#butterfirefly

[wovenstarlight]

Numbers 52 and 56 for the Han brothers 🥺🙏

52. Fake death/presumed dead + 56. Mutual platonic/familial yearning (put that guy in a situation™!) sorry i don't think the yearning got adequately explicitly shown but uh. Here you go!! thank you for the ask :3

(now on AO3!)

Some rituals don't leave a body.

The investigator's voice still rings in Han Yoohyun's ears even now.

Some rituals don't leave a body.

The echoes make it hard to listen to people. The guild officials give him sympathetic looks when they think he isn't paying attention.

What reason would he even have to pay attention to, if-

Some rituals don't leave a body.

He catches himself almost wondering if it would've hurt, but it wouldn't have, because it wouldn't have happened. It didn't happen. No body means no proof means he's still alive.

Somehow. Somewhere.

…Somehow.

Some rituals don't leave a body.

He keeps running a hand over the scars on his forearms, from when he cut Irin's bindings into himself. He bled a lot to get all the inscriptions done.

There was a lot of blood. Not his. None of it his. No blood means no proof means- well, you get it.

Some rituals don't leave a body.

The magical investigators are good at what they do. The one Han Yoohyun talked to seemed quite sure that the summoning circle was constructed correctly, despite the very clear evidence that something went wrong. What sort of demons have a deliberately flawed circle?

What sort of demons kill their summoners and not their sacrifice?

No body. No proof.

Some rituals don't leave a body.

Han Yoohyun is scratching at his scars; better stop that. He knows his brother doesn't like them as they are. He wouldn't want to open them up and make them worse, for whenever he-

Han Yoohyun's ears are ringing. It takes him a moment to realize it's not just an echo. "Yes," he says into his phone. His voice is hoarse; better speak more often, for whenever-

For-

He-

Some rituals don't leave a body.

Han Yoohyun all but falls out of the elevator, stumbles out the door like a drunken man, makes it across the street to the Haeyeon-affiliated cafe there by the grace of the heavens alone. His feet stall in front of the doors for a moment. Irin burns impatiently along his scars, but he can't make himself move.

The doors are frosted glass. He can see someone inside. The only person inside.

Some rituals don't leave a body.

Dark hair. Dark eyes. Dark clothes, perfect to hide any bleeding.

The cuts are scarred over. No bleeding. No proof.

Han Yoohyun can hardly breathe. Irin burns in his skin every minute of every day, but today it hurts.

Gold and black, perched on his shoulders, snake and mongoose and demons through and through. Han Yoojin smiles at him. It's a hollow thing. "Yoohyun-ah," he says.

His voice is hoarse.

Some rituals don't leave a body.

Han Yoojin lays out his terms. No. "Terms" is a generous word. Han Yoojin makes his plea.

It would pass straight through Han Yoohyun's ears, filtered out by the ringing, if he wasn't holding onto every word with a white-knuckled grip.

And still, he doesn't hear it right. He hears, I can help. He hears, I can be useful.

He hears, use me.

The investigator had said something else. The inscriptions for a sacrifice are the same as for a tool.

They were right, Han Yoohyun thinks.

Some rituals don't leave the body.

[miyamiwu]

Happy KaiNess Day to you

OwO is that official now???

I saw some of the leaks, but I don’t understand Japanese so I have no idea what’s going on.

[yersina]

I don't know if you're still open for writing prompts but would you be interested in writing Sung Hyunje being Yoohyun's big brother and not Yoojin? 👀 Like Riette and Noah but worse since it's two crazies instead of one.

I hope you know that the first thing I did after reading through this prompt was whisper “oh my god” in a horrified and yet fascinated tone

~

There’s no love lost between Hyunje and his parents, really. When he decides to stay overseas for an extra two years to get another degree after finishing his bachelor’s and stay away from them for just that slightest bit longer, he knows he’ll find no protest from them even if he’s doing it on their dime.

Looking down at the small boy in his parents’ living room, though, he thinks that maybe he should’ve at least called home once during the five years that he’s been away.

“Who are you?” he asks curiously.

The boy had frozen in the middle of putting away a carton of milk when Hyunje had let himself into the apartment, but now he slams the refrigerator door shut with more force than necessary and scowls at Hyunje with a truly impressive snarl for a child who can’t be older than ten. “Who are you?” he shoots back.

