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ALIVE

Chapter 2 - MACHINA

"What's the house like?" 

"Worthy of our family." 

"You know I'd never want anything this grand. Is it really necessary?" 

"Unfortunately, appearances are everything in this world. The house will serve as a tool—at least for now."

I sighed, tracing the horizon as it dissolved into a sunset drenched in the golden-pink blush of peaches. The journey to our new home had been quiet and peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos in my mind. That night at the club... I'd rather not dwell on it now, but the coincidence still left me unsettled.

As I wrestled with my thoughts, the car glided around smooth, nearly imperceptible curves—I'd have missed them if I weren't glued to the window. I'd spent so much time away from this country that, beyond a few names, I could barely remember anything. My final month here had been, to put it mildly, a whirlwind. I never imagined I'd spend years without returning.

When we arrived, the tall black gates rose to let us pass. The house truly wasn't what I would've chosen—too large for just two people. But Grandpa was right: the house served a purpose.

Its nice. Discreet facade nearly vanished into the darkening sky. The black-and-brown tones blended softly into the night, while the lush garden, trimmed hedges, and a single towering tree completed the scene. Gradually, warm yellow lights flickered on.

"Well, I can't say it's ugly," I remarked, stepping out of the car after Grandpa.

"I've always had good taste, haven't I?" he replied, glancing around with measured pride. Leaning precisely on his cane, he walked toward a man waiting nearby.

"Welcome, Mr. Lee! I'm Kim Jangjun, the house steward." The man's firm, polished voice matched his formal bow. "Miss," he added, bowing again when he noticed me beside Grandpa.

After introductions, Mr. Kim gave us a tour of the house and its operations. Grandpa had apparently requested no permanent staff except the steward, likely to protect our privacy.

The house itself was massive: indoor and outdoor pools, a sports court, and more rooms than I could count. Grandpa had hired someone to handle the decor, so everything was ready—even our bedrooms. Mr. Kim informed us our luggage had already been unpacked, having arrived before us.

"Well, I suppose we should make ourselves at home now, yes?" Grandpa said with a warm chuckle.

"If you need anything further, I'll be available until 8 PM" Mr. Kim replied with a slight bow before excusing himself.

"I don't know about you, Grandpa, but I need a shower and maybe to test the indoor pool. Turns out, this was a great choice after all." I laughed, squeezing his hand.

Mr. Kim had led us back to the living room at the end of the tour. It was cozy—far more than I'd expected. Two plush green sofas, soft as giant pillows, faced a sleek, ultra-thin TV mounted on the wall. Bookshelves, a coffee table of the same rich wood, and framed family photos tracing the walls like a timeline completed the space. The off-white and moss-green walls blended seamlessly, creating warmth.

I was home. After all, my entire family was here—captured in this single room.  

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"Well, I've taken the day off, Dad," I said, shutting the fridge after grabbing a water bottle. "Don't worry. I know it's an important event—I'll be there, same as always. Hmm... Alright, bye." With a sigh of pure exhaustion, I slumped onto the high stool by the kitchen island.

Unbelievable. Talking to my father at this hour is definitely the worst way to end the day.

Lately, every night since that evening at the club, I couldn't stop thinking about her. She hadn't even told me her name, yet her presence lingered in my mind, intruding at random moments.

And now, with this British company collaboration looming...

I wished I could go back to that night. To relive the calm, the crisp bite of the air, and the charged tension between me and the stranger who'd captured my attention. The hours of conversation, the way we'd leaned into each other... I couldn't shake it.  

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holding for sehun: day 571 of 639 ↳ EXO SEHUN in BUSTED! | 2018

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Secret Garden

Chapter 2

The Lair

The 17th Passage wasn't far from Cross Market—just a few weathered wall segments, and I was there. As expected, the mage's craft remained hidden. In a place saturated with human magic, pinpointing the source I sought was no simple task. The damp alley lay silent, its emptiness heavy. I trailed my fingers along the rough stone blocks, their cold seeping into my skin, and froze. A familiar hum buzzed in my ears.

The path forked at the end. Hell. I shut my eyes, let the noise in my head burn brighter. And there she was—that voice. Again. "Typical. Just my luck" I thought, but my feet moved anyway, bare soles slapping the grime. No hesitation. No second-guessing. My fingers kept clawing the wall until—there. A thread of magic, coiled tight. Finally. I grinned. "Let's see where you lead."

The place was a hole—walls and floor the color of dried mud, a ceiling that pressed down like a coffin lid, and light that came from candles and oil lamps, because of course it did. I tightened my focus on the magic veil keeping me invisible and started prowling. Walking through walls? Yeah, it felt like squeezing through a meat grinder, but hey, useful as hell. The magic thread had dumped me into a room crammed with junk: cheap jewelry, rusted basins, a cracked lampshade, a bike that looked like it survived a war. Dust coated everything. Charming.

