#also side note: I love how casual it is for some asian men to wear lipstick to the point it's just so normal to talk about it like that

[scarefox]

random things Pavel said within a few minutes

[yutahoes]

Play Pretend

pairing : co-worker! Yuta Nakamoto x Reader

summary : You need to go to your family on a holiday and Yuta has no where to go. Will your little pretend turn into something more?

genre : fluff

warning : mention of cigarette (please, it's bad for your health)

word count : 2.1k words

taglist : @ailoveyuta @aiforyuu @yutazen01 @cosmiclatte28 @2-3-t-i (If you want to be tagged, please let me know. 😁)

Lunar New Year. A holiday. But this isn't just a regular holiday. Since it is the start of the year in Asian culture, you have to go home to Jeollanam for a family gathering. You're too old for this. You only go to these gatherings when you are young because of the money. But now that you're a grown-up, this doesn't entice you at all.

Additional to your dilemma were your relatives who kept asking when you're getting married. You don't even have time to date because of your 8-5 office work. How do they expect that you to get married?

You listened to your mom's rambling on the phone, about the importance of family and why you should make it to the family gathering when the door opened, and out came one of your co-workers. Yuta lit a cigarette, even offering you one that made you shake your head. The distraction made you stir away from your mother's voice. "And I found you a date for Valentine's." Your eyes widened in surprise. Oh, it is Valentine's Day on Sunday. But what? She found what? “He’s a doctor in the clinic. Such a charmer, you’ll like him.”

You love your mom, you do. But her tastes in men are really out of this world. Besides, how many times had she been setting you up for a date? And none of it worked up well. “Mom, I have a boyfriend.” You lied through your teeth and you saw how the guy beside you scoffed. “I can’t go to Jeollanam and be back in Seoul on Sunday so I’ll skip this year, hmm?” You whined when she said no. “Eomma…” You called. “But I bought sexy lingerie for him.” Yuta chuckled.

“Yah!” Your mom shouted that startled you, almost dropping your phone. “Bring your boyfriend here in Jeollanam before you get naked for him.” And you swore even the person next room could hear her voice. She dropped the call before you could say anything.

Annoyed, you leaned on the railing of your office rooftop. You just dug a bigger hole for yourself. You need to go home and bring a boyfriend. Yuta laughed offering you the cigarette again before you took one and just placed it between your lips. You’re really not the smoking kind but it seemed tempting, like wanting to transfer your annoyance somewhere.  

"How sexy exactly is that lingerie?" You glared at him that made him chuckle. Yuta had been in your department for months now and you grew a little close to him since you're the same age. But this guy is trouble. A complete rebel who has the reputation of dating different girls weekly. "You should just go home since it's a long weekend."

You realized that unlike you who can only travel for 4 hours to see her family, he's pretty much lonely in Korea. "What are you going to do this holiday?" He answered that he'll probably just stay at home and watch movies all day since some establishments will be closed. "Netflix and chill?"

Yuta chuckled. "Just Netflix." You feigned a shock as he put the cigarette on the ashtray. "I do wish I can go to Osaka just this weekend." He might have missed his family. Working in a foreign land is honestly hard so you kind of understand why Yuta is like this.

You smiled, leaning your back on the railing as you put the unlighted cigarette on the ashtray. "I wish you could." You muttered under your breath. "Maybe I can come with you and escape my family." You said unconsciously that made him look at you.

A lightbulb pinged in your head. You cannot escape them yet you can still save face. "Yuta, do you want to come with me to Jeollanam?" You asked that made him raise an eyebrow at you. "It's harmless. You don't have anything to do tomorrow anyway." You explained. "Just pretend to be my boyfriend then we'll go back on Saturday and you'll have your date on Sunday." He laughed at that. "Help me, Yuta."

"You want to introduce me to your family as your boyfriend?"

"A pretend boyfriend." You corrected.

He stared at you for a while and you're suddenly scared that he might say no. "What if your family looks for me after this pretend date?"

You shook your head. "They wouldn't care."

"Okay. Sure." You were surprised. Did he say yes? "But you'll have to let me see that sexy lingerie." He teased you and made you punch his arm, laughing.

It's still early in the morning yet you're waiting for Yuta in front of the station to start the four-hour ride to Jeollanam. To your surprise, he looked different. Well, it's the first time you saw him outside of the office and just in his casual clothes. He does look handsome. No wonder girls fall for his charm. Evident was how a group of teenagers giggled at the sight of him. Such a player.

You walked to the train first but he took your lavender-colored backpack, slinging it on his shoulder. "What should I call you? Baby? Babe? Darling?" You rolled your eyes at that. You just wanted to sleep, not to be pissed off by Yuta. "Are you sleepy?" You nodded as you sat down on the assigned seat on the train. He guided your head to lay on his shoulder. "Just sleep, darling."

It was a long ride before, something you really hated. But now, you felt as if you were energized because of sleep. When you woke up, you were hugging Yuta's arm and he just chuckled when you sat up straight, avoiding his eyes. The moment the train stopped at your destination, he held your hand so as to not lose you in the crowd. There was a tingly feeling yet you just convinced yourself that Yuta is somewhat different from the office one.

When you reach your home, you give a heavy sigh. "Y/N!" Your mom called then stopped when she saw a certain man beside you. "Yah, Y/N brought a man home." She shouted that made Yuta snicker.

Your family loved Yuta. They had endless questions about him being Japanese and his hobbies. When your dad found out that he likes to hike, he invited him to hike the Jirisan mountain that startled you. He never invited you to hike with him. What's with this sudden bonding?

Other relatives were welcoming to him and he even helped your cousins make dumplings. "Hyung, what do you like about noona?" One of your cousins asked which made you look at him in surprise. What the hell is that question? Why are they embarrassing you like this?