“I asked first.”

“You’re the one who broke in!”

“This was my apartment first.” He doesn’t bother to hide his amusement at the boy’s frustration with his answer. “I used to live here with my parents, but I haven’t been home in a while.”

The boy frowns. “Well, I’ve never seen you before in my life.” Hyunje hums absently and takes a seat at the dining table, sensing that this might take a while. “Hey! Don’t just sit at the table like you didn’t break into my apartment!”

“I live here too.” Hyunje folds his hands together and looks down at the boy. “Are you living here on your own?”

“No,” the boy says venomously, practically radiating hostility. “I live here with my parents.”

“And who are your parents?”

The boy glares at him, obviously reluctant to reveal any more information, but Hyunje just tilts his head and waits patiently. “…Han Eunmi,” he finally grits out. Hyunje crosses his arms. “And Sung Hyunwoo,” he finishes in a mumble.

Ah.

He’s not surprised. Sung Hyunwoo has never been a shining paragon of smart choices. “Sung Hyunwoo is my father as well,” he offers after a moment.

The boy’s eyes grow wide. “We’re brothers?” His eyes very clearly dart to Hyunje’s hair. “Are you sure?”

“Half,” Hyunje corrects. “My mother is Amélie Beaufort.” Not that it matters—he hasn’t seen his mother since he was born. He watches the boy mouth the French name with a look of perplexity. “What’s your name?”

Instantly, the look of suspicion is back. “You tell me yours first.”

He wonders if the boy is this wary of everyone, or if this is special treatment. “Sung Hyunje.”

“You have a Korean name,” the boy notes.

Hyunje raises an eyebrow. “I’m speaking Korean, aren’t I?” The boy rolls his eyes as if to say, Obviously. “I was raised in Korea. My father named me. Stop avoiding my question: what’s your name?”

“I’m not avoiding your question,” the boy mutters, but Hyunje elects to ignore it. The boy’s face goes through a series of increasingly rebellious expressions, but after another beat, he admits, “Han Yoohyun.”

Interesting. Hyunje’s willing to place all his money on Sung Hyunwoo having no idea that Han Yoohyun existed for the first half of the boy’s life. “How old are you?”

“How old are you?” Yoohyun echoes again.

His urge to strangle the child grows ever stronger. “Under ten, I’m assuming?”

The face that Yoohyun pulls is just as telling as his muttered, “How did you know that?”

“Seven?”

“Ew, no. I’m eight. And a half,” Yoohyun stresses. Hyunje just barely refrains from following Yoohyun’s example and rolling his eyes.

“And how long have you been living here?”

“Hey, it’s your turn—” Whatever protest Yoohyun was about to make is cut off by a quiet knock on the door. Both of them freeze at the sound, which makes the sound of the lock clicking open and subsequent creak of the door echo loudly in the silence.

“Hello, Yoohyun-ah? Are you home?”

“Hyung!” Just like that, Yoohyun is out of his chair and sprinting across the room, tackling whoever is in the doorway with his full force.

“Oof,” the person complains, but it’s done with a certain soft fondness that speaks of obvious closeness. “Hi there.”

“I haven’t seen you in forever,” Yoohyun complains, and the way he looks up at the teenager as he closes the door behind himself makes his previous reluctance with Hyunje look like night and day.

“It’s been, like, two days,” the teenager laughs. “You know I can’t come over every day—oh.” A startled gaze meets his own. “Um. Hi.”

“Hello,” Hyunje greets in return, eyeing the newcomer curiously. He’s clearly much older than Yoohyun, so probably not a classmate or even in the same school—perhaps a neighbor? A babysitter?

“…are you… a relative?” the teenager asks tentatively when Hyunje fails to add anything else. “Teacher?”

“He’s my brother,” Yoohyun answers in his stead, nose wrinkling with distaste. “I met him today.”

Surprisingly, the teenager’s expression hardens at that. “Oh? Could I see your ID? Or passport?”

Hyunje suppresses his urge to laugh, but can’t help the smile that trickles onto his face. Protective, he diagnoses, and certainly smarter than the eight year old in the room with them. “Certainly.”

