regret dismissing the cab, because she didn’t see anywhere to sit and wait for her wife. The shadows were shifting, and Kya had other things she wanted to do other than watch the birds flit about the alleyway.

Just as she was about to give up and leave, a police van pulled up and parked next to the dock. Lin exited the passenger side, bent over to speak to the driver, then walked to the cargo doors at the back. Her hand was hidden by the open doors, until she backed up and a large crate floated out and settled on the ground behind the vehicle. Kya presumed there was something metal inside that she was bending.

Lin closed the doors to the van and tapped the back twice. The officer put the sato into gear and drove away.

Lin bent the crate up onto the dock, then walked over to where Kya was waiting with an arched eyebrow and crossed arms.

“You were very specific, Lin. Why have I been waiting here so long?”

Lin had the decency to look slightly abashed. “The people we are here to meet got caught in traffic and couldn’t let us in on time. I’m sorry.”

With a wave, Kya dismissed the concerns, and leaned over to give Lin a kiss.

Kya was fascinated to get to see the back offices and storage areas of the museum. Even as the child of dignitaries, she had never gotten to see the parts of the museum where all the work was done. It seemed to be a busy place, even on a day when they were closed to the public.

She waited in the chair she was led to while Lin managed the crate under the direction of one of the curators. She rummaged through her bag for a book until she remembered having finished her last one from her last trip to the library. A glance around the room found very little to distract her, so she settled on the floor to meditate.

“Kya, dear. We’re ready.”

Kya was prepared with her side-eye for Lin, who somehow did not seem surprised. Or put off in the slightest.

She was almost smug.

Kya frowned, but got up from the floor to follow Lin.

They emerged from the employee areas into the main visitor gallery. Hand in hand, they walked through an open doorway with the phrase “The Story of Our City” marked out in a cheerful red overhead.

It had been years since the last time Kya had brought the niblings, so she could see a few places where things had been updated and rearranged. Lin took a turn Kya didn’t recognize, only to be confronted with a larger-than-life statue of Toph. Which thankfully was not the size of the statue at headquarters.

Lin guided her through a small hall dedicated to the police force from its establishment under the original council through the rise of the triads, the terror of Yakone, the two chiefs after Toph, to Lin’s own promotion to the top job. There was a memorial wall for those killed in the line of duty, whether in what Lin called the ‘quiet years’ or specific historic moments like the Equalist Uprising.

“Kya, darling. Close your eyes, please.”

Kya looked at Lin first, but slowly and deliberately closed her eyes, and wrapped her arm around Lin’s elbow. It was only about another twenty steps before Lin asked her to stop and turn around. She heard a click that sounded like a storage case closing.

“Open your eyes.”

Behind a glass case, a dressmaker’s form supported one of Lin’s uniforms. The plaque overhead read, “Chief Lin Beifong served Republic City for forty years before retiring in the twenty-fourth year of the Korra Era.”

Kya blinked. “Retired?” She looked at Lin in confusion.

“Retired." Lin pointed at the uniform. "This isn’t going to work.”

She smiled at Kya.

“Ever again.��

#angstpril2024 #angstpril 2024 #avatar the legend of korra #legend of korra #fanfiction #day6 #this isn't going to work #kyalin #lin beifong #kya ii #nyama's shorter stories

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unhealthyfanobsession · 1 year

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Only Immortals Fear Death

My contribution to @nestaarcheronweek for Day 6- Lady death.

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30357864/chapters/117917368

In the beginning there was nothing.

In the end there will be nothing.

It took time for Feyre and Elain to understand their power. Outside opinions were solicited and considered and discarded until something clicked together and they both sunk into their newfound transcendence of human existence with tsunami wave rage and petal soft tranquility, respectively.

Nesta needed no time to understand her power. Everyone thought she was afraid of it because she did not know what it was. Everyone thought she shoved it down and refused to speak of it because it was Fae and foreign and entirely unknown. Everyone thought she was overwhelmed and in denial and confused.

That wasn’t it at all.

Nesta knew what her power was the instant her toes went stiff with frozen immortality inside the cauldron’s icy waters.

In the beginning there was nothing.

In the end there will be nothing.

These immortal Fae seemed to fear that inevitable nothingness above all things. Perhaps it was ego, they simply could not conceive of a world devoid of their almighty presence. Perhaps it was fear of the only thing outside their control.

"You could at least pretend to be listening." Feyre spoke on a sigh rather than an admonishment. Nesta looked up from her plate of untouched food. She hadn't put anything on her plate. Feyre had. Loaded this white porcelain disk with eggs and potatoes and rashes of oily meat.

"I am."

Amren let out a snort at her reply, basking in its vagueness like a cat in a sunbeam. Amren did not fear death, Nesta knew.

Probably because she was not Fae. She was something larger, something more ancient. She had lived long enough to be tired of it.

"I have little taste for war." Death was evil to the Fae. A foe to be fought off, an enemy to be vanquished.

Cassian's head inclined slowly and Nesta could just see his mouth beginning to open in her peripheral vision. He shut it again swiftly. Staring, as he always was.

"Interesting," Cassian leaned forward on his elbows, and Nesta braced herself. It was so much worse when he thought before speaking. If he had paused, it was only so he could sharpen his arrow. "I thought you had little taste for watching innocents on the other side of the wall be slaughtered."

Thunk.

The arrow struck true in her chest, but Nesta only pushed a potato to the side of her plate with her fork.

"To die is the most human thing there is."

"I'm glad I am not human then," Rhys scoffed. Cassian and Feyre shot him matching glares.

Nesta exhaled through her nose, lips pulling up into a smirk at a joke that she would never dare voice.

As a human Nesta had learned to respect death. She had seen, in the bloody choking end of her mother, that death could be a gift. A reprieve.

"Does mortality frighten you, Rhysand?"

"something would have to affect me for it to frighten me."

Does death frighten you, Rhysand?

Do I frighten you, Rhysand?

Perhaps that was Nesta's true power, not the control of death, but its inability to control her. Nesta did not fear death. Nesta had wished for death many times in her young life.

So many nights spent in her family’s decrepit little cabin, shivering and kept awake by her sisters' grumbling stomachs, where Nesta wished to be dead rather than to open her eyes another day. She would have rather been dead than suffering. She would have rather been dead than useless.

Some may call it ironic that she was now choosing to be useless, but she was also dead. Nesta had always been Lady Death, even if it took dying to realize that.

Death was far more a punishment to the living.

In the beginning there was nothing.

In the end there will be nothing.

Nesta was a goddess of nothing.

She held the power of nothing.

She was nothing.

But the others would never understand that. Feyre would look at her with a determined resignation that set her teeth on edge. Strap on her saviour armour and promise there was a way to fix this. Promise to save her.

Rhys would eye her warily, gaze travelling up and down her body in a way that would make her feel naked were it any other male. With Rhys she would feel skinned. As if he was peering through her flesh and bone and muscle, trying to locate the power, assess its threat level, consider how it might be harnessed to his own purposes.

Cassian would shrug. She knew that he would. His eyes would go briefly wide before settling into a completely unaffected glaze of gold and green. There would be no concern in them, only enduring devotion. Which was so much worse. Cassian would shrug his massive shoulders, wings rustling the air around them all and make an easy quip about how Illyrians were born to court death. The truth of that statement would tug on both of their ribs, but they would conveniently ignore it as they always did.

And Elain … Elain was the worst. Elain would ask Nesta how she felt.

And Nesta would have to lie to her favourite person in the world.

Because Nesta felt nothing.

And what a beautiful little oblivion it was.

To exist inside one’s own futility.

In the beginning there was nothing.

In the end there will be nothing.

#nestaweek2023 #lady death #nessian #nesta archeron #nessian fanfiction #day6 #acotar #acosf #sarah j maas #nesta archeron supremacy

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amelee23 · 1 year

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Ally | Optional Bias

Pairing: Optional Male Bias x Female Reader (but! the characters are drinking whiskey so both the bias and the reader must be of legal drinking age.)

Genre: Fluff, slightly suggestive (?)

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption, Sharing whiskey from mouth to mouth, french kissing, they're way too in love with each other and everything is super poetically dramatic, they're super supporting and praise each other a lot, reader has nasty coworkers, nicknames like warrioress, queen, love, darling

Word count: 1.579

A/N: This was Kihyun brainrot (Monsta X) but I wrote it as optional bias so that everyone can enjoy it :) Let me know who you imagined in the story!

Light invaded the apartment as soon as the switch was hit. Throwing his suit jacket on the back of the couch, your man pulled his tie loose while heading straight to his high cupboard in the back of the kitchen. That's where he kept the whiskey.

"I wonder if they ever get tired of being so goddamn fake." Your anger was still aparent, turning your words cold and harsh.

"I cannot understand where people's priorities lie, honestly." He backed you up, his voice on the verge of achieving calmness, but not quite there yet. He was still irritated, and the two clear glasses clinked as he set them down on the low height table next to the couch. He opened the whiskey bottle and poured himself a shot, straight. A tiny sip was all it took for him to sigh, a hand running through his hair and leaving it messy on his forehead.

You were finally faced with such a great opportunity - you and your boyfriend had the opening to collaborate on a work project, putting your talents to great use and his just as much. It was something that left both of you sparkling with joy and excitement, but we all know life has it's ways to mess things up. Now you're sitting in his kitchen, angry and exhasperated because your workmates seem to be sabotaging you. Insulting your ideas, finding inexistent flaws in your work ethic and twisting your words until you were about to commit murder if your boyfriend didn't stop you. You've been mumbling, scheming with him the whole night, planning ahead of how to take the project back into your hands properly. He agreed with your every word, anger and stress consuming him just as much. He invited you to his place so that you two could unwind after the events and try to distract yourselves. Many people called you crazy, considering that you haven't dated him long, just a few months - but no man has ever made you feel this supported, this heard before. You went from friends to lovers specifically because you've never felt such a strong trust bond with anyone, and even if it turned out to doom you later - he felt worth the risk. That's what your heart said, damned be your mind.

You took a deep breath. It's okay, it's going to be okay. You're gonna make it through, gonna put things back on track. You believed in your power and his combined - the cruel ocean and the unstoppable wind mashing together in a tsunami, ready to swallow and drown any opposing structures.

Once your eyes landed on his, you couldn't part them. He was so raw, so disheveled, in the dim light coming all the way from the kitchen. His tie was barely hanging on to the white collar dress shirt, the first button undone to let the chill creep to his chest. One knee was risen on the couch, his wrist resting on it, fingers round his whiskey glass. He wasn't paying attention to you, looking down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. Absentmindedly, he raised the glass to his lips to take a sip, and that's when his eyes flicked up and found your shape across the room. He gulped shortly and smiled, his face warming up despite the piercing cold glare he had in his eyes seconds ago.

