#restlessmaknae

[tranquilpetrichor]

hi eris! i hope you're doing okay! i just wanted to say that i hope you're doing well at uni, and taking care of yourself 💕 i'm always super glad to hear about you (let it be to read your stories or you reading my stories), and i just wanted to come by and say hi 💕 @restlessmaknae

ofc! i'm not always as active, but thank you for enjoying my works! always good to hear from you haha. i have a couple drafts in the works for sure!

#restlessmaknae #tranquil asks

[restlessmaknae]

heart says yes [serim]

''i didn't know where else to go'' + "let’s get you cleaned up'' with bad boy!Serim

➳ Characters: implied bad boy!Serim x female!reader/you

➳ Genre: slice of life, angst

➳ Words: 1.7k

➳ Warning: mentions of bruises, blood, treating wounds

➳ A/N: This story was requested by @tsunchani for my request event, so I hope you enjoy it! ❤️Since you haven't specified the hurt comfort prompts, I've chosen the two mentioned above. Plus, I think this story fits the bad boy!au better than a mafia!au that you've specifically requested, but you can still see it as a mafia fic if you wish since there are no specifications said about Serim's identity.

You can still request stories for the event: you can find the guidelines here and the masterlist here.

➳ CRAVITY taglist: @tsunchani, @dat-town

Serim was like a shadow around the corner shop you worked; he was usually invisible, but you could feel him lingering there. You welcomed him coming in time and time again, but he was always pretty quiet, so you didn’t try striking up a conversation with him. You didn’t even assume that he could have it in him to stand up for you against some thugs who had come in for alcohol, but he did so, and something akin to fear lingered in the air when the men noticed who had spoken up.

That was the day you got to know his name. You wanted to thank him somehow, so you said that his purchase was on you, but he insisted that it wasn’t necessary. Somewhere along the way though, you introduced yourself, and he did the same, but he did it so carefully as if he was afraid of letting you know who he was that you didn’t push him for more questions.

The subtle signs were always there - him wearing all black clothes all the time, the loose ones that allowed him to get away from the curious eyes because he got lost in the darkness of his garments; his fingers dressed in calluses, a hint that he was working with his hands a lot; him always paying by cash and coming here late enough at night to not bump into anyone but you most of the time; and being as reserved as one could be -, but you didn’t pay attention to them. To be precise, you didn’t want to. This might not have been the safest neighbourhood, but he looked as harmless as one could be with his unruly midnight black locks frequently getting into his deep, dark eyes, his words gentle and soft-spoken when he exchanged a few meaningless words with you at the counter, and his subtle acts like leaving the change behind for you or leaving a bottle of ginger tea on the counter when he noticed that you were quite raspy due to a cold.

He was always there, swimming around the edges of your pond - a constant presence, though not yet a permanent visitor -, and you gazed at him from afar because you were similarly afraid to get too close. You were afraid that if you did so, you would get drowned, the waves crashing down on you, and keeping you down, down until you heaved your last breath. Though the bottom was as alluring as it could be…

Then, one night, a motorbike parked on the pavement before the store, and everything changed. It was after closing hours, and you already put the ‘closed’ sign on the door. You just started counting the remaining cash to let the colleague in the morning shift know how much was the starting amount when you heard shuffling from the staff room. Nobody else was supposed to be there, except you, so you held your phone in your hand, your fingers hovering over the quick emergency call button as you made your way to the back of the store. You remembered closing the back door of the staff room that led to the outside area after you had taken out the trash, so your boss or a colleague might have come in with a key or someone had broken in from behind.

With shaky breaths, you turned the doorknob and flung the door open, your fingers itching to push the emergency call button before you recognised the figure crouching by the supply shelf.

“Serim!” You breathed out, both relieved and concerned, as you pushed your phone into the pocket of your jeans. The boy looked up when you called his name, and the fresh burgundy bruises painting the pale canvas of his skin made your heart churn. His words even more so.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know where else to go,” he admitted, his voice coming out hoarse. Your brain might have told you to stay away from him, especially when he showed up unannounced at your workplace after probably being beaten up, but your heart was in control, and it didn’t let you send him away. Instead, you found yourself saying:

“It’s okay,” you tried with a reassuring nod, but you weren’t sure whether you were trying to ease his nerves or yours. Yet, despite your heart hammering away rapidly, you crouched down to be at eye-level with him, and pushed a few stray locks out of his eyes, revealing even more dark patches underneath. After examining his bruises, your eyes found his orbs already boring into yours, and for a moment, you felt yourself falter, falling into that sea of oblivion. It would have been so easy to not object, to give in to that tension that sparkled between you two, but you couldn’t sway. At least, that was what your brain told you. Your heart was telling a completely different story.

You cleared your throat, detaching yourself from the mystery that his eyes were, and announced:

“Now, let’s get you cleaned up!”

Even if the boy wanted to disagree, you were quick to search for the first-aid kit that you kept in a locker among other supplies that you or your colleagues might need for work. Sometimes you might cut your fingers or crash into a shelf, so the first-aid kit was always much appreciated, and it was usually fully packed, much to your relief.

You shuffled back to the boy with the first-aid kit in your hand, and you were surprised to find him standing as opposed to his previous crouching position. Upon seeing it, you hesitated a bit, but then the boy with the most beautiful midnight-black eyes broke the silence:

“You don’t have to do this,” he said, resigned, his words coming out like a goodbye, a choice, a crossroad. Something in you told you that he genuinely didn’t expect you to help, he just didn’t know where else to go, but it hurt for you to hear it from him - like he had already given up on you and on himself.

“But I want to, so I will!” You announced, a bit more indignant than you would have expected from yourself, and in the surprised glint of his eyes, you could tell that he was just as perplexed by your confident response as you were. Maybe that’s why he didn’t object when you asked him to sit on the nearby chair, so that you would have a better access to his bruises.

You tried hard not to concentrate on the way his eyes were constantly following your moves as if he was still doubtful that you would go along with it, but you diligently cleaned his bruises as best as you could. You had never had to tend to bruises like these ones before, and you were sure that Serim would comment on your lack of experience, but he stayed quiet. He only grumbled when you started putting antiseptic on his wounds.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be quick,” you promised, and he nodded. The bruise around his lips seemed like the most painful one, no wonder he made an inaudible sound when you put the cream on it. Simultaneously, the boy grabbed your left arm - that you left hanging by your side - to hold onto it while you were working on him, and his grip was so desperate that you felt your stomach drop.

Serim had always seemed so strong, so powerful, someone who wouldn’t need the assistance of anyone, let alone yours, but now he was holding onto you like his last piece of hope, and you had no idea whether that should comfort you or torn you apart even more. You didn’t even know whether you should pay attention to the crazy beating of your heart or the way your stomach was twisting and turning with both fear and anticipation.

“It’s done,” you said when you finished with the antiseptic, and as he looked up from his eyelashes, his fingers still holding onto your wrists firmly, his lips bruised, his face covered in a palette of purple, red and blueish colours, you had the urge to hug him, to tell him that it would be okay, to caress his wounded cheeks. Did you have the right though? Would he let you?

“Thank you, really.”

“It’s okay. You’ve saved me from those thugs sometime ago, we can say that we’re even now,” you croaked out, hoping to put together a coherent sentence when all you could think about was the gentle darkness of his eyes, the way a miniature version of you reflected back in them as if it was so natural and the abyss of him that you wouldn’t mind getting lost in.

His lips twitched and you didn’t know whether it was because of the pain or your words, and he didn’t say so. You merely gazed at each other, the moment stretching long and heralding something more, something different, something vulnerable between you two. The urges in you grew stronger, and before you could realise what you were doing, you were already reaching for his other hand that wasn’t holding yours, and gave it a light squeeze.

Serim looked surprised for a few seconds, but then he looked at your hands in a different way - he seemed thankful, touched even -, and when he spoke up, gentle and soft and warm like a blanket on a cold night, you breathed in his words, letting them fill your lungs and heart.

“Can we… can we stay like this for a few more seconds?”

Anytime, you wanted to say, but the words died on the tip of your tongue, so you merely nodded, and let him hold onto you just like you were holding onto him.

Maybe, just maybe, no matter what your brain was trying to tell you, your heart would still go for him, fight for him, care for him, and if you had to choose between the two in that moment, you would follow your heart.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for CRAVITY or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

#serim scenarios #serim imagines #serim x reader #serim x you #cravity imagines #cravity scenarios #cravity x reader #cravity x you #serim angst #cravity angst #restlessmaknae's request event

[lily-blue]

Prince in disguise

☆ characters: crown prince!san & florist!you ☆ genre: modern royalty au, fluff ☆ warnings: mention of a break-in ☆ summary: you like to joke about how San carries himself like a prince; one day it turns out, it’s because he’s indeed royalty ☆ words: 7,9k ☆ a/n: this story was inspired by this video of San ☆ also: merry Christmas to the lovely @restlessmaknae 💕 i wish you a peaceful holiday, so that you could regain your energy and start the new year stronger than ever ☆ massive thanks to: @dat-town for proofreading the story 💕

You often teased San about how he was the embodiment of your childhood crush, Prince Eric from The Little Mermaid. There was just something in the way he held himself, with so much effortless elegance and pride, that screamed royalty. However, up until the very moment three grown ass men in suits and sunglasses stormed into your flower shop, undoubtedly looking for him, you had never been able to decipher how he really felt about your lighthearted jokes. He definitely didn’t hate them, that much you could tell. He knew you would have stopped as soon as he showed any signs of frustration or discomfort, yet his most common reaction was a small smile and kiss on your forehead. 

It had never, not even in your wildest dreams, when you let yourself dream about your future, occurred to you that he was an actual prince. Like a real prince with a queen as a mother and a kingdom to rule.

‘Miss, I would like to kindly advise you to refrain from any form of dishonesty,’ one of the men said, his voice calm and collected despite the photo in his hands and the urgency of the issue they were dealing with. You had never given any thought to the qualities a bodyguard (a royal bodyguard!) should have possessed, but you had to admit that he must have ticked off all the boxes on that imaginary list. ‘We have been informed that the Crown Prince, in fact, entered this flower shop and he could not have possibly had enough time to leave before we came in.’

You could feel your heart picking up its rate and your palms getting clammy, but you refused to show how nervous his way of speaking made you. You also refused to think about all the negative consequences your inner need to protect San could bring you. You knew that as soon as you let your brain come up with those worst case scenarios you would fold like a folding chair. And you simply couldn’t afford to be weak.

‘Thank you for your advice, sir. However, I also need to kindly remind you that you need a warrant in case you wish to enter the staff only area,’ you stood your ground, grateful that the owner of the shop wasn’t present, so she couldn’t grant them access to the storage room. That might have put both San and you into an uncomfortable situation. ‘I have already told you that your Crown Prince is not here. You are wasting your time,’ you claimed, impressed by how calm your words came out despite the hurricane of emotions inside of you.

What would you tell your parents if you got arrested for lying to these men? It wasn’t like you were hiding a criminal, right?

‘Disobeying the Queen is considered high treason,’ the royal bodyguard stated firmly and you gulped down the knot in your throat when you realised he wasn’t talking to you. The warning was dedicated to the guy who was currently hiding behind dozens of bouquets of lilies and sunflowers for a summer themed banquet tomorrow.

‘Sir.’ You cleared your throat to gain his attention or more like, to divert his attention from the storage room’s door that he was eyeing with intent. You didn’t know what you could have done if he decided to push you aside and enter the staff only area anyway. He clearly had the muscles for that and he also had backup even if the other two men were lingering by the front door. ‘I am a South Korean citizen and we are in South Korea. With all due respect, your Queen has no power here,’ you reminded him, mustering up all the confidence that was left in your body, which wasn’t too much to be honest. You were a mere commoner standing in front of a royal bodyguard, after all. Hell, you were a petite woman in her twenties against a man who had biceps the size of a smaller melon.

In the back of your head, you wondered how long your protective instincts would take you. For the sake of San and yourself, you hoped you could hold on long enough for these men to give up and leave. If things had gone there, you didn’t know how you would have explained to your boss why you had stayed overtime on a Wednesday night.

It took time, and a horrendous amount of awkward and pressuring silence, but eventually a new customer came in and your afternoon regained some of its normality. You helped the girl choose the most suitable flowers for her confession and gave her a gift card for free partly because she was adorable and partly because you were so genuinely grateful for her presence. Her ramble about her childhood best friend slash crush had successfully taken your mind off the predicament you were in with a prince in your storage room.

Unfortunately, after that, the rest of the afternoon kept you on your tiptoes. Two of the men in black suits left, but the third bodyguard refused to leave the shop and made sure you didn’t have a moment of peace with his countless questions and polite warnings of which quite a few were meant for San. At least, you honestly doubted his intention was to appeal to your emotions when he brought up the people of their nation, their well-being and the well-being of the royal couple. As much as you could tell from the morsels you actually understood - at one point the guard started to speak the same language San spoke when he was frustrated -, San’s parents were healthy, but his father was too drained to keep ruling the country for much longer. They wanted him to go back and be the king he had always been meant to be. They wanted him to settle down and have his own heirs.

The latter felt like a fist in the gut, like a knife in the stomach even though your translation’s accuracy was heavily dependent on context clues, so you might have been wrong.

You hoped you were wrong.

‘Sir, we are closing. I have to ask you to leave,’ you spoke up ten minutes before eight and let out a relieved sigh when he didn’t argue. You could handle his ice cold stares, but you were doubtful whether you would have had the energy to get into a fight after hours of cold war. His presence alone had drained you dry and honestly, the only things that kept you going were the knowledge that you were doing this for San and the cinnamon rolls from the vintage coffee shop across the street. They closed at ten, so they usually weren’t out of sweets when you visited them at the end of your most tiresome days.

A little paranoid that the bodyguard might have been still lingering out there, waiting for the moment when you foolishly let your guard down, you busied yourself with the online orders that came in in the last hour and stock checked the customer area. It took almost one and a half hours before you informed San that the coast was clear.

The boy walked out from the storage room with his lower lip between his teeth and a rather embarrassed smile on his face that - based on the months you had spent getting to know each other more - was meant to be reassuring.

‘Are you okay?’ San asked, warmth swelling in your chest due to his first words. Of course, your well-being was his top priority. His apologies and weak attempts at making excuses, so you wouldn’t have been mad at him always came second. ‘I’m so sorry.’

You clenched and unclenched your fists as you looked at him. Did he seriously believe that you could be angry with him for longer than a couple of minutes? You had gotten to know the truth hours ago. You were over the initial shock and done being sulky.

At that point, you just wanted him to be safe.

Therefore, you destroyed the distance between the two of you and not giving a damn about his title, you wrapped your arms around his torso, pulling him impossibly close to your body. You could feel your cheek being squeezed as you rested your head on his chest.

‘Are you okay?’ You threw the question right back at him, feeling your heart picking up its rate with each second that passed you by in silence.

San’s lips were soft against your scalp when he kissed the top of your head and wrapped his own arms around your petite frame.

‘Thank you,’ he mumbled against your hair, his tone urging you to pull away and look him in the eyes, hence that was what you did. You pulled away with your hands still around his body and rested your chin on his chest, picking apart his facial expression as you tried to decipher what he was thinking.

Your breath hitched when he pressed his lips against yours briefly.

‘I promise I will explain everything,’ he said, his forehead fitting close to yours before he lifted his right hand and brushed a stubborn lock behind your ear. ‘But first, I need to take care of a few things. Important things,’ he claimed and with that - and another tender kiss pressed against your parted lips - he was gone.

You looked after him in trance for minutes before you shook your head and willed yourself to walk in the storage room to finish the stock checking. There was a cinnamon roll waiting for you at the coffee shop across the street.

You hadn’t heard from San that night, which was a tad bit alarming considering that he was living in your apartment unofficially for over a month. He had his own clothes at yours, his own towel, shower gel, shampoo and toothbrush. You had his favourite plant-based milk in your fridge along with his favourite instant coffee. His mug that matched yours was in your cabinet, waiting for him to come home. So why hadn’t he? The number of possibilities made you anxious.

What if those men had found him and he was already out of the country?

By the time the second night of radio silence rolled by, you were checking your phone abnormally frequently and couldn’t stay focused for longer than five or six minutes. It came to a point where even the Thai series you were currently obsessed with couldn’t keep you on the couch. You had to move around, clean up something, do something, anything that might have been able to take your mind off San’s absence. 

You almost knocked off the half-empty mug of hot chocolate from the kitchen counter, the marshmallows still in your hands, when your front door opened out of the blue. You threw the sweets into your drink with a yelp and grabbed the first potential weapon that you came across: the cutting board you kept behind the knife organiser.

‘I have 112 on speed dial,’ you threatened, lowkey wondering whether you should have been more daring and grabbed one of the knives as you walked towards your bedroom, not turning your back to the front door. There should have been a key in the lock from the inside. You should have been safe once you reached the bedroom.

‘Well, that’s good to know, but why are we calling the police?’ A very tired, very amused San asked from the threshold, walking into the open space of your living room slash dining room with a bag of takeout in his hand.

You could feel the rocks being lifted off your chest.

‘Are you crazy? San! You scared the shit out of me,’ you accused, more relieved than angry. Seeing his tired eyes, you were reminded of the bodyguards and wanted to run up to him and inspect his body for injuries. You wanted to make sure he was okay; however, your limbs were frozen, hence you just stood there like a way too realistic statue from Ancient Rome.

Then, your gaze fell on the plastic bags in his hands again and your brain supplied you with all the worst case scenarios it could come up with: San coming over for a last minute farewell dinner before he moved countries; San asking you to change your relationship status to long-distance relationship; San breaking up with you with your favourite black bean noodles. You weren’t ready to let him go after putting so much effort into winning him over.

‘I’m sorry, petal. I thought you would know it’s me. After all, there aren’t many people who know your passcode and your parents are out of town,’ he said. There was something in the way he broke the situation down to you that made you feel a little dramatic. Of course, you should have known it was him. Other than your mom and your best friend, he was the only one who had access to your apartment.

You pressed your lips together and pouted. He had no right to make you feel silly when your survival instincts were the ones to blame.

‘What are the noodles for?’ You asked as soon as you put yourself together, finally finding the power to move your legs and walk up to him. The furrow between San’s eyebrows and the confusion in his eyes shouldn’t have been so adorable.

‘It’s Thursday. You never have energy to cook on Thursdays and Fridays,’ he explained, like you were some kind of alien who wasn’t accustomed to the local habits yet or a person who had just woken up from years of coma. He must have thought that your question was so damn ridiculous, but it wasn’t what you had meant.

‘You didn’t come home yesterday,’ you said, stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the whiny edge of your statement and the fact that San had his own place to sleep at. His lease wouldn’t expire for at least three more months, so you hadn’t moved in together yet. You had no right to call him to account regarding his whereabouts and still, after what had happened the day before, you kind of felt like you had.

You took the bags out of his hands and helped him unpack the still pleasantly lukewarm food. You also started to prepare a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows for him, too, without asking whether he wanted some. He never said no for hot chocolate.

‘I was with Wooyoung,’ he said, filling a tray with numerous tiny bowls containing various side dishes such as kimchi and yellow radish. ‘I needed his help to contact my oldest cousin, Seonghwa.’