He pulls out his wallet and hands over his ID, taking the opportunity to observe the teenager in closer detail when he steps closer to take the card. He looks younger than Hyunje originally thought, perhaps not even in high school yet, but unfortunately there’s no school crest on his uniform for Hyunje to confirm his guess. “I’m Sung Hyunje. Sung Hyunwoo is my father as well,” he offers while the teenager is scrutinizing the details on his ID and turning it in the light. He’s had to say that particular fact more times in the past ten minutes than he has in the previous ten years.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sung Hyunje-ssi,” the teenager says after another moment, passing the card back to him. “I’m one of Yoohyun’s neighbors. I stop by to check in every now and then to make sure that he’s okay since he’s home alone so often. Sorry for the suspicion.”

“Understandable,” Hyunje says agreeably. “And what’s your name?”

“Han Yoojin.” At Hyunje’s raised eyebrows and pointed look at Yoohyun, he hurries to add, “Uh, no relation. Just a coincidence.”

“I see.”

“Do you know where his—your—parents are?” Yoojin asks abruptly. “I haven’t seen them in ages and I’m worried about Yoohyun.”

“Hyung,” Yoohyun whines. His hands haven’t loosened their grip on Yoojin’s vest this entire time, Hyunje notes. “I told you before: I have money, I can order food on my phone plus there’s a store right down the street, and I know how to get to school.”

Yoojin visibly softens when he turns to look down at Yoohyun. “I know, I know, but you shouldn’t have to stay at home by yourself all the time. It’s not safe.”

“But I have you!” Yoohyun chirps brightly. If Yoojin had softened before, he’s practically melting now. Hyunje wonders if Yoojin’s parents know that he’s so close with their neighbor’s child.

“But I’m not around all the time, Yoohyun-ah.” The admission looks like it physically pains Yoojin to say. Hyunje wants to take their relationship and poke at it. It’s fascinating. “Where have you been, Sung Hyunje-ssi?” he asks, turning his attention back to Hyunje.

“I went to school overseas,” he answers. “I don’t keep in contact with my family.”

Yoojin eyes him with a sizable amount of skepticism. “And are you back in Korea for good?”

Truthfully, Hyunje wasn’t planning on it. He came back to pack up whatever remaining belongings he might’ve still had lying around the apartment and leave Korea entirely after this, but his impulse control has never been terrific and his instincts are telling him to stay right here. “Yes,” he offers cheerfully. “I’ll have to leave momentarily to pack up the rest of my things, but I plan on staying here for the foreseeable future.”

“What?” Yoohyun interjects, scowling up a storm again. “No.”

Hyunje raises an eyebrow at him. “No?”

“No! I don’t know you and I don’t want you to live with me. Go away.”

“Yoohyun-ah…” Yoojin gives him an unreadable look before turning to Yoohyun. “Sung Hyunje-ssi is your brother. Wouldn’t living with him be better than staying here alone?”

“Why can’t you live with me?” Hyunje has never really been susceptible to puppy eyes, but he can tell they’re absolutely devastating on Yoojin. “I like you more.”

“Yoojin-ssi can visit whenever he wants,” Hyunje points out. “In fact, if he wants to stay over some days, he’s welcome to.” With that, he knows that he’s won Yoohyun over. Can be bribed with Yoojin, he notes with satisfaction, and smiles in response to the look Yoojin gives him.

“Really?” Yoohyun gasps. He slaps his hands on the dining table demandingly and leans in close. “You promise?”

For this, Hyunje has no reason to lie. “Of course.”

Yoohyun rocks back on his heels and scrunches his features up in an exaggerated thinking face. Yoojin keeps his attention on Yoohyun, but periodically, Hyunje catches his gaze darting in his direction. He wonders what’s running through the teenager’s mind right now. “Fine,” Yoohyun declares decisively after a few seconds. “You can stay.”

“Thank you,” Hyunje replies magnanimously. Regardless of the opinion of an eight year old, he would’ve stayed, but this makes things easier.

“I’ll… let you two get acquainted then,” Yoojin offers hesitantly, taking a step back towards the door.

Yoohyun immediately pounces in outrage. “What? No, hyung! You’re finally here—let’s watch a movie! Or play a game!”

Yoojin bends down and ruffles the boy’s hair with a reassuring smile. “I’ll come back tomorrow,” he soothes while Yoohyun attempts to comb it back into some semblance of order. “You spend time with Sung Hyunje-ssi today, okay?”

Yoohyun pouts. “Fine.” He sticks out a hand, pinky extended, for Yoojin to shake. “Promise?”