"I'm sorry, darling." He cooed sweetly. "Should I have poured you a glass too?" You smiled back at him, taking the necessary steps to reach him.

"No, yours will do." He rose an eyebrow at your answer, but the warmth never left his face. He was awfully curious, though. "Keep your mouth open." You told him, grabbing the whiskey glass from in between his legs. He had a questioning look on now, as he watched your every movement.

You took a large amount of whiskey in your mouth then laid the glass back on the table. It sure packed a punch, its sweet taste almost nauseating, you could feel the burn even if you never swallowed. You kept the whiskey in your mouth as you crawled over him - he helped you settle in his lap, your form towering over his, your lips just above his. Playful, his tongue darted to lick your lips, before he slightly parted his and allowed you to the same, the whiskey slipping into his mouth drop by drop. He moaned, and it was as if he was calling upon the angels, in such a sinful situation. The whiskey burned his tongue, his throat, as he swallowed against your mouth, and you did the same. It was strong, too strong, intoxicating you much more than a normal drink should; and it wasn't the alcohol's fault. You both wanted more, searching for remnants of that sweet taste on each other's tongues. But it wasn't rough or rushed, no, you somehow still had the patience to be slow and sensual, your taste buds both burning and exploding. Gently, you kissed the drop of liquid that escaped the corner of his lips, before it became burdensome due to stickiness.

"Your kisses burn my throat, darling." He mused poetically, his eyes dazed but trying his best to look into your eyes, like he was hanging on the edge.

Something sparked inside of you, and suddenly your fingers were holding his face, the side of his neck, anything they could to pull him closer to your mouth, kissing him, but not gently. No, not anymore - now you were hungry, there was a fire in your soul, an ache only he could fix. He was hanging onto you for dear life, his fingers grasping at your hips. He wanted to pull you closer, but was there even a closer to pull you into? You were already living inside him, his mind, his heart, his soul. And god, he loved it when you ravished him, those moments when he forgets he wasn't yours ever since time began to exist. Because it feels right, it feels like that's actually how it is, how it always has been. He's yours.

You had no more air in you lungs when you pulled away, but you were both so happy. So, so happy to just breathe, foreheads glued to each other, warmth traveling every ounce of your bodies.

"I want this to last forever." He whispered to you, his lips moving close to your cheek, his breath tickling you.

"Sharing whiskey in the dim light?" You joked innocently, tipping his chin up with a finger, so he'd look straight into your eyes. Those eyes, they will be the end of him from the way they bewitch him.

"As much as I'd love to be drunk on you forever, no." He replied to your joke, a smirk creeping on both your faces. "This intensity. This alliance." He gave you the real answer, but this time he was quite solemn. "I never thought I'd ever feel so safe with another human being." It's like he's reading your mind. For a second, you ponder if you are even separate being to begin with. You were so eager to tell him you feel the exact same, but he kept talking and you didn't want to interrupt him. "God, I feel like I can win any goddamn fight life throws at me with you by my side." You caressed his face with your thumb, gifting him a look that could only be described as pure love. "And I'll be damned if I don't help you win every fight as well."

"You'll fight for me?" He hummed in response at your quiet voice, closing his eyes in delight at your gentle touches. But then, he reached out to also hold your face in his hands. You were a mess of tangled arms, but the moment was sincere.

"My love, my warrioress, my queen, you're so powerful."

It's not that you were going to argue, but part of it was also because of him. He was empowering you, the was giving wind behind your wings on a daily. You've been more powerful, invincible even, since he showed up in your life.

"I am?" You cooed, and he answered in a single breath, without thinking.

"Yes."

"How powerful?" You asked, a glint of mischief in your eyes. You were getting a little cocky from the praise, but he wasn't bothered. He pondered for a second, in search of the right words, but the smile he wore was fond.

"So powerful that anyone would have to be crazy to cross you." You laughed, memories of the messy evening flooding back to you. Maybe you were a little too harsh on your colleagues. Maybe. "So powerful that every day I yearn to become stronger and better myself, so that I can stand next to you as an ally and be deserving of your love and effort."

"You deserve it all, my love." You reassured him, caressing him, pecking his face softly.

"I want to be your ally forever." He repeated, and you nodded.

"Me too. I'd love that." He softly pulled you into his chest, and you melted in between his arms, your ears getting closer to the sound of his heartbeat, the melody of his love beating for you. He held you so close, so dear, and the safety of your presence allowed him to close his eyes, and behind his eyelids he dreamt of forever.

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whogirl2011 · 5 months

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Lost and found (the road trip) | Dwight X Gretta | One shot | a little over 3.8k words | Rated: T for light romantic themes and kissing.

A Dwight in shining armor Fanfic

Summary: After graduation Dwight and Gretta go on their first ever roadtrip together to see places outside of Woodside.

This was made for @shiningsmoochweek a prompt week of favorite couples in Dwight in shining armor set up by the lovely @dwightinshiningarmorfan. It might be a little late but I'm happy to get this one out there. 🥰

Nana was doing a once over with Dwight, taking note of the few duffle bags and other items he was busy rearranging in the back seat of his recently acquired SUV. He opened the front door of his car, leaning over and checking for possibly the tenth time in his glovebox that he had his registration, insurance information, and a road map with a pack of multicolored pens.

It was a plan for after they’d graduated. Dwight wanted to take Gretta to places neither of them had been–which, for both of them, turned out to be a lot. He was a small-town boy from Woodside, never experiencing the open road for himself full of bright lights, highway signs, and traffic so busy it could take any destination they chose and turn it into miles of moving inch by inch.

Gretta had never seen famous landmarks across the nation like the depths of the Grand Canyon in the Arizona heat. She had never been surrounded by palm trees instead of great oaks with sand between her toes, looking out into a steady ocean, the waves lapping at her calves.

This road trip was going to change that.

“I think that’s everything,” Dwight said, coming out of his maroon vehicle, assuring his grandmother with a smile. She pulled him into a tight hug.

“Make sure you stop every few hours for a stretch,” Nana told him. He opened his mouth to say something while still being held, but she continued, “And don’t try to drive more than eight hours in a day if you can.” He pulled back and nodded, attempting to speak again, but Nana carried on, “And make sure you check in from time to time to let me know how things are going.”

“I–”

“But not if you’re driving and need to keep your eyes on the road.”

“Got it,” Dwight blurted. He understood why she was being like this. Nana, after all, had been his sole guardian since losing his parents when he was only a toddler. He wondered if her worry for him was similar to when they had left for Alaska. The thought made him hug his Grandmother tightly one more time.

“I’m gonna miss you honey bear.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he spoke warmly, rubbing her back, “I’ll call you later when we hit a pit stop.” They released their embrace when they heard Baldric’s voice.

“And you remembered your tooth-cleaning brush?”

“Yes,” Gretta confirmed, following before they appeared from around the corner with Hexala and Chlodwig in tow. She was carrying a bag over her shoulder made of cloth enwrapped by rope. Chlodwig had a quiver over his shoulder, filled to bursting with arrows, and held a bow in one hand. Baldric had another bag made of cloth tied together with rope that looked much heavier than the one Gretta was carrying. An axe and multiple sheathed swords were tucked under his arm, clanging with each step.

“Nope! Hold up!” Dwight raised a hand with his palm out, gesturing a stop. “There’s no way you’re putting all that in my car.” Baldric dropped the weapons and the bag of armor at the curb giving out a huff. Chlodwig rolled his eyes, laying down the quiver and bow. “We’re going on this road trip for some sightseeing, not driving into battle with an army.”

“Wha–” Gretta began to argue, dropping the bag hanging off her shoulder beside the car.

“You can bring one sword.” Dwight put his pointer finger up. “One.” He dropped his arm and shook his head, picking up the bag that Gretta had set down, and leaned into the back of the car to place it on the backseat.

“One?” she mouthed, brows furrowing, looking down at the weapons on the ground. Gretta shrugged at the magician and prince and crouched down, pulling the array of swords from their scabbards to check them over.

“Here, Sir Dwight,” Hexala spoke, appearing at Dwight’s side as he came back out. She pulled a tall, narrow glass bottle from her bag. “Take this.”

The cork in the top was sealed in by melted wax that dripped down the neck and shoulder. The knight squinted, looking closely into it. There were small rocks at the bottom and various dried herbs stuffed in with purple and silver powder sprinkled throughout.

“Uh, thanks?” he said, taking the bottle and rotating it around in his hands. “What is it?”

“It’s for good fortune on your travels.”

“Oh!” Dwight glanced over to where Gretta stood. She was holding a sword in each hand, studying them with her court magician and cousin. He let out a nervous ‘heh’ and nodded, quickly raising the bottle in thanks. Tucking the bottle in the back pocket of the driver’s seat, he knew he could probably use all the luck he could get. He checked his watch and spoke while exiting the car’s interior, “Come on Gretta, we’re burning daylight here.”

“Quickly Sir Dwight! What sword would you choose to bring along for our adventure? This one? hm?” She held one up and then the other. “Or this one?”

“I suggested she go with that one,” noted Baldric, pointing to the sword that had a circular arc curving upward on the guard, the sphere on the pommel was nestled into another arc facing the opposite way.

“And I that one,” added Chlodwig, pointing at the sword with a crescent moon framing the blade’s base. The pommel was another crescent moon, mirroring the guard.

“Anyone else wanna throw in their two cents?” asked Dwight, looking over towards Hexala and Nana.

“I think I'm gonna stay out of this one honey,” replied Nana.

Hexala nodded her head in agreement next to her. “Swords aren’t this witch’s forte.”

“Well, Sir Dwight? Which one do you prefer?” Gretta raised the swords up again so he could look them both over.

When he took in the way she eagerly awaited an answer, the realization dawned on him how significant this decision was for someone like her. He couldn’t simply pick one at random just because he was beginning to get impatient. This was Gretta’s sword they were talking about–the very thing Gretta took pride in choosing whenever they’d faced danger during an adventure or while they were on a quest. And they were about to embark on a brand new adventure together. Just him and Gretta.

Not only that, but a sword wasn’t just a weapon to the Princess. Sure, it was something she’d used to fight with for her own survival since she was little, but it also held sentimental value. It was a reminder of home, a comfort she’d beheld since she was two years old. In a way, it was kind of like Dwight’s stuffed sock monkey, Mr. Mooks. Was it practical to compare a weapon to a cuddly toy? No. Was he going to reveal to anyone, especially Gretta–he had Mr. Mooks secretly stashed in his bag for the trip? Also, no.