You nodded along with every new revelation, paying close attention to every detail while you slid San’s drink towards him on the dining table. It was your first time hearing about any of his family members, at least from him, so you were admittedly curious.

Even though the trays on the table made it obvious that San’s initial intention was to have this conversation on the couch, you didn’t move an inch from your poor excuse for a dining room. You just stood there, with your elbows on the marble, one of your soles resting on the inner side of your other leg and dove into your food with a pair of wooden chopsticks. You didn’t take your eyes off San while he told you everything about his situation.

‘I left the country with Woonyoung’s family when I was fourteen,’ he started, assuring you that he wasn’t a runaway prince per se, and that he had never hid from his parents. Both the queen and the king of their country knew how to reach him in case of emergency, teenager San had just convinced himself that that day would never come as his parents had never bothered to contact him after he had moved out of the palace. With years of neglect behind his back, his adult-self never thought about the possibility that things might have changed.

You placed your hand on top of his and squeezed it as a sign of your support. You were afraid that he would interpret your sympathy as pity, therefore you tried your best to keep your emotions in check. Instead, you gave San all of your attention, hot chocolate momentarily forgotten.

‘Would you like to go back? Now that it’s an option?’ You mustered up the courage to tear off one of the band-aids; the unsaid inquiry whether he wanted to become a king in the first place hiding between the lines. Somehow, it sounded such an insensitive question, you didn’t have the heart to phrase yours like that despite your curiosity. Therefore, you decided to focus on the fact that the royal couple was his parents. ‘To see your mom and dad?’

After a few seconds of contemplation, San shrugged.

‘I guess so,’ he said and you hated yourself for feeling disappointed. They were his parents. Of course, he wanted to see them again. Who were you in comparison to his family? Without much thought, you took your hand off his; however, San didn’t hesitate to reach after it and intertwined your fingers with a soft smile. ‘But that can wait until Seonghwa’s coronation. It’s been over a decade since we’ve last seen each other. A few more months is no big deal if it means they will let me come back to you.’

As touching as it was that he was willing to delay their reunion to be able to stay with you, your first instinct was to remind him that he was his own person and no one had more power over his life than him. But then you swallowed down the words as your brain caught up with the situation. You might have been absolutely right about this matter in general, but San was a prince. Clearly, general rules didn��t apply to him.

‘What do you mean Seonghwa’s coronation?’ You tried to fill in the holes that made it hard for you to fully comprehend the situation. You thought he was the next in line to rule. You definitely remembered the bodyguard referring to him as the Crown Prince.

‘Well, that’s the most important part of our plan,’ he started, pushing the food closer to you, encouraging you to start eating before it got cold. Albeit reluctantly, you eventually gave in, allowing him to steal himself a couple of seconds as well as he dove into the perfect mixture of noodles and red bean sauce.

Then, he proceeded to tell you about the plan they had made with Woonyoung and six of their mutual friends including his cousin and Seonghwa’s personal bodyguard, Jongho. Since San didn’t wish to become the new ruler of their country, but knew that his parents wouldn’t back off without a fight, they intended to prove to them that Seonghwa was the better choice in every aspect: maturity, dedication towards his people and the country, connections, political and economical knowledge. The way he presented their idea and backed up each one of his reasons made even you think that Seonghwa was more fitting for the role. It made you feel hopeful.

‘Do you think your parents will let you give up the crown?’ You couldn’t help but ask when it became obvious that he didn’t have anything more to say.

The silence that followed was palpable. Still, you let him drag it out and pull you into his lap, so he could wrap his arms around you instead of giving you a definite answer. Now you knew that he wasn’t close to his parents - that their relationship could only have been described as distant. Making guesses based on childhood memories would have just given you false hope. You much preferred his soothing touches and the desperation in the way he held you close.

‘I love you,’ he murmured into the juncture between your neck and shoulder, hinting the soft and sensitive area with feather-like kisses.

You sucked in your lower lip, holding your breath. Even though his actions had shown you, even before you two had gotten together, that you were an important person in San’s life, the two of you had never exchanged I love yous before. As much as you hated to acknowledge, it had a bittersweet undertone to it. You wished you could have told him how precious he was to you under different circumstances.

Nevertheless, you said it back.

‘I love you, too. So much.’

That night you eventually relocated to the living room and got comfortable under your fluffy blankets on the couch. You had two mugs of freshly made hot chocolate with you - this time, without marshmallows to lower your already high sugar intake - and some salty snacks you could munch on while you talked. And you talked a lot. You talked about the day before, how the bodyguards had found him and how serious their threats had been. San was almost sure that his parents would have never imprisoned him for high treason if he had refused to go home willingly. By the way his lips curled upwards and his eyes gouged your reaction, you knew he was only trying to lighten the mood with a joke, but it was too early, hence it wasn’t funny. Life imprisonment with a cheap excuse was exactly how they could have kept him in the country! How could San not see it?

‘Don’t even think about joking about this again, you hear me? It’s not funny,’ you scoffed when he tried to ease you with lingering kisses atop of your head, temple and on your blade bone. Him disappearing on you just wasn’t it.

‘I promise.’ He nosed your temple, holding you in his arms a big tighter to make up for the anxiety he had unintentionally caused. ‘I’m sorry,’ he added, repeating it like a mantra until he successfully coaxed a chuckle out of you.

With the show you had been watching before his arrival as your background noise and his warmth surrounding your body, you fell asleep on San’s shoulder while he was talking about Seonghwa’s bodyguard, karaoke, imported beer and apples. If anyone had asked you, you were sure you would have failed to draw the connection between all four, but you knew your boyfriend would have never used your tiredness against you. On the contrary, he would have been grateful that you still felt safe in his arms.

And you did. You did feel safe. Because for you, he was your home.

In the back of your mind, you were aware that your story wouldn’t end up being a fairy-tale, and that even those had some dark twists to them here and there when they were told by the original authors. Still, coming home for a messed up apartment and no San in sight knocked the air out of your lungs. No matter how much you tried to rationalise the happenings or keep your cool, panic overcame you in a matter of seconds. You didn’t know what to do. Would calling the police have made things worse? What if it had been those bodyguards? You didn’t intend to put San into a tight position in case the pitiful state of your home was a consequence of their family quarrel.

On the other hand, what if he had been kidnapped? You had left work pretty late that night, so there was a possibility that San had been home when things had escalated.

Hands shaking and mind pushed into an overdrive, you fished your phone out of the bag you had previously dropped on the floor and dialled San’s number. He didn’t pick up, so you did the next best thing you could think about without losing it: you called him again. Again. And again.

You called him as many times as it was necessary for him to answer your call, his calm voice breaking something in you as your knees gave out as soon as his greeting reached you and you fell on the floor, crying.

‘Hey, what’s wrong?’ When you sniffed into the phone instead of answering, his voice lost its calmness. ‘Petal, what’s happening? What’s wrong? Are you hurt?’

You weren’t hurt, not physically at least. But the chaotic mess your mental state was in was secondary to the fact that San sounded to be oblivious of the intrusion into your home.

‘Please, petal, talk to me,’ he tried to coax you and while it didn’t work immediately, when he started to do a breathing exercise, you automatically mimicked the way he sucked the air into his lungs. In through your nose, out through your mouth. In through your nose, out through your mouth.

‘Where are you?’ The words felt like sand on the tip of your tongue, your urge to know for sure that he was in public or at least among people who could help him in case of emergency pushing all your other worries aside.

‘I’m with the guys at Wooyoung’s place. Do you need me to pick you up? Where are you? I will pick you up,’ San said, the distant sound of keys chiming and wood cracking assuring you that he was ready to leave as soon as you gave him the sign. Hell, he might have left the boys without you explicitly asking for it considering the worry in his voice.

But as comforting as the thought was, you didn’t want him anywhere near your apartment.

‘No!’ You objected, maybe a tad bit too vehemently for which you might have felt awkward under different circumstances. Now, emotions like shame and embarrassment were at the end of your priority list. ‘Can I visit you instead? I promise I’ll tell you everything in person,’ you negotiated. Not realising that you were holding your breath, a relieved sigh escaped through your pressed lips when San chose to withhold his questions for the time being.

Some matters were wiser to discuss in person. Matters that could put you in a tight position if anyone found evidence about your scheming. Especially when you were up against an opponent so powerful, they had the resources of actual royalty.

Looking around in your fucked up apartment, without your heart threatening to explode in your ribcage, you knew you didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. You had to be smart about your next move.

You showed up at Wooyoung’s place an hour later with one sports bag packed with your most necessary belongings and was greeted with a worried San who didn’t understand why you would have brought your entire bathroom cabinet to his best friend’s apartment when you loved your home. You definitely had a lot to unpack, both literally and figuratively.

‘I can’t believe they’re willing to go this far,’ a guy with sharp eyes and nose said, the same guy who had taken it upon himself to bring you a mug of herbal tea when you made yourself comfortable on Wooyoung’s couch. His name was Hongjoong or something similar if you remembered correctly. ‘I start to think that we might have underestimated them a little.’

‘A little?’ Two or three of San’s friends asked in chorus at the same time San lifted his head up from your shoulder and said:

‘I doesn’t matter. Our plan is good, they’ll have no other choice but to go along with it.’

Just by looking at his friends, you couldn’t tell whether they actually believed what San had said, but it was clear as day that they believed in your boyfriend, hence you leaned against his broad chest and let yourself relax. Neither San nor you were alone in this. You had allies and strategies. You had a good plan, and even if that failed, you had options. San’s parents might have been powerful, they could clearly break into your home to scare you, but they had no real authority in Korea.

A voice in the back of your head also reminded you that you lived in the era of social media. You doubted they would have risked bad publicity by pushing their son too much and causing irreversible damage to those he cherished. Or so you hoped.

‘Our plan is good, but will princess Yuna actually agree to go along with it?’ Another guy, whose name you hadn’t memorised yet, asked, his question piquing your interest. It was the first time you heard about this princess and with your obsession with Asian dramas, you did not like the first scenarios your brain threw at you as it tried to fill in the gaps. Who was she? Why was she an important part of the plan? Was she interested in San?

‘Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about before petal came. She said yes,’ San said, the hollering and overflowing happiness in the room making you feel weird, like something wasn’t quite right with the situation: like you were missing something crucial that would have given you a perfect explanation for the odd reaction the news received.

With naturally pouty lips and furrowed eyebrows, you placed your hands on your lap along with the pleasantly warm mug and turned towards San. His smile was so beautiful. He was genuinely happy about the progress they had made now that this princess was on board.

‘Who is she?’ You asked, mentally reminding yourself that you were San’s girlfriend. You had every right to ask him about this girl until you remained clear-headed and didn’t throw a temper tantrum for no reason.

‘She is the most sought out unmarried royalty in Asia. Her family’s country is very small, but their economic power is remarkable.’ Hongjoong said.

‘She is two years older than San, but they’ve known each other since they were babies, so he’s allowed to talk to her informally. Her kindness isn’t just for show, she really is the most warm-hearted royalty I’ve ever met,’ Wooyoung added before his wide grin turned into a frown. ‘She never lets me talk to her informally, though. Like I haven’t known her for just as long.’

‘Yeah, she’s so unfair.’ Yeosang’s voice was teasing as he altered it to sound more mocking: like Wooyoung’s but a pitch higher. ‘It’s not because you called her Yuna in front of a bunch of politicians when she explicitly told you to use her birth name when people other than your family were present.’ The bombastic side eye the blond boy gave to Wooyoung almost made you laugh. Almost.

You had to admit, this princess Yuna sounded pretty amazing. Gosh. You were such a horrible person.

San must have sensed your inner turmoil, because the next thing you noticed was the light touch of the tip of his nose against your cheek and his pillowy lips against your jawline.

‘She’s also Seonghwa’s fiancée,’ he murmured, placing one of his warm palms on the other side of your face, so that he could turn your head a bit more and make you look at him. You gulped, more shy than nervous. ‘That’s what she said yes to. Seonghwa proposed to her a few hours ago.’

You sucked in your lower lip, but before you could have done any damage, San pulled it out from between your teeth with his thumb; the fondness in his eyes simultaneously took your breath away and made you feel unworthy of his love. How could you have seriously thought that he would have included someone in their plan - felt so happy about her joining their team - if she had any interest in him romantically?

‘So it’s not a fake marriage?’ You inquired, coaxing a small laugh out of your boyfriend. His eyes almost disappeared because of the pure amusement on his face. It didn’t take long before you gave into the urge to hide your own in the crook of his neck.

Going easy on you, San semi-successfully bit back a chuckle and put his chin atop of your head, stroking your hair.

‘No, it’s not a fake marriage. They’ve also known each other since childhood, obviously. And they’re pretty much in love,’ he reassured you, letting you have all the time in the world if that was what you needed to be able to look him in the eyes again.

Fortunately, you didn’t need that much to get over the fact that you were only human; a girl with fears and insecurities. The herbal tea in your mug was still pleasantly lukewarm when you pulled away and straightened your back.

‘So cute,’ San whispered, pressing a soft peck against your lips before he helped you readjust your position on his lap, so you wouldn’t hurt your neck too much with the way your body was twisted and turned to be able to be chest to chest to him.

‘Oh, stop that!’ Wooyoung’s frustrated voice came from somewhere beside you, your brain not registering that he was teasing, or that he was talking to you until he said: ‘One royal wedding will be shocking enough for your parents. I don’t think they will be able to handle two.’

Failing to disregard the sudden attention on you, your cheeks became warmer and more pink with each second; however, you refused to seek comfort in the crook of San’s neck because you just knew that would have made things worse. You concentrated on your tea instead, on the feel of the porcelain against your clammy palms, on the fluffy blanket on your thighs. On everything and anything that wasn’t your boyfriend or his friends.

‘You’re making her shy,’ one of the boys cooed and some other joined, pushing your heart to the verge of an explosion. You didn’t realise that your hands were trembling until San slid his fingers between yours around your mug and leaned close to your ear.

‘Let’s kick Wooyoung out of his bedroom. I know where the clean sheets are, and it can be locked from the inside,’ he whispered, his lips curling upwards, therefore grazing along your earlobe. You hesitated only for a split second before you nodded.

You got up from the couch and let your boyfriend lead you towards his friend’s bedroom. As the key turned in the lock the thought crossed your mind that you had never done anything so scandalising before, but somehow the immense amount of guilt never came. Instead, you felt excited.

Excited, hopeful and safe in San’s arms.

You were arranging a bouquet of light pink carnations and peach-coloured buttercups for an anniversary when San walked out of the storage room at your workplace with a new roll of lace wrapping and his phone in his hands. With the way he dragged his feet, walking impossibly slowly, you just knew that his eyes were glued to the small screen; you didn’t need to tear your gaze away from the flowers that had your attention to be a hundred percent sure.

‘Have they started it already?’ You inquired between two twists and turns, holding the whole bouquet together with practised ease even when you had to take the wrapping from San with one of your hands. You still remembered how many you had dropped on the floor during your first few months at the flower shop. The number of flowers that had gotten destroyed in your care haunted you up to this day.

‘No, they’ve been focusing on mother and father so far. Mostly on father, but that’s kind of understandable,’ he said, your lips twitching at the mention of the royal couple.

Prince Seonghwa and Princess Yuna’s wedding had been a week ago and while you hadn’t attended the event, nor had done San, your boyfriend’s parents had made it to their mission to put you through anxiety when they had demanded to talk to you as soon as San had picked up the phone for them the day his cousin had announced the big news. They hadn’t gone as far as to threaten you or bribe you with more money than your type could comprehend, but you were well aware they didn’t think you were worthy of their son. God, they had quite literally told you he could have done much better.

‘Last minutes being a king. I wonder how he feels about that,’ you commented, putting in a bit of extra effort to not sound rude. You didn’t want San to think you hated his father even if, rightfully so, he hadn’t been your favourite person in the world.

‘I don’t think he minds it that much. He was only twenty-two when he took the throne. Three decades is a long time,’ he explained while he leaned the phone against a vase on the counter and put a part of his weight on his palms that laid flat against the marble. ‘The only thing he might be upset about is Seonghwa taking my place.’

You regretted the snort the moment you did it. Your hands froze around the perfectly wrapped bouquet and so did the air, which made it hard to look your boyfriend in the eye.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be disrespectful,’ you apologised, putting the flowers in water before you took San’s hand in yours. ‘They are your parents and I’ll be forever grateful to them for your existence. For sending you to this country out of all the countries they could choose from.’ You shot a small albeit genuine smile in his direction. It might have sounded a little cheesy, but you meant every word. Without them you would have never had him.

‘I’m not mad at you,’ he reassured you, squeezing your hand and pressing a soft kiss atop of your shoulder blade before he turned back to his phone and you reached for the next pieces of flowers. You had five more bouquets to finish before your lunch break.

Seonghwa’s coronation officially started when your bibimbap was still in need of some more mixing, but that didn’t keep you from leaning closer to San’s phone and watching the live stream with more excitement than you had had for his father. You might have never spoken to your boyfriend’s cousin before, but you had heard enough stories about him from the boys to know he would be an amazing king. Mostly, because he cared for his people and because he genuinely wanted the responsibility that came with the title.

‘He looks like a leader. So serious-looking,’ you commented, shoving a huge spoonful of food in your mouth and humming in appreciation because goodness, it tasted just like your mom’s homemade bibimbap.

You lifted a bite in front of San’s mouth, so he could try it, too.

You watched the ceremony in complete silence; sometimes you fed him, sometimes you put your head on his shoulder while munching. It was nice. You hadn’t been so content in weeks if not in months.

‘Aren’t you disappointed?’ San asked you after the crown was put on Seonghwa’s head and the sovereign’s sceptre and the sovereign’s orb were placed in his hands.

You furrowed your brows in confusion.

‘About what? The ceremony?’ You asked, completely oblivious of what was going on in his head. You jutted out your lower lip; you didn’t like feeling as though you were kept in the dark. It made you feel stupid.

San shook his head, failing to hide the fond smile that was in the corner of his mouth.

‘Yuna is officially a queen now,’ he mumbled and despite how embarrassing it was to admit, it took you a couple of seconds to decipher what he was hinting at: you could have become a queen, too, if only he had gone along with a different plan, with a different goal in mind. You were pretty sure, based on your impactful experience with his parents, that they would have let him keep you if the other option was their nephew on the throne.

‘And you’re officially free. I think it’s an amazing day for everyone,’ you teased, gifting your boyfriend one of your happiest smiles, so that he wouldn’t have doubted that you loved him for who he was instead of what he could have become. You didn’t care about the title or the fortune that golden crown came with. Honestly, all you focused on was how heavy it must have been to carry it, especially when one wasn’t keen on looking after an entire nation.

One careful glance at San was enough for you to know that a well-thought-out retort was already on the tip of his tongue - maybe something along the line that his salary was barely enough to save up a decent amount in each month -, but he never got the opportunity to actually put his concerns into words. The bells above the front door cut him off and naturally, your conversation came to a momentary end.

The new customer was a middle-aged man with a little girl on his right, her tiny hand getting lost in her father’s much bigger one before she pointed at one of the peonies and the man let her explore the flower shop on her own.