“Promise.” Yoojin links his pinky with Yoohyun and presses their thumbs together. “See you tomorrow, Yoohyun-ah.”

At this, Hyunje stands up. “Let me walk you to the door.”

“The door’s right there—”

“I don’t mind,” Hyunje says with a smile and follows an uneasy Yoojin to the doorway. “It was nice to meet you, Yoojin-ssi. Thank you for looking after Yoohyun in his parents’ absence.”

“Oh, it was no problem, really,” Yoojin hurriedly reassures. “He’s a good kid.”

Hyunje is fairly certain that that is emphatically not true, if Yoohyun’s attitude around Hyunje is anything to go by, but now isn’t the time to be removing Yoojin’s rose-colored glasses. “Would you like compensation for your time? I’m not sure if my father would have offered anything, but I’d be more than happy to.”

Yoojin’s shaking his head before Hyunje even finishes speaking. “No, no, that’s really not necessary.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then I insist you join us for dinner at least once a week.” Yoojin opens his mouth, no doubt to protest again, so Hyunje cuts him off with, “I’m sure Yoohyun would love your company.”

If Yoohyun’s weakness is clearly Yoojin, Yoojin’s is Yoohyun in equal measure. “I’ll have to check with my mom,” Yoojin hedges, eyes flicking behind Hyunje to where Yoohyun is no doubt lurking, but Hyunje already knows his acquiescence is all but guaranteed.

“Of course,” Hyunje allows graciously. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Yoojin-ssi.”

“Right. Sure. Have a good night, Sung Hyunje-ssi.”

Hyunje waves, lingering in the hallway long enough to note which door Yoojin disappears into, before retreating back into the apartment. He’s immediately confronted by an irate eight year old who looks at him with a level of distaste that’s comical for such a small child. “Yoojin-hyung was my friend first—you can’t have him.”

Hyunje hums, ignoring the invitation for a confrontation that Yoohyun clearly wants, and instead sweeps past him to examine the state of the rest of the apartment. “Why not?”

“Yoojin-hyung is mine.”

The first bedroom he reaches is clearly Yoohyun’s, and he only gives the messy contents a cursory glance before moving on. “What if Yoojin-ssi wants to be friends with me? Would you stop him from doing what he wants?”

In between checking the bathroom (only a single toothbrush and towel) and the hallway closet (everything still in the same place as Hyunje remembers from five years ago), he glances at Yoohyun and catches an expression of pure confusion. “Why would he want to be friends with you, though?”

Hyunje moves on to the next bedroom, striding down the hallway with brisk strides that force Yoohyun to jog to keep up with him. “He might,” he says lightly. He doesn’t recognize the bed or its covers when he steps into the room, and the dresser and desk are covered in a thick layer of dust.

“He wouldn’t.” The statement comes with such confidence that Hyunje pauses in his journey to the next room and looks down at Yoohyun. The boy stares up at him defiantly, a deep furrow between his brows.

“Yoojin-ssi is allowed to have other friends besides you,” Hyunje probes curiously.

Yoohyun immediately scowls. “No. He’s my friend.”

“Hm.” Hyunje considers the child in front of him, along with his overwhelming urge to poke the bear. “I think I’ll make him my friend too.”

“No!”

“Yes,” Hyunje replies serenely, continuing through the rest of the apartment now that he’s made his decision. The last bedroom, when he checks, is a study as equally covered in dust as the previous bedroom. He wouldn’t claim to be an expert, but it’s clear that Sung Hyunwoo and Han Eunmi have not lived here in a long time.

Curious, he thinks, that Yoojin’s parents have not bothered to report Yoohyun’s situation to any authorities despite their son’s presumably frequent visits.

“I’ll be staying for a while, Yoohyun-ah,” he says, crouching down to be eye level with the fuming boy, amused by his obvious anger. This isn’t what he expected when he came back to Korea to pay his father one final visit before neatly cutting him out of his life forever, but it’s not an entirely unwelcome surprise. He’s always been fond of mysteries. “Let’s get along, hm?”

In response, Yoohyun marches back to his room and slams the door.

[loosingmoreletters]

Hello! I loved your "measured in the distance" very, very much. Is there any chance of it ever turning into a multi-chapter fic? 👀

Thank you! I’m glad you like the fic!