Before you can scold the younger one, Yuta smiled. "Your noona works well and she's pretty." He then looked at you, winking. God, Yuta is so handsome. "Can you pass me the pepper, love?" You only stared at him. What did he just call you? "Love, hey." He called waving a hand in front of you. "Are you alright?"

"Noona, your face is red."

"Do you want to go inside?" One of your aunts asked but you just shook your head. You took the pepper then handed it to Yuta who just gave you a smile. That really enchanting smile. No, it can't be. You shouldn't think too much of that smile.

Even at dinner, the topic on the table is you and Yuta that made you annoyed. They're enjoying this so much. "Yuta, you can sleep in Y/N's room." Your mom claimed that made you choke on the water you were drinking. What? "Why? Didn't you wear that sexy lingerie for him?"

Yuta had to smirk then turned to you. "Did you, love?" And oh my god, he's also enjoying this.

It's not the first time that you're sharing a room with a guy, especially a bed. But you were so nervous when Yuta slipped on the bed next to you. He was chuckling at your embarrassed face that you hit him with your pillow. "We'll go back to Seoul first thing in the morning."

"We can't." He revolted. "I promised abeoji that we're hiking tomorrow morning." Abeoji? He called your dad abeoji? "You know, your family isn't bad. I feel bad that we had to pretend like this." You nodded then pursed your lips. You just lay down on the bed, turning to the side to not face him then covered your body with a blanket. Why is it so cold?

You felt warm when he suddenly hugged you from behind that surprised the hell out of you. "I feel like your mom is just going to peek on the door. Just let me hug you to sleep." He whispered against your ear that sent shivers down your spine. You could hear your heart drumming hard against your chest and you hold your breath, scared that he may hear it. "Love, just go to sleep."

It was the first time that you cannot sleep properly in this place. The room which you had since young and that is all because of Yuta's warmth. You were even awake when his alarm rang so early. "Did I wake you up?" He asked in a sleepy voice then grinned at you. "I'll just prepare for hiking. Go back to sleep." You didn't know if it was a dream but you felt him kiss your forehead.

It was almost 9 in the morning when you went down to eat. Your aunts were giving you side glances even teasing about you and Yuta hugging while sleeping. He is right, they came in to check on you. "He's such a dream, Y/N." One even noted.

He is, isn't he? He's so gentle, so warm. You smiled to yourself. It isn't bad that you brought Yuta here. You just found out a new side of him that is truly endearing.

When they returned from their hike, it was almost afternoon. You can now go back to Seoul but Yuta was the one who begged you to stay for one more night since his body is sore from hiking. To your surprise, your dad told him that they should hike another mountain next time and Yuta agreed. There is a next time? You raised an eyebrow at him when he started carrying your younger cousin on his back. You should have been back to Seoul.

You were quiet the whole time that you said goodbye to your family and Yuta understood that you might have missed them already. But it's not. It's just that Yuta is shaking you that you don't know what to tell him. You don't know what to say. Your family loved him. They'll hate you if you come back next Lunar New Year without Yuta, worse with another guy. And you're annoyed at Yuta who promised your family that he'll come to visit some other time.

Going back to Seoul is an eye-opener. You are not Yuta's girlfriend. This is just a pretense. And your lives are coming back in order once you reach the Seoul Station. You were walking so slow that he had to hold your hand again just to get you out of the train in time. You wanted time to stop. You wanted to stay in Jeollanam for another day and be Yuta's pretend girlfriend.

"Thank you for inviting me to come with you." He said that made you stare at him, nodding. "Your family is really great, Y/N."

You smiled. That's such a compliment. "Yeah, they really like you." You whispered and he smiled. The silence stretched between the two of you, hoping that time could rewind. You hope it's Lunar New Year again. How could you like the holiday that you despised earlier this week?

"Oh." You remembered, seeing the bright red balloons scattered outside the station. It's Valentine's Day. You took something from your bag and handed it to Yuta. "We made that yesterday so I don't know how it would taste." You claimed eyeing the small box of hand-made chocolate.

Yuta chuckled. "You know, in Japan, giving chocolates to a guy is a sign of confession." You glared at him, taking back the chocolate but he just chuckled while shaking his head. "I'll do better on White Day."

"Don't be bothered, it's not…"

"I do hope it is." He stepped forward that you had to step back but he held your waist to pull you closer. "Shall we make this real, Y/N?" You gulp at the question, scared that this might be Yuta teasing you again.

But he smiled which made you weak on your knees. You nodded and his smile grew wider. You felt your breath hitch against your throat. He's handsome. "Dating on Valentine's Day is so cliché." He claimed taking your hand. "Let's just Netflix and Chill." You laughed. Suddenly excited for this real, budding relationship.

Happy Lunar New Year! 🎉🎉

[facets-and-rainbows]

Bloody Fairy Tale (part 2)

Time to dust off my translation of the Shiro story from the light novels and actually start trying to finish it!

 Part 1 is here.

The white car I had driven into the village was parked inside the grounds. I let go of the man’s hand as we reached it.

I’d had the ghouls slash a front tire and a rear tire on my beloved car right from the start. That way, the villagers couldn’t suggest driving somewhere to call for help. All the cars in town had suffered the same sort of attack. And of course, all the phone lines were already cut.

By now, this village was like its own lonely island.

As I was feeling proud of my work, the Asian man muttered something in a language I wasn’t familiar with. “Kyou…kai?” [T/N: “A church?”] He was frowning.

Probably wondering why his chant hadn’t had any effect back there.

Seen from the side, he had a face like a knife blade: sharp, cold, and guarded. I would have to be careful around him.