‘Good afternoon, sir. How can I help you?’ You greeted the man with a smile as soon as his steps came to a halt in front of the counter.

Like most people who visited your workplace, the man had only vague ideas of what he was looking for, but you were fluent in the language of flowers, hence it caused you no headache to help him find the most suitable bouquet for his wife’s birthday. He wanted something that expressed his dedication to make the woman smile, therefore, you gave him options like pink tulips and yellow flowers in general.

Meanwhile, the little girl pulled on the hem of San’s tee and didn’t let go of the fabric until he stood up and followed her towards the customer area that you liked to refer to as the jungle. The corner with the spiller plants for example were like a sight from a botanical book or the children’s book with the gorillas and the little boy taken in and raised by said wild animals.

You bit back a giggle when you saw San lifting the little girl up, so that she could see the red roses from up close; however, your subtle smile froze on your face anyway when the little one asked San:

‘Are you a prince?’ In the most innocent voice you had ever heard in your life. She was so pure. She clearly had no idea what she was talking about and yet, both of you needed a few seconds to realise she wasn’t onto something bigger than her - something that could have put her in harm’s way. ‘Can I be your princess?’

The mortification on her father’s face almost cracked you up, and you did chuckle discretely when looking up, you took a better look at the girl. What looked like a summer dress at first glance turned out to be a princess costume. She even had a tiny, plastic tiara on her head.

San put her on the ground and crouched down to be at eye level with her.

‘I’m sorry, princess, I would be honoured to become your prince, but you see, I already have my own princess and I need to treat her right,’ he explained with utmost patience, then took the little girl’s hand in his (with her permission and her father’s approving nod, of course) and pressed a feather-like kiss on the back of it. ‘Will you forgive me and keep my secret?’

You couldn’t see the little girl’s face, but she was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, so your best guess would have been that she wasn’t entirely placated. Still, eventually she nodded and made grabby hands at your boyfriend, insisting that she wanted to see more of the flowers. That, you did not mind at all. In fact, you found it rather adorable.

(San with a tiny human being in his arms was adorable. They turned your legs jelly and your knees uncharacteristically weak.)

‘I’m sorry about Minah. They had Occupation day in school today and she insisted that being a princess is a full-time job, so her mother and I let her dress as one,’ the man explained and you shook your head with an endeared smile. You weren’t mad at his daughter nor were you jealous of the attention she got from your boyfriend. If anything, his willingness to humour her made you fall for San harder.

‘Minah is right. Being a princess is a full-time job,’ you said without contemplating whether your words sounded ridiculous, although before the whole royal guard incident, you would have thought she was childish, rightfully so. She couldn’t have been older than seven.

You didn’t talk much with the customer after that, but you didn’t mind the silence. It gave you the perfect opportunity to listen to San’s conversation with the little girl, which was just as hilarious as cheesy, especially when you caught him declaring his love for you with such vehemency as if real-life princes also needed to defeat magical creatures to protect their loved ones. Where was their debate about good dragons and bad dragons coming from?

A light shade of pink crept up your cheeks when the little girl asked San straightforwardly whether he was talking about you, but you tried to remain composed.

‘It’ll be 30,000₩, sir,’ you informed the customer with a customer-service smile and gave him the bouquet before you took his money; the exchange smooth and fast. The prices were written on the board above your head, right behind the counter; however, some people liked to criticise your craft in hope of a discount. Those customers never failed to make you feel anxious.

‘Thank you. It’s beautiful,’ the man complimented the arrangement before he bid his goodbye and turned towards his daughter. ‘Minah-yah! It’s time to go. Say goodbye.’

Albeit reluctantly, the little girl wrapped her arms around San’s right leg and hugged him. Then, like a real princess, she walked up to you and did a curtsy, which you returned with a few-second-long delay. You were too taken aback to react immediately.

You were still a little shocked when the door closed shut behind the two, but then San hugged you from behind and reality caught up with you. You melted against his broad chest.

‘She was cute,’ he commented, coaxing a hum out of you.

Closing your eyes and letting out a content sigh, in the back of your mind you knew that you still had a very serious conversation on hold. A conversation in which your boyfriend would tell you over and over again why he wasn’t enough: how he had barely enough savings, hence how you couldn’t possibly depend on him in financial emergencies. Like money was the most important thing in a relationship! Like you didn’t have your own savings.

Turning around in his arms, you linked your arms behind his neck and pressed your soft lips against his. You wished these gestures were proof that his heart of gold had won you over years ago; that you didn’t wish to become a queen and even if you did, you didn’t need the title because he already treated you like royalty. He was everything - kind-hearted, attentive, loyal and so much more - and you wouldn’t have changed a thing in your lives. 

Crown Prince or not, San made you happy and excited about the future. About your future. Even if you had a long way to go and might have had numerous battles to march into to earn his parents’ approval.

the end.

#san x reader #san x you #choi san x reader #choi san x you #ateez scenarios #modern royalty au #ateez fluff #ssbyme

[soobnny]

SUE’S ENHYPEN FIC RECS

this obviously isn’t complete but these struck out to me a lot while i was making this list! i’ll update this or maybe make another one with additional fic recs when i find the time :)

☆ heeseung

familiar stranger — @bambisgirl

i rly liked the plot for this one. i found it funny the whole wanting him to take a picture of U, not like .. taking a pic together :( i just think that’s a rly charming point of the fic n i enjoyed following the scenario n just seeing how the both of them r reacting to the situation

we’re dating! (not really) — @jayflrt

one of my fav tropes ever. and one of my fav fics on here too! it’s just written so adorably and idk i love this so much. do u see like to the point i’m actually SPEECHLESS. just read this for a fun time n if u want to be smiling from ear to ear the whooooole time 🤭

☆ sunghoon

for the first time — @yaehao

perhaps my most favorite sunghoon fic (maybe even favorite fic in general) on tumblr. u do not understand how this story made me feel + i think it’s one of the reasons i got into writing for enhypen in the first place. it honestly expanded my passion for writing becos i wanted to be as good as op one day

12:08 pm | sticky notes — @luv4jun

this one’s a short read but it did stick out to me while i was reading it. honestly felt so realistic? everything felt vivid and real to me like it’s so sweet and it’s such a perfect read to remember before going to sleep

man of the hour — @sung5oon

i am a big actor!sunghoon enthusiast so this fed me WELL. fueled my silly little brain and i just … i love this. i love the trope and the au it’s playing in like !! i wish there was more actor!enha writings :”) i love it! definitely should read this one!

☆ jay

crushes & crashes — @restlessmaknae

this was such a good read. i remember just having the time of my life when i was reading this and just having a smile on my face the whole time :)

falling for you, i can’t keep you away — @ddeonuism

i just love hogwarts and harry potter au cos it’s the first book series i’ve ever read so anything in this alternate universe will make me scream. even more when it’s friends to lovers.

☆ jake

to all my firsts with you — @jayflrt

the silly thing is i have not read this fic yet but i KNOW it’s good. my friend recommended it to me and i enjoyed another fic written by op n love the way everything is written so i know this one’s golden too!

☆ sunoo

i’m gonna be real. i do not see much written for sunoo >:( let me know if u have a good fic rec aaaa i’d love to read more for him truly.

☆ jungwon

6:43 am — @iovnyu

this one fueled my daydreaming. u don’t understand how short and sweet this was like i could read it over and over again esp when i need a smile! will never fail to make u giggle

unrequited — @enhas-bestie

i honestly love how real this one felt. it’s the type that leaves your heart feeling heavy which is always a good feature when you’re reading angst!

lost cause — @yeongwonie

one of my most favorite jungwon fics of all time. it was written so beautifully and the flow is so easy to follow. just everything about this fic screams beauty and the plot is honestly just .. it’s so fun to read n just aaaaa. i can’t even express how much i love this fic

closer — @palajae

i read this one slowly becos i wanted to cherish every single moment and scene in the fic. this was one of the cutest things ive ever read like actual tooth-aching fluff. i remember just going back to this a lot and rereading it becos it gave me a new feeling every time i read it again.

blue birthday — @amakumos

drum roll please to my favorite jungwon fic on this app. i will never shut up about blue birthday and i will never stop coming back to this fic. the plot was something i’ve never read before and i just .. find myself rooting for everyone in the fic. it’s crazy how much i love this fic (btw this will be dethroned by kiss and cry also by yun i am gonna add it here as soon as it is released)

☆ ni-ki

sucks to be you, sleepyhead — @cloudninescenes

let’s talk about this one. the characterization and the flow of the story is so so pretty. i smiled the whole time with this one too :( i just love how riki is the teasing but down bad type. i love that trope so much. i cannot stress enough how much i enjoyed the plot too

lucky charm — @amakumos

one of my favorite — if not even my favorite ni-ki fic on here. i was giggling and laughing multiple times. honestly, you can count on yun for writing something you’ve never read before. her writing will always be my favorite. i remember talking about the original story with yun for this one so i feel #special

20th century girl — @delcakoo

guys i’m sorry but i was just giggling like a little school girl the whole time i was reading this. the characterization fits him SO much like i can imagine it so vividly and so clearly. like this is riki u are so right. and JUST!!! just read it and u will understand why i love it so much 🫶 i cannot wait to read the rest of op’s works when i have the time!

#☆ sue’s fic recs #enhypen fic rec #heeseung fic rec #sunghoon fic rec #jake fic rec #jay fic rec #sunoo fic rec #jungwon fic rec #ni-ki fic rec #fic recommendation

[dat-town]

curse me out

never seen circus masterpost

Characters: cursed prince!Sunghoon & female reader

Setting & genre: magical realism au, fantasy au, reincarnation au

Summary: Many came to you over the years to get rid of their curses but nobody like Sunghoon.

Warnings: general creepiness of an eerie circus, ambiguous ending, blood, injury, implied past death, is a spoiler or a warning if i say it was inspired by enhypen concepts?

Words: 2k

i guess i will tag you in all of these @restlessmaknae 

Some curses were better off untouched.

It was one of the first things you learned, just like prophecies were always up to interpretations and Ouija boards were banned for a reason. The other side was not to play with.

But you had an eye for curses. You looked at them like they were complex riddles waiting for you to solve them. Every curse had a little back door, a tiny loophole and that was where you came in: for the right amount of money, you helped people find that hidden exit, you helped them get rid of whatever made them struggle. Be it a curse for terrible luck, no love or some sort of disfigurement. Some curses could only be undone by the shaman or witch who put them in place but you had many connections and you knew how to strike a deal. You got yourself your name when you joined the circus, you were called the cursebreaker as if it was something unique when in reality you were just a witch with a keen interest. One of your kind in the always on the move circus.

Some people didn’t even know they were cursed, they blamed things beyond their control on such silly things as fate or beat themselves up for not being able to change when there was nothing humans like them could have done. With those cases, it was you who seeked them out, drawn to their curse like a moth to flame. But sometimes people found you. They heard rumours about the disappearing circus and the cursebreaker inside. They were always desperate ones with dark curses.

But no darker than the boy’s who walked into your tent that day.

The bell chime made you look up from where you sat, meditating, and you felt air being sucked out of your lungs.

Oh, for hell’s sake, he was beautiful.

The boy was tall and wide shouldered. He had raven black hair contrasting against his clear, pale skin. His eyes were just as dark as his locks, highlighted by his all black outfit, his long coat swirling behind him from the outside wind blowing. Despite his youthful features, he held himself with ageless elegance like a prince. It gave his soft features sharpness and coldness to his demeanour.

You blinked when he took another step closer and his curse was suddenly all too clear in front of you. Most people’s curses clung to them like leeches but not his. His was pulsing, like a black heart, like it was keeping him alive. Like there was no him without the curse.

“I can’t help you,” you told him straight away, without any polite greeting. You shot up from your place, meditation long forgotten. You weren’t afraid of him but you didn’t want to experience his rage either when he found out why you refused to help him.

“What makes you think I came for your help?” Your guest raised an eyebrow challengingly while watching you equally intrigued but it only made you confused. Why else could he have come to your tent?

“Did you come to kill me then?” You asked, unwilling to show fear.

“No,” he flashed you a smile, his thin, rose coloured mouth tilted upwards in a lazy slope. It should have been dangerous yet it somehow made your heart flutter. “I heard you can see how curses unfolded, their maker.”

“You want to know who made you like this.”

It wasn’t a question, it made sense.

“I have waited for a long time to meet somebody like you,” the beautiful boy sighed, resigned, sounding much more tired than somebody who looked his age. But looks weren’t everything, you knew that.  “So tell me, were the rumours about you true or not?”

“Take a seat,” you pointed at a pillow on the ground as it was as good of an answer as any, then you followed in suit, sitting across from him after lighting some scented candles while he was looking around curiously.

From up close, he was even more beautiful, perfect porcelain skin and those enticing eyes but you knew better than to fall into his trap. It didn’t mean you were immune, not when he smelled like sandalwood and leather and something rich and sweet.

“Give me your hands,” you told him, extending your own hands, palms up, towards him. He did as you asked, his cold skin grazing yours sending a shiver down your spine. You closed your eyes and focused on the pulsating darkness around him.

“You are very old,” you blurted out at the first image slipping into your mind about castles and a different era. You could hear the not-so-boy laugh.

“Huh, I don’t hear that everyday. Didn’t you know that’s a rude thing to say?” He teased and you felt yourself blush. At least, with your eyes closed you didn’t see his expression when he noticed.

“You are a prince,” you whispered as you saw him wearing a crown, sitting on a throne, people bowing to him.

“I was,” he confirmed quietly.

Prince Sunghoon. He’d had a lavish life but he had lived in a turbulent era. His position and power had been threatened by not only neighbouring kingdoms but power hungry men of his own too.

And there had been a girl too. Not a princess but a commoner, a shaman’s daughter. You saw the two of them met in an alcove, her hiding him from traitor knights, her tending his open wounds. The curse felt familiar with her. You felt familiar with her.

Your eyes snapped open and even though your guest couldn’t know what exactly you saw, he looked at you knowingly. As if he expected this.

“I lied before,” he admitted slowly as if he was weighing his options, like he was afraid of your reaction. “Actually I waited for a long time to meet you.”

You gulped and pulled back your hands, briefly wondering whether you had enough time to retrieve a weapon even though the immortal being claimed that he didn’t want to kill you.

“Even if my ancestor did something to you, it has nothing to do with me,” you said, defensive, not sure what on earth this cursed prince wanted after centuries had passed.

“That depends,” he mused. “What exactly did she do?”

You remembered the blood from the vision. The black magic. The girl’s sacrifice. You felt justified to take her side, to displace the prince’s baseless anger. Surely he couldn’t have wanted to die instead of the life he had gotten.

“She saved your life. She died for you.”

Sunghoon’s pretty mouth twitched.

“My life was worth nothing without her,” he said, melancholic, and that was when you realised what he meant. He had loved her. He didn’t want to know what had happened because he was hungry for revenge but because he wanted to know whether his feelings had been reciprocated. After all these years though? You were surprised that he was so adamant.

“Make sure to remember it in this life,” the immortal prince told you but his words only left you confused once again. Why should you have remembered that?

“I… what?”

“You told me there would be other lives, chipmunk,” he smiled and his voice softened like expensive silk.

You were fairly sure that nobody had ever called you that and yet, the pet name brought up memories you didn’t even know you had buried inside you.

“Did you come to punish me, Your Highness?” You didn’t even bother looking up from your work table full of herbs, your mouth set in a small smile.

“Do I look like a tyrant, chipmunk?” The prince put a hand over his heart, feigning being scandalised. “Though maybe I should as you stole something very valuable from the kingdom.”

“Did I now?” You looked at him, amused, knowing very well that he would have never hurt you.

“Yes, my heart,” Sunghoon smiled as he whipped a single rose out of nowhere, holding it out for you.

It became a common affair: meeting the prince in secret but eventually it was bound to be found out.

“Father,” you yelped in surprise when you came face to face with your elder after saying goodbye to the boy who ruled your country. Your father looked at you with grave concern, so you were sure he knew.

“It won’t end well,” he warned and you didn’t need to ask to know what he meant.

Maybe you should have given his words more consideration. He was a shaman after all. But you were too taken by the boy with the most adorable moles you had ever seen to care about warning signs.

“Your Highness,” you gasped in horror when you saw Sunghoon at your threshold covered in blood.

“I… didn’t know where else to go,” the prince coughed up as he leaned his weight against you once you opened the gate wider and let him inside. It was scandalising to do such a thing so late at night but you didn’t care about neighbour gossip, not when Sunghoon was dying on you.

“What happened?”

“It was a trap. An ambush,” he forced out between gritted teeth, his beautiful face pained and you wondered how much of it was physical and how much due to the facts that he couldn’t trust in his allies anymore. He had doubted their loyalty before but the fact that he came to you instead the royal physician told a lot.

You laid him down, his skin already feverish and sweaty, blood dripping down on his pale neck. He was the heir to the throne and yet, he looked so fragile like that. You were familiar with your father’s shaman practices enough to know what he needed to be saved and you knew what the cost was but no price was too high to save him. So you gave him your life and many others. You gave him eternity.

“Sunghoon.”

His name rolled off your dry lips like a plea and familiar despite not even remembering a few moments ago. You stared at him in disbelief, your past self trying to keep herself atop of your conscious memories.

“We never stood a chance,” you told him because even if you had stayed alive, your love had been impossible. A prince and the shaman’s daughter? You had believed you had done him a favour.

“Like star crossed lovers, I know,” Sunghoon nodded and reached out, his pretty pianist fingers grazing against your arm, making you shiver once again, this time more pleasantly. “But what about now?”

“Now… I will die of old age one day and you won’t. Your curse can only be undone by death itself,” you told him, trying to keep level headed no matter how hard it was to think near him. Was immortality really a curse? It was, if you had to see your loved ones dying.

“Then let it take me too with you. I have lived long enough. I don’t want any more countless lives, I only want this life, with you,” he said and it was the closest thing to an I love you you have ever heard.

How could you have said no to that? Your job was to break curses after all even if his was your own making. Even if it cost both of your lives. Because you understood it, a simple life was better with him than forever without him.

“I guess, we have a lot to make up for before that, Your Highness,” you smiled and slid your fingers between his, something you would have never dared before in the positions you had been.

“I guess, we have,” Sunghoon smiled too as he brought your hand to his mouth and hinted a kiss over your knuckles, making you blush deeply, blood roses blooming on your cheeks.

Some curses were better off untouched.

And some curses took centuries to come full circle.

#series: never seen circus #enhypen x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon angst #enhypen angst #stories #guess who managed to write this without mentioning vampires once

[sophlovesjeong]

JAY PARK FIC RECS

I CANT FIND A LOT OF THE AMAZING FICS I READ BUT HERE ARE SOME AND HOPEFULLY I WILL UPDATE FREQUENTLY!