“Sir Dwight, daylight is burning,” Gretta stated, using his own words against him. Now he was the one stalling.

“I’m thinking,” Dwight replied. “Which of these swords has helped us out of a bad situation before?”

“Both,” she answered, holding them up proudly with a smile.

“Kay…” Dwight trailed, “Well, which one belonged to your grandmother?”

“Both.”

“Alright, just–get them both in there, then,” he told her, jabbing a thumb behind him towards the car. She smiled giddily, sliding the swords back into their scabbards, and wrapping a belt around one of them. She kissed his cheek, holding the swords closely to her chest and she was off to pack them into the car. The girl could be absolutely impossible and exasperating at times, but he couldn’t help the smile curving his lips now when he looked over at his Princess so happy.

Chlodwig approached next as Gretta rejoined her knight. The prince reached out to cradle their faces in his hands. His thumbs rested at the front of their ears while his fingers curved around the nape of their necks. “Do not forget to send me something amongst your travels to share with our guy club assembly.”

“Don’t worry buddy, we’ll send you a postcard from the road,” Dwight said smiling at him

“Safe journey, dear cousin Gretta, dear brother Dwight.” Chlodwig put an arm around both of them and pulled them in closely. The Princess patted her hand against her cousin’s shoulder. Chlodwig let them go and nodded quickly when there was a sudden gruff clearing of a throat. He backed away as Baldric approached them.

“Everything ready?” The magician asked.

“Yeah, I think so.” Baldric placed his heavy hands on top of Dwight’s shoulders “Safe journey, Sir Dwight.” Suddenly, Dwight was pulled in for a bear hug, lifting him up off his feet, practically squeezing the air out of him. “Promise me, you and the Princess will return safely.”

“Will. Do. Prom…ise,” Dwight strained.

Baldric let him go and looking at Gretta, he bowed his head. “I will keep you informed should any important matters arise in your absence.”

“And I shall keep you informed of our well-being during our travels.” Gretta raised her hand towards him where Baldric held it in between both of his. “Please take care of yourself and the kingdom while we are away.”

Baldric nodded, releasing her hand after saying, “As you command, Your Royal Highness.”

“Upon our return, we shall share many pleasant tales, self mes, and spritely songs of our journey.”

“I’ll bring you back some souvenirs big guy,” added Dwight.

“You must return home safely, Highness.” his eyes grew softer.

“Baldric, you mustn’t worry.” she placed a hand against his cheek. “With Sir Dwight and his high-bred steed to protect me on our travels, I shall.” Gretta hugged the large man, standing on her tiptoes. She breathed in deeply, attempting to fight the tears threatening to form as she inhaled the scent of his magician’s robe.

“Safe journey my child.” The words made Gretta hug him tighter. After a few moments, she released her embrace and nodded towards him, determination on her face.

When they made sure everything they needed was packed in the car and they were ready to go, they climbed into the car and put on their seat belts. Dwight started the car and they waved yelling farewells with the windows down before turning out of the cul de sac.

As they drove through the familiar streets of Woodside towards the edge of town, Dwight had found it easy to breathe in the summer air. But with it being only him and Gretta in the car, nearing the sign ‘Leaving Woodside’, he could sense the atmosphere around them already starting to change. It was charged with electricity and anticipation, not knowing where this adventure would take them.

Gretta turned to look behind them, her eyes on the opposite side of the sign welcoming people to their hometown. It became smaller and smaller as the distance grew. She turned back around, looking down at her hands in her lap before the sign could disappear completely from view. A hand came down and tapped the top of hers. It was a comfort, a reassurance that regardless of what fate had in store for them during this newfound wanderlust, he would be there by her side.

“Do you believe everyone will be alright while we are away?” Gretta asked.

“They’ll be fine.” Dwight glanced over with a smile. “This is going to be a new experience for all of us,” he spoke, squeezing her hand, “but that’s a good thing.”

A smile spread across her face, “I look forward to this new experience with you, Sir Dwight.”

With his eyes still on the road, he brought her hand towards him, kissing the top of it. “I’m looking forward to this with you too.”

He tried to keep travel similar to their smaller journeys the best he could in what Gretta called his trusty high-bred steed; it was a hybrid SUV. The windows were partially rolled down, and music played from the car stereo. Dwight hummed to songs from his playlist, tapping along to the beat with his thumbs on the steering wheel while Gretta would tap her thigh or use her foot to tap at the floor mat under her feet. She was familiar with the spritely ballads he listened to, catching lyrics of love, adventure, and becoming someone’s wildest dreams.

For hours, the scenery changed and passed by. Woods with tall trees were to either side of them, fading into flat plains of grass with rolling hills in the distance. On vast fields of farmland, cows, horses, and sheep roamed and grazed without a care in the world in their fences built to keep them safe and away from the roads.

Driving along straight roads for miles made him more at ease to take his right hand off the wheel. Gretta would often use the opportunity to reach over and claim his unoccupied hand, entwining their fingers, or casually thread her fingers through the soft dark hair at his nape. And when they would stop at a red light, he made a habit of taking her hand and pressing his lips against her knuckles.

They took breaks at rest stops and gas stations, stretching together after sitting in the car for long periods of time. They checked in with loved ones on their beckoning devices, used the bathroom, and refueled. At a few places, the pair drew the attention of people around them, curious of their story roaming small aisles and fridge sections to replenish their snacks and water. Store clerks, on the other hand, were either complacent or friendly at their job, continuing to perform their tasks as usual, seemingly unfazed by the girl in medieval-style clothing. They exchanged pleasantries with one another at the counter and soon after grabbing their supplies, Dwight and Gretta were back out on the road.

Late into their journey for the day, Dwight and Gretta found themselves in a cozy diner, sitting in a booth, looking over the menus. The aroma of freshly cooked food filled the air and made Gretta’s stomach growl in impatience. She reached over and took a sip of orange soda from her glass to keep it at bay. A sweet lady with a smile warm and welcoming approached the couple. She wore a light blue waitress uniform and had a white apron tied around her waist. The shiny silver name tag on her uniform said ‘Sarah’.

“So, What can I get you folks tonight?”

“Ladies first.” Dwight gestured towards her.

“I will have the chicken and mashed potatoes with gravy,” Gretta said, hooking her fingers together, and sitting up straight.

“And I think I’ll have the grilled salmon and steamed vegetables, please.”

The waitress nodded and scribbled down their orders and took their menus. “I’ll be back soon with your food.”

When their meals arrived, Gretta didn’t hesitate for a second to dig into her mashed potatoes. Their creamy texture and buttery flavor melted in her mouth and the gravy carried the essence of cooked meat. She couldn’t help the groan that escaped when she swallowed.

“That good huh?” Dwight asked, forking some of his broccoli along with some carrots to put in his mouth.

“It is absolutely exquisite.”

“Well, we haven’t exactly had much in the way of actual meals since we left.” Dwight shrugged, taking his bite of food for the first time and closing his eyes. The vegetables were cooked to perfection, he flaked a piece of salmon with his fork and ate it. It was the closest thing to a home cooked meal he’d had all day. “Okay, not gonna lie, this is pretty good.” Gretta cut into her chicken and ate a piece, Dwight was sure he caught her eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Maybe we shouldn’t eat so many snacks and actually stop for the three square meals we’re supposed to be eating.”

“I agree,” Gretta replied. “We must keep up our strength if we are to endure long hours of traveling.” Dwight nodded, drinking some iced tea in his glass. His eyes watched the lemon slice bob in the liquid.

“How’s everything?” Sarah asked, appearing at their table a moment later.

“Everything’s great, thanks,” responded Dwight, placing his glass down on the counter.

“You two not from around here?” Sarah asked.

“No, we’re…” Dwight pulled out his phone from his pocket, “About 400 miles from home.”

“Sir Dwight and I are on a road trip,” Gretta stated. Sarah looked between them.

“You two going to some Renaissance fair I don’t know about?”

“Uh, yeah, you could say that!” Dwight spoke up. “But we decided to leave early so we could enjoy the sights on the way.”

“Oh, how exciting!” she smiled. “Well, I’ll leave you two to finish your meals. I’ll be back to take your plates when you’re finished.”

“Excuse me, miss?” A voice boomed from across the diner. A stocky man on a barstool with a coffee had his hand raised to get her attention. Sarah scurried off towards the man and Gretta and Dwight continued talking and eating their food.

When they finished Sarah came back over and stacked their plates to carry them back to the kitchen.

“Would either of you like to see the dessert menu? I can make a real mean milkshake.”

“Ooh,” spoke Gretta enticed. “What flavors do you have for milkshakes?”

“Let’s see, we’ve got your standard chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla but I can also do a peanut butter, banana, or a mint chocolate chip.” Dwight noticed the way Gretta’s eyes brightened at the mention of mint chocolate chip.

“I will have the mint chocolate shake if you would be so kind.” Gretta bowed her head towards her.

“Would you like that regular size or sharing size?”

“How big is the sharing size?” Dwight asked.

“A sharing size is in a bigger glass with two straws but you get some extra in the malt cup.”

“Sounds good. We’ll take that then.” she took her notepad out and scribbled the order in pen.

“Whipped cream and a cherry?”

“Yes, please.”

“I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

Dwight pulled out his phone and began to type away with his thumbs. “We should probably start looking for places to stop at for the night. There’s a premier inn about twenty minutes away from here. I could book us in, I mean, if that’s okay.”

“Yes of course.” Gretta agreed, her hands secretly fidgeting under the table. “We must get ample rest if we plan to continue our journey on the morrow.”

Sarah appeared a moment later with their mint chocolate chip milkshake. The milkshake glass was filled to almost the rim along with whipped cream swirled into a peak topped by a cherry. She placed the paper-wrapped straws and the malt cup containing the leftovers of the milkshake on the counter, scurrying back off to help other customers. Dwight looked out the window at the sunset’s orange and pink hues, tapping the end of the covered straw on the counter. A light thwack of something hit him in the forehead. Gretta was giggling, about to put the cherry from the top of the milkshake into her mouth. He glanced down to see her paper straw sleeve at his side of the table.

“What was that for?”

“It was a distraction so I could have the cherry.”

“You didn’t need to make a distraction to have the cherry, you know. You could’ve just asked.”

“True, and yet this way was much more fun,” she snickered teasingly, placing her straw into the milkshake and having a taste. Her eyes grew wide. “Oh. Sweet. Heaven.”

“Good?”

“It is simply divine.”

“Not as good as my blackberry cobbler though, right?”

“Dwight, nothing compares to your blackberry cobbler.”