“I think we lost them,” I told the men calmly, putting on a relieved face.

I was plenty aware that my gorgeous features and the bright white teeth peeking out from behind my smile had a tremendous effect on new people—or rather, on men. I use every resource available to me. What’s wrong with using my femininity a little?

I could either dispose of them somewhere in the commotion, or use my body to entice them—either way, I would have to pretend to be their ally for now.

“All of the villagers are hiding in here. I’ve surrounded the grounds with high-grade holy water, so middle level and lower demons can’t get in. It’s safe.”

“You put up this barrier?” the Asian man asked when I had finished speaking. This time he used proper English.

“Yes.”

“Fujimoto Shirou, Order of the True Cross, Japan Branch,” he said, taking out his license from his inner coat pocket and showing it to me.

So he was Japanese?

I honestly hadn’t expected that.

With his native-like English pronunciation and the way he looked straight at a stranger like he was trying to drill through them with his eyes…well, to put it bluntly, he didn’t seem very Japanese.

When I thought of a Japanese person, I imagined someone who was all cheerful smiles but never looked anyone in the eye, who was always hunched over busily working on something, who had a big camera slung around their neck, and who was surprisingly bad at English—not just the children, but grown adults too.

The thick glasses he was wearing were just about the only thing that matched my mental image…

“Maria LaMorte. Upper second class. I’m an Aria meister.” At any rate, I went ahead and held up the badge that I had hanging at chest level on a gold chain. Showing proof that we were allies would be the most effective way to get him to let his guard down.

“Maria, huh? Hey, have we met somewhere before?”

He lazily waved his index finger back and forth between us.

“Hm? I’m sorry, I don’t recall.” I shook my head.

“That’s weird,” said the man from Japan, rustling a hand through his coarse-looking hair. “I usually make a point of remembering every beautiful lady I see, even if we only met once.” He pulled one corner of his mouth into a crooked grin as he said it. It was the smile of a ladies’ man.

This is a japonés? At this point I’d gone so far beyond exasperation that I was almost impressed.

As I answered him with a “hmph,” the white man joined the conversation, also speaking fluent English.

“May I introduce myself as well, Fujimoto-sempai?”

I observed the second man indifferently.

First off, he was terribly tall. Even I had to crane my neck to look at him.

He was probably an Aria or something, with skin so pale you could see the veins underneath. He had nice features that I suppose could be called handsome, but there was a nervous look about him—maybe it was the dark circles under his eyes.

“I’m his underling Johann, lower second class. It’s a pleasure to meet such a lovely Sister.”

He certainly wasn’t shy about speaking so pretentiously in his clear baritone voice, complete with theatric gestures. And what’s worse, it actually suited him.

If he was lower second class at his age, he must have just become an exorcist. That would explain why his brand-new uniform looked so pitifully out of place on him.

Plus, he seemed weak and sickly.

Nothing to worry about from this one.

I made myself a mental note and turned my gaze back to Fujimoto.

There was one thing I needed to confirm before anything else.

“Do either of you speak Spanish?”

Spanish was the lingua franca in much of South America. The villagers here all used Spanish in their daily lives, and knew practically no English. And that meant things could get dicey if these two spoke any Spanish—but they both shook their heads.

That was a relief. It looked like fortune was on my side.

“But what are members of the Japan branch doing here?”

“It’s a cross-border mission based in international goodwill,” Fujimoto answered my question first, but he was clearly stifling a yawn as he said it.

Johann was eager to add, “We finished our mission without incident and were on our way back to the nearest branch office when we ran out of gas. We walked the rest of the way here! Yes, that’s why we’re so ill-equipped. We’ve already exhausted the bulk of our supplies.”

What an unbelievable stroke of luck. This is perfect, I thought, as I desperately resisted the urge to grin. That would explain why they were so lightly armed.

In that case, it would be child’s play to kill them. As long as I promptly dumped the bodies somewhere near where their mission had been, I could fool the local branch. I’d found a silver lining to all this.

“It’s true what they say—that exorcists are always horribly understaffed. To think a new recruit like me would be sent out to work like a dog…I’m afraid I may have chosen the wrong profession.”

Fujimoto ignored his lackey’s cheerful complaint and asked me, “So what the hell happened to this village?”

He spoke casually, but his sharp gaze never dulled. Beneath his flippant demeanor, the man had no weakness, no openings. I felt like he’d pierce right through my armor if I let my guard down at all—and as I thought that, I casually glanced away from him.

It was dangerous to make too much eye contact with an enemy, especially a sharp enemy like this.

That said, avoiding eye contact too much wasn’t an option either. That was practically begging them to suspect you.

I was confident that I could strike the right balance.

“When I got here this evening, there were already ghouls wandering all over the village.” I put everything I had into playing the part of a good and pious exorcist.

When I bit my lower lip a little in mock bewilderment, I really did start feeling bewildered. I was sure the deep lines forming on my forehead looked surprisingly natural too.

“The villagers were in a terrible panic over being attacked by corpses all of a sudden—everything was completely out of hand. I don’t think I finished setting a barrier around this church and getting everyone inside until about an hour ago.”

I cut off the story there to say, “Anyway, let’s all go inside the church,” and invited them onto my home turf. The more I talked, the more likely they were to find holes in my story. I needed to keep conversation about the village’s condition to a minimum. “The ghouls might attack us again, after all. Can we wait until we’re inside to talk?”

The two men accepted my proposal easily.

I had some awful uninvited guests on my hands, but I was glad they were both men, at least. If they were women, I wouldn’t even have the option to seduce them as a last resort.