MOSTLY SFW BUT

(*) represents mature content and may contain smut

A GAME OF CRUELTY(*) (mature for violence) BY @snwpcktz

SYNOPSIS: after years of praying to not get picked for the reaping, the odds end up not being in y/n’s favor and she is chosen as district 7’s female tribute. she plans to simply sacrifice herself early, since it would be nearly impossible for her to beat all the other tributes and make it back safely to her now ex-boyfriend, ethan. but her perspective of the games change when her next door neighbor, jay, is chosen as the male tribute—and maybe her feelings towards him will change, too

CASINO LOVE AFFAIR* BY @jaylver

SYNOPSIS: Hunting supernatural beings is not your passion at all. But somehow, you were always inevitably tied to it. To make your grudge against it deeper, someone had to drag you along a bumpy ride. Who was it? The man that broke into your house in the middle of the night to convince you to join him to save his lost brother in Sin City, Vegas. Jay had one chance to save his brother, and another one chance to rekindle something that was lost between you and him. All in that one casino.

MIDNIGHT RAIN BY @interlunium-opus

Enhypen Hyung Line as Taylor Swift's Songs from the Midnights Album: Jay as Midnight Rain

DEAR LONDON I LOVE YOU

✐ SYNOPSIS : Park Jongseong (Jay), a boy who has everything he could want. A girlfriend, two amazing best friends plus a great friend group, and a scholarship at the top uni in England. Yln Yn, a middle class art history student, who decides London is her destination for her last year of college. Their paths have crossed before, two years prior online, when Yn stumbled upon one of Jay’s dancing videos. A short lived relationship bloomed, Jay making Yn promise a visit if she was ever in London. But now that she’s here, she doesn’t know if she should reach out or just keep it secret.

･˳ . ⋆ these days i am taken back to the summer we loved BY @luvistqrzzz

summary- loving jay was like a dream, a dream so happy you knew he wasn't yours...

or where jay tried to break away from the system of soulmates but fate had other plans for him... and you.

crushes & crashes BY @restlessmaknae

➳ You have a crush on Heeseung, and Jay has a crush on Dohee, and it’s exactly your crushes who confess their love to each other, and it’s exactly you and Jay who happen to walk in on their confession.

𝄞FAINT LINE | PARK JONGSEONG BY @en-whims

the fifth instalment from the "Narratives from the Walkman: a 90's love collective" series

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐁𝐔𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐑; 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆(*) BY @heecyon

summary: Just a year ago, you were forced to marry Park Jongseong, CEO of the Southern Branch, part of the vary famous Park Enterprises. It was all for the sake of your family, a marriage for the benefit of gaining more traction as a company. Jongseong was attentive, caring, sometimes even sweet, but your relationship was more about sex than it was about the marriage itself. At some point, everything got bad, and it was just mere sexual intimacy that anything else, and just when you were close to ending things…you found out you were pregnant.

CLASSMATE CRUSH : PARK JONGSEONG BY @nokacchan

## the only "right thing". — p. jongseong BY @heeracha

synopsis: park jongseong is the only right thing in your world, you believe. and he believes that he was only right for you. years passed things have changed—including your right thing.

or wherein, you confess your feelings by giving jongseong a book that reminds you so much of him. when he confesses back with a journal full of quotes from various books, it was already too late.

PROM DATE | sjy, pjs BY @woniehugs

lavender haze; park jongseong. BY @luv4nayie

BACK TO DECEMBER BY @xinvue

summary ㅤyou never took the relationship seriously with park jongseong in high school despite him loving you dearly to the moon and back. and going back to your yearbook, seeing jay's picture reminded you of how perfect of a partner he was and you regret everything, finding yourself wanting him back.

Jay; Opposites Attract BY @dazed-hee

synopsis: An incident that leads to Jay getting in a fight and Y/N discovering him outside of the dance department flourished into Jay somehow always finding himself next to Y/N. How can two such different people develop one hell of a relationship?

With Love, Jay by @dazed-hee

synopsis: Who knew young love could be so alarmingly disarming? Your new neighbor had you before a hello, his cute smile and charming first impression; you were doomed from the start. But what happens when it’s not your attention he was playing for? Will your efforts to make things work fall short or would they have him falling instead?

first mate // jay (ENHYPEN)(*) SMUT BY @forjongseong

summary: After the passing of the Captain, you had to mourn in your own way. Your ship's Quartermaster, Jay, showed his concern for you, and it tugged your heart in a way that you never thought could happen.

nothing to lose(*) by @zreamy

summary: after a hockey party, a football game, and a near perfect first kiss, jay is humbled by his (practically silent) friend sunghoon, who reminds him that he has nothing to lose.

SMAUS

21st CENTURY GIRL BY @hoonvrs

SYNOPSIS where jay 'claims’ he has a girlfriend but none of his friends believe him because how are you a girl in the 21st century and don't have any social media, right? and if you and jay continue to let them think your relationship is fake for entertainment purposes, nobody has to know.

 LOVE LETTERS ? BY @tqmies

you and jays worlds should’ve never collided. hes the most popular kid in school, and you, for lack of better terms, weren’t. so what happens when you’re thrown into a spiral after he reveals hes your favorite manga artist? and what could be more shocking?the fact that hes been using you for inspiration.

How To Get The Girl a guide by me (Y/n) BY @fairyluvsite

SYNOPSIS: When Jay send the message to Y/n instead of his friend, both Jay and Y/n world start to meddle into one.

Or when Y/n decided to help her roommate to get the girl, in change for help from him. Only thing is that feels never listens to us.

#enhypen #fic rec #enhypen fic #park jongseong #jongseong x reader #jay park #JAY #JAY FIC REC

[blankjournal]

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗠𝗘: 𝗕𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗦

week three: 08.08.23—14.08.23

fake it till it's real | theo | @restlessmaknae

snap out of it | eric sohn | @cloverdaisies

umazane misli | choi beomgyu | @oiwxa

treacherous | liu yangyang | @suhnshinehaos

sour tangerine | huang renjun | @wincore

lucky charm | eric sohn | @tbzhub

#bjnet weekly theme #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop imagines

[sungbeam]

𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒: THE SOULMATE EXHIBIT

your soul feels so awfully familiar — are our relationships and connections pre-destined? perhaps in another life, another universe, or even in the timeline we exist in, we are linked to others who's fates have been etched into our very bones. shall we explore those possibilities?the sungbeam observatory proudly presents THE SOULMATE EXHIBIT COLLABORATION.

a note from our curator: you all have no idea how EXCITED i am for this >< it means the absolute world to have 1k+ of you stargazers here with me, reading, writing and bonding over things we're passionate abt (yes, barking over korean men is now something i am passionate abt). thank u to those who have supported my ✨journey ✨, and who i have met along the way. it's really cliché to say, but i really didn't think 1k was in my stars haha but here we are :') so please do continue to look forward to what's to come (omg sorry i didn't mean for that to become an oscar's acceptance speech (;_;)

— ✶ signed, duckie x

our theme, if one could not tell, is SOULMATES! yes, we're talking the beloved soulmate au! u have complete creative freedom over the soulmate system and the logistics of your world—your fic just has to feature *a* soulmate au.

some RULES & GUIDELINES before we enter the exhibition hall:

✶ only member x reader and member x oc is allowed; member x member is NOT allowed

✶ as i mentioned in the survey, this collab will be SFW content with suggestive themes allowed

✶ slots are FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE! i'm not holding any slots for anyone, except for myself

✶ including the slot i have selected for myself, there are a total of 15 SLOTS! this collab is open to ALL active k-pop groups, so there are no certain amount of slots for specific groups, but you must reserve a spot in the exhibition hall! all works will then be compiled into a masterlist for easy access~

✶ all genres are cool w me 😎 but only drabbles and oneshots will be allowed! no series and no texts (and none of the following themes either pls: su*c*de, r*pe, p*doph*l*a, etc.)

✶ the minimum word count is 1K WORDS, and a keep reading link MUST be inserted after the usual information/summeries/beginning

✶ i'm making a discord for additional announcements/reminders, but it can also be used for chatting, brainstorming, etc. i'm bad at the discord thing, so i will try my best! joining is HIGHLY encouraged (u don't even have to say anything in the server lol)

✶ to be confirmed, pls also reblog this announcement post! (key: one and only)

✶ the drop out date will be october 1st, and fics will be due april 1st 🤡 (any changes will be announced, however) — hopefully that gives everyone lots of wiggle room to write! i don't want this to be stressful for anybody :]

✶ once your fic is completed, pls do TAG ME and include # eternally yours collab in your tags!

READY TO DISCOVER YOUR SOULMATE IN THIS VAST UNIVERSE? — ☆

secure your place in the exhibit here

**NOTE: the form will ask you for what GROUP you intend to write for. this can change after you are confirmed, but pls do let me know <3

13 / 15 slots confirmed — our guest speakers:

01:00 @sungbeam, tbz

02:00 @jaehunnyy, ateez

03:00 @sunlightwoo, txt

04:00 @ethereal-engene, svt

05:00 @daegall, nct dream/127

06:00 @justalildumpling, nct dream

07:00 @loveliestfelix, txt

08:00 @maiademia, svt

09:00 @tranquilpetrichor, ateez

10:00 @restlessmaknae, oneus

11:00 @soobeaniee, txt

12:00 @honeyhuii, svt

13:00 @taem-min, shinee

#kpop collab #nct x reader #stray kids x reader #enhypen x reader #seventeen x reader #txt x reader #ateez x reader #kpop x reader #nct collab #the boyz x reader #treasure x reader #bts x reader #pls dont flop 🙏🏼🙏🏼 #its gonna be cool yall pls join :'D

[hanniluvi]

i recently read your juyeon fic and i absolutely loved it!! the way how you portrayed juyo in there was just 😮‍💨🫶🏻

and i was wondering if you have any tbz fics rec / tbz authors to recommend? 😊

awe tysm ☹️🫶 !! im glad you loved it, tysm for dropping by!!! reminded me to write more for tbz when they are literally my top ults 😭😭😭

i def recommend @winterchimez works !!! they are definitely one of the best so please check her out!

i have some fics so ill share some <3 !!

senorita by @/abysseung or @/flwoie — juyeon x reader

the arts of hearts by @/yolkyeomie — juyeon x reader

calm in the storm by @/restlessmaknae — juyeon x reader

rain and flames by @/sureogi — hyunjae x reader

heart shaped exhaust pipes — by @/yolkyeomie — sunwoo x reader

in malibu by @/sungbeam — jacob x reader

there are definitely more, but i havent been reading a lot of tbz long fics recently — im sure the authors i have listed have more great works as well!!

#🍰 — sophs asks ! #💞 — sophs anons ! #🎧 — hanniluvis recs !

[filmbyjy]

HiIII i loveee ur ficss

do u perhaps have any fic reccs??? nothing nsfw tho

i'd rly appreciate if u giv me one <33

hi hi☺️

hmm, i’m not exactly sure if I have any fic recs that have no smut😀 bc I won’t lie the good ones I loved reading all have smut🧍🏻‍♀️like the plot is amazing and it makes me question my work sometimes🥹 (if you ignore the smut of course)

but here are some drabbles/imagines that I loved reading! I only placed 2 per member in case tumblr doesn’t allow a lot of links😬

[under the divider]

HYUNG LINE

> NO COMPETITION — jaylver [wont lie, their series stories are amazing]

> not just friends (hyung line) — rkvriki

> heeseung drabble — gyudiarys

> bad boy! (jay) — hee-poster

> midnight confessions (jay) — dearhee

> jake drabble — goldenhypen

> cupid (jake) — enhastolemyheart

> I like you a latte (sunghoon) — beomgyulovess

> more than friends (sunghoon) — hee-poster

MAKNAE LINE

honourable smau mention! cupid’s corner/cupid’s conflict— amakumos [they have really great smaus!!!]

> misfit (sunoo) — palajae

> yours truly, karma (sunoo) — restlessmaknae

> dear diary, I hate jungwon — 4xiaojun

> puppy love (jungwon) — weoris

> I give him my love (ni-ki) —ilovehimyourhonour

> 1432 (ni-ki) — quenchaen-ha

#markxdino: asks #this took a little while so sorry!

[tranquilpetrichor]

hey! it's hard to choose a favourite fic of yours, but i know when i started looking for p1harmony stories on tumblr, i stumbled upon 'present', and it meant so much to me back then (still does). even though i didn't have the exact fears of anxieties as the reader in the story, i was going through a rough patch, and if comforted me a lot. so since then, i always have this (very sentimental) feeling that i was supposed to find your blog just at the right time ♥️ - restlessmaknae

i am very much attached to that one, especially since it was my first tumblr story. that time was a rough patch for me as well. and i had no idea what i was getting into, i just found my way onto this site and wrote it. i’m glad you found present and my blog!

#tranquil ask game #restlessmaknae

[restlessmaknae]

comfort [kang daniel]

kang daniel with a university/college student!au + “you are, without a doubt, the only person who can make me smile right now”.

➳ Characters: uni student!Kang Daniel x uni student!female reader/you

➳ Genre: slice of life, uni au, comforting, friends to lovers (implied)

➳ Words: 1.3k

➳ Warning: mentions of reader having a period, argument with friend

➳ A/N: This story was requested by @tranquilpetrichor for my request event. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️This story is partly inspired by real-life events, so thank you for the request, at least I could channel my frustration into this story haha.

You can still request stories for the event: you can find the guidelines here and the masterlist here.

➳ Taglist: @dat-town

You had the crappiest weekend ever.

You had been supposed to see one of your favourite singers on Sunday, you had made all the arrangements (booked the hotel, booked the train, told everyone about it and managed to drag your best friend with you, turning the Saturday night concert into a girly weekend with some sightseeing in a city that you hadn't been to a lot of times) only to have been told last minute that the singer had fallen ill, and the concert had to be cancelled. You had been shattered, but decided to go along with it.

However, on Sunday, the café you had put on the plan had been closed for technical reasons, the museum had not met your expectations, and besides, the weather had been horrendous. It had been raining all day with stormy winds, and your best friend huffed all the time that she hadn't enjoyed the weather and you should have known that this weekend was cursed from the start. To which, you couldn't have helped but retort that if she hadn't wanted to come, she should have just told you, you could have been fine, but neither the cancellation of the concert, nor the weather had been your fault. You had taken it upon yourself to arrange the travel and the accommodation in return for her coming with you, you had looked up sights that she would probably enjoy, and she had always said that whatever was fine with her, you could decide.

Yet, after the news of the cancellation, she had started turning everything against you which you hadn't enjoyed, to say the least. You had probably been angrier and more disappointed that it had all gone downhill after all the preparations, but she had just complained and complained. You had ended Sunday with an argument that had led you two to go back to the uni dorms almost in complete silence. Two hours worth of a train ride had never seemed so long, and if it had not been enough, your period had arrived on Sunday night, so you hadn't even slept well.

No wonder the 8am lecture on Monday didn't seem that appealing, but you didn't want to slack off and let the crappy weekend affect your studies, so you still decided to go. With one hand on your stomach (as if it could ease your cramps) and the other flipping through your notebook, you were praying that today's lecture would go by quickly.

You were so lost in thought that you almost didn't notice someone sitting down beside you, and if it had not been for Daniel's familiar deep voice reaching your ears, you would have probably not even looked up.

"Hey! How are you?" The boy inquired genuinely as he plopped down beside you, fishing his books and notebooks out of his bag. You were glad that he didn't look your way while doing so because you needed the time to pull yourself together.

"Hey!" You replied after a few seconds of silence, your voice coming out quite feebly. You cleared your throat before continuing though. "Not bad. And you?" You forced the words out, hoping that he didn't take note of the weariness in your voice. It was rather difficult to fake being happy, so you tried your best to numb your pain instead.

However, Kang Daniel was a psychology major for a reason. He was excellent at reading people's moods, and he was even better at comforting people. You had this one lecture together - Business Psychology, an elective for you as a Business major and an elective for him as a Psychology major -, but even during the time before these lectures and during short exercises the prof gave you, you could get to know just how kind and compassionate he was. One thing you had realised quite early on was that he was rather soft-spoken despite his deep, raspy voice (and on a side note, he had the most adorable eye-smile and dimples combo). He had definitely surprised you with his maturity and gentleness, you hadn't expected it from him when he had sat beside you during the first lecture in his all black outfit.

During the past two months, you had become acquainted with each other, and had even met up a few times outside of lectures - both purposefully and both by accident -, and you would say you had become quite the friends. Maybe even more than friends, but neither of you wanted to force anything, so you were getting to know each other slowly.

Yet, exactly the thing that you liked about him the most (his attentiveness) was why you felt a bit uncomfortable now under the searching gaze of his, in the crossroads of his worried eyes.

"You sure? Is everything alright?"

In vain it would be if you tried to deny it, so you let out an aghast sigh as you shook your head.

"Do you want to talk about it? You don't have to, but if you want to, I'm listening," he offered as gently as one could once he stopped packing his stuff, and now, he put his elbow on top of his books, his jaw resting on the top of his hand.

You didn't even know where to begin, but you started somewhere and the rest followed. You realised that once you started talking about it, it came easier to share even those concerns that you hadn't voiced out before (like as the fear of losing your best friend over something like this), and Daniel listened, asking a few guiding questions to fill the plot holes of your stories. It was actually quite deliberating talking about all of the things that had bugged you lately. Usually, you vented to your best friend, but with her still not having replied to your latest message and with her being a part of why you were upset in the first place, you couldn't do so.

"Do you want me to leave you be and not force you to talk? Or do you want me to talk about my weekend?" He offered the options before he tilted his head and added a third one. "Or maybe do you want to see new pics of my cats to cheer you up?"

Hearing his question, your lips immediately curled upwards, and your voice softened a bit when you spoke up.

"The cat pics sound the most appealing right now."

"Alright, here you go," Daniel announced with a dimpled smile as he took a hold of his phone and started going through his phone's gallery. He showed the latest pics and videos of his cats back home sleeping, playing with their toys, chasing after each other and bothering his mother while she was trying to watch a movie. You found yourself smiling and giggling at what he showed you, and when he reached the end of his new photos, he looked up at you and merely stared at you, an expectant smile hiding in the corner of his lips.

"Thank you for these. You are, without a doubt, the only person who can make me smile right now," you admitted honestly, and earned a more shy version of his previous smile. He didn't even have time to comment on it though because the professor walked in, but it was enough how he comforted you with his words, with his silence and with his presence. He was a great person, and you were glad to have him in your life.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this story of mine! Let me know what you think!

If you want to read more stories of mine, let it be for Kang Daniel or for other artists, consider signing up for my taglist here.