Dwight grinned at that, placing his staw in with hers in the milkshake and sharing sip after sip all the while their eyes met. They spent another half hour there, deep in conversation taking their time drinking their milkshake, trying their best not to get brain freeze. Dwight paid their check, thanked Sarah, and wished her a pleasant evening. Sarah watched the pair leave hand in hand from the diner. She returned back to their table to clean up the dishes and found three gold coins sitting near the scribbled check for her tip.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Gretta’s gaze of the road passing by in Dwight’s headlights shifted to the passenger side window to take in the stars that were beginning to appear. She rolled down her window fully, dragging deep breaths of the summer night air into her lungs. Gretta didn’t seem to mind her hair getting a little windswept, watching the night sky as they passed by other cars, illuminated overhead highway signs, and exits.

“You okay?” he wondered, hoping she wasn’t getting car sick after their hearty meal.

“No, no. Just embracing what little we have left of our first evening on this journey.” Gretta turned to see Dwight lowering his window all the way down too. The wind swept through his dark hair. The boy carried a sweetness in his eyes, all warm gooey brownies just out of the oven at night and honey hues flecked across them when the sun rose. She wanted to keep this. To keep him. Always.

He took in a breath and enjoyed this shared moment, glancing over. She had stopped looking at the sky and was looking over at him. A smile radiated from her before she turned to look back out the window.

Moments like these were what Dwight was secretly looking forward to the most. Witnessing Gretta’s bright eyes and the smile playing upon her lips; she was taking in a sense of freedom she’d never had before. It made his heart flutter with a swarm of butterflies while lightning bugs lit up his soul.

The fact that she had said yes to this idea in the first place spoke volumes. Now, she was beginning to map out her own life the way they were marking roads and places of interest from Dwight’s phone onto their folded map with circles, stars, and even hearts. She was showing him just how truly safe and happy she felt when they were together.

Dwight really wanted to kiss her.

He parked at the inn, beneath the warm glow of a lamppost. Their luggage was on the ground next to the SUV, forgotten. Gretta stood under the humming light, gazing into his gentle brown eyes. He cupped her face gently in his hands, brushing strands of hair behind her ears that were now all tousled from the wind. She moved slowly with him for his lips to brush against hers and when their lips met, everything simply melted away. It was the greatest feeling in the world.

And he couldn’t wait to show her more of it.

#shining smooch week #dwight in shining armor #dwightinshiningarmor #dwight x gretta #dwight #gretta #disa #baldric #dwetta #fanfiction #day6: wanderlust #road trip fic #one shot #fluff #romance

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yoonguurt · 10 months

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note: just because these groups are in the archive does not mean I’m not writing for them. it just means i’m not actively writing for them. any series planned for one of these groups will most likely be recast with a group i’m actively writing for or scrapped.

most works are 18+ (minors dni)

♤ - angst || ♡ - fluff || ♧ - smut

✍ - ongoing || ✗ - discontinued || ⎋ - hiatus || ✓ - completed

drabbles

☁ stages of jealousy || m.yoongi ♤

⤜ When your friend with benefits goes out with someone else, you make sure to find a way to bring him back to you; 788

☁ sick day || j.hoseok ♡

⤜ Your boyfriend takes care of you when you're sick; 791

☁ something new || m.yoongi ♧

⤜ You're needy and your boyfriend is more than willing to help; 990

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

series

☁ world of darkness || ot8 ♧

⤜ a series of one shots featuring supernatual bts; --

oneshots

☁ taken || p.jaehyung ♧

⤜ a new boy in your mythology class seems to think he knows about the myths first hand; 6,521

drabbles

☁ territorial || k.jongin ♧

⤜ After running away from your pack and arranged marriage, the man you were supposed to marry comes to bring you back; 2,066

drabbles

☁ for the grade || i.jaebeom ♧

⤜ Being forced to work on an important project with the man you despise makes you rethink what you thought you knew; 5,506

☁ finally || m.tuan ♡

⤜ All you want is Mark, but you could never tell him that; 619

☁ heartbeat || k.yugyeom ♡

⤜ Being pregnant is not what you need right now, but your boyfriend won't let you worry alone; 809

☁ wild ride || i.jaebeom ♧

⤜ Teasing your boyfriend may not have been the best idea. Or maybe it had; 1,172

☁ welcome home || k.yugyeom ♧

⤜ You welcome your boyfriend home in the best way you know how; 647

drabbles

☁ tell me baby || l.hoseok ♤

☁ maybe one day || l.minhyuk ♤

⤜ Loving your best friend when he's gone all the time is hard on the heart; 381

⤜ Minhyuk finally gathers the courage to confess; 647

☁ mine || l.jooheon ♧

⤜ You get more than you bargained for when you make an attempt to see what your husband has been hiding; 2,083

reactions

☁ ghost hunting with monsta x

⤜ What it would be like to go ghost hunting with the boys; 382

series

☁ a familiar face || y.kihyun ♤

⤜ You meet a man who feels awfully familiar, but you've never seen him before. :: 01 || 02 || 03 || 04 || 05

drabbles

☁ dance for me || m.lee ♧

⤜ You never expected taking dance lessons would lead to having the hot dance teacher's hand down your pants; 2,246

series

☁ quatervois || m.lee, n.yuta ♧

⤜ You've been with Mark for so long. Your best friend Yuta despises him. He swears he has a reason. :: 01 || 02

©️ yoonguurt. do not repost, continue, or translate my works. graphics by kwanisms

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numerousbees1106 · 21 days

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Not Being Fair

Read chapter 2 of Waiting On A Miracle on Ao3! https://archiveofourown.org/works/54970039/chapters/139488121

#angstpril2024 #star wars #fanfiction #day6 #alt7 #jealousy #ao3 #ao3 author #read on ao3 #anakin skywalker #star wars anakin

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unmanageable-day · 1 month

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days gone by | chapter 4

summary. after a typical break-up, your cousin tried to set you up with his friend who happened to just broke up recently as well. after months, you knew it wouldn’t end well and the universe agreed, as suddenly he went m.i.a and it was easier for you to live being free and single. until one day he texted you again…

genre. social media!AU, fake dating!AU / angsty (still trying to find spots to add some fluff)

pairing. DAY6 Young K (Kang Younghyun) x female reader

#day6 au #day6 imagines #day6 social media au #day6 scenarios #day6 fanfic #day6 angst #day6 young k #young k imagines #kpop fanfiction #kpop social media au #post by yourblinkies

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enjaken · 2 months

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Well… hello !!

Guess this is my first post hahaha… glad to be here !!

i’ll try to keep it short and sweet considering this isn’t really much of a post but rather more of greeting… but, well- yeah !! It’s great to meet you !! A bit about myself? Uh- well my name is Sophie, i’m a textbook INFP (is it alright for me to try to blame my way of venting my delusions for men i’ve never met onto this website on my MBTI? Maybe not-), I’m a writer and lyricist as well as an artist and editor (follow me on tiktok !! - @enjaken). My main fandom “qualifications” are Villain, Stay, Engene, MOA and MyDay- as well as being a predebut stan of TWS. On that note, most posts made here will revolve around scenarios and drabbles about my favourite groups and idols, but remember that everything will be a work of fiction and taken with a handful (not a grain) of salt so as to not risk pushing the idols’ boundaries until they can’t be repaired. That’s it for now !! I’ll get started on some works, but for now leave any requests in the comments or on my page (requests can be anything to do with any of the groups above that i said i stan, but my main inspiration comes from XDH, SKZ, TXT and ENHA so keep that in mind when requesting. I’m open to writing smut but keep in mind that I’m ill-experienced in writing sexual content at the moment, and i refuse to write anything immoral- eg abusive themes and anything involving minors)

I’ll be back soon !! :)

-Sophie

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dearly-somber · 4 months

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Fly Me To The Moon | kyh | day6

-> pairing. idol!younghyun x non-idol!reader (f)

-> genre. fluff, established relationship

-> rating. 13+

-> w/c. 689

-> warnings. None!

-> a/n. Brian’s voice >>>

-> collection. songfic

-> started. Sept. 12th, 2020 @ 22:25

-> fin. ???

-> edited. Aug. 21st, 2021 @ 22:15

It was dark, and you were outside in the town square, sitting on a chair as you busked with some strangers.

"Fly me to the moon," you sang, smiling at the boy grinning at you through the crowd, unable to help the charisma that showed while you sang the song.

Throughout the song, Younghyun was sure that he fell for you all over again, his eyes watching you fondly. He had met you through Jae, who had introduced you as 'my sister's best friend'. You were around Sungjin's age, and you absolutely adored their music.

You had also mentioned that Dowoon was your favorite, because he was the youngest and cute as hell. Brian hand't been to happy about that conversation.

You finished the song off beautifully, staring at Brian as you sang in a gorgeous honey-voice.

"I," You smiled at him softly.

"Love," You tilted your head cutely.

"You..." You winked at him with a grin, bowing as the people around started applauding your performance.

"Waaah. Noona, that was great!" Younghyun said, welcoming you back with a hug and kiss to your cheek.

You giggled, scrunching up your face as his lips touched your cheek before he pulled away, your arms wrapping around his torso.

"Thank you."

He smiled at you stupidly, taking your hand and leading you onto one of the carts that were driving around the place, asking the driver to take you back to your hotel.

You leaned against the back of the cart as Brian leaned against the car-railing, looking out at the brightly illuminated city that was full of life and buzzing with activity.

You smiled, leaning up and off of the back of the cart to give him a warm back hug, leaning your cheek against him and sighing contentedly.

"What? You can't be tired already, can you?" He asked playfully, turning around to wrap his arms around your waist, looking down at you lovingly.

You shook your head with a pout, leaning your chin on his chest. “Not at all. I just felt like giving the guy I like a hug."

He snickered, pecking your lips and pulling away with a shit eating grin. "I thought you loved me, noona?"

"Eat shit, you brat—" You huffed angrily at him, turning away with a pout.

“Noona wait, I was kidding!"

•••

You put the key to your hotel in the keyhole, unlocking the door with a giant koala clinging to you, his head nuzzled into your shoulder. You hung up the keys and lightly pushed Younghyun off to hang up your coat. He made sure to remove his coat, too, the turtleneck he was wearing showing just the tips of his fingers.

You had managed to kick off your shoes before Brian grabbed you again, his own shoes somewhere in the corner of the room. You tried to get him off as you started nearing the bed, huffing and puffing with your effort. You turned around suddenly, yelling at him tiredly before squealing as your knees hit the back of the bed, in turn making you loose your footing.

"오모!—" You grunted as you landed on your back, Younghyun hovering over you. He watched you with slowly dilating pupils. You chuckled, leaning up to kiss him slowly, pulling away just as you noticed him trying to deepen the kiss, making him chase after you hastily. He whined when you 'tsked' at him, smirking playfully when you pushed him off and moved further up the bed.