The Japanese one especially seemed like a womanizer. As long as I could deal with him somehow, that weakling Johann wouldn’t be a problem.

It’s okay. They’re not a major obstacle, I repeated to myself as I led them to the church and pushed the door open. The door was needlessly heavy, maybe because of its elaborate construction, and Fujimoto casually reached out from behind me to help support it. At this decidedly un-Japanese show of chivalry, I looked back at him over my shoulder and smiled.

“It’s too bad for you two, but…I’m glad you ran out of gas.”

“Well, hearing that from someone as beautiful as you makes the whole walk worth it,” Fujimoto answered, flirtatiously.

I gave him a gentle grin in return.

Deep down, all I could think of was how to entrap this man from Japan.

 At the very least, I had to get rid of these two tonight.

No matter what it took…

[crazy-noonoohead]

So no one told you life was gonna be this way. *CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP!*

I’ve spent the past two months re-watching all of Friends from beginning to end (that’s right, all ten seasons in two months), and I just finished the series a couple of days ago. This was a project I had wanted to take on for a while now (and yes, binge-watching a TV show totally counts as a project, especially one that ran as long as Friends), and thanks to Netflix, I was finally able to do it. Friends is the first TV show that I remember ending. I spent most of my childhood under the assumption that TV shows just kept going until they got abruptly cancelled or the entire cast died of old age, but then the words “series finale” entered my life. Watching it now is a very different experience than watching it when it was on TV, and I have some thoughts.

Things that don’t hold up (I forgive these things because we were a lot less conscious of them in the 90s/early 2000s than we are now, but it’s still important to acknowledge the parts that would be considered offensive if the show had been written in this decade):

*Awful lot of straight, white, cisgender, thin people in New York City. In ten seasons, I think there have been three interracial relationships, and two involved the same person outside of the friend group (Ross and Julie, Joey and Charlie, Ross and Charlie). If I missed any, someone please let me know.

*Toxic masculinity. A lot of the jokes in this show give me an “LOL STRAIGHT MEN DOING SOMETHING FEMININE” vibe now (nap buddies, Chandler calling Joey a woman when he gets into potpourri, Chandler and Joey worrying if they hug too often). If those same jokes were in a script today, I would want them to make fun of the internalized toxic masculinity instead of making fun of the actions themselves. Although, in the episode where Ross freaks out about Ben having a Barbie doll, his side is clearly written as the wrong one, so they get points for that.

*Body shaming jokes. This one gets more of a pass, because even Monica joked about how she used to be overweight (“I WAS the pile of coats!”), but a lot of the comments about her past appearance would be criticized a lot more heavily today. Unfortunately, this is still an issue in media, but I think viewers are more likely to call TV shows out on it now than we were then.

*Ross’ jealous, controlling tendencies were written as funny quirks. Now I know to stay away from people who have those qualities as strongly as Ross does. That’s not endearing. That leads to unhealthy relationships.

*Trigger warning: Sexual assault.    They completely made light of the fact that Joey’s tailor sexually assaulted him for most of his life. While I admit I still laughed at the “That’s not how they do pants!” line, I don’t think a network would even dream of having that happen to any of the women on the show. Also, Paolo didn’t “make a move on” Phoebe. What he did was harassment.

*Semi-related to the last one, there was the occasional comment about characters liking certain celebrities who were later revealed to have sexually harassed and/or assaulted people. I 100% don’t fault the writers for this because they couldn’t have known, but watching now, with that knowledge, I definitely had some “...Oh” moments. Of course now I can’t think of any examples, but I know I’ve gotten that feeling a few times.

*With the exception of Rachel, everyone starts the show with stable jobs and enough financial security to live independently in nice apartments in their mid/late 20s. REALLY? Maybe that was easier in the 90s, but it wasn’t THAT easy. I’m now older than these characters were at the beginning of the series, and very few of my friends have moved out of their parents’ houses. Our 20s aren’t as grown up as we used to think.

Things that totally still hold up:

*Everyone’s comedic timing! They may not be the greatest, most versatile actors ever (I still see their Friends characters in other roles they’ve played), but they’re still very funny and they delivered their lines and reactions in just the right ways.

*The bittersweet, mostly-feel-good, classic sitcom ending. Its series finale had every quality most people would expect and want, and while most of my favorite series finales don’t wrap everything up neatly, this one did so in a good, effective way. I do have that “one coupling in a TV friend group is enough” mindset, and I even thought that when I first watched the finale at 13, but I still wasn’t bothered by Rachel getting off the plane. Although, I cared more that it would be easier for Ross to see Emma than I did about his relationship with Rachel.

*Their willingness not to shy away from some of the more serious life events, obviously aside from the one I mentioned earlier in this note. The best example is when Monica and Chandler found out they probably couldn’t have children. This was one of the only times Chandler didn’t try to lighten the mood with a joke, because it was a big deal and had to be treated as such. Showing the difficulty of the adoption process added to this, because while I may not have personal experience in the matter (yet), I know it’s not easy.

*Alternatively, finding the humor in serious situations. Phoebe had a very disturbing past, but the way she talked about it so casually is still funny. No one’s laughing at her mom’s death (hopefully), but the show allows us to laugh at her willingness to joke about it...and use it to guilt-trip people into giving her what she wants.

*How quickly Chandler accepted his dad after going to his show. I don’t think his issues were ever with his dad being gay, but more that he left, and the person he left for also happened to be a man. Yes, there were jokes about his dad wearing dresses in public, but of course that bothered him as a child, because kids in elementary and middle school are mean and used that to make fun of him. Allowing himself to move past that and reconnect with his dad after years of not speaking was a great moment in the series, and again, wasn’t played as a joke. Something funny probably happened immediately after that, but the moment itself was taken seriously.