I ghosted through the shadows, silent as a knife. Where the hell am I now? That hum, the magic thread—useless. I slipped through the door and found a hallway brown as dirt, five more doors, and amber light flickering at the far end. Stairs leading down. Bingo.

"Shouldn't react to curse potions," a raspy, unnatural voice floated up.

I slid toward the sound. The hum was gone, but now my body felt like it was wrapped in tar. Ears clogged, steps dragging and my patience gone. I shoved my right hand to my forehead and carved a rune into my skin. The magic snapped—free.

"If it were a real disease, it wouldn't react. That's why so many are failing."

Oh, I knew that voice.

I smirked. Ain't life a funny thing? The fraud from the other day? Turned out he was the potion master I'd been hunting. Curiosity itching, I followed the smoke from the downstairs fireplace. And there he was. Firelight painted him young, almost... interesting for a human. Blond hair, brown eyes, a delicacy that screamed elf. But without his disguise charm, his scent hit me. Humans reeked like rot. Mages? Smoother, thanks to the magic in their veins. But this guy? Not human, not mage. What are you?

A crow clung to the hearth like a jagged shadow beside him. The room mirrored the rest of the hovel—cluttered with useless junk, brown as a dirt grave, lit by candles and the fireplace's hungry flames. My host slumped in a threadbare red armchair, some ancient grimoire in hand. Me? I perched on the windowsill across the room, invisible, the night's icy wind biting my skin. The open window framed a moonlit field. Hmph. A "door" to FairLands.

"You know my thoughts. This is just the beginning. Something's coming," the mage said, not glancing up.

"Don't bite off more than you can chew," the bird snapped, launching itself past me into the night.

"Please. I felt the wards tremble. Show yourself," he muttered, still reading. Asshole . If the bird hadn't fled away, I'd have thought he was talking to it. Typical fey luck—always dangling me over chaos. Instead of panic, his words sparked a smirk. Let's play.

"You're a curious one, aren't you?" I taunted, voice echoing, still cloaked.

"Ah, miss—please. I don't take appointments at this hour. Schedule like everyone else." He stood, tossing the book. It vanished before hitting the floor.

"Don't flatter yourself. I don't want your services" I sneered.

He chuckled, melodic and infuriating. "Your confidence wavers, miss. Drop the act." He poked the fire, sparks dancing.

Enough games. I dropped the veil hiding me, still perched on the sill. "What's this disease?" No lies.

"I'm a gentleman, but I do appreciate... reciprocity." His voice dripped honey as he sank back into the chair, eyes sharp.

"Then don't worry. I'm leaving." I turned to the night, my skin already blending with the shadows. Home.

"You're exceptionally rude." His voice was suddenly at my ear. He'd materialized beside me on the sill. Damn magic. I met his gaze. For a heartbeat, something flickered—his warmth too close, his scent oddly sweet, like burnt sugar and pine. "Baekhyun," he breathed, studying me. "People are falling into comas. No warning. No waking. Just... death. Humans only."

Without a word, I leapt from the windowsill. Didn't look back.

Baekhyun clawed at my thoughts—not just because of the plague creeping through humans (a problem that'd bite my kin in the ass eventually), but because the man himself was a puzzle. And I hated puzzles. I'd never seen him before, and I've dealt with enough magic-touched humans to know most reek of desperation or cruelty. But this one? He'd tossed his name at me like a dare. Idiot. You don't hand your true name to a fae, let alone one inside your house.

I hadn't opened my shop in two days. Been too busy stalking the edges of this mess, grilling every contact I've got, even begging the Mother-Trees for answers. Useless. Those ancient hags only stir when they damn well please. So far, all I've got is this: it's a curse, probably. Oh, and FairLands forests are rotting in some places. Nothing grows. Not a sprout, not a bloom. Our land's older than human sin, fertile as a goddess—. Now? Feels like a blight's gnawing at its roots.

My wandering dumped me back in the same fields I'd fled that night from the mage's hovel. Two hours ago, I'd hauled myself into the tallest tree around and sprawled across a branch, stewing. How the hell did this all spiral out of control without me noticing? I'm a forest fey—my veins practically run with sap. Plants whisper to me. Or they used to. The fact that I'd missed this rot festering in our realm? It pissed me off.

Humans? Let them drown in their curses. But FairLands... That was the blade twisting in my gut. The blight here, the plague there—they're connected. I'd bet on it. Worst part? What if this is nature's way? What if the land's finally coughing us out like a sickness? Lost in my brooding, I didn't miss the shift in the air. It was back. After fleeing the mage's hovel, I couldn't see it. Couldn't smell it. The place was rigged with a perpetual enchantment—invisible, ever-shifting, anchored nowhere. But now? I tasted the spell's metallic hum. Heard muffled voices. Even caught that bastard's scent—something cloyingly sweet.