"Not now, Foxy. I'm tired." He pouted at you childishly, nevertheless getting in next to you and wrapping himself around you. He sighed comfortably, pressing his nose into the nook of your neck before softly singing the same song from the busking station to you. You closed your eyes blissfully, smiling as you heard him whisper: 'I, love, you...'

You turned around, kissing his nose and brushing a strand of hair from his face.

"I love you too, my little fox." He smiled at you, kissing you before making you nuzzle your head under his chin, playing with your hair until the two of you fell asleep.

#day6 x reader #day6 fanfiction #day6 fluff #day6 imagines #day6 young k #day6 scenarios #day6 #kang younghyun x reader #young k x reader #brian kang x reader #brian kang fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #ao3 #archive of our own #young k fluff #kang younghyun fluff

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fallinnflower · 4 months

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the witch & the nine-tailed fox - 2

young k x reader (kumiho!au, historical-fantasy!au, drama)

wc: 9k

tw: mentions of death and illness

a/n: hiiiii so it's been a while! i know i was talking about vampire bambam (and DPR Ian which lays the groundwork for that one and needs to be finished first... it's all still in the works i promise!) the original inspiration behind this sequel was "guard you," and now somehow this cute little part 2 has turned out to be longer than the first installment. thank you to everyone who still reads my work, it means so much to me. i hope you like this part 2 and if you're curious about my WIPs (i have so many. genuinely over 100 things in various states of incompletion.) feel free to ask!

"Younghyun-ah, Y/N-ah! Come in and eat now!" You both lift your heads at Eunji’s call, her voice ringing out over the valley that serves as your front lawn.

"Coming!" you call back, hurriedly uprooting the last herb you'd spotted before straightening your back to look for Younghyun.

You find him walking out of the woods, not disheveled in the slightest aside from the dirt on his hands. A wry smile curls across your lips as you swipe at your sweaty brow with the back of your hand, pushing stray hairs from your eyes.

"What did you find?" you ask, peering around Younghyun's shoulder to see into his basket as you fall into step with him. He chuckles and nudges you with his elbow.

"Focus on walking or you'll trip, Y/N-ah." You pout, pondering it for a moment before snatching the basket from his hands. In his surprise he doesn't manage to stop you, merely letting out a sigh as you rifle through it while walking. As you count the herbs under your breath, Younghyun's hand gently comes to rest on your elbow, guiding you around a hole in your path.

"Thanks," you say, shooting him a quick smile before continuing with your count. He nods, keeping his eyes ahead and his hand on your elbow as you near Eunji's residence. The heat rises up on your cheeks when he doesn't pull away, and you press your lips together tightly to keep your smile concealed even though neither he nor Eunji are looking your way.

Once you both get to the door, toeing your shoes off, Younghyun makes a beeline for where Eunji is hunched over the table. You watch fondly, looking up through your lashes while you bow your head and pretend to be counting herbs still, as he coaxes the utensils and dishes out of her hands, taking over for the old woman you both love dearly. It warms your heart to see the way Eunji fakes her exasperation with him but allows him to take over the task anyways.

When you first brought Younghyun home, you'd been afraid of what everyone's reaction would be — Eunji included. However, despite his sharp features and often strange mannerisms, he instantly charmed all the villagers as he helped to administer the new medicine to them at your side. Eunji herself had been the one to suggest he remain in the hut, inviting him into the small family the two of you constituted. He had quickly slotted himself into your lives as though he belonged there, eager to make himself useful and far more adaptable than anyone could have expected. From gardening to cleaning and cooking, Younghyun managed to be good at everything and consistently in good spirits about even the most menial tasks. Eunji, recognizing his eagerness and potential, had begun teaching him how to make certain medicines and prepare materials for the two of you.

"Did you find enough?" Eunji asks, as the two of you make your way inside.

"Yes, plenty," you reply, smiling. You set your basket aside and head towards where your mentor is busy cooking, inhaling deeply as you approach. Setting a hand on Eunji’s shoulder, you lean even closer to the cookware. "Ah, it smells so good!"

"Get away from there, you’ll get burned!" Eunji scolds you, gently pushing you back. With an exaggerated pout, you start to whine, but are interrupted by a light tug at your sleeve.

"She’s right," Younghyun says. "You should be more careful." His expression, when you turn to look at him, is almost painfully earnest, his eyes filled with genuine concern as he looks at you. You can’t help but find it endearing.

"I know, I know. I’m sorry," you reply. "But even if I did get hurt, the two of you would nurse me back to health, wouldn’t you?"

"Nurse you? I’m too old for that sort of thing, child," Eunji scoffs. "You should be the one nursing me, after all these years." You look to Younghyun, and he only offers your a half-hearted smile,

"I won’t be much help on my own." You let out an exaggerated sigh.

"I guess I have no choice then," you say. "I promise I’ll be more careful. Maybe."

Eunji swats at your shoulder once again, but you pay little mind to her scolding as you dissolve into laughter. Younghyun looks between the two of you, uncertain of whose side to take, and you bask in the warmth of the home you’ve made.

It may be unconventional, but you don’t care. Everything feels just right.

Most evenings (when the weather is mild) find you and Younghyun outside and wandering — giving Eunji some much-needed solitude before the winter shuts you all in together. The late autumn chill is more brisk than biting, and so you find yourself (with Younghyun following your lead, as though it’s the most natural thing in the world) headed through the woods towards the crest of a hill where the view of the sunset is best. You stretch your arms up to the sky, loosening the tension in your spine before you take a seat on the grass. Younghyun carefully takes his place beside you, hands almost touching at your sides.

"We’ll head back once the sun starts setting," you say, well aware of your companion’s tendency to worry for your safety. You turn to him with a playful smile tugging at the corners of your mouth,

"That should give Eunji a long enough break, I think." Younghyun chuckles and leans back on his hands, and you silently admire his profile for a moment. Despite the spirit leaving him, he still looks very fox-like — his sharp features give him an otherworldly handsomeness that would intimidate you if you didn’t know how soft he really was.

"You know her well," he muses. It feels more as though he’s thinking out loud than anything else, but you choose to reply, turning away before your stare becomes too obvious.

"Well, I’ve known her most of my life."

"You’ve been with her a long time," Younghyun agrees, thinking back to what he already knows about your relationship. "She’s almost like your mother."

"Hm, in a way…" You trail off, gaze on the horizon. "She raised me, but Eunji is… more than family," you say resolutely, gaze trained on the almost-setting sun. You can feel Younghyun's eyes on you, but you don't mind it — you just don’t feel the need to return his gaze. Not when the sky is so lovely.

"What's your family like?" he asks, softly. You let out a short, awkward laugh, reaching up to twist the end of your braid around your nervous fingers.

"Oh," you start. "Well, I don't really know them that well. Not that we don't get along!" You turn to Younghyun to emphasize your point,

"I still make time to see them whenever I'm in their village, but, you know, Eunji raised me. My family and I are more like friends."

"I always wondered how you ended up with Eunji," he says, words slow and thoughtful. "But I worried that it might be a painful story, because of your family."

"Oh, no, nothing like that," you reply with a wave of your hand. You draw your knees up to your chest and cross your arms atop them, resting your cheek there as your gaze becomes unfocused in the haze of memory.

"When I was very young, it became clear to everyone that I was different from the other children. My parents were so worried that they brought me to Eunji, and she was the one who discovered I had magical abilities, just like her." A fond smile makes its way across your face, and Younghyun feels his chest tighten for just a moment.

"Did Eunji take you on as an apprentice then?"

"No," you chuckle. "Eunji is an independent person, as I'm sure you've noticed. She encourages that in other people, so she didn't even offer to take me. Later, when my powers were manifesting even more strongly, my parents brought me to her again. Even then, Eunji wouldn’t teach me any magic unless I asked her — and it just happened that I admired her so much that I asked all the time for her to teach me things." You pause and turn your face back to Younghyun, smiling wistfully.

"If I had told her I didn't want to learn any magic, she would have accepted that. She would have shown me how to keep it under control and then sent me right back to my parents. But I wanted this life, I chose it.

"So, Eunji is… she’s more than my mentor, too. She’s like a mother, and an aunt, and a sister, and a best friend. She’s been my protector and provider, and, more than anyone else in the world, she's made me who I am. Somehow, I think she knows everything about me, even more than I do."

Younghyun watches as you turn your gaze back to the setting sun, your skin awash in golden-red light. The tender expression in your face is warmer than any sunlight, he thinks. Ever since your first meeting, he had felt you were something of a mystery — a force of nature in and of yourself — but as he came to know Eunji he felt he was coming to know you, as well. He often found himself searching for the answers to his questions about you in her, his inexperience leaving him unsure of how to ask you those questions outright.

As he loses himself in the sight of you, he feels a surge of emotion run through him: first, his fondness for you, an ever-growing affection that both thrills and alarms him; and second, the cold, unsettling chill of his own inadequacy. Even sat as you are, looking so small and delicate, you seem as grounded and certain as a mountain, strong-willed and clear-minded.

Sometimes, he thinks that he was only made a gumiho so that he could wait for you to come to him.

As the twilight begins to settle in, he notices bemusedly that you've fallen asleep sitting beside him. He can't help but marvel at you, a girl unafraid to sleep in the open valley, the same girl who ascended the dangerous mountain peak alone to find him — and succeeded.

Slowly, he stands and removes the shawl from his back, draping it across your shoulders before gently lifting you into his arms. You curl comfortably against his chest, cheek against his shoulder, and for a moment time seems to stand still as you take his breath away without even opening your eyes. You look so vulnerable, lightly clutching at the shawl in your sleep, and Younghyun feels (not for the first time) the sudden and overwhelming urge to protect you from any and all harm. It frightens him, almost, that he instinctively knows he would follow you to the ends of the earth, go any distance at all to ensure you never had to face any dangers or pains that you may have before he came into your life. It’s more than gratitude that keeps him close to you, when he could go anywhere in the world. It's the fledgling, stirring sensation in his chest when he looks your way that frightens and enthralls him that compels him to stay.

Younghyun takes a deep breath of the evening air, forcing himself back to his senses before he turns away from the horizon in the direction of home, holding you gingerly, preciously, as he goes.

A knock at the door interrupts the rhythmic grinding of herbs against stone, breaking you out of your almost meditative state. You glance out the window, seeing that the sun has not moved very high into the sky, and wonder who it could be so early. After all, your home is rather remote, so they must have set off while the sun was still lingering by the horizon. Before you can even set aside your work, Younghyun, who had once again been tending the fire (he does it often to keep Eunji from getting up and down so much — despite what she insists, you both hear the way her knees and back tend to crack at her slow movements), hurries to the door. Your hands remain still as you strain to listen to their conversation.