*So many things are still relatable. The struggles of finding a job, eventually finding a new job you really love, finding meaningful romantic relationships (for those of you who are interested in those), etc. will always be relevant. Watching Rachel’s journey from someone who still relied on her parents’ money to someone with enough financial independence has a lot more meaning to me now than it did when the show first aired.

*Going back to Ross being jealous and controlling, I like that Rachel got mad and called him out instead of immediately forgiving him because it meant that he cares about her. His actions may have made the audience laugh, but he still didn’t get away with it.

*Despite the lack of non-white characters, the few interracial relationships just were. Julie happened to be Asian and Charlie happened to be black, and no one made a thing out of it.

*All six characters have both flattering and not so flattering qualities, and you never doubt that they genuinely care about each other. I don’t think I need to elaborate any more.

Other random thoughts:

*I’m definitely the most like Phoebe, but I have Chandler’s sarcastic humor, as well as some aspects of Monica in the way I like some things organized.

*I want a CD of all of Phoebe’s songs. “Smelly Cat” is still better than the entire score to [show title redacted].

*A lot of cool celebrity cameos/guest stars, most of which are people I wouldn’t start recognizing until years later! (Hank Azaria, Jane Lynch, Billy Crystal, Robin Williams, Ellen Pompeo, Ron Glass, Mae Whitman, and Danny DeVito, to name a few.)*I never watched Mad About You, but now that I know Ursula is a character on that show, I appreciate the cross-over.

*There’s a fan theory that Ross has Asperger’s, and I’m into it.

*Rachel ordering the lobster on her date with Joey was definitely a shout-out to “He’s her lobster” back in the second season, her getting sick from what she thought was the lobster was an indication that they didn’t belong together, and her getting sick right before she has an affair with him in the alternate universe episode proves that even more (shout-out to my friend Tracy for bringing that last part to my attention), and nothing will convince me otherwise.

*To help myself ease out of the withdrawal, I started watching Joey. It’s not as bad as I remember people saying it was, but...it’s not that good. With the exception of Joey, the characters are pretty one-dimensional, and a lot of the jokes feel forced. The fact that I only remembered two things from the show (memorizing a monologue but performing it at the wrong play, and presenting an award to the wrong person YEARS BEFORE STEVE HARVEY DID IT) says a lot about its quality. As much as I love Joey, I think the wrong friend got the spin-off. The one I’d really like to see is about Phoebe’s life before she met the rest of the group. Just like she always does, she’d be able to find the humor even in the toughest of times, and I think it would be a very interesting story.

*I still hear, “we’d come up to poop in your ear” instead of, “your week, your month, or even your year,” despite knowing better.

*They were most definitely, without a single doubt, on a break.

So parts of Friends didn’t age well, but 10-20 years from now, we’ll be saying the same thing about beloved TV shows from this decade. And in my personal opinion, the parts that did age well outweigh the parts that didn’t, which is why I love it just as much now as I did back then. I’m thrilled that after all these years, it’s still there for me, like it’s been there before.

[portfolio-]

Note: I am back! Hi!!!

I apologize for the lack of updates. (I swear, I'll find time. I just need some breather from class presentations and another set of exams this month). I just got through my examination week (It was grueling, don't ask). Anyway, this is something I started before I dove headfirst to my textbooks, and I only got to finish it now. Decided to push for it after watching that alternate universe fan made video of KGE from Memories of the Sword with the GY's scenes in the historical part of Goblin. I NEED THEM TO DO A SAGUEK DRAMA GODS PLEASE.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this lengthy (for me) alternate universe piece.

Title: To Plant Seeds on Hallowed Ground

Synopsis: Because life is short and cruel, and love usually suffers.

Also, an alternate take on their first life.

Also available in Archive of Our Own and Asian Fanfics! :)

*Hyeon means light. Hyeon is also Ji Eun Tak.

Before, Kim Shin only dreamed of victory.

Mornings would breath fire in the sky, its heat unforgiving to acres of field in his vision. Their family land spanned to the horizon, stalks flailing even beyond his tall frame. Sweat trickled down the lines of his back, carved by consistent hard work and hours under the sun. The crick in his neck never faded, but he didn’t mind the soreness of his body. The fruits of his labor fed his family and their men.

He would finish helping in the land as morning gave way to afternoon, exchanging his tools with his sword. His father had expected much from him. Kim Shin was trained to wield the sword from the moment he could lift it from the ground, and they hand been one ever since.

He was twelve when he was taken by his father from the comforts of their estate. He returned after half a decade, to meet his sister. (He cradled her and felt that she was destined from greatness, but greatness in this lifetime was often marred with tragedy. He feared for her, vowing to train to protect her.

He didn’t foresee that he was destined for greatness as well.)

--

He woke to the sound of humming that enveloped the quietness of a small shack.

His first impulse was to grab the knife he kept at a hidden pocket by his thigh, but the cloth was rough against his skin. He was naked beneath the thin covers.

“Don’t move, ahjusshi.”

His eyes darted to the direction of the voice, and was met by a small body swimming in brown. The voice bore a hint of playfulness, and it momentarily reminded him of Sun. The tenseness of his muscles almost loosened, but the soldier in him wouldn’t relax.

“Will you slit my throat if I do?” He dared to ask, and he was answered by a huff in disbelief.

“Your wounds would sooner kill you than me.”

He willed his head to turn, even if pain shot from his spine to the base of his head. His joined cracked with his movement, and he squinted as his narrowed eyes met the speaker’s.