"Go see him, then. Nothing's stopping you," croaked the raven, landing on my branch like it owned the damn tree.

"Funny. I love animals," I drawled, eyes still shut. "But push me, and I'll pluck your feathers for a pillow."

"The master's just as curious about you. And I'll admit—miss—no one's ever slipped through his moving wards before. Not like you did." It preened, a casual bastard.

"What can I say? It is my specialty." I shrugged, feigning indifference.

"He'll answer your questions. If you ask nicely." Before I could retort, it shot into the sky, vanishing through the magic veil hiding the mage's lair.

Damn that bird. It'd dredged up the worst part of me—the fey itch to poke a hornet's nest.

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Secret Garden

Characters: Baekhyun x Artemis OC (name inspired by mitology not claiming it's creation😊)

Genre:fantasy|smutt|enemies to lovers|faerie/fey

Summary: We are creatures of shadow and deceit-terrifying, cunning, and beguiling-yet above all, we are bound inextricably to the pulse of nature. We, the fey, are not to be trusted. But humans, particularly those who wield magic, are equally treacherous.

Long ago, a war tore two worlds. Now, that same ancient conflict fuels a dance of chaos between Artemis, a young fey woman, and Baekhyun, a mage shrouded in secrets. Where fate forces them together, mistrust pulls them apart.

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Chapter 1 - THE PORTAL

Today brought the kind of weather I cherish most: na icy wind sweeping beneath a sunlit sky veiled by white clouds. I was exactly where I needed to be. I lingered before heading to my workshop, savoring the crisp morning air from the tallest tree I could find. Though my home is suspended among the branches, I never tire of heights—the world feels alive when viewed from above. 

Gazing beyond our forest and the blooming meadow, the human city shimmered faintly in the distance, blurred like a smudged painting by the enchantment that enforces our fragile “peace.” The only humans we interact with—civilly, at least—are self-proclaimed mages or those touched by magic. The rest? Occasionally, a stray soul might wander too close, but they’re inconsequential. Weak, entitled creatures, demanding everything yet nurturing nothing. A tiresome breed. 

I shook the thought away, refocusing on the horizon: rolling hills cradled by snow-capped mountains, accompanied by the soft murmur of nearby streams. With one final breath of the bracing breeze, I let the mother tree’s branches guide me downward, her broad leaves brushing against me like a farewell. Duty called, though part of me longed to vanish into the wilds instead—to become a whisper in the rivers, pluck sun-warmed fruit, or taunt wayward humans lost between realms. But eternity stretches before me. There will be time. 

As I reached the treetop workshop, I’d barely tied my apron when footsteps echoed below. 

“Enter” I said, preempting the knock. Something about the visitor prickled my senses. 

The stranger stepped inside, cloaked in na oversized hooded mantle, standing just taller than myself. His attire—stitched from shadows and threads of lesser fae—seemed to drink the shop’s dim light, the dark green fabric dissolving into the gloom.

A strange buzzing filled my ears, muddling my senses. Amber lights flickered to life at my silent command as I forced myself to refocus. 

“Hello. Is this where I can procure herbs?” The visitor lowered his hood, finally revealing his face. His youthful features mirrored those of my kin—sharp-tipped ears, na ethereal shimmer veiling his aura. Yet something felt… off. 

“What do you need?” I replied, cinching the apron around my waist and stepping from behind the workshop counter to face him. 

In answer, he slid a paper across the wood, scrawled with plant names—all rare, seasonal, and medicinal. Exactly the sort I kept stocked. I plucked the list from his hand without meeting his gaze and retreated through the counter’s hatch. These herbs thrived only in hidden groves, harvested under moonlight. Scarce, coveted. A flicker of his face surfaced in my mind—too calm, too calculated. 

“If you sought medicinal plants,” I said coolly, reappearing with the goods, “why bother with illusions, human?” 

He didn’t flinch. Instead, he turned from the trinkets he’d feigned interest in and faced me. “Honestly, I didn’t expect a young fae to pierce my glamour so easily,” he retorted, sarcasm lacing his voice as he watched me pack preserved sprigs into small boxes. 

I laughed—a sharp, melodic sound. Humans, ever arrogant in their fragility. 

“I wear this guise to avoid attention,” he added, tone shifting to caution. “Even the finest protective charms have limits.” 

His forced composure pleased me. No matter how skilled a mage, they could never rival the innate magic of my blood. 

“You should refine your act. It’s transparent, mage” I spat the title like a curse. 

“I’ve had no complaints before. Your gifts must be… exceptional.” He edged closer as I finished his order. “I’m here only to trade. No hidden motives.” 