Hope you have a lovely day/night! Take care! ❤️

#kang daniel x reader #kang daniel x you #kang daniel imagines #kang daniel scenarios #kang daniel fluff #wanna one scenarios #wanna one imagines #wanna one x reader #wanna one x you #restlessmaknae's request event

[lily-blue]

Paying the price

☆ characters: patriot!jiung & revolutioner!you ☆ genre: dystopian au, the devil judge au, angst ☆ warnings: graphic description of damaged corpses, mention of blood and violence, vomiting, major character’s death, spoilers ☆ summary: jiung believes in the system, that it has the people’s best interest; you believe that the system is rotten to the core and the people of South Korea need to be enlightened about the truth - as it always is, you two learn it the hard way which one of you is right ☆ words: 15,3k ☆ massive thank you: to @dat-town ♥ for proofreading this monster (i still can’t believe i accidentally made intak older than jiung 🙃) ☆ also: happy name day to the one and only @restlessmaknae​ 💕 it actually made me feel nostalgic when i started to search up these guys for this story, it reminded me of that one yeonjun fic i wrote for you, the one that made me stan txt. i’m not quite there yet with these boys, but who knows, maybe one day. thank you for coming back to my life and showing me new groups and new things this year, too. i wish you nothing but happiness! 💕 ☆ a/n: this story is written for @restlessmaknae’s (dis)harmony collab; you can check out the masterlist with the other stories » here

Despite the country’s shortcomings: the apparent corruption that was planted in its core from the education system through the media to the judicial and political apparatuses, you loved your home. You loved living in a neighbourhood where the grocery store ahjussi gave you an extra cluster of grapes whenever you looked tired at the end of a rough day and the ahjumma from the corner Chinese restaurant knew your order by heart, hence spared you from the headache of making yet another decision when all you craved was a big bowl of warm lotus root soup. You loved knowing the youngsters in your building by their name and the feeling of having half a dozen sisters and brothers, uncles and aunts despite losing your family at an unfairly young age and spending too many lonely years in a government-funded orphanage.

God, you even loved the opportunities higher education was constantly giving you regardless of a handful of your teachers who openly expressed their political views in class when it went against your university’s policies. So why couldn’t you have sat through your Korean History II. lecture with a neutral face like everyone else did? Why did it make your blood boil when looking at Choi Jiung’s slides you realised that he was about to praise your country’s leaders, too, like the three other students before him had already done during their own presentations? Why couldn’t you have shut up and swallow down your opinion when it was time for the audience’s questions?

Easy. Because despite your love for your country and the people around you, it was corrupt to the core and as law students, all of you should have refrained from turning a blind eye to the exponentially growing amount of power abuse that happened in your home. It didn’t matter that half of your classes brainwashed you to bend under pressure.

‘What about those innocent citizens who lost their homes because of the evacuation? There is no clear data available about the rehousing of those families. Were they ever compensated?’ You threw your provocative questions at the blond boy, voice firm and merciless as your words echoed off the pristine walls in the small classroom.

The moment Choi Jiung’s gaze fell on you, you knew he was pissed, although he did a great job concealing his feelings. It was just… you had known the guy ever since you had moved to your current one-bedroom flat right after you had been kicked out of the orphanage. You could read him like he was an open book.

‘While the rate of unemployment increased during the pandemic, the statistics show that the rate of homelessness stayed stagnant. Is that not clear data?’ The blond boy asked back and you could hear your professor’s pleased humming from the first row as you were sitting in the second one, almost right behind Mr. Kim.

You linked your fingers and let your arms fall on your desk while you leaned forwards with a straight back. You didn’t break eye contact.

‘Reports from that period state that due to the pandemic, there were less ongoing projects in the construction industry, which means there couldn’t have been emergency constructions due to rehousing. Where did those families go?’ You pushed, shutting out the murmurs from your side and behind your back. You were already used to the whispering, the wary look in your classmates’ eyes whenever you expressed your opinion.

Unlike what they said, you weren’t obsessed with the spotlight nor did you have a childish crush on Choi Jiung. You picked fights with him because he was an unpleasant part of your friend group, but a part nonetheless, and you believed that Shota wouldn’t have tolerated his presence in your lives if he had been a lost case.

You challenged Jiung repeatedly to help him see the errors in his own beliefs.

‘Less ongoing projects don’t equal to no ongoing project. It only means there were fewer than before the pandemic,’ Jiung stated, voice cold despite the fire in his eyes. ‘Those few projects could have been, or included, the emergency constructions in the countryside,’ he said, your nails digging into the back of your hands because of your frustration as you were listening.

‘Hundreds of thousands of people—’

‘I think that’s enough. We still have one more presentation to sit through and discuss before this seminar ends,’ your professor rose from his seat, exchanging positions with the blond student. If looks could have killed, neither him nor Mr. Kim would have survived your rage. How dared this old, soggy snob cut you off when you were clearly making a point?

You had to bite into your cheeks from the inside to not curse him out, but your opinion must have been written all over your face because before the next student could have started her presentation, the history professor looked at you and shook his head as though he was deeply disappointed when clearly, he was annoyed.

‘It’s my last warning, miss,’ the man stated and you were genuinely surprised that he hadn’t memorised your name by now. After all, it wasn’t your first class with him and you had never been a silent participant. ‘If you keep disturbing the peaceful learning environment, I will need to send you out of my class and mark this lesson as a missed lesson next to your name in the roster,’ he informed you, although it was more like a threat.

Okay, maybe he did know your name. He just didn’t bother to address you respectfully.

You pressed your lips into a firm line, contemplating whether getting into a useless fight with your professor would have been worth it, but ended up biting into your cheek from the inside once again instead of reciting your rights as a student of this institute. It didn’t matter what rights a piece of paper gave you in your country when your opinion differed from what was accepted and encouraged by those above you - expected and demanded if you didn’t feel like sugarcoating the truth.

Consequently, you fully intended to stay put until the end of the class because it was still too early into the semester to waste one of the three lessons you were allowed to miss in each seminar, but as soon as Kang Yohan’s face was staring back at you from the next presenter’s slides, you knew you wouldn’t be able to keep your mouth shut. Thus, you did both yourself and the class a favour when you shoved your laptop into your backpack and walked out of the classroom without a word.

The sound of your steps echoed off the walls of the semi-abandoned hallways, but the relative silence didn’t bother you, nor did the glances you got from those who saw you walking out of a classroom before the official end of the period. Confident, you headed towards the library on the first floor with your chin high and your facial expression unbothered.

It wasn’t the first time you chose your beliefs (and your pride) instead of letting a professor humiliate you in front of a whole class, after all.

You were doing some research for another class, sipping on your iced coffee despite the late hour, reading through statistics about crime rates and the judicial system, when Shota took a seat by the table you had been occupying since your last class for the day. You narrowed your eyes as you let your gaze loiter over his dishevelled figure, but said nothing before you turned back to your laptop. Being neighbours with the guy, you whole-heartedly believed that some things considering him was better left unasked. That way, you weren’t an accomplice.

‘Are you still looking for a way to get inside that institute?’ He asked while he reached out for your drink and took a casual sip of the bitter beverage like it was his.

You tore your gaze from the screen and leaned your back against your chair without making the slightest attempt at getting your drink back from the younger. Instead, you linked your arms in front of your chest and observed his face with caution. The yellowish bruise under his left eye and the cut on his cheek promised nothing good, but you knew Shota meant danger mostly for himself and rarely for the people around him.

‘The Dream House Medical Center?’ You asked just to confirm that you were thinking of the same building and all he gave you was a nod and a lopsided smile. ‘Yeah, I do, actually.’

Even though you still had a whole year before you should have started on your masters thesis, you already had a pretty firm idea of what you would have liked to write about: Kang Yohan, the misjudged judge who had died nearly a decade ago in the explosion of the courtroom where the infamous live court show had been broadcasted. That day, South Korea had lost not only the president and the first lady of the country, but five other powerful and rich people as well, all seven of them corrupt to the core yet labelled as victims of a self-assured psychopath. It boiled your blood whenever you thought of them, how in today’s history books, they were the casualty of an anti-national act conducted in an attempt to overthrow the administration.

Your fists were trembling as your nails sank into the soft flesh of your palms. You swore, you would clear the judge’s name one day in the future and make everyone see those lies that they were constantly fed by the government. Your thesis paper, the detailed research none of your professors would be able to oppose, would be the first step down the road.

But to be able to start marching, you had to get inside the Dream House Medical Center.

‘Any suggestions?’ You asked when the silence got too loud, not breaking eye contact even when you could feel the first tear drops forming in the corner of your eyes. Making a deal with Shota was never easy, the boy did nothing for free, not even for his closest friends, but he wouldn’t have brought up the topic just to tease you. He had something to offer and you knew when to be patient.

‘I got my hands on some interesting intel, so I can get us in and out without any of the guards noticing,’ he informed you, lazily sipping on your drink as though he hadn’t just knocked you off your feet with his statement. You were trying to find a way inside that building for months by then, because while it was supposed to be an abandoned institute - it was a part of a failed charity project after all - it was unreasonably heavily guarded.

Taking a deeper breath to ground yourself, you put your elbows on the table in front of your laptop and leaned forwards.

‘Name your price,’ you demanded quietly, earning a genuine smile from the boy.

‘Help me with the university interview. I need dirt on your professors and those you don’t have classes with,’ Shota negotiated and honestly, the only reason you were able to swallow down the laugh that was scratching your throat was the fact that you needed his help. If you could have afforded him getting sulky, you would have ruffled his messy hair and pinched his cheeks before you told him you would have helped him anyway.

He was clearly doing you a favour for free while pretending that he was a businessman who made no exceptions. It made you wonder whether he had gotten beaten up when he had tried to find information on the Dream House for you or the two things were completely irrelevant. A selfish part of you that didn’t want to deal with the guilt wished it was the latter, but deep down you knew Shota wouldn’t have held back something so huge just to share it with you at the perfect moment.

You had both learned early on in your lives that perfect moments were created; they didn’t just come to those who were patiently waiting.

‘Want it written down or is it enough if I tell you everything I know?’ You asked with a small tilt of your head, playing along and taking on a more serious tone. Meanwhile, you glanced down at your laptop and pulled up a blank document on your screen. The chances that none of your professors would have been present at Shota’s interview was high, so you wanted to make sure you had info on those who might have been possible candidates. For that, you needed to prepare a long list with every professor from the Business Faculty on it and ask around in the KU group chats you weren’t a part of yet.

‘Written down,’ Shota said and you acknowledged his choice with a low hum and a nod as you pulled up your university’s website and copied the names of the listed professors to your document. You also made a second list that contained the names of students you personally knew and would have vouched for, hence could have sought out for help.

‘Consider it being done,’ you preened, scanning through your lists one more time before you closed the tab and saved a couple of important websites regarding your assignment for your class as bookmarks. You made sure your laptop was turned off properly before you shoved it into your bag. ‘About the Dream House…’ you started, trying to sound as nonchalant as you could despite the light buzzing in your veins. ‘When are we going?’

‘Where are you going?’ Choi Jiung’s voice cut off your impromptu discussion before it could have started and you sighed, disappointed that you had let your excitement get the best of you when you should have seen the interruption coming. After all, Jiung was well aware that you preferred studying on campus over writing your papers in your own flat. He also knew that Shota liked tagging along when you had classes after six, because it meant that chances you would stay at the nearby coffee shop until closing time was high and he hated when you walked home on your own so late at night. Thus, when Jiung was looking for his friend, all he needed to do was checking the spots you frequented at.

‘None of your business, Choi,’ you grumbled while you leaned back against your chair and linked your arms in front of your chest.

Frustrated, you rolled your eyes when Jiung put a cup of perfectly untouched iced coffee on the table in front of you, but reached out for the drink when you saw Shota eyeing it like he was seconds away from stealing that, too.

The silence that fell on your table wasn’t new. It was a recurring phenomenon in your friends group whenever Jiung and you were joined by a less talkative person - so basically anyone other than Keeho or Intak. And while at first it had made you anxious, because you had felt as though you should have been able to initiate or at least keep up a pleasant conversation with people you considered close friends, by now you knew silence was absolutely fine as well. In fact! It was rather nice to enjoy the tranquillity around people who accepted you the way you were: stubborn, strong-willed and curt when you had nothing important to say.

‘What got your panties in a twist this time?’ Shota’s snarky question shook you out of your thoughts, his dark eyes fixed on nothing in particular making you wonder whether he was talking to you or the blond boy on his other side.

You opened your mouth for an equally sarcastic answer when Jiung let out a loud huff and cut you off with his own mocking reply.

‘What else? She tried to sabotage my presentation. Again,’ he accused and you rolled your eyes without giving too much thought to the action. All three of you knew damn well that you would have never stooped so low; your morals simply wouldn’t have let you play dirty much to Shota’s disappointment. The younger had tried to make you see numerous times that the world wasn’t fair to those who played by the rules, but you stood your ground each and every time. You wanted to become an exceptional judge just like Kang Yohan and his mentee, Kim Gaon. You were determined to lead by example as well - with the right example!

‘Oh, grow up, Choi Jiung, would you? My questions were spot on,’ you retorted, slim fingers turning white around your drink.

Looking around, you had to remind yourself that just because it was late, the coffee shop still had a fair amount of customers, thus you should have kept your voice low to not disturb their peace. Still, resisting the urge to call the blond boy out on his bullshit, as he wouldn’t have contributed to your daily caffeine intake if he had been indeed pissed, was challenging. He got under your skin way too easily.

‘No. You were once again pressing your false narrative,’ Jiung tried to correct you, talking to you in a condescending way that made you feel like a child. If looks could have killed, he would have been dead even before his gaze landed on you. ‘One day, these types of questions will cost you a lot more than a missed class.’

You gulped down the coffee in your mouth along with the non-existent bile that somehow did scratch your throat.

‘Is that a threat?’ You spat, unaware of the sadness in Jiung’s eyes as you were hyper fixated on the possible implication behind his words. It made you see red, grip tight around your cup and nails digging into the plastic with so much force, Shota had to take the coffee out of your hand and put it on the table before it could have overflowed.

‘Friendly advice,’ Jiung corrected you once again and it was only due to the years of practice the orphanage had given you that you hadn’t screamed it into his face that you didn’t consider him as a friend. Not like you did Keeho and Theo and sure as hell not like you did Shota. The sole reason you let him be a part of your life despite his questionable political beliefs was your respect for the others.

With a resigned sigh, Jiung turned his gaze away and shook his head as though he couldn’t have taken your stubbornness any longer. Well, you didn’t ask him to.

‘I’m done for today,’ you stated, leaving the half-finished drink on the table as you grabbed your bag and slid your gaze to the younger. ‘Shota?’

The boy stood up from his seat immediately and reached out for the abandoned beverage, his smile content as he took a big sip from the iced coffee. He patted Jiung’s shoulder twice in gratitude, then squeezed it lightly for good measure.

You turned away, refusing to feel guilty for putting an abrupt end to the conversation. It was a long day, getting into a heated argument about the government with Jiung for the second time that day was the last thing you needed. Especially at a public place that you loved and where you were a regular.

‘See you tomorrow, hyung,’ Shota bid his goodbye while you sealed your lips and gave Jiung a half-assed bow because it was a habit drilled into your DNA. It was a fundamental part of your culture: you bowed to people at every single encounter, at every goodbye and sometimes in between when the situation required it. You didn’t have to respect someone to follow the most basic rules of etiquette in their company.

If Jiung had said anything to your best friend before the younger boy followed you towards the exit, you hadn’t heard him, but you did sneak a peek at him sitting casually by your table before you closed the door shut.

Not that you would have admitted it to anyone.

Your palms were sweaty while you were waiting with Shota for what you supposed was some sort of sign that you could finally enter the building without getting arrested for trespassing. Admittedly, you had never felt more nervous in your entire life: your current actions going against your moral code while simultaneously aiding your fight against the propaganda that your whole nation was fed with on a daily basis. You needed evidence, desperately so, but the thought of breaking into the Dream House Medical Center freaked you out more and more as the crucial moment came closer and closer to your present.

Only a couple hundreds of metres from the abandoned institute, it felt too real. You weren’t sure you were ready and started to question whether you were made for the job.

It shouldn’t have surprised you that at one point your feet started drumming a clumsy rhythm on their own accord, but your lips still parted slightly when you felt a warm hand on your knee, over your ripped jeans. Staring at Shota’s hand, you lifted your head to look at his face and shot a tight-lipped smile at him as a sign of gratitude for his silent support. You could do this. It had been your idea from the beginning. You were doing the right thing.

So why did the proverb ‘the end justifies the means’ sound like a cheap excuse of a criminal?

‘Nervous, kiddo?’ A familiar voice pulled you out of the self-doubting spiral of thoughts and you turned towards the newcomers with panic in your eyes. Not counting the two of you, no one should have known about your plan. So why were two of your friends staring at you like they were simultaneously doubting your sanity and admiring you for your guts?

You looked around to check your surroundings in search of the others, then let your gaze fall back on Keeho and Jiung when you realised it was only them. 

‘What are you guys doing here?’ You whisper-shouted, unable to decide how you felt about their presence. For 1) since it was your research, you felt like you were responsible for the safety of everyone who got involved in the fieldwork and looking after Shota in itself was already a bit emotionally overwhelming for you under the current circumstances. 2) Because of the very same reason, you were relieved that there would be more pairs of eyes during the investigation that could watch out for the potential danger.

Still, a part of you felt more people meant a bigger risk. It didn’t help that you were already fidgety due to your growing guilt that pressed down on your chest.

‘Supervising,’ Keeho explained, his tone lowkey condescending like he couldn’t believe he needed to spell it out to you. Like it was natural that he was there even though he shouldn’t have known about the trespassing to begin with. ‘Obviously, I won’t just let Shota break into a guarded institute on his own,’ he added, coaxing a displeased scoff out of you with his complete disregard for your presence and capabilities.

You wanted to remind the boy that you were only two weeks younger than him and that you would have made sure Shota didn’t get in trouble even if it had meant endangering your own life, but in the end you swallowed back your remarks. Mostly, because you believed it would have been unwise to start a fight so close to the main gates. Also, because your muscles were non-existent in comparison with the older boy’s. Realistically speaking, he had more potential than you when it came to protecting your friends.

‘What about you?’ You turned towards Jiung, one of your slim brows raised with challenge. For some reason, you doubted he had come with Keeho to help you in any way. If anything, he might have tagged along to give you another unasked, friendly advice.

‘I came to see your face when you realise you’ve been wrong all this time,’ he claimed with a shrug, not putting too much effort into protecting your feelings. Although, had he ever? The thought that he found true joy in your failures left a bitter taste in your mouth.

The retort that he had come in vain had already been on the tip of your tongue when Shota nudged you with his shoulder and pointed at the entrance once he gained your attention.

‘It’s time,’ he said. You gulped before you acknowledged his statement with a nod.

Considering how many walls you had bumped into while you had been trying to find a way inside the building in the legal way, how unhelpful every single one of the government agents had been and how many armed guards you had seen around the building in the last hour, you had assumed that walking inside the medical centre would be challenging despite your best friend’s intel. Blame it on those old school action movies Intak loved so much, but you were convinced that you would be in a race against time, that you would need to run and jump and use your non-existent muscles to get through some hidden back door.

Walking up to the front door with confident strides and opening the huge lock with a key was oddly anticlimactic. You had to pinch your arm to make sure you weren’t dreaming.

‘How the hell did you put your hands on that thing?’ Keeho asked, stealing the words out of your mouth.

Shota closed the double door behind your backs like he had just gotten home, then turned on his flashlight similar to the one in your pocket. You mimicked him and turned on yours, too.

‘I asked for a copy? Don’t you know acting suspicious is what makes people aware you’re up to something?’ He asked, not really expecting an answer based on the way he turned his back on your small group and started to walk down the hallway. ‘It’s all about confidence.’