The first thing he noticed was her fingers, thin, long, reddened and scarred – a laborer’s hands, which was quite a surprise from the boldness in the tone of her voice. The hands were connected to the slight curve of her wrist, to slender arms, the gentle slope of cotton-covered shoulders, rounded cheeks, and sharp eyes. She watched him as he observed her, as if calculating the risk of either of them attacking the other.

She looked down at the poultice and makeshift bandages. His eyes followed her movements.

She crushed leaves into paste expertly, granules ground into fine cream. One of the strips of the cloth was dipped, and she moved to his side. It was then that he noticed the gashes on his abdomen, sown and approximated just barely, and its depth made him wonder how come he was alive.

“My men?”

“Alive.”

“The enemy?”

“Dead, burning.”

“Why did you not leave me to my men?”

“Because they know nothing about stopping you from bleeding to death. Halmeoni won’t take chances.”

The ease by which she pushed his larger frame was a testament of her strength, and he continued to watch as she expertly bound his abdomen and torso. Her hands barely brushed his exposed skin.

She finished in a span of few minutes. She grabbed her paraphernalia, making her way to the door.

“What’s your name?”

She paused, gazing at him with wary eyes. Turning back, a sinking feeling gripped Kim Shin.

“Hyeon.”

Her voice was barely a whisper, but Kim Shin was quite desperate for anything that he heard.

--

He rested his head on the tree trunk, letting its roots cradle him as he fed it blood in turn. His sides were burning with every move, vessels straining to spasm and muscles broken and gaping. He wondered if this was death, and if this was payment for his cruelty.

He was a young general, and he was tipping over the edge of hell.

From a distance, the battle continued. Smoke disguised the glint of metal from well-polished swords. Carcasses of men and livestock swam on mud and life. Shame bubbled from his chest, and blood-tinged vomit sprung from his pale lips. It hurt to move. It hurt to breath. He felt like his body was dipped halfway through the lake of death.

He heard footsteps scurrying against the wet carpet of leaves, and wondered if it was the grim reaper coming for him.

A hand hauled him from his lying position. He could feel breaths brushing his blood-soaked hair, his painful neck. Another hand – familiar, large, warm – supported his back as the other hand moved away, and he whimpered.

The haze was heavy in his mind, but he could feel his lips moving as he begged for the other hand to return. He felt them on his side, against his wound, and he struggled to open his eyes.

A looming figure of pale skin and thin limbs were holding him together before the last vestiges of consciousness left him.

He shot up from the mattress, and his sudden movement was followed by a sharp pain. In his surprise, he was unable to stop the groan that escaped his lips.

The door to his room opened in a flash.

The girl – Hyeon -- stepped inside, eyes wide and blinking. Her hair was in a disarray and her clothes were rumpled. Kim Shin realized that she was just by his door, too light into her sleep.

She walked towards him and dropped to her knees, her hands on his injury. There was no blood streaking his wrappings, and he heard her sigh of relief.

For a moment, she appeared more human versus the stiff, methodical apprentice she was when he first woke.

“I told you, no sudden movements.” She glared at him, her voice lace with irritation.

“I apologize if my nightmares are inconvenient for you,” he bit back, the wound beginning to throb inwardly.

She must have seen a hint of pain in his face – the ticking of his jaw, perspiration on his forehead, his constricting pupils – that caused her glare to soften into a searching look.

She disappeared from view, only to return with a fresh pot of tea. She served him a cup, mumbling an apology.

“Your nightmares are not an inconvenience. I…we just fixed you.”

Her confession reminded her of a mistaken child – the way his sister would throw a tantrum and deflate at the sight of their father – and a hint of smile threatened to overcome his lips.

“Who brought me to you?”

“Your man – Woo-Sik. He knew halmeoni. He brings food in exchange of medicine.”

“Do you know who I am?”

“Who doesn’t know you, General?”

“And you dare to speak to me like this?”

“I am stronger and faster than you think.”

He remembered his dream – the savior, the angel. It was no dream.

Gratitude spilled from his lips, and he was rewarded with a bright smile.

Kim Shin couldn’t look away.

--

Woo-Sik was his man’s father, but his loyalty had been with Kim Shin from the moment he was bestowed to him as his second in command.

“The old woman knows what she’s doing and knows not to tell.”

“Father would put the gods into shame with his wrath if word reaches him.”

It was a fortnight after the day he woke. His body was still sore, but the wound had closed well enough. The girl – Hyeon – told her not to strain himself, and would dare to tighten the bindings should he dare to roll from his mattress by even an inch.

She would even punch his arm to make a point.

Two bottles of fermented drink appeared between them. The men both looked at the newcomer.

“Hyeon, drink with us.”

The woman shook her head. “I have to tend to our new herbs. You drink your weight because you’re off to battle soon.”

A sinking feeling made Kim Shin’s stomach drop. He took one of the new bottle and drank unceremoniously.

“You will shrivel your insides with that, General,” Hyeon warned.

Kim Shin shrugged, “I will be off to battle, just like Hyeon said. This may be the last I drink.”

“Surely it won’t be,” Woo-sik asserted, but his hands reached for his own bottle. “You’ll go to battle, win a war, win a noblewoman.”

His eyes couldn’t help but turn to Hyeon, who was casually leaning behind them. Her face was devoid of any trace of emotion, and anger began simmering in his chest. She was casually leaning at some block of wood, not even daring to catch his eye.

He couldn’t determine if he was angry at him for feeling for a child or if he was angry at her for not even caring.

--

He was off to war again after seven days.

He stood in the middle of the room in his undergarments, taking everything into memory. The mattress. The peeling paint. The thin walls. The worn wood. The sound of crickets. The quiet blowing of morning air. It had been the longest of his rests in his lifetime to date, and he wished he could extend his stay even for one more day.

The door slid open, and Hyeon peered at him from beyond the threshold.