“Clearly. Here.” I shoved the boxes toward him. 

He dropped a pouch onto the counter—unenchanted, I noted, brimming with fae gold. The exact sum. 

“Use them wisely,” I said, flat and final. 

His eyes locked with mine as he took the herbs. A silent nod, then he vanished into the shadows of the shop’s threshold. 

The encounter haunted me for days. Beneath his glamour, there’d been something else—a resonance that gnawed at my instincts. Humans were predictable. He was not. 

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Chapter 2

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I was only curious to know how it started.

In The Mood For Love 花樣年華 (2000) dir. Wong Kar-Wai

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ALIVE

Characters: Anh Suho (Choi Hyunwook)xOC

Genre: AU!, Mature, Revenge;

Summary: Stuck with messy pasts and facing maybe no future at all, two strangers get tangled up in each other's lives. Now, there's no going back.

The blinding lights flooded my senses, overwhelming me in exactly the way I’d craved. Bodies pressed against me from all sides, turning the short journey to the bar claustrophobic. The frigid air outside seemed unimaginable now, the club’s pulsing heat had swallowed reality whole.

I’d never loved crowds, but the future I’d once chosen for myself loomed closer every day, and tonight, my mind needed the noise to drown out its own frantic hum.

Reaching the bar felt like salvation. I claimed a stool in a shadowed corner, clinging to the fragile peace of anonymity—no responsibilities, no expectations. Just me, my drink, and… him. A stranger across the circular bar, his gaze locking onto mine like a magnet.

“Hi! Do you want—” A guy materialized between us, shouting over the music, his attempt at flirting dissolving into the loud music.

“Not interested,” I snapped, not bothering with politeness.

“Wha—?” he stammered, half deafened by the noise.

It took me a moment to realize the stranger from across the bar had come in our direction. Now he stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the intruder, his presence radiating in front of me. “She’s with me,” he declared, his voice slicing through the din as his hand clamped the guy’s shoulder. My breath hitched—it was the first sentence I’d heard clearly all night.

The guy recoiled, startled, and vanished into the crowd. The stranger slid onto the stool beside me, his eyes never leaving mine. There was weight to his stare, a gravity that made my pulse stutter.

“Was he bothering you?” He smiled—a slow, disarming curve of his lips.

“Yes,” I managed, leaning closer, geting bolder by the heat of his proximity. “Thank you.”

God, he was beautiful. Or maybe the strobing lights were warping my judgment. A stray lock of jet-black hair grazed his forehead, and for a heartbeat, I swore I recognized him—but the fog, the shadows, and the fractured glow of the dance floor blurred his features into something hauntingly familiar yet just out of reach.

He tilted toward me, responding to the silent permission in my stillness. “Are you here with friends?”

“Alone,” I said, his breath brushing my neck, sending a hot wave through me.

“Can you… outside?” The crowd erupted into frenetic cheers, swallowing his words.

I stood up, assuming he meant the terrace.

The club sprawled across a rooftop, and now we wove through the mass of dancers, the open air sanctuary just ahead beyond the automated glass doors—towering, faintly iridescent—laid as quieter world.

The terrace breathed under the night sky, untouched by the club’s harsh leds and synthetic fog. Leather couches hugged minimalist tables, their surfaces lit by slender tablets glowing like fireflies. Couples and small groups claimed secluded nooks or lingered at the railings, their laughter blending with the ambient hum of distant traffic. Here, the music softened to a murmur, the bass from inside reduced to a phantom in the distance.

Like in a trance, we went directlly to the railing. The handsome stranger right there behind me, keeping his pace. I took a deep breath and let the cold air fill my lungs while I looked into the distance. My misterious companion was now in a more clearer light and the thought of carring through with this interaction made me anxious enough to hold my stare away from him just a little longer.

“So,” he began, his voice low and amused, though I refused to turn. “Your eyes… this isn’t how I usually start conversations.” A soft laugh escaped him, warm and disarming.

I exhaled once more—short, deliberate—before finally facing him. And there it was: the sharp cut of his jawline, the way his ink-black hair grazing the edge of his eyebrows. Beautiful. The word hissed through my mind. But more unnerving than his looks was the flicker of recognition—a half-remembered face from a dream, or a crowded street months ago. No, I knew him.

Continue...

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Hi! I don’t really know where I’m going with this, but it felt nice to write. Also, english isn’t my first language, so I’m sorry for any typos.

****Everyone mentioned here should be interpreted as fictional characters.****

Chapter 2

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more pirates!

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surprise it's yuri!!!in 2024

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surprise it's yuri!!!in 2024

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Studio Ghibli + Expressive Hair

The character’s hair is independently mobile and responsive to their moods.