"Are the healers here?" You hear, faintly, and you gently set aside your task and go around the corner to stand behind Younghyun. Over his shoulder you can see a man with a slight hunch, looking winded and drawn. You can’t help the concern that squeezes your heart as you look at the worried lines of his face.

"Yes," you reply, stepping around so that he has a clearer view of you. "Would you like to come in? It’s quite cold outside." The man nods, releasing some of the tension from his shoulders as he bows his head. It only takes a brief look from you for Younghyun to agree and spring into action.

"Follow me," Younghyun says, "I’ll brew some tea." As he guides your new guest into the central room, you head into the back where Eunji is preparing medicinal sachets. You gently tap your knuckles along the doorframe, causing the old woman to look over her shoulder at you.

"A visitor?" she asks. You nod,

"Younghyun is making him tea. He seemed like he was in a rush to get here." Eunji hums in acknowledgement, and as she slowly begins to rise from her seat you take half a step towards her, arms outstretched — she dismisses your offer of help before it even passes your lips.

"I’m not some helpless old woman. Go see to our guest while I get my shawl." You can’t help but smile. You have no choice but to do what she says.

You find Younghyun and the man engaging in quiet conversation over cups of tea, and Younghyun hurries to pour a cup for you. No matter how often you told him not to, as he was technically a guest, he refused to allow you or Eunji to pour for yourselves, worried you might burn your hands somehow. You find it funny, and a bit endearing, considering the conditions he’s already seen you in — burnt fingertips are the least of your worries, most of the time.

"My mentor will be joining us soon," you say, taking your seat at the small table. The man’s worried expression gives way to a relieved smile, though you can still see the concern darkening his eyes.

"Thank you," he says. He opens his mouth to say something else, gaze directed at you, but is interrupted as Eunji enters the room. He stands, fully prepared to bow to him, and Eunji doesn’t hesitate to tell him to sit back down as she approaches the table. Despite being obviously surprised, he does as she says, and Younghyun pours the final cup of tea. Eunji takes a prolonged moment to sit whilst you and Younghyun watch on with thinly veiled concern, adjusting her shawl around her shoulders. Finally, she looks across the table at the weary man,

"You seem to have come a long way." The man once again seems taken aback by Eunji’s brusqueness, but nods.

"Yes. Many of the children in our village have fallen ill, and we are worried about leaving them untreated with the winter weather approaching…"

"It’s a perilous time," Eunji agrees, dipping her chin. "How far is your village?" His eyes brighten at Eunji’s question.

"Just over an hour’s walk, so long as the weather holds." Eunji glances over at you, and you nod resolutely. The man had arrived before the noon hour — plenty of time to visit the village, assess the situation, and return to prepare treatments. Of course, it might take until the next day to finish the medicines and bring them, but you can’t help that. A small smile curves along Eunji’s lips.

"These children will accompany you," she says, still smiling. You want to retort that you aren’t a child any longer, just as Eunji proclaims she isn’t an old woman, but hold your tongue. The man scrambles onto his knees, bowing deeply,

"Thank you, thank you!" You rise from your seat, Younghyun doing the same.

"Please, sit up!" you implore, cheeks burning. "It’s our job to help, there’s no need for this!" Younghyun places a hand on your shoulder, leaning around you to speak to the man himself,

"Finish your tea. We’ll prepare our things and leave once you're done." He lifts his head, eyes wide, and his gaze flicks back to the teacup on the table as though he had forgotten it.

"Ah, yes. Thank you." He returns to his seat, somewhat sheepish but clearly relieved, and you turn to Younghyun with a grateful smile. Such fervent displays of gratitude have always made you embarrassed, especially since your skills are still so lacking. Younghyun returns your smile with one of his own, gently squeezing your shoulder before dismissing himself to start packing. You cast one last glance at Eunji and the man, now conversing more casually, before going to get your own supplies. Uncertain of what exactly you’ll encounter, you pack the most common medicinal herbs — remedies for coughs and fevers, always necessary as the winter looms. Soon, the three of you have begun your trek across the valley and into the edges of the woods, walking carefully alongside a stream, conversation kept light and minimal.

You brace yourself as you near the village, hoping beyond hope that what ails the inhabitants will reveal itself to you. The thought of last winter tightens your throat, making it hard to breathe. Younghyun, noticing the change in your pace and pinched expression, reaches out to touch your arm. The warmth of his hand lifts the invisible weight off your chest.

"Are you alright?" he asks. You feel bad, for a moment, that you always seem to be making him worry. You offer him a reassuring smile.

"Yes," you reply. "Just... worried. I hope treating them will be straightforward." Younghyun’s lips press into a thin smile, almost like a grimace, no doubt thinking back to that cold, unforgiving mountain. Both of you try to shake the thoughts off as you press on.

As you pass the first traces of the village, you begin to feel a heaviness in the air. Even if the guide were to leave you, you would easily be able to find where they had gathered the sick — the energy is hard to ignore. It wafts towards and beckons you past curious and hopeful residents looking out into the street as you pass. Through a dark, gossamer veil of mist only your eyes can see, the building is revealed. As you near it you can hear coughs, but also a low buzzing hum, unnatural and uncomfortable.

You think back to your childhood, when you had asked your mother about that same sound when your older brother was sick, and she had only looked at you — confused, exasperated, concerned — and told you there was no such noise that she could hear. Eunji later told you that it was nature’s way of alerting you to imbalance when it couldn’t be readily seen. As you approach the building you pass off your pack to Younghyun, who remains just outside the entrance, watching you as you perform your preliminary analysis. Most of the patients are, as your guide had mentioned, children. Many of them are sleeping, huddled near one another for extra warmth, faces flushed with fever. You make your way to one corner of the room and kneel near a young teenager, half-awake, whose eyes flutter closed as your cold hand brushes their hair aside and makes contact with their forehead. You close your own eyes as well, willing the darkness behind your eyelids to reveal the answers.

Many times since you first discovered your ability, you had tried (in vain) to describe the way in which these answers were conveyed to you. Eunji, likewise, had difficulty. Something inside of you, something which resonated so deeply with the world around you, was simply able to identify the unnatural imbalance that was the illness and then lead you toward what was needed to restore the balance. It was a feeling more than a vision, though sometimes a faint image may come into your mind. One of the first things Eunji had ever taught you was to meditate and empty your mind as an invitation to the spirits that guided you to enter. Curious, you had asked if it was like possession, which Eunji had pondered before telling you that you were both right and wrong. As with most questions you had about your abilities, there were no straight or definitive answers, only a half-blind trust in the earth.

You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until it passes from your lips in a relieved sigh. Last winter is not repeating itself. You make your way to a few other patients throughout the room, verifying that the same illness reveals itself each time, and by the time you circle back around to the entryway you are able to smile genuinely at both Younghyun and the parents and guardians now gathered outside.

"It appears to be a widespread cold," you report. You beckon Younghyun over with your pack, and after rooting around you find what you’re looking for.

"Doraji?" someone nearby asks as you unwrap the bundle, and you nod.

"This is dried doraji, so you need to soak it in water. Just give them all a small piece. Tomorrow I’ll bring a stronger medicinal tea, but this should help to relieve the coughing for now. It’s bitter, so the children might only eat it cooked…" You find that you’re mostly speaking to yourself as people pass the small bundle of dried roots around, discussing who should be in charge of the process. Most of the villagers have encountered the bellflower before, but don’t have as many of its roots on hand as you and Eunji do, carefully cultivated and dried in batches. When you get home, you’ll have to check and see if there are any fresh roots left — the fall harvest isn’t so far behind you that it’s impossible.

As you make mental notes of what ingredients you’ll need to prepare for the tea, you methodically arrange everything back in your pack and affix it to your back once more. You and Younghyun bid the villagers goodbye, reiterating your instructions once more before heading towards home.

"Do we need to look for anything on our way?" Younghyun asks, and you take a moment to run through a mental inventory before you reply. You shake your head.

"Not unless you see late-season doraji blooming. We don’t need to go out of our way, we found plenty this fall."

"And prepared it," Younghyun replies, a slight grimace on his face. You can’t help but to laugh when you remember how much he struggled to peel the roots, and the envy with which he watched Eunji’s hands easily working away. Eventually, she had sent him to work on something else, leaving him sulky for most of the afternoon. Somehow, he was even handsome when he pouted.

"You’ve gotten better at drying ingredients," you tease, and although he grumbles in irritation the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth betrays him. You feel remarkably lighter the longer you and Younghyun walk together, playfully bantering about his (lacking) medicinal skills and wondering what meal Eunji will be preparing when you return. There’s a warmth in your heart you can only attribute to Younghyun being in your life, and although you’ve never said it aloud you hope he knows just how much he does for you just being by your side.

You rise purposefully alongside the sun, wasting no time in getting ready for your journey. While the trip to the village isn't long, the skies have looked troublesome since the evening before — the first storm of winter is approaching, and you can feel nature all around you settling in preparation. Normally, such reactions as these from the animals would keep you home, but you simply can't stay. Remembering the miserable faces of the sick you had visited with yesterday is enough to have you strapping your pack to your back with haste, moving for the door just as the sun has fully risen over the horizon.

"You're still going?" You whip around, startled. You hadn't realized anyone else was awake, let alone out in the main room. Younghyun meets your gaze, his expression marred with concern.

"Of course," you say resolutely. "I have to." Your response only makes his brow furrow more deeply.

"But the storm looks like it will start earlier than we thought…"

"I can't leave those people to suffer," you reply, voice more sharp than you had attended. Younghyun's winces, just slightly, and you avert your eyes in shame, softening your voice,

"I have to help them. I know that I can help them, so I have to go."

You hear Younghyun sigh, but he doesn't say anything. The creaking of the floor lets you know that he's retreated from the room, and your stomach twists at the thought of leaving him mad at you — but your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of him approaching you once more. Before you can say anything, your vision is obscured by a shawl that he drapes around your shoulders despite the pack on your back.

"At least bundle yourself up," he chides, his tone gentle. He carefully makes sure the shawl is wrapped securely around your shoulders, protecting your throat from the chill, and you can't help the laugh that escapes you.

"I'm already wearing fur-lined clothes," you chuckle. "Look!" You hold one wrist out and peel back the edge of your arm warmer to reveal the plush white fur beneath.

"Even the jeogori is lined," you add, patting the puffy sides of your skirt to prove that the fabric is puffy from the fur and not simply billowing around you. Younghyun's frown melts into a fond, if still concerned, smile at your antics. He reaches up and brushes a few strands of hair he had inadvertently pushed loose when draping the shawl over you back out of your face, the warmth of his hand lingering on your cheeks.