“Woo-sik is arriving soon,” she reminded him, crossing the distance between them. She took his armor from the ground, coaxing his hands to take them.

An unspoken understanding was exchanged between them as she helped him wear his armor. Kim Shin would place the parts where they were meant to be, and Hyeon would tie and put the pieces together. Her hands, once strong and certain, were gentle and slightly trembling as she finished.

“How young are you, Hyeon?” Kim Shin asked.

“Seventeen.”

In his head, he counted. A decade’s worth of age gap seemed so small compared to the distance about to lie between them.

“Hyeon,” he called her again.

Her eyes spoke of volumes of emotions she would not dare to speak, her lips pursed to a thin line. Of course, she would think of decorum right now. She is Hyeon – strong but fragile, crass but polite, harsh but kind – a well of contradictions he would dive into without hesitation.

“I will not marry a noblewoman,” Kim Shin declared. “I would be a slave of war and of the crown.”

“Of course,” a slight curl appeared on the corner of her lips.

“I would beg the king – the gods – not to be bound to any woman or family.”

His hands cupped her face – touching her skin for the first time. Its softness would fuel his dreams in the spare minutes he could sleep when he finally went to battle.

“Do you understand?” It is you. It will be you. It will always be you.

Hyeon brushed the bottom of his eye with her thumb, and nodded.

--

Five winters passed before Kim Shin finally returned.

He rode his horse to the field that circled the old shack that he considered home (not even guilt from not seeing his sister could compare), and exhilaration pulsated in his veins as he neared it. His first war had just ended, and he escaped the celebrations. He rode through the day, unmindful of his disgusting appearance as he let the breeze of spring blow on his dirt-streaked face.

He arrived just as the sun was about to set.

He left his horse at the back of the shack, tying it to the largest pole.

“She is by the buckwheat’s.”

The familiar voice of Hyeon’s master – halmeoni, as they all called her – answered his question. The old woman was looking at him with searching eyes, somehow unnerving him. To his surprise, the old woman’s eyes watered.

“You have more battles to fight, General, but for now you must rest. Welcome home.”

She passed him a head of cabbage before disappearing to the well-worn path to her home.

Placing the vegetable in front of the shack’s door, he walked down his own path.

The first he saw of her was her hair, which was braided to her waist as her hand played with her wooden sword. She was bending down, catching the last of the sunlight in her skin. She was swimming in her light colored, well-worn clothes, but she still made the most beautiful sight.

“Hyeon.”

He saw her shoulders stiffened, and knew that she could recognize him. Her wooden sword was dropped to the ground, and she slowly turned her head to the direction of his voice.

Everything about her was so familiar and so different.

He readily caught her as she came to him, arms wrapping on his neck so tight. He was out of breath, but he didn’t care. She smelled clean and fresh, and he pulled back because he didn’t even wash but she held on to him. She held on to him.

They didn’t separate until the moon was high in the sky.

--

He washed his battle worn body as she prepared food, her humming and the smells of the boiling soup making his stomach growl.

He approached her, chest glistening with water from his bath as he embraced her from behind. He felt the fluttering of her heart against his nakedness, which had him smirking.

“I see you’ve learned more recipes when I was away.”

“I have more time in my hands instead of saving soldiers from the brink of death.”

He dropped a kiss on her neck, and she shuddered.

“Stop, or I’ll burn dinner.”

“I’ll have you for dinner.”

His bluntness surprised her, evident by the sudden turning of her head. If he were any normal man, she would have hit his head.

“Hands off, general. I want real food.” She bit back teasingly.

Chuckling, he moved away, opting to set the table with her mere setting. He sat at the head of the table, patiently waiting as she finished the last of the cooking.

When she sat on his right and reached for hand, he wondered if there is a lifetime when they could freely dine together with small bodies that were half-him, half-her.

--

She wasn’t a child anymore.

That night, she came to him with a confidence that could be only gained with a degree of self-assurance. With ease, she peeled off the cotton top covering her slim frame, loosening the ties that hold her skirt against her body. She stood in front of him, bare and bruised but still the most glorious thing his eyes set upon on. Her footsteps hit the mattress with certainty, her legs unshaken by the implications of her actions. When she was close enough, without hesitation, he pulled her against his chest.

(His kiss was searing, coming to her with a thundering force. He took control with the first contact, hunger undulated after waiting for her. He had won wars for the crown, but this – this moment – this is the definition of victory. This is the crashing of souls, the melding of fates, the spark that turned to flame.)

She kissed him with a fervor he did not expect, limbs clutching him with possessiveness. She fought his tongue with her own, unafraid to crash her teeth with his. She bit his lower lip when he tried to overcome her. She pressed on him, uncaring about the bandages that circled his torso. He could feel a gash threatening to reopen, but her touches served as balm to his war-torn body.

(She was trying to get her message across. She wasn’t his to devour; it was her hunger that had to be satiated, and she is the greatest price he would gain.)

Her lips familiarized every inch of his skin she could reach, and he could not control the moan she elicited from him. Her chest rumbled in silent laughter upon hearing his reaction, her hardened nipples brushing against his chest. Her abdominal muscles tightened as he felt her, and the pooling warmth on his navel couldn’t be denied anymore.

He rolled them over, his arms caging her smaller ones beneath him. His mouth took her left breast, his tongue playing with the marbled nipple. Her hands caught his hair, pulling on them as he sucked feverishly. His finger reached for her lower lips, relishing the feel of her wet folds as they explored the new territory. In and out, his finger acquainted with the walls of her womanhood.  He pressed on her clit, and her answering moan was music to his ears.

His eyes gazed on her face, watching her on the verge of coming undone.