You put your hand on Keeho’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly as a reminder that you didn’t have time for further interrogation nor was it the most suitable place for a parental scolding, then followed your best friend until you reached the first intersection. There, you waited for the others to catch up with you and you decided to split up. You didn’t have all the time in the world after all, only two hours until the next error in the system of the graveyard shift.

‘I’ll check the basement,’ you volunteered and shook your head dismissively when you saw Jiung open his mouth from the corner of your eyes. ‘Keeho’s babysitting, there are too many floors for just two groups,’ you said, slowly turning towards the blond boy with your entire body.

‘Who said I was about to follow you?’ He retorted with a huff and took the flashlight out of Keeho’s hand as he turned on his heels and marched up the stairs. You kept your eyes on his back until he disappeared, then shot a tight-lipped smile in the others’ direction before you made them promise to take pictures of anything suspicious or interesting-looking.

You hoped Jiung would do the same as well even though he hadn’t waited around for your reminder. You had faith in Shota and his dubious network, you really did, but you genuinely doubted you would have had another chance like this in the near future if you had failed to gather enough evidence due to your slipshod job.

On your way to the basement, you kept your mind occupied with random songs from the last decade they still played on the radio just so it wouldn’t have turned on you and made you see things in the darkness that weren’t there. Your imagination might not have been too wild, but being alone in a building where you assumed poor people had been killed for how much their organs were worth was scary. You didn’t believe in ghosts and other supernatural creatures, but you wouldn’t have blamed their souls for sticking around, angry, if they had existed.

The dust in the air was heavy and it stuck to your skin uncomfortably as you checked each and every door that opened from the hallway underground. Most of the rooms were unlocked, the surgical equipment inside of them outdated and untouched. A part of you - the same part that was convinced of Kang Yohan’s innocence - was eager to see them as evidence of human experiments, but the rational side of you was aware that things like these were normal at a medical facility. If you had shown photos of these to anyone, they would have focused on the fact that you shouldn’t have been in the building.

You gulped, growing frustrated, as you checked the time on your phone and walked up to the next door. You still had some time.

Admittedly, you knew you could have spent an entire day in the building and still felt like you needed more to do a thorough research, but beggars couldn’t have been choosers. Thus, you locked your panicking thoughts in the back of your mind and opened the drawers in the next room that looked more like an abandoned office than a medical room.

‘Come on!’ You groaned when you found the third drawer in a row empty, getting on your knees without much thinking to force the last one open as well. At first glance, it didn’t seem like you should have had a key to open it, so you hoped it was only stuck, preferably due to the weight of the papers inside of it.

Two of your nails broke in the process and your fingertips were burning, but eventually you managed to open the lowest drawer, its content plenty and full of names you weren’t familiar with. However, you did recognise one: Heo Joongse. He had been one of the “victims” of the explosion that had killed Kang Yohan. He had been the former president of South Korea.

Hands shaking nervously, you started to take pictures of the documents, but because of the lack of proper lighting, they turned out to be unreadable. Therefore you shoved them under your sweatshirt on a whim.

‘Noona! Noona, it’s time to go!’ You heard your best friend calling for you and you stilled, contemplating whether you should have pretended that you hadn’t heard him and checked one more room or let him know where you were. He must have calculated with finding you, he knew how you got when you… ‘Noona, we have to get out of here!’

You closed your eyes and let out a displeased sigh. You should have met them upstairs, close to the front door. If Shota was in the basement, it meant you hardly had any minute to waste. Even if the digital numbers in the upper right corner of your phone’s screen said otherwise.

‘I’m coming!’ You shouted on your way to the hallway, giving a resigned look to the rest of the basement, to all those closed doors you hadn’t had a chance to open, then ran towards Shota’s voice. It came from the stairs that led to the ground floor.

The question of what had happened that you needed to leave twenty minutes sooner was on the tip of your tongue, but you didn’t have a chance to say it aloud. The moment you opened your mouth, your best friend grabbed your wrist and pulled you in the opposite direction from the main entrance, confusion making you uncharacteristically obedient and unresponsive.

You didn’t question him when he shoved you inside a dirty restroom, nor did you ask a single thing when Keeho emerged from one of the toilet cubicles. You simply let the older boy take the lead and help with your balance when you stepped on top of a half-broken plastic toilet lid that was supposed to support your weight and made you tall enough to reach the edge of the open window on the tiled wall.

‘You really think I can…’ pull myself up; you wanted to ask, but before you could have finished your question, someone grabbed your arms from the outside and got you out of the building with one swift movement.

With a scream stuck in the back of your throat, you looked down at Jiung with slightly parted lips and gulped nervously when your gaze fell on your palm atop of his chest. You swore, you could feel his heart beating like crazy under your palm, your own mimicking the rhythm and pushing enough blood to your neck and cheeks to turn them ruby red.

‘Get up! We’re running out of time.’ It was Shota whose voice pulled you back to the present, but you were sure, even without stealing a glance at the boy on your right, that it was Keeho who pulled you off Jiung and pulled you towards the iron fences.

You stumbled in the dark, unaware of when you had lost your flashlight and whether the guys had turned theirs off on purpose. By the time your friends deemed that you were far enough from the facility, your lungs were screaming for a break and every breath felt like you were inhaling pieces of broken glass.

‘What the hell happened?’ You demanded, even though it seemed you were the only one who thought your frustration and anger were justified.

‘That your stupid obsession almost got us in trouble, that’s what happened,’ Jiung screamed at your face, a few drops of saliva landing on your burning cheek due to your close proximity. You balled up your fists, your knuckles turning white from how hard you clenched them.

‘Shota said it was safe! And I don’t remember asking you to join us,’ you retorted as calmly as you could manage with the growing annoyance you were feeling.

Sure, you knew trespassing had been a gamble, that you had been going against everything you believed in just to prove a point, but you had done nothing inside that damned building that could have put everyone in danger. Whatever had happened it hadn’t been on you, you refused to believe it.

‘It was the USB. We found a bunch of them in one of the offices, but one of them was still plugged into a smashed PC, so I pulled it out,’ Shota confessed at the same time Keeho said:

‘I think I broke a lock I shouldn’t have.’

You closed your eyes, heaving. Honestly, the second option sounded more possible, but you felt like stating the obvious or calling Jiung out on his freaking tendency to put the blame on you would have done more harm than good. The atmosphere was already tense, making it worse while you were still relatively close to the crime scene would have been stupid.

‘It’s okay, it doesn’t matter,’ you concluded because crying over spilled milk would have been just as idiotic. You had gotten in and out without encountering any of the guards, no one had known your faces, your identities were safe. You might have felt bitter about leaving so soon, but at the end of the day, you were all unharmed and that was what mattered.

You straightened your back and opened your eyes.

‘Let’s go home,’ you exclaimed and shot a genuine smile in Shota’s direction to soothe the guilt that was written all over his face.

When Jiung bumped into your shoulder on purpose, you gritted your teeth, but followed him towards the main road. You decided not to ask him whether he had found anything useful as you were sure he wouldn’t have told you even if he had done, and pointed at your tummy with a mischievous wink when Shota did the same with his pockets where he hid the old USB sticks.

You might not have been able to check everything you had wanted, but your mission hadn’t been a complete failure, after all. And that… that sure as hell made you feel like you had accomplished something.

A couple of days later, you were in the university library, working on your assignment on the live court show’s effects on the judicial system and the shift of responsibility the DIKE app had contributed to when citizens had been given the power to decide the defendants were guilty or not guilty, when Choi Jiung walked up to your table and shut down your laptop with a fixed combination of keys. To say you were furious would have been an understatement. You were livid.

‘Do you want to die? The hell is wrong with you?’ You spat, pushing yourself into a standing position in an attempt to look more intimidating despite still being significantly shorter than the boy. It didn’t matter. Anger could take people farther than one would have thought.

Instead of answering your question with words, Jiung threw a small pile of papers on your desk. You looked down at it with narrowed eyes before you took it in your hand. There was no need for you to scan through the provocatively phrased paragraphs. Just by looking at the header, you knew it was your thesis abstract.

‘Where did you get this?’ You asked, trying not to wrinkle the document in case it was indeed the original copy that you had put on your professor’s table in the teachers’ office after your last class.

‘Do you want to die?’ He threw the question back at you, his tone just as angry as yours even though the flames in his eyes burned with a different colour. He seemed a lot more serious rather than borderline panicking. His reaction closed up your throat, but you kept your chin high to prove a point. ‘I’m serious! You can’t be this stupid, can you?’

You took a shallow breath, then another one and another one for good measure before you crouched down for your bag and shoved your laptop inside of it.

‘You saw that place. They’re guarding it for a reason. Even if you really didn’t find anything on the first floor…’ You took another breath to calm yourself. You still had time before your next class, so you could put the abstract back on your professor’s desk like Jiung had never put his hands on it.

‘You can’t become a judge with this mindset. It’s anti-nationalist,’ he pressed, stopping you with his fingers hanging around your wrist like a chain. You shook it off, his rough touch, and turned around to look him in the eyes.

‘I’m ashamed of you. People like you should never be allowed to become a judge in the first place,’ you said, quiet enough to not draw anyone’s attention, but loud enough to hurt.

You meant it: every word. Those people who deliberately turned a blind eye on the flaws in the stories the system tried to feed you with, on the government’s wrongdoings just because it was easier, shouldn’t have been given power to decide who deserved a severe punishment for breaking the law and who acted upon self-preservation. 

The two of you kept eye contact for longer than it was necessary, therefore you were about to turn your back on Jiung when you got a text via kakao. With furrowed eyebrows, you fished the device out of your pocket and checked the incoming messages.

shota 😤: “don’t come home!” shota 😤: “i’m serious” shota 😤: “stay with the hyungs”

The urgency in his double texts made you feel alarmed, so you sent a quick message to both Shota and Keeho, then threw your phone into your bag and rushed out of the library.

There was no way you would let your best friend deal with whatever trouble he was in on his own when you had a good guess where he was and it was clearly too big for him to handle it alone.

Jiung tried not to think too much into it when you didn’t show up at class the day after you had stormed out of the library. He really tried not to panic when he couldn’t see you at any of your favourite places around campus, although he was familiar with your schedule and habits: when you preferred the university library over the coffee shop, which classes you would have never skipped for the world and how many papers you had to submit before the upcoming midterms.

It wasn’t unusual that you didn’t pick up the phone to him, so he didn’t even bother after the first futile attempt, aware of the line he had crossed when he had taken your thesis abstract that he shouldn’t have even read, but when even Soul refused to read his messages, he knew something was off. The boy would have never ignored his hyungs just because he might have taken your side. At least, he had never done so before and god, the younger sided with you almost all the time.

Lacking any better idea, Jiung dialled Keeho’s number, letting out a relieved breath when the older picked up the phone after the second ring.

‘Have you heard from Soul? His bestie hasn’t shown up at uni since last week,’ he started without beating around the bush, too frustrated (and worried) to prolong the conversation. He wanted to know that you were both okay and his worst nightmare hadn’t come true despite your stubbornness.

Had you gotten in trouble with the authorities because of your big mouth? Who had you been texting to before you had turned your back on him?

‘Not since last week. He said he would be out of town for a couple of days,’ Keeho answered. ‘Same for the firecracker. She texted that she’s worried about Shota, but then she claimed everything was fine, so I didn’t ask,’ he explained, not going into too much detail about why he hadn’t pushed when he was so overprotective of the babies of their group. Jiung knew the older boy was balancing two jobs to provide for not only himself, but Jongseob, too. Life was tough ever since the youngest had run away from home.

If you had told Keeho things were okay, Jiung understood why he had chosen to believe you and stay at his workplace or steal himself an hour of extra sleep.

‘Did he say where he was going?’ Jiung asked, wondering whether he was overreacting or the nagging voice inside of his head was right about you. Even if he doubted you considered him as a friend, he would have liked to believe that he knew the core of your personality. There was no way you would have deliberately ditched your studies when you had worked so hard to get accepted on scholarship.

‘No,’ came the answer after a momentary break, silence filled with pangs of distress. ‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure, but I have a bad feeling about this. I’ll go and check their place,’ Jiung said, checking his timetable and deciding against showing up at his last class as it wasn’t a seminar and most importantly, it wasn’t a lecture he was sharing with you.

‘Now?’

‘Now,’ he nodded out of habit as he threw the strap of his messenger bag over his head and put on his cap.

‘I’ll be there in an hour. Wait for me!’ Keeho asked and Jiung let out a loud, affirmative hum before he hung up the phone.

The blond boy didn’t waste any time. He called a cab with his kakao app and asked the driver to drive as fast as he could once he got inside the car. He promised to double the fare if the old man got to your place in under an hour (which would have been an achievement in itself in the afternoon traffic).

‘We have arrived, mister,’ the taxi driver announced and Jiung indeed paid plenty before he jumped out of the car and rushed upstairs. He had only ever been to your place once, when it had been your birthday in freshman year of uni and Soul had organised you a surprise party with your favourite strawberry cake and a second-hand laptop for your studies. Jiung couldn’t remember anymore what he had bought for you. Had he even bought you anything? 

He shook his head. That wasn’t important at that moment. Making sure you were alright and simply avoiding him was.

The first alarming sign was how easy it was to get inside your flat: all Jiung needed to do was push down the handle and the door was open. He didn’t need a key, a keycard or a passcode. His heart sank into his stomach when he crossed the threshold.

Jiung needed to bite into his lips to not make the mistake most people made on tv whenever they found themselves in a similar situation. Because as ridiculous as it sounded, his first instinct was to call for your name and announce his arrival, which would have been stupid. What if someone was here? He really shouldn’t have done that.

So he didn’t. Instead, he took off his shoes and checked every room as silently as possible until he made sure he was alone. Then, he started to go through your stuff systematically: skimming your mails, searching through your drawers and desk, rummaging your bathroom while simultaneously trying to not invade your privacy and finding clues about where you had been and what had happened. He was in the middle of looking for hidden compartments in your walls when Keeho arrived.

‘Is anyone here?’ The older boy asked, coaxing an unamused scoff out of Jiung with his loud question. Of course, he was acting like every idiot in a horror movie who was about to die.

‘Bedroom,’ Jiung grumbled, keeping his focus on the task in hand. He vaguely remembered Soul bragging about the coolest compartments he had installed in both of your flats, so that you could have hid your cash there and never gotten robbed. They had to be big enough to store a handful of stolen USB sticks. If only he could have known for sure there was nothing on them that would want dangerous people to make you disappear.

‘What happened here?’ Keeho asked, clearly taken aback by the state of your room.

Jiung didn’t bother to look around. He knew damn well the disaster he had left behind when he had started to get more and more frustrated, too impatient to put everything back to its place when they hadn’t given him the answers he was looking for.

‘The kimbap in her fridge went wrong days ago. She wouldn’t have left it there if she’d had a choice,’ the blond boy stated and it was ridiculous really, how sure he was in certain things when it came to you. But he just knew. He had caught you eating food you didn’t enjoy just because you had already paid for it or it had been for free. Even if you had been in a hurry, you wouldn’t have left it there to rot.

‘You sound pretty paranoid. And worried,’ Keeho commented, but walked up to your bedside table without much questioning and moved it aside. Then, he knocked on the beige wall a few times, gaining Jiung’s attention when suddenly, the thud gave a different sound.

Jiung crawled towards the bed on his hands and knees, reaching for the content of the hidden compartment once his friend opened it with ease that showed he knew exactly what he was doing. In small stacks, there were a couple of 5000 and 10000 won bills, less in total than the amount of Jiung’s allowance had gotten regularly in middle school.

Jiung’s throat closed up when his eyes fell on the custom-made keychain he had forgotten a long time ago, the one he had given you for your birthday and the one that sat on top of a pile of dirty papers. He took it into his hand and shoved it into his pocket before he skimmed the documents. On each page, they had the Dream House’s stamp on their upper left corners, which meant you might have found these in the facility’s basement.

Damnit! You had never mentioned you had found something that night, let alone something that looked like trouble.

‘What do they say?’ Keeho’s question came from Jiung’s right, your worn bed cracking under the older boy’s weight. 

‘At first glance? That they are lucky if they’re in the countryside,’ the younger answered, his heart rate picking up because of the dreadful pictures his brain was throwing at him about you and Soul behind bars, the two of you in separate interrogation rooms, powerful people trying to break you to turn against each other.

Jiung looked around in search of his backpack, then stood up and lifted it off the floor, so that he could shove the documents between two books he had been supposed to take back to the university library. They didn’t matter anymore. You and Soul did.

‘Where are you going?’ Keeho asked, and while Jiung had a concrete destination in mind, he was contemplating whether he should have told the other the whole truth. Keeho hadn’t seen the late president’s name on the documents yet and while Jiung would have also needed more time to figure out what you had gotten yourself into exactly, he had a vague idea. He didn’t want to put his friend in more danger in case he was right.

On the other hand, he was aware how important Soul was to Keeho. Obviously, the older boy cared about each one of his close friends, even people he deemed honest and kind, but Soul was like a brother to him. If Jiung had been in his shoes, he would have resented whoever kept secrets this serious from him.

‘I’ll ask Jiseong if he heard anything,’ he settled for the truth, albeit giving a curt answer. He would cross that bridge when he got there. For the time being, he didn’t want to complicate things even more. Not to mention that his step-brother would have scolded him and might have outright refused to tell him any details if he had shown up at his office with someone who had nothing to do with their family or their social circle.

After meeting you, Jiung had started to question whether he was able to read other people as well as his family expected him to, but recognizing the fine mixture of doubt, hurt and worry in Keeho’s eyes was too easy.

‘You will call me,’ the words came out pseudo-commanding, like the boy knew no objection, but Jiung noticed the pinch of uncertainty that made Keeho’s voice crack by the end, turning the statement into a semi-question. He didn’t call him out on his lack of faith in his character, mostly because Jiung himself was unsure of numerous things, too, regarding the situation.

Therefore, he settled for a nod instead of a verbal promise and left the building. The papers in his backpack felt heavy, like rocks that were trying to pull him underwater, but nothing could have compared to the weight of the abandoned keychain in his pocket that you, for some reason, had kept at the same place you kept your treasures.

After a failed attempt at the District Court, Jiung decided to wait for his step-brother at his home office, which was basically a separate room on the second floor in their house, between their parents’ offices and across from his own study room. Aware of the importance of respect and good manners even when one wasn’t out in public, he knocked on the mahogany door and counted to three, seven, ten, before he entered.

Since the boy’s plan was to ask a few questions from his hyung about the Dream House Medical Centre and whether there had been any attempts at breaking into the abandoned building in the last couple of years - the more general his curiosity appeared to be, the safer for you and Soul -, he decided to jot down every aspect he needed to touch upon and tried to make the inquiries sound as academic and neutral as possible while he was waiting. A written list could have helped him make it look like he was working on an assignment of some sort.

Taking a seat by the massive desk in the left corner of the room, Jiung pulled out the upper drawer, looking for a piece of paper. He knew it was a little old-fashioned, that he could have taken notes on his phone as well, but there was something about a piece of blank paper that stimulated his brain. Thoughts and ideas came easier when he could feel the material against the mounts of his palm and the weight of the pen in his hand.