He takes a step back and looks over your outfit once more, as if to assure himself that you truly are dressed for the impending weather, and you once again hold back a laugh.

"You worry too much," you playfully scold, patting him on the shoulder. "The sooner I leave, the sooner I can come back. You'll take good care while I'm gone, right?" He presses his lips into a tight line, looking as though he wants to dissuade you from leaving — but his resigned sigh tells you he's realized those efforts will be futile.

"Of course," he says. "So hurry back." You pull your hand off of him and move to the door before he can change his mind.

"I will!" you chime, before stepping out into the morning chill.

Even as the breeze carries the scent of snow to you, the clouds hanging low and heavy, you push onward. It will be easy enough to distribute the medicine once you arrive, and so long as you’re home before nightfall everything should be fine. Nonetheless, your pace quickens without you even noticing, pulling your pack flat to your back.

The villagers greet you with nervous gratitude, all the adults looking considerably exhausted, and are quick to usher you into warm buildings when they notice your windswept cheeks. As some of them bustle around, preparing tea and refreshments for you despite your protests, others help you to unload your pack.

“This is the tea. I tried to make it less bitter, since most of the children are affected,” you explain, laying the sachets of medicine out on a table. You remove a wooden spoon, the bowl narrower but deeper than one used for dining. “Use this to measure the dose. One scoop will suffice for small children, but adults should use two.” The adults around you murmur, and one eventually speaks up.

“Would you mind helping us with the first dose, Y/N-nim?” The use of the honorific momentarily stuns you, but nobody else seems bothered. Despite your many years under Eunji’s tutelage, you still feel yourself far too much of a novice to be deserving of such respect — but to these people, who rely on you more as Eunji gets older, you imagine the lines are more blurred.

Younghyun’s warnings about the weather echo in your head, but you find yourself agreeing. How could you leave these people in their time of need? What if the children are stubborn and need more coaxing, some gentle pressure from the ‘all-knowing witch’?

Thankfully, most of the patients cooperate since their family matriarchs are present, though some are more stubborn. As the sun hangs in the afternoon sky you are ushered into someone’s residence for a light meal. Many of the village women gather around the room with you, taking a moment to relax after the prolonged brewing and portioning of medicinal tea. After eating a small portion, you pull out your extra herbs to measure more of the tea for the village, just in case. One of the women leans towards you as you do, a light smile playing at her lips.

"Y/N-nim, we’ve all been wondering — who is that man that came with you last time?" All eyes turn to you, the other conversations in the room halting. Their curiosity is far from unusual or unwarranted — every village Younghyun has accompanied you to has at least one person who raises the question, and plenty more who don’t ask but are clearly wondering too. After all, for so many years it's been only you and Eunji visiting these people unassisted. You barely glance up from your work at her question, a smile curving your lips.

"I found him injured on the mountain," you say. Everyone knows the one, and the story of your journey, at this point. "He's been staying with us while he recuperates. He can't remember where he came from, or how he got on the mountain."

"Ah," the woman hums. She goes back to her own business as you continue tending to yours, almost laughing at the well-rehearsed story. At least it isn’t a complete lie, you muse, just a half-truth.

But the longer you sit, continuing your work, the more you start to think. Younghyun was living with the two of you as a means of getting used to human life again — it was never intended to be a permanent situation. Neither you nor Eunji had any intention of keeping Younghyun in your little shack in the valley if it wasn't where he wanted to be. Your hands falter for a moment before resuming their task purely from muscle memory, your heart sinking. If Younghyun were to tell you he wanted to leave…

You shake your head slightly. If Younghyun wants to leave, you should let him. You would let him — though the very thought makes your throat feel tight. You repeat it to yourself, a reprimand for your foolishness and selfishness. Younghyun deserves to do whatever he wants, even if it means leaving you.

Eventually you decide you’ve made enough extra doses and should brew and distribute medicine to the remaining, most stubborn patients. Most of them are willful children who still have enough energy to argue despite their illness and were put off by the tea’s bitter smell, despite your best efforts to sweeten the mixture. Part of the reason for the afternoon break was so some of the village women could pull together something small and sweet for the children to eat after taking the medicine. With bits of dried fruit from various villagers’ homes now being presented alongside the tea, most of the children took the medicine (though still scrunching their noses at the bitterness) without much argument.

Some, however, required much more coaxing. In the end, it took you sitting amongst them and feeding into their misconception of you as a powerful, all-knowing witch alongside some bargaining with dried fruit to convince them. By the time you leave the village, you feel mentally exhausted and ready to collapse at home with Eunji and Younghyun. The clouds have sunk down over the mountaintops, heavy with snow — you smell the ice in the air and feel the stillness around you as all the other animals burrow away from the impending storm.

The snow begins to fall lightly, at first, but it sticks quickly to the frozen ground. You quicken your pace as the wind picks up. You know it’s no use; you can’t outrun the storm, so you’ll just have to push on. The tingling sensation in your hands, tucked deep into your fur-lined sleeves, warns you that conditions are going to get worse before they get better.

Damn, you think, pulling your outermost shawl up over your nose as the storm howls. You really should have left the village sooner, but the children were so stubborn about taking their first doses of medicine. Thinking about it, you know you couldn’t have left without having assured yourself that all of them had taken it. You’re thankful it wasn’t the same plague as last winter, when you ventured up the mountain and made a deal with Younghyun but still couldn’t save everyone. The familiar shroud of guilt threatens to encompass your heart, the bitter wind blowing hard. Shaking your head, you burrow your chin and cheeks down into the shawl, trying to hide from the cold. Wisps of hair are pulled from behind your ears into view by the violent winds, and you squint through the snowflakes that cling to your lashes to be sure you're headed in the right direction before casting your gaze downward once more. As you continue plodding on, the crunching of your footsteps scarcely audible above the wails of the windswept winter trees, a voice suddenly cuts through the storm,

"Y/N!"

You lift your head and, for a moment, the wind stills. The snow is still falling, but through it you can see him approaching, and a smile creeps across your face. Seeing him like this, surrounded by snowflakes, reminds you of last winter — the first time you met Younghyun, up on the lonely mountain. Even the concern written in the creases of his brow look the same as they did the night he chose to reveal his true nature to you, to save you from the deathly chill.

You lift your head and continue striding towards him with renewed vigor. The snow is just about at your ankles now, the frozen ground hard beneath your feet with each step.

"Y/N!" he cries once you come more clearly into his line of sight. He looks relieved for a moment before running towards you, "Are you crazy?!"

In a flurry he reaches out to pull your shawl further up your head, eyes flitting worriedly over your wind-whipped cheeks and frosty lashes.

"I shouldn't have let you go alone," he grumbles, pulling the pack from your shoulders and slinging it over one of his own before you can protest. You hurry to follow him back to the hut, walking in his larger footsteps.

"Then who would've helped Eunji prepare the house?" you ask, gently reminding him of your earlier conversation. You watch as his shoulders tense as though he's about to argue with you, but he lets out a sigh and ushers you into the house before him. Although you feel bad for worrying him, it does warm your heart to know that he stayed to help Eunji when you couldn't.

Eunji, however, seems about as pleased with you and your decision as Younghyun — maybe even less.

“That was foolish,” is all she says when you walk in the door. She barely casts a glance in your direction before turning back to the food still warm above the fire. You can tell she and Younghyun have already eaten just by the amount left, and the guilt resurges.

"Sorry, Eunji…" you mutter, lowering your head like a scolded child. She only takes your food off the fire for you to eat, before rising slowly to her feet and shuffling off into her room.

You eat accompanied only by the fire's crackle and glow, your own shadow cast long across the table from you as a stark reminder of your foolish decision.

For hours after dinner you lie awake, unable to sleep. You listen to the howling wind outside and occasionally rise to your feet, walking to the far end of the room to be sure you can feel the ondol beneath the floor still warming it sufficiently.

It's long into the night when you hear a faint melody, and you creep to your doorway to hear it better.

It isn't Eunji, nor is it a song you recognize, yet the words fall easily from Younghyun's lips in a hushed tone, accompanied by the gentle scrape of him stoking the small fire in the agungi. No wonder the ondol seemed warmer than usual, you think to yourself, slowly creeping towards the source of the song.

You watch from the shadowy corner as Younghyun tosses another piece of wood into the fire, dusting his hands off as he continues to sing. He glows golden in the firelight, and it's hard to believe that all traces of his former magic have left him — anyone seeing him would surely believe he had descended from the heavens that very day.

As you listen to his voice, you try desperately to think of what song he may be singing, but none come to mind. Although it somehow sounds familiar, you know you've never heard it before.

Eventually, Younghyun stops singing, letting out a soft sigh as he holds his hands out towards the fire. Quietly, you step forward, but the slight creak of a board beneath your feet makes him turn. He doesn't look particularly surprised to see you, merely turning back to the flames as you go to take a seat beside him.

"You have a wonderful voice," you say, finally. "What song was that?" He shakes his head.

"I don't know the name. It's something my mother used to sing." His throat seems tight as he speaks, his words clipped and his expression stony. You stare at the side of his face, but he doesn't budge. Your nervous fingers pick at a loose thread you find on your clothes, and your eyes follow the pattern of the woodgrain until the shadows swallow them up. With great effort, you summon up the courage to speak,

"I'm sorry for upsetting you today. I didn't mean to make you mad."

The smallness of your own voice makes you wince, and you're relieved that Younghyun doesn't look at you, as you couldn't possibly bring yourself to meet his eyes.

"I'm not angry at you," he sighs, leaning back on his palms. "You just… you do things for other people without thinking of the consequences for yourself. It's like you think that nobody cares what will happen to you."

You open your mouth to retort, but find no words to do so. After all, he isn't wrong — you've always thought of being a healer as your sole purpose in life. Regardless of how much you adored Eunji, you can still remember how it felt to be given away by your family, and how alien they seem to you at times. There's a part of you that's always believed you could never be part of a normal world, live a normal life, and as Younghyun's words sink in you realize that, maybe, you've been throwing yourself into being a selfless healer so wholeheartedly and recklessly to avoid the pain of facing what you perceive as a lonely future.

Aside from Eunji and your family, you wonder sometimes if anyone else has ever cared about you for any reason other than you being a healer. And to avoid the thought you simply propelled yourself full-force into your sworn duty. Like anyone else, you wanted to matter, and healing was the only way you knew how to.

Before you know it, your teardrops have begun to stain the floor by your knees. Younghyun notices and hurriedly pulls his sleeves down over his knuckles, gently pressing the backs of his fingers against your cheeks.