Raising his body, his manhood entered her waiting lips.

Her walls molded into him in an embrace. Her trembling hands gripped on his thigh, and he enclosed them on his own.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice gruff in lust.

The wide-eyed innocence that he once associated in her was gone, replaced by the veil of desire.

He moved, thrusting on her unhesitatingly. His eyes remained on hers, drawn to her every shuddering breath and every sound of pleasure coming from her slightly swollen lips. Sweat glistened against their skin, and a drop from his forehead fell in the middle of her chest, rolling down the slope of her neck. With the moonlight streaming from the thinnest of slits of the wall, she shone. She was vibrant.

He lunged at her again, his movements faster and harder. Her cry resonated against the walls of the makeshift haven as his fingers bruised her hips. He grunted as his buttocks hit her thighs, lowering his body against hers as he gained speed. He remembered the first time he rode to battle, and the exhilaration bursting from within the cages of his ribs at that time would never compare.

In a thrust, they came almost simultaneously.

His head fell on her chest as his seed mingled with her own. Her frantic heartbeats resonated against her ear, and the thumping from their chests connected seamlessly in his head. He attempted to move by her side, but her hands stopped him, one of her legs looping over his lower back. He was still inside her, but the warmth washing within him was lulling him not to move.

So they didn’t.

--

The lack of warmth by his side woke him.

The sun was yet to meet the sky, but he could easily see the faint shadow of her figure from the partly opened door. He sat quietly, pushing the blanket off his body as he crawled to her sitting form. He rested his chin on her shoulder, kissing the back of her ear. She shuddered against him, and she let herself melt on his waiting arms.

“Rumor has it that the king lost the favor of the gods.”

It was a conversation he didn’t want to have, but it was inevitable. (Another war – now with him and the king on different sides – would be inevitable).

“He hasn’t. Park Jeong Hoon is hindering the favor.”

“And you? Have you been hindering that favor as well?”

“I fight wars for the crown to preserve the king’s favor, and to fulfill promises to the old one.”

She took his right hand to both of hers, tracing invisible scars incurred in the past few years. “Sometimes, I wish you wouldn’t.”

“You and her majesty share the same sentiments.”

Hyeon laughed in amusement, resting her head back against his shoulder. “How scandalous of you to compare me to a queen.”

“She is still my sister, but you are my queen.”

Mischievous eyes twinkled as she caught his own, “You are committing a grievous crime, general.”

“For you, I will,” he answered, capturing her lips once more as he pulled their bodies down.

--

By sunset the next day, they exchanged vows across bowls of clean water. He wore the simplest of his garments, while she her best one. They vowed, the moon and stars as witnesses.

(And the goddess of fertility, watching from the edge of the field, smiling despite her tears).

--

“War is brewing.”

It was their third day together. The two remained inside the room, opting to move outside only for sustenance and a bit of air. They ran down the fields on early mornings, rolling over proudly standing plants as they ravished each other. Food would appear in front of the shack upon their return, and both had suspicions on who is making their reunion a bit easier. They spent afternoons lying naked on the mattress, familiarizing themselves with the maps of scars on their own skin, or the landmarks of the moles on their back, or the slopes that their hands were inclined to hold. They savored the intimacy that they always longed for.

But at the end of it all, reality would always come knocking at the door.

“I wish I could keep you here, but I have no name to hold you in place.”

They were at their sides, Kim Shin with his hand on her waist and Hyeon with hers on the junction of his neck and face.

“I apologize for giving you mine without any bearing.”

“It’s not our fault for living at this time.”

Monents passed, and Hyeon continued with her ministrations, her other fingers joining. Her fingerpads brushed against the angles of her lover’s – husband’s – face. “Why are you tracing my face?”

“I have a feeling that you will be missing from me for a long time.” Hyeon sighed, as if in defeat. “Even then, I’d still love you.”

Kim Shin reached for her neck, his lips dropping a kiss on her forehead. Somehow, her sentiments echoed his, and he had to breath to stop the prickling beneath his eyelids.

“And I, you.”

--

(The last time Hyeon saw her halmeoni was when she first learned of the new life growing inside her.

The older woman gave her one look, reaching for a concoction from the depths of her skirt. “For the lightheadedness and vomiting. It is safe for the child.”

She almost dropped the bottle had the older woman failed to hold her hand.

She felt it first a fortnight ago, when tiredness would assault her in the middle of the day and she would lose her appetite. She forced herself to eat, because she couldn’t afford to be sick. News about the king and his general continued to be spread across provinces, and she had to be strong for him.

Now, she had to be strong for them.

The older woman was smiling at her fondly, “Make a beautiful family someday.”)

--

She knew it was the end when Park Jeong Hoon knocked on her door.

She struggled, fighting some soldiers he brought fiercely. She was still graceful and quick on her feet, but when the man dared to pierce her abdomen with a sword, she froze.

The sickening sound of Park Jeong Hoon’s laugh was the last she heard before losing consciousness.

--

The arrow pierced her chest, the same manner her sister’s heart shattered.

Even with the sword embedded in his chest, his shaking limbs carried his weakening body to her. He failed to reach her as her knees buckled and hit the ground.

Even with his blurring vision, he didn’t miss another growing patch of red coming from her skirt.

She isn’t, is she?

His questioning gaze was answered by her mouthed apology.

Splintered bones continued to crush his chest as he finally stumbled in front of her. Both of their hands were cold, and he attempted to give her (them) a bit of warmth, the only thing he could provide his family.

“I’m so sorry.”

--

(No one spoke of the fallen general nor the woman, but the goddess of fertility lit them candles, knowing that their story will unfold once more.

And so, she will wait for some of her favorite children to return.)