Jiung didn’t intend to pry. Why would he have? He had been raised to trust his family above everyone and everything and put his faith in the system blindly as his relatives had important roles in it for generations. However, it was undeniable that it was your thesis abstract staring back at him from the top of a smaller pile of papers in Jiseong’s drawer. Jiung needed to take it into his hands.

He didn’t have to read through the lines to make sure the paragraphs had been written by you. Even though your name was crossed out with a black marker, he knew it was yours. He had read your abstract before. God! He had told you it would have gotten you in trouble. He had just never assumed that his hyung would have also been involved in this mess somehow.

Desperate to not jump to false conclusions, Jiung put the document back into the drawer and closed it carefully. He leaned the back of his head against the chair and closed his eyes, trying to even his breathing. He couldn’t have allowed himself to act suspicious or else his brother would have kicked him out of his office before he could have uttered a single word.

‘What are you doing here?’ Jiseong’s thunderous voice filled the room, pulling the blond boy out of his messy thoughts. Jiung snapped his head in his brother’s direction, resisting the urge to gulp down the nervous knot in his throat or put on a fake smile.

‘Homework,’ he explained with his fidgety fingers clenched into fists and hidden under the desk. He needed to stop thinking about your abstract in the drawer and how it could have gotten there for not only his own sake, but yours and Soul’s as well. He had never been a man of emotions, he couldn’t have allowed to become one in such a delicate situation. ‘I mean, I need some answers I couldn’t find on the internet, nor in any of the books in the uni library,’ he added when his answer met with silence, putting effort into relaxing his tense muscles.

‘I see,’ Jiseong muttered, not taking his hawk eyes off his younger brother while he walked closer to the desk and along with it, to Jiung. The young man’s arms were crossed in front of his chest; his tailored suit devoid of any wrinkles. ‘Ask away then.’

Jiung wished he had had more time to prepare himself for this conversation. Sure, the boy had wanted to get over with the interrogation as soon as possible when he had decided to seek his hyung out right after he had left your flat, but that had been before he had found your thesis abstract. With this new discovery, he felt unprepared.

‘It’s common knowledge that the Dream House has been abandoned since judge Kang Yohan tried to use it to overthrow the government,’ he started with a well-known statement to steal himself a couple of more seconds. He usually used this method during presentations because talking about things he was certain about did wonders to his jittery nerves, but this time, the academic tone had no positive effect. The lingering uncertainty poisoned his confidence. ‘It’s heavily guarded, though. Why?’

‘Use your brain, Jiung-ah. Why do you think it needs to be guarded up to this day?’ The man asked in a chastising tone. It reminded Jiung of school breaks in the countryside that they had spent with their grandparents. It reminded Jiung of summer days when he had falsely thought he could have acted his age without unpleasant consequences.

He frowned, but gave a serious thought to the question and answered with his chin held high.

‘So people wouldn’t break in,’ he chose, because even before breaking into the Dream House and rummaging through the first floor, he had doubted there had been something or someone kept in there that could have escaped. Which could have only meant that the government wanted to keep people from entering.

‘And?’

Jiung furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, wondering whether his brother knew he had been there, inside the medical centre, when you had put your hands on those documents. Was there a specific answer Jiseong was expecting from him? Or should he have played it safe and pretended he didn’t know about the late president’s involvement in something that had gotten you in so much trouble, you and Soul had disappeared off the face of Earth?

‘There are people in our country who believe Kang Yohan was some sort of saint who wanted to protect the powerless from corruption even though he couldn’t have cared less about the poor and unprivileged,’ the young judge stated, destroying the remaining distance between himself and his brother. Jiseong put his palms on his desk and leaned closer to Jiung with a predatory glint in his hazel eyes. Like he was staring at a pitiful prey instead of someone he had to treasure and protect. ‘It’s guarded, so those with anti-nationalist ideas wouldn’t turn it into their own sacred place,’ he said, forcing the younger to hold his breath and listen. ‘They would crowd it. It would give them a place with meaning for gatherings and suddenly, their preaching would gain more credibility.’

At that moment, as he was staring at his step-brother, the blond boy couldn’t help but think of you and your reaction whenever he had said something to defend the system. He wondered whether he had sounded just as biassed and inimical to you as Jiseong did to him while he was talking about faceless people and their hypothetical actions when they hadn’t committed said crime yet.

He wondered whether the fact that he added that harmless “yet” at the end of the sentence in his head meant he was indeed the same.

‘Has anyone ever broken into that building?’ Jiung asked partly to cut the tension that grew with the silence, partly to check the credibility of his hyung’s words.

Jiseong took his hands off the desk and straightened his back. He shot a small smile in Jiung’s way and shook his head.

‘Never. Like you said, it’s heavily guarded. You have nothing to be worried about,’ he said, slowly loosing his necktie, piercing gaze poking holes into the skin between the younger’s eyes. ‘Any other questions?’

There were. Jiung had plenty of questions starting with why was your abstract in his drawer, what had they done to you and Soul, whether you two had been the first ones who had been dealt with this drastically or there were others, people who had no connection to people like Jiung who came from an influential family. However, putting these thoughts in words would have done more harm than good and Jiung wasn’t an idiot. He might have doubted Jiseong would have been able to make him disappear or it was really him who had been behind all of this, but Jiung knew he wasn’t untouchable.

‘No, nothing. Thanks,’ so he said and stood up from the chair as casually as he could manage before he bent down and picked up his backpack from the floor. He bowed to his brother like he always did when he was greeting his family members or saying goodbye to them, then straightened his back and waited to be dismissed, showing respect to his elder as he had been taught.

‘Go, wash up! It’s almost dinner time,’ Jiseong said and patted his brother’s shoulder once, twice, three times, before he turned his back on Jiung.

The younger didn’t hesitate to leave the room afterwards.

The thing was, whether his step-brother knew that Jiung had broken into the Dream House with you and the boys or not, Jiseong had lied to him. He also had your thesis abstract, the very same document Jiung had given back to you the day he had last seen you, which was more than a little concerning. Therefore, despite his own beliefs, Jiung needed to figure out what was going on and how deep his hyung was in the mess you had also gotten yourself and Soul into.

He needed to know you two were okay. The sooner, the better.

If anyone had caught the boy sneaking into his brother’s home office instead of attending his classes, Jiung would have been cursed out, then dragged into his room and locked up for several weeks. He knew because he had been driven to school and back home for a whole month in high school when his father had found out that he had drunk a beer with his friend in public despite being underaged. They had done it at a park where they had thought no one had been paying any mind to them, but they had been dead wrong as his then-friend’s mother had sent one of her secretaries to keep an eye on her son and they had gotten caught before they could have decided whether they had wanted to open the second can. The tension at home after that had been so messed up, Jiung hadn’t dared to break any rules for years.

That was, until he had met you.

Rummaging through Jiseong’s drawers turned out to be fruitless. Other than stationeries and a bunch of files about ongoing cases at the court, there was nothing to put his hands on, which was weird. Why wasn’t your paper in the upper drawer anymore?

Kneeling on the floor, Jiung leaned his forehead against the edge of the desk and closed his eyes. Looking through his hyung’s things was one thing. Should he have really logged into his computer, too? That sounded too extreme, but then again. The boy had already trespassed on government property just to keep an eye on you and make sure you were fine. He could have always claimed he needed Jiseong’s laptop for whatever excuse his mind would have provided at the time of need.

Letting out a troubled sigh, Jiung could hear your last words to him ringing in his ears. If he had decided to turn a blind eye on the weird happenings now, he would have turned into what you had hated the most in people like him. People with the proper background to make a real difference, but no desire to change what was wrong. He might have refused to believe you had been right about everything, nor did he think he was a bad person just because his values and beliefs were different from yours, but he couldn’t have lied to himself. Something about the Dream House project was fishy.

So Jiung sat on the chair and turned on the computer before he could have lost his courage. He checked every folder and every file systematically, then opened Jiseong’s email services and read through his mails, too. The more he saw, the less suspicious his brother appeared to be and the more guilty he felt, but it was too late to turn back. So he kept reading, until he did find something.

It was a forwarded email Jiseong had never replied to or if he had done so, he had already deleted the evidence. The original letter was a report on the break-in to the medical centre; the person claimed there had been three or four suspects, but no gender, approximate age or physical features had been stated. The first response was about the punishment of the guards who had been working that night; the second one was an ID number; the third said: it’s done. Collateral damage: one person.

Jiung’s hands were trembling slightly when in the last email attached to the conversation there was a follow-up report from his uncle. It had been sent at five in the morning, mere hours ago, and it said they were ready for shipping.

‘What the…’ he murmured under his nose, finding it hard to process that these people might have been talking about you.

Jiung deleted the search history and closed the browser. He turned off the computer and took a moment to think. Should he have visited his uncle’s researcher centre on his own or should he have told Keeho about these emails like he knew the older boy wanted him to? Should he have tried to figure out what was going on in the legal way or gone behind his uncle’s back, too, lacking spare time to waste? What had they meant by shipping anyway?

Before he left the office, Jiung took a quick look at the interior from above his shoulder, then stepped out to the hallway and fished his phone out of his pocket. He called Keeho and when it went to voicemail, he sent the older boy a cryptic text about how he needed him as soon as possible.

A rational part of Jiung was aware he needed backup, but he wouldn’t have waited hours just to hear back from his friend.

Luckily, Keeho had reached out to Jiung within an hour, hence the two boys could meet up at the 7-Eleven across from the research centre around three. If Jiung wanted to be honest, it was the worst time either of them could have picked: it wasn’t close to lunch break nor did it align with anything else that could have drawn the attention from them, but he didn’t want to wait until closing time. He wanted to check every room on every floor as soon as possible in case, for some reason, you and Soul were in there.

The more he thought about it, the more this place seemed like the perfect cover-up and this thought drove him up the wall.

‘Sorry we’re late,’ a familiar voice demanded attention, followed by a loud, screeching sound as the intruder pulled out the metal chair and sat next to Jiung. Intak’s smile was too wide for the older boy’s liking, but at least it didn’t look genuine. The visible distress that blended into his friend’s cheery facial expression made Jiung feel less paranoid even though he would have gladly accepted that he was overreacting and let the guys make fun of him if that had meant you and Soul were chilling somewhere in the countryside.

‘Why are you here in the first place?’ Jiung asked, his gaze sliding from Intak to Theo who also took a seat by the table in the meantime.

‘Duh. Cause I’m the best thief you know and you’re about to break into the enemy’s lair in broad daylight?’ Intak’s question was dripping with sarcasm, his cold tone making it sound more like a statement. Jiung bit back a nasty comment about how Soul would exceed him in no time with his connections all across the city because thinking of the younger came hand in hand with thinking of you and he couldn’t have that.

Jiung put his elbows on the table and intertwined his fingers. He raised a brow as he looked at Theo, the silent question why he was there hanging in the air.

At first, Theo’s response was no more than a shrug, but as the tension became palpable, he let out a defeated sigh. It was clear, he didn’t think he needed to explain himself, especially because both Soul and you were a part of their friends group.

‘Someone’ll need to stand guard.’ It wasn’t something Jiung could argue with even though he would have liked to believe that even if they had gotten caught, his connection to the head of the institute could have gotten them out of trouble. The thing was, he couldn’t say it for sure anymore and this uncertainty and his sudden lack of trust in his own blood were stressing him out. If the boy’s thoughts hadn’t returned to your disappearance every two minutes, he might have already broken down due to the revelations he had needed to face in the last twenty-four hours.

‘Cool. Now, let’s order something and talk about the plan,’ Intak proposed, earning a judging side-eye from Jiung and a frown from Keeho when he pushed his chair back, making more space for himself to be able to stand up and walk up to the counter. ‘What? You chose a café for this group meeting. It’s pretty suspicious if we don’t order anything,’ he put his weight on his palms, leaning closer to the boys over the table.

Jiung let out a scoff.

‘I’ll have one small iced cappuccino,’ Keeho broke the growing silence before he changed his mind. ‘You know what? I’m coming with you. We’ll be back in a minute.’

Instead of following his friends with his eyes, Jiung’s gaze stuck on the massive building on the other side of the road. He couldn’t not feel like in a matter of mere hours, the life he had been living would cease to exist for good. Whether because his own uncle and step-brother were parts of a mafia-like system he had been blind to all this time or because he had chosen to betray them when he had decided to paint them as the enemy, it didn’t matter. Their bond that had been built on trust would break beyond repair once Jiung broke into the research centre. It might have already done so when he had read through his hyung’s emails.

‘You won’t turn on us, will you?’ Theo’s question pulled the blond boy back to the present, his sharp eyes cutting deep into his being. He didn’t blame his friend, though, even if the assumption that he would have left them behind to save himself was offensive.

His pride could take this much.

‘I want to get them back,’ Jiung said firmly, hoping that the sincerity in his voice would be enough and Theo didn’t expect him to come up with a whole monologue about how he was ready to go against his own family and burn Seoul down to the ground to find you. Because honestly, he wasn’t ready for any of those. He wasn’t ready to face the elephant in the room.

‘And that’s what we’ll do,’ Keeho patted the blond boy’s shoulder, taking a seat next to Theo while Intak sat back on the empty metal chair on Jiung’s side. He slid a small cup of black coffee towards the younger and took a sip from his mint choco frappé.

‘Which part of the building we want to infiltrate first?’ Intak asked and Jiung also let out an amused laugh when he saw the other boy fishing out a worn laptop from his backpack. Neat, serious and responsible weren’t adjectives Jiung would have ever used to describe his hyung, but he sure took this job seriously. It was actually pretty impressive.

‘The sixth floor and the basement. You need a special keycard to get to both or the elevator won’t start,’ Jiung said, going into more details about the security system although his knowledge was very limited. He had been in the research centre only twice and both times he had been left with his father’s secretary in the canteen while his father and uncle had been talking about business.

The soft clatter of the keyboard filled the air and embraced Jiung with its normality; he took a sip from his coffee and let the warmth spread in his body. He might have hated the thought of his friends getting in trouble because of his fixation on your sudden disappearance, but a selfish part of him found solace in their presence. He wasn’t alone.

‘Okay guys, we’ll do it this way,’ Intak spoke up after a couple of mumbled swear words and a delighted hum that reverberated through all of them. He pushed the laptop further from himself so that everyone could take a look at the screen, then pointed at the live footage of one of the security cameras inside the building. ‘Based on their social media posts and public appearances, these two researchers are the easiest to lead on. Out of the two, this one here, Dr. Kim Ryeowook is the one who possesses one of the six magic cards to the elevator.’

‘You figured these all out, skimming through a few Facebook posts?’ Jiung raised a brow and it was actually Theo who shook his head first, reaching out to the laptop and clicking on the tab next to the one everyone was staring at.

‘Actually, it’s a text analysis software we still need to work on with Beomgyu for one of our classes. Once it’s finished, it’ll help people make decisions, like solving complex problems for them, based on the imported information,’ he explained, slapping Intak’s hands away so that he could check the accuracy of the information.

‘Oh, okay! That’s cool,’ Jiung nodded to himself, letting the guy overwrite what he needed to overwrite before he confirmed the prediction.

Dr. Kim Ryeowook. The man was currently walking down the hallway on the second floor. If they were lucky, they could snatch his keycard and sneak it back into his coat’s oversized pocket before his shift ended around six.

Jiung’s heart was about to explode when the elevator’s doors closed behind their back and he caught sight of the sterile interior of the sixth floor. As they were running low on time, he was only with Keeho while Intak searched through the basement, his humming deafening even from the other side of the call that kept them connected.

‘Could you please focus? Look for papers, anything about shipping can be important,’ Jiung scolded his friend while they walked down the eerie hallways that led from the elevator to the laboratories. Although they were both dressed in the white coats of the researchers’ uniform, the boy couldn’t have said he felt disguised enough. In fact! He felt as though they were both sticking out like sore thumbs. They were walking too slowly, the caution in their steps almost alarming.

‘I don’t know about you, guys, but I don’t think they’re storing papers in here,’ Intak’s voice sounded almost pained before his words got replaced by a very forced, very loud coughing fit. Jiung furrowed his eyebrows and exchanged a glance with Keeho.

‘What are yo—’

‘Fuck! Is this a freaking liver?’ Intak asked in terror, his question tugging on Jiung’s insides forcefully, making him nauseas. Because while it was a known fact that the employees at his uncle’s research centre were looking for ways to cure incurable diseases, Jiung would have never thought their vaccines and experimental medicines were tested on human organs. Sure, it must have been less cruel than testing them on living, breathing people, but the method still sent an unpleasant shiver down his spine.

Looking at Keeho and listening to Intak’s uneven breathing, his friends had to be of the same opinion.

‘Guys, some of the organs have the same set of numbers…’ Intak didn’t have to finish the sentence, it was obvious what that meant. Yet, he still forced the words out. ‘I think they belonged to the same person. Livers, kidneys, hearts. The list is endless,’ he said.

Jiung hadn’t realised he was shaking until Keeho wrapped his fingers around his wrist and stopped the uncontrollable trembling of his left arm.

‘Don’t touch anything. Take pictures if you can, but stay alert,’ Keeho instructed, then pulled Jiung forwards.

The two picked up their pace and walked down the hallway with purpose in each one of their steps. When they reached the first door on the left side, Jiung reached for the handle with his sweater paw covering his hand, then pushed it down so that they could enter.

Inside, there were two dozens of hospital beds, unconscious people tied to the meal structure of the furniture, high-tech machines monitoring their vitals. It shouldn’t have been as scary as it felt with the eerie silence filling the atmosphere.

‘Do you thin—’

Jiung didn’t let Keeho finish his question. He had to stay focused; if the older boy had asked him whether you and Soul were in one of these rooms, in one of these beds, his thoughts would have tried to come up with an answer and ended up being all over the place.

‘I’ll check the beds on the left,’ the blond boy volunteered, simultaneously praying that you weren’t one of these people and that you were here so he could get you out of here.

Jiung’s movements were frantic by the time he got to the last patient - victim? - at the end of the row without being able to touch you. He snapped his head towards Keeho who was taking pictures of the sick, fighting his frustrated tears, in hope of good news.

Neither of you was in the room. Or in the next one, or in the third.

‘I found him! Jiung, quick!’ Keeho exclaimed, his hands already working on detaching the machine from Soul’s fragile body. Jiung could taste bile in his mouth when he saw the bloody dressing around the pale boy’s torso. He couldn’t see the wound and he had never been particularly good at Biology, but he had a faint idea that the red line across the textile was somewhere around his friend’s right kidney.  

‘Hy-hyung,’ Soul mumbled weakly, his half-lidded eyes barely open and his lips a mixture of lilac and blue as his head fell on Keeho’s shoulder. It took everything in Jiung to not throw his million questions at him about you and his family members like a spoiled child.

‘It’s okay. We’ll get you out of here. You’re safe now,’ the older boy whispered against the boy’s temple, then looked around, searching for something. Jiung couldn’t stop thinking of… ‘That wheelchair! Jiung-ah, we need to put Shota into that wheelchair.’