"Don't cry. I didn't mean to make you cry," he pleads, and you shake your head.

"It isn't your fault," you reply, swallowing hard. "It's mine." Younghyun sighs, still gingerly drying your tear-stained cheeks. Even though you feel ashamed of your own childishness, you can’t bring yourself to stop him — or stop yourself from crying.

"You’re a good person," he intones, his voice as warm as the fire in the agungi, his eyes catching all the embers’ glow. "You care about other people, and there isn’t anything wrong with that. But you can’t help anyone if you don’t take care of yourself. You don’t ever make yourself a priority, even when you should, so of course Eunji and I worry about you. Especially when you do reckless things, like go out alone in a snowstorm…" The hint of a smile curls at one corner of his mouth, and you let out a short, wet laugh.

"Yeah," you sniff. "I deserve that." You leave your hands in Younghyun’s, watching as he gently runs his thumbs across the ridges of your knuckles. Somehow, he had managed to halt your tears without you even noticing, and though you still feel ashamed of having disappointed Eunji you feel more apologetic than anything else now.

"Does that mean you forgive me, then?" you ask, looking up to meet his gaze. Younghyun’s eyes hold all the golden light and warmth in the world as they meet yours, a full smile curving his lips now. He reaches out to brush loose strands from your braid behind your ear, a pleasant shudder running through you as his fingertips ghost along the shell of your ear.

"Yes," he says.

Then, unexpectedly, he gives the lobe of your ear a swift tug. You yelp and reach up to cover your ear, but it’s too late. Younghyun only continues to smile at you, though you can see the mischievous glint in his foxish eyes as you pout across from him.

"But only if you promise to be more careful from now on." You huff, but lower your hand from your ear and extend a pinky out to him.

"Okay, I promise."

Your lovely, wonderful Younghyun links his pinky with yours securely, lifting them up to press the back of your pinky to his lips. You’re grateful for the warmth and glow of the agungi, blaming the flush in your cheeks on it as the two of you unlink your pinkies and bid each other goodnight.

Eunji doesn’t stay mad at you for long, as is her way, but it probably helps that you try to actively stay in her good graces. The snow has finally stopped after falling for two nights, and Younghyun wasup since dawn clearing small paths around the hut for you and Eunji.

“Go get him,” Eunji says sharply. “He’s been out there too long. It’s too cold.” You can’t help but smile to yourself, setting aside your task as Eunji shuffles, muttering, to make tea for you all. Draping a shawl over your shoulders, you poke your head out the door. Your eyes find him immediately, the only figure amidst the snowdrifts and gray skies.

“Younghyun-ah,” you call, and he turns to face you. He raises a hand to wave, and you beckon him with your hand. “Eunji says it’s time to come in.” Without hesitation he starts walking towards you, the shovel he had been using resting on one shoulder. As he gets closer you see how red his nose and cheeks are and can’t help but pout; you take the shovel from him and push him into the hut, chiding him,

“Why didn’t you cover your face? Your nose must be frozen.” You shut the door behind you and immediately reach up to feel his nose and cheeks, cradling his face in your hands. He smiles at you, eyes sparkling, and you feel your face getting hot — you pinch his nose, hard, and before he can begin whining at you about it you take him by the shoulder and start pushing him towards the table where Eunji has set out the teacups. The old woman looks over her shoulder at the two of you, tutting when she sees Younghyun’s red face.

“You young people, you never take care of yourselves,” she scolds.

“That’s why we have you, Eunji!” you chirp, taking the shawl off your own shoulders to drape it over hers. She rolls her eyes at you but tugs the shawl a little tighter around her and can’t keep the smile off her face as she waves you off. Younghyun obediently takes a seat at the table, and you follow suit with Eunji right behind you. It had taken you a considerable amount of time as a child to get used to Eunji’s lack of adherence to tradition. She didn’t care who served who, or the order in which things were done — she had lived alone and away from society for so long that she simply did what was most efficient. As Eunji got older, she let you do more for her, but never everything. She let Younghyun do more, and though you know she’ll never admit it, it was clearly her attempt to make him feel more comfortable.

Sitting around the table, you can’t help but bask in the warmth of your home. You have never felt so happy, you think, as you do with these two people, whom you love most in the world.

With the snow still thick on the ground, there’s little to do other than stay inside and prepare ingredients for the impending ailments the season brings. Neither you nor Eunji have been summoned, and until more of the snow melts you can’t venture very far from your hut.

Most of the day has passed with all of you inside, working away at various chores and tasks. You’ve turned to mending clothing, having finished grinding herbs, and after hours hunched over by the table you set aside your task and stand, needing to stretch. It’s sometime in the afternoon,

“Y/N-ah,” Eunji says, beckoning you into her room. You make your way over, curious as to why she’s calling you into her bedroom instead of coming to the central room to speak to you.

“Yes, Eunji?” She tugs at your sleeve, then pushes your shoulder down so your ear is level with her mouth,

“I’m going to make Younghyun a treat since he’s been here a whole year. Take him outside and stay out until our evening meal.” You barely hear her request, stuck on the fact that Younghyun has been here, with you, off the mountain for a year. Does that mean he’s adjusted enough to human life? Is he going to want to leave soon? Eunji releases your shoulder, and you bring yourself back to reality.

“I can do that,” you say, though your head is still spinning slightly. Eunji smiles at you and pats your shoulder.

“I knew I could count on you.” Her statement lightens your heart just slightly, enough for you to make your way into the common room and tap Younghyun’s shoulder. He lifts his gaze from his work, a slow attempt to perfectly peel some roots, and you smile,

“Eunji wants us to get out of the house so she can clean.”

“Shouldn’t we help?” he asks, but he’s already setting aside his work and standing up. You shake your head.

“She’s very particular sometimes, you know that. She said we’d only get in her way.” Younghyun thankfully accepts your excuse and pulls on his extra winter layers alongside you as Eunji makes her way into the common room to shoo you both out.

It’s cold outside, but not unpleasant. The sun reflects almost blindingly off the snow in the valley, so you and Younghyun both begin walking towards the woods in search of some shade.

“It snowed so much this year,” you remark.

“It’s still nothing like last year,” he replies, and when you turn to look at him you find his gaze on the familiar mountain peak in the distance. One whole year…

“You’re right,” you say. “That storm was particularly bad. The beginning of that winter… before you, it was awful. Everything felt so hopeless.” Younghyun laughs softly,

“That’s how every winter felt,” he says, “until you.”

You don’t know what to say, a lump forming in your throat as thoughts continue to swirl in your mind about Younghyun leaving. It’s foolish, you think (you know) to be so concerned with something that may not even come to pass, or not soon at least, but you can’t help it. After only a year Younghyun has become such an integral part of your life that you can’t imagine not seeing him every day.

But it’s his choice, you remind yourself. Just like you had never wanted anyone to stand in the way of your decisions, you knew you could never stand in the way of his.

The two of you walk in comfortable silence through the woods. Despite the snow, you both know your way through the trees almost by instinct, having walked all these paths through the other three seasons. The trees become sparser as you near the river that lies in the bowl of the valley. Once again you’ve found yourselves at the hilltop where you have the best view of the sunset, the late afternoon sun casting long stripes of shadow and golden light across the ground. The river runs shimmering down in the valley, thawed from the day’s sunshine. You stand beside Younghyun in your usual spot, the warmth of his body radiating onto you, and the lump forms in your throat again. Enough, you think, biting the inside of your cheek. I should just get it over with.

“Younghyun-ah, have you ever…” you press your lips together, taking a deep breath before trying again. “Is there somewhere you want to go, Younghyun-ah? You know Eunji and I — we would help you do anything. You’ve adjusted well to life off the mountain, so…” Again, you can’t seem to finish, and so you simply let the statement hang in the air, hoping that he’s able to understand your babbling. You can feel his gaze on you, but can’t bring yourself to lift your face. If you look at him, you might just lose your resolve and end up taking it all back, begging him not to go. You can see when he turns to you completely, his feet pointing towards yours and not the setting sun.

“Do you remember,” he starts, taking your hands in both of his. He runs his thumbs across your knuckles gently, sending shivers down your spine. “How you said you saw me grow old in your vision?” The statement catches you off guard enough that you look up, but he’s smiling down at your hands in his, his expression soft.

“Yes,” you reply, voice barely a breath, but you know he hears you. He lifts his face, resolve painted into his sharp features, and you gaze into his eyes, dark as the new moon sky.

“I want to see you grow old too, Y/N-ah.”

The tenderness in his voice renders you speechless, and though you know your feet are on the ground you feel as though your body has risen into the clouds, face warming as his stare continues to pierce you.

“What…?” What does that mean? What do you mean by that?

“I'm asking you to let me stay by your side,” he explains, squeezing your fingers gently. “Wherever you go, whatever you do, I don't mind — I just ask that it isn't without me.”

You could swear your heart stops beating, that the world altogether stops for a moment. Younghyun’s eyes never waver, earnest and sure, and the longer you hold his gaze the further you feel yourself falling into the depths of your devotion to him. As you hurtle towards the conclusion you had been fearful to voice for so long, you remind yourself to breathe, the air trembling in and out of your lungs.

“Why?” Is all you manage to ask, your heart aching, pounding desperately in anticipation of whatever confession awaits you.

Younghyun chuckles kindly, and the sight of his smile causes your own lips to curl, a salve to your anxiety. He runs his thumbs soothingly along the ridges of your knuckles.

“Because,” he says, then lifts your hands to his mouth. He presses a soft kiss on each of them, sending butterflies soaring in your stomach, and looks up at you through his lashes with that smile still playing at the corners of his mouth.

“You’re my destiny. I’ll do anything to stay by your side until the end.”

How could you ever say no to him? All you can manage is to nod, tears stinging your eyes, and Younghyun reaches up to wipe them away — just like before. His hands gently cup your cheeks, and you look into his eyes, the eyes that you love more than any others.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. You laugh, placing your hands on his shoulders,

“I thought you’d never ask.”

When the two of you return to the hut hand in hand, Eunji simply raises her eyebrows.

“Finally,” she says, before ushering you both inside from the cold evening air. “It only took a year. Congratulations, Younghyun.” She reaches up to ruffle his hair, and he bends down just slightly to oblige her, laughing all the while.

As you all sit around the table filled with Eunji’s treats for Younghyun, you wonder what the future holds. Whatever comes, you think, you’re ready and willing to face it — with determination, and love, and magic — with Younghyun.

#my writing #kpop fanfiction #kpop writing #kpop scenarios #kpop texts #day6 scenario #day6 fanfic #day6 young k #young k imagines #young k scenarios

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