The urgency in Keeho’s voice pulled Jiung back to the present and he rushed to the other side of the room to get one of the wheelchairs for Soul. Keeho was right, there was no way they could have sneaked their friend out of the research centre when he was in a half-unconscious state. A patient in a wheelchair might have been a tad less suspicious than a lax body hanging from their shoulder. Though, a voice in the back of his mind said neither was a common sight in the building.

Jiung’s entire body tensed up when Intak dropped the phone on the other side of the call. The younger’s curses and his desperate ‘No, no, no!’ froze his blood even though Intak’s voice was barely above a whisper due to the sudden distance between him and the electronic device.

Contemplating whether he should have helped Keeho with Soul or pleaded Intak to give them an explanation of what was going on in the basement, Jiung let out a frustrated sigh while he was keeping the wheelchair in place.

‘Intak! Intak! What’s wrong?’ Jiung tried to gain the boy’s attention, but it wasn’t working. So they exchanged a worried glance with Keeho and came up with a plan: they checked the last room on the sixth floor, then the older got Soul out of the building while Jiung went down the basement to collect their friend (and whatever he might have found or encountered with).

Jiung hoped it wasn’t one of the security guards who had caught him red-handed, but if it had been, he was Intak’s best chance to get out of trouble. And that was the least he could do for his friend as without him, they might have never gotten to Soul.

The thought that he might have been facing his uncle’s rage at any moment should have been more terrifying. Jiung had no doubt about it that under different circumstances, mere weeks ago, he would have shitted his pants from the presumption that he had messed up so bad, the old man needed to be involved in the situation. But as he was running in search of his friend, passing by shelves full of glass containers and what not, he feared whatever triggered Intak’s uncharacteristic reaction the most.

It didn’t take long for Jiung to find the room with the open door. On the contrary, it became pretty easy once he got within hearing range, because Intak’s painful wailing echoed off the walls and surrounded him on the empty corridor.

Trying to regulate his nerves, the first thing Jiung noticed when he crossed the threshold was how the room was slightly colder than the rest of the basement he had raced through. Then, the sour and irritating smell of vomit and formaldehyde.

‘Intak.’ Jiung crouched down in front of the younger boy, cupping his face with his own, trembling hands, so that the boy could take notice of his presence. He had never been particularly good at comforting others, but he had seen Keeho do it to the boys enough times to have a vague idea about what he should have done.

Jiung pulled his friend’s snotty and tear-stained face against his chest and patted his blade bones gently, for a calming rhythm. Meanwhile, he looked around the room with his chin resting on top of Intak’s head, trying to figure out what could have happened.

‘She… she’s… no-hoh,’ Intak cried out desperately as he grabbed Jiung’s arm and held onto him stronger, body shaking from the threat of another pile of bile-filled vomit. Jiung looked down at the boy and closed his eyes. Should he have reminded him that they had to leave the basement soon? Should he have asked for answers?

Keeho would have rocked him back and forth until he calmed down, but Jiung was afraid they didn’t have enough time.

‘Intak, we need to leave. The keycard, we…’ The rest of the words stuck in Jiung’s throat when Intak pushed him away aggressively, shaking his head and screaming frantically as though the blond boy said something unforgivable.

‘We, no! We have to… we need to! No!’ He protested, crawling backwards on his hands and feet until his head crashed against an open compartment in the wall. With bold, palm-sized characters, there was a number written on it: 0327.

Now that Jiung paid more attention to the odd-looking doors on the right side of the room, his anxiety started to pick up. He pushed himself into a standing position and walked past Intak, trying to take a better look at the inside of the compartment. It must have been the younger who had opened it, which could mean that whatever was in there had triggered his hysterical reaction.

Jiung’s brows were knitted together in confusion when he felt a hand on his ankle. He looked down at his friend, who was shaking his head, mouthing his objections so quietly, the blond boy didn’t hear a word.

He turned back towards the compartment and pulled it entirely open. The piece of white clothing that was hiding the thing underneath was as big as a comforter. Although it brought no warmth or comfort when removing it, Jiung’s gaze fell on a pile of chewed out skin. There were no bones, no organs inside the violated corpse, only damaged skin and a head with more stitches, indicating that he couldn’t have found the brain inside of the skull, either.

Jiung fell on his knees when he recognized the ghost of your features on the corpse’s face. He coughed up bile and that little food he had in his stomach before the first tears rolled down his cheeks. He felt sick.

Neither of the boys could have told how long they were cursing and crying in that room with your corpse mere centimetres from them, but at one point Intak’s ringtone overpowered their sobs and pulled them out of their heads. Although Intak was closer, it was Jiung who reached out for the abandoned device and received the call, his voice hoarse and weak that did barely a thing to alarm the caller on the other side.

‘What the hell guys! You have to get out of there! Dr. Kim is already looking for his keycard, they are on their way to the sixth floor and I’m pretty sure the basement will be the next,’ Keeho said, panic and worry evident in each one of his words.

Jiung looked at Intak, then shifted his gaze to the open compartment. A part of him knew that there was no way they could have taken your remains without throwing up at each corner on the way out, that letting the others see you like this, especially Soul, would have traumatised them for life. He was also aware that as stubborn as you were - had been -, you would have wanted him to pull himself together and get the hell out of there before those who had done this to you would have done the same with the people you cared - had cared - about.

But it was so freaking hard to leave you there or to get up from the floor.

‘Are you listening to me? Please, guys, come out! Whatever there is, it’s not worth it, please, guys, please!’ Keeho was pleading, forcing Jiung’s limbs to move.

‘We’re on our way, hyung. Stop worrying so much,’ he forced out the sassy reply to ease the older’s nerves before he hung up the call and shoved the phone into his pocket.

Considering that cleaning up their vomit wasn’t an option, Jiung didn’t bother with checking the room for potential evidence they could have left behind. On the other hand, he put the textile back on your corpse and made sure the compartment you were laying in was closed before he opened another one and took pictures of another damaged body. He didn’t have the heart to do the same to yours.

Dragging Intak out of the basement was time-consuming and by the time they reached the elevator, Jiung’s muscles were screaming for a break, but he pushed himself until they were out of the building. The boy knew that their initial plan had been to sneak the keycard back into Dr. Kim’s pocket or at least leave it at the reception desk as though someone had found it accidentally at one point of the day, but with the mess they had left in the morgue room, these kinds of details had lost their importance.

Instead, they crossed the street to get to the coffee shop’s parking lot at a speed that didn’t draw too much attention, then got in Theo’s old car and refused to talk about what they had found in the basement until they got somewhere safe in the outskirts of Seoul.

The shocking news of your death lingered around the boys like smoke: sickening, ugly, bad. They couldn’t get rid of it and it threatened their health, especially Soul’s who refused to eat or drink anything for days despite his weak state until Keeho aggressively shoved some plain porridge down his throat.

Intak and Jiung weren’t that much better. Jiung just knew you would have lectured him for his self-harming behaviour if you had seen him skip his meals, so he forced himself to chew and gulp without the slightest care for the taste of the dishes Keeho put on the table. They could have been the saltiest, most disgusting soups and porridges of his life, the boy wouldn’t have noticed.

Although they didn’t know whom they could trust, the boys agreed on one thing: they needed to show the country, if not the world, the real faces of those monsters who led their nation since the first wave of the pandemic. They had to make people see how terrible they were, so horrible, inhuman things like this could have never happened again. 

The problem was that even when they tried to upload the pictures they had taken on the web, they got taken down almost immediately. Then, after two weeks of futile attempts at sharing the evidence with the citizens of South Korea, the news was filled with the same lie on every damned channel: a group of young people committing terrorist acts against the country.

Honestly, Jiung knew that he had burnt down all the bridges when he had chosen his friends and the truth over his family, but seeing his ID picture next to those photos that the people in power had chosen to put on display in the media was numbing. He felt too many emotions at once to distinguish any of them properly. He couldn’t even say he was angry: the word itself did no justice to the thunderstorm inside his chest.

‘We can’t give up now,’ Soul said and Jiung tore his gaze from the screen of his tablet to look at the younger. He still looked so fragile, but as he balled up his fists and opened his mouth for Keeho to feed him some soup, he finally had some colour to his cheeks.

‘We won’t,’ Jiung promised and for the first time in weeks, the silence that followed his statement didn’t drain him. If anything, this newfound determination gave them all another reason to find a way to stop this madness.

Not even twelve hours after their faces were plastered all over the capital city, a girl called Elijah reached out to Jongseob, claiming that she and her uncle had seen the photos Jiung had taken of the damaged corpse before they had gotten taken down and that they wanted to help them fight against the system. It was freaking suspicious and at first, they decided to ignore it altogether. However, when Soul pointed out that Jongseob hadn’t been at the Dream House with them, nor had he joined them when they had broken into the research centre, they talked through their options one more time.

And they decided to follow the instructions of this faceless person towards a place that was promised to be safe for them in two groups just in case it was a trap.

Jiung, Soul and Keeho were the first ones to leave the city. They took Theo’s car, saying one of them would come back for the rest of them if things were really safe, then followed the GPS signals given to them real time by this Elijah girl who hacked into its system.

‘What do you think we will find when we get there?’ Keeho asked from behind the driver’s seat, his voice low on purpose to not wake up Soul who had fallen asleep in the backseat.

Jiung shrugged.

‘Dunno. Two more hours and we’ll find out,’ he stated, looking out the window, taking in the scenery. The countryside looked so peaceful and slow from the inside of the car, but he knew it was only the illusion of obliviousness. He refused to believe that there was any place in this country that hadn’t been corrupted by the government. He knew that the outside world was just as rotten as his life was without the rose-tinted glasses he had been wearing all these years.

Shaking his head, the boy tried not to think about the last conversation he had had with you. Still, he wished he had listened to what you had been saying. He wished he had stopped you when you had turned your back on him and walked away, visibly wary. You had given him so many chances to understand. Yet, here he was, figuring out too late:

History was made by monsters dressed as saints.

the end.

#disharmonycollab #jiung x reader #jiung x you #p1harmony scenarios #p1harmony x reader #p1harmony x you #p1harmony #p1harmony collab #p1harmony angst #ssbyme

[sxcret-garden-archive]

hi salty! do u have any particular favorite piwon comfort authors? u r so warm and good at it i figured u may have some favorites as well haha

anon 🥺🥺🥺💕💕

I actually don't read thaaaat much myself, but I do have some piwon writers whose works I cherish a lot!! I'll link you their accounts if that's okay^^ (you can also look through my ficrecs, but i do also reblog smut there so keep that in mind if you don't want to see that kind of content!!)

Some p1ece writers whose stories I really like:

@tranquilpetrichor @choitaeyang @acaiasahi @dreamerhideout @restlessmaknae @intakiya (i know there's nothing on this blog yet but I really loved this reaction of theirs which is from their old blog i assume^^)

#i hope this helps you find some more stories you enjoy!! #alsoalso thank you so much for saying that #you're too kind 🥺🥺 #ask #answered

[dat-town]

haunting

never seen circus masterpost

Characters: Yunho & female reader

Setting & genre: magical realism au, ghost au

Summary: Yunho was the centre of your universe. He made you so happy and you wished you could do the same but his eyes were always so, so sad.

Warnings: general creepiness of an eerie circus, ambiguous ending, mentions of blood, injuries, car accident, self-conscious MC, implied past death

Words: 1.4k

i guess i will tag you in all of these @restlessmaknae 

You remembered the day you had met Yunho and fallen in love with his dimpled smile almost immediately. He was the typical boy next door with his easygoing and kind personality, it was impossible not to love him. But somehow it had been you whose seatmate he had become on the first day of university and then all other days too during your shared Economics lectures.

You and him had been inseparable ever since.

You had spent a meaningful majority of your early twenties with him by your side. Study sessions in the library had turned into café dates and then cuddling on the couch in front of Netflix. Weekend trips to the beach, dissing terrible job interviews, murmuring I love yous into his warm skin under the blazing sun and him kissing every one of your fingers until you couldn’t feel the unforgiving cold of January.

You loved him more than anything.

Especially after the accident. He was the only one who still looked at you the same way.

It had been awful. You remembered the yelling, the honking and a blinding light. Then the pain had come and everything had gone dark. When you had opened your eyes, it had been Yunho you had seen first. His temple had been bloodied, glass shard cuts all across his lovely cheek. He could barely open his eyes and his head had been wrapped in white gauze.

You had cried yourself to sleep because you had known it had been your fault. You had been the one who had insisted on visiting the circus even in the pouring rain. Looking back you couldn’t understand why it had been so important to go on that particular Sunday. There would have been other days and other circuses. There was no other Yunho. No circus was worth that much.

Yunho had recovered but after that you had promised yourself you wouldn’t let him get hurt ever again. But something must have been broken between the two of you after the accident because his eyes had become so, so sad. He still looked at you lovingly, like you were the most precious thing and for those moments you felt seen and beautiful even if other people looked away when they saw you. Nobody else mattered, not when you had Yunho. You just didn’t get why he felt so far even when he was brushing your hair behind your ear.

“Are you happy?” The boy asked, cautious, and you blinked at him in confusion.

“Of course, I am. I have you,” you smiled at him but Yunho looked like he was made of glass, crackling at your words.

When your boyfriend proposed a weekend getaway, you were more than happy being on board with the idea. You hadn’t really been going out since what had happened. You needed it to feel some normalcy again.

“Where are we going?” You asked curiously while you were walking through a forest during the golden hour. You liked surprises and Yunho was always the best with date nights as he was a much better planner than you were but you had always been curious by nature.

“You will see,” he said with a half smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He sounded tired but that must have been because he worked those extra hours over the week.

He didn’t let go of your hand even when you reached the edge of the forest path and you saw a circus right in the middle of the meadow in all its shiny gilded glory.

You flinched at the laugh of clowns and the eerie music, phantom pain throbbing in your skull. Your steps halted and you took a shaky breath.

“Yunho…” You whispered, feeling uneasy.

“It’s okay,” Yunho reassured you in his soft voice, letting you nuzzle closer. “I’m here.”

You tried to find excitement and awe in the wonderful spectacles all around but deep down you had a bad feeling. Maybe it was because of what had happened and your brain subconsciously associated circuses with inevitable tragedies but you could almost feel yourself spiral into panic. You didn’t quite feel okay in your body. It was almost like you were watching yourself from the outside.

You jumped in surprise when a black cat ran across the road right in front of you and heck, you weren’t superstitious but did it mean that you would be unlucky? Maybe you should have left.

But Yunho seemed determined to stay and he was clearly looking for something, so you told yourself to be patient. It must have been the surprise. What could it be, you wondered, a fortune teller or a palm reader?

The tent of a ghost whisperer wasn’t what you expected even though it felt awfully familiar. Have you been there before?

You turned to Yunho, the question burning on the tip of your tongue, but he was looking at the girl behind the candle lit desk, hovering over a bone coloured board with letters scattered over it. You vaguely remembered that tool from horror stories as something used to communicate with the dead. An Ouija board.

The young girl in old fashioned clothes behind the desk looked up at the two of you and hummed knowingly. There was something unnerving about it as she looked at you.

“I knew you would be back. Most people are,” she said, melancholy ringing in her voice and you furrowed your brows in confusion. She wasn’t sure whether she talked to you or your boyfriend.

“She… she is just a shell of herself. I can’t… I can’t do this anymore,” Yunho spoke up hoarsely.

“I told you there was always a price to play,” the girl reminded him but the entire scene had you going a little crazy because you couldn’t understand anything.

“What’s going on, Yunho? Who is she? Why are you talking like you are breaking up with me?”

Yunho turned to you, his usually warm nougat eyes devastatingly sad and then he walked you to the full body mirror on one side of the tent.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered and there were already tears pricking your eyes because what could have been so terrible about your looks that made him call you a shell?

Then you saw it.

There was Yunho, tall and handsome, perfect if only a little pale and his smile you loved so much was lost on him. And you? You were nowhere. In the mirror there he stood alone, no sign of your reflection. You reached out to touch the furniture with shaky hands and looked down at your skin, half-transparent in this new glow.

“Am I dead?” Your voice hitched, panic coursing through you.

“Your soul is trapped in a limbo between this world and the beyond,” the stranger girl explained patiently. “He’s the one keeping you here.”

So you did die. Now that you thought about it, you couldn’t tell when was the last time you interacted with somebody else other than Yunho. Or when you last spent time alone. Or when you ate or went to the bathroom. All you could remember was being with Yunho, everything else was just a blur. As if he was the reason why you even existed, the Sun of your universe.

You felt like crying but you couldn’t. Ghosts didn’t have tears. You must have imagined every tear and every touch since the accident and it only made the loss cut deeper.

Yunho was crying though, crystal-like tears were running down his cheeks and when you reached up, you could feel the warmth on his skin against your own cold nothingness.

“I love you so much that I brought you back,” the boy whispered and you could feel your heart break for him even if you didn’t have one anymore. You never wanted to see Yunho suffer, not like this, not because of you. “But it’s not the life you deserve. You should move on. Find peace.”

The thought of him saying goodbye, of losing him scared you.

“No. I don’t want that. I’ll be staying with you, Yunho. Please, don’t do this,” you begged because you wanted to stay by his side, you didn’t want to be alone. The two of you were supposed to be together forever.

But it was too late. The boy was already taking off the couple bracelet you both had and the ghost whisperer took it from him, letting it fall into flames, smoke going up dark and quick.

Your scream cut through the night, extinguishing every lit candle and by the time the sun came up, you were once again faded.

But Yunho swore he could catch sight of you in mirrors from time to time.

#series: never seen circus #ateez x reader #yunho x reader #ateez angst #yunho angst #stories

[spicyseonghwas]

You’re the link for the keeho and theo fic you just gotta make it first

-bigdick123456789

Also what’s the eta for any upcoming fics cause I miss them(you)

:o you miss me?? :<<<

here :3

fics!

illusory obsessions | pt.2, choi san ; smut, romance

blackbird | choi san (remastered repost) ; fantasy, angst, lyric fic

one in a billion | yang jungwon ; yandere, horror, fantasy (demon!reader)

choke it out | jeong yunho ; smut, romance, college!au,

punishment | jeong yunho ; smut, established relationship/sugar daddy!au

(untitled) | yun/yoon keeho & kim jongseob ; angst, romance, horror maybe, apocalypse!au ; 2 separate fics, alternate endings, disharmony writing collab with @restlessmaknae

yandere drabble series | nct ; yandere, fucked up fluff & romance

breakup-makeup series | ateez ; angst, romance, makeup

and a bunch of requests plus probably a lot more drafts that i just havent drafted yet

oc's!

nct midnight | nct oc unit ; honestly, about half of the unit is oc's. no judging the creator. he is addicted to creating imaginary humans.

dream.exe & nightmare.exe | oc twins (nct) - they have aespa's concept of real vs ai halves!

jang nam | oc (i have plans for him to be with a model :3)

kang seomin | oc (remastered repost; dating jung jaehyun)

han ilseong | oc (remastered repost; single currently)

unnamed transfem | oc (dating but i wont say who)

huang lao | oc (has a massive crush and is getting very close to pulling him)

tanaka haruto (has a lil bit of a crush but is too shy to try to pull him)

#🌑 asks #🌑 divo anon