And hm, probably not? I do have another SCTIR series going that I’d like to update. The ficlet was the result of me tossing ideas in @thenegoteator ‘s DMs but I’m not sure it would make for a good long fic

[butterfirefly]

[pinkinsect]

the fucking mihyapocalypse is happening in my brain

[marcsnuffy]

Thank you for tagging me, @butterfirefly 🫶

I'm kind of a retired ff writer since I haven't finished anything since, like 2022, but some still applies (or applied to me at some point)

No pressure tags ^^ + blank version under read more @blue-thief @sid3buns @bueris

@sinisteryuri @zendersenders @kuro-min

[forechoes]

Title: See You

Fandom: 내가 키운 S급들 - 근서 | S-Classes that I Raised - Geunseo

Relationship: Han Yoohyun & Han Yoojin

Summary:

An encounter with the filial duty addicts renders Han Yoohyun unable to see Han Yoojin, and Han Yoojin unable to see his brother, no matter how close they are, for an entire week.

Thank you so much for the hosts of this big bang for letting me participate! I can write this out a thousand times, and it'll never be enough, but thank you so so much to @sctir and @butterfirefly for making this piece possible. I wouldn't have made it here without you.

And of course, thank you to @buqbite for partnering up with me! I'm honoured and so grateful for the opportunity to have worked with you. Thank you so much for reaching out first, and I'm sorry if I ever stressed you out with how I work.

[boinin]

Tag game

thanks for the tag, @thyandrawrites! You're my favourite nagireo analyst 🤍💜

⟡ rules: answer + tag 9 people you want to get to know better and/or catch up with!

⟡ favourite colour

Changes with the wind. I like royal blue at the moment!

⟡ last song

Alibi feat Rudimental - Ella Henderson.

⟡ last movie

Tangled, on the flight to Japan. I've been told it's a film with vibes I'd enjoy, and go figure, it is! Should have watched it years ago.

⟡ currently reading

Just finished That Time I Got Drunk and Saved a Demon, as well as rereading books 1-9 of Skulduggery Pleasant. Next up is book 10, Resurrection, but I'm taking a little romance-lit breather first before diving back into horror.

⟡ currently watching

Dungeon Meshi! I'm also enjoying Kaiju No. 8.

⟡ currently craving

Caffeine. I avoid it normally, but I drank way too many iced coffees in Japan. Now I wake up at 3am with caffeine withdrawal headaches 🥲Tapering off is gonna suck. halp

⟡ tea or coffee?

I enjoyed decaffeinated versions of both daily, but I'mma go with tea as my preferred option.

⟡ tags

Stalked my notes for suggestions, random no-pressure tags for @butterfirefly @blue-thief @galaxynajma @aconfusedkassandra @voidcoretxt @iwatsukki @redrocketpanda @icarianiscariot @takeunknownroadnow + anyone else who'd like to do this!

[kinomicidiuz]

Grazie @butterfirefly e tutti coloro che mi hanno portato a 5 reblog!

Thank you so much guys!!!

[wovenstarlight]

Hello. I saw your reactions to 388. Merry Christmas 😔 It'll get worse soon. Multiple times. Godspeed.

[miyamiwu]

Hi. I just wanna thank you for posting about Link Click. Because of you, I got to watch such an insanely heart-shattering hair-pulling-inducing awesome show. <3

Woo! Another one bites the dust!

Welcome to the fandom! I've been suffering here in the past two years (imagine waiting two years after that s1 ending 😭)

Let's see how many more mutuals I can pull into Link Click hell before the finale for s2 airs

[yersina]

[skqyukie]

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[butterfirefly]

The Blue Lock Kn8 AU no one asked for

In hindsight, perhaps he should’ve arranged their meeting at a more… opportune moment.

Oh, well, Hyouma thinks with a lazy shrug, opting to study the ends of his hair instead of watching the newest member of their division struggle to rein in his reactions like he's soloing a daikaiju. Not my circus, not my monkeys.

“Welcome to the First Division!” Reo greets loudly from over the sound of the blow dryer. “The newbie, right?” “…” “You probably already know who we are, but just in case you’re a hick, I’m Mikage Reo—yes, that Mikage—vice captain. And this," he says grandly, giving Nagi's mop of white hair an affectionate ruffle, "is my treasure and Japan’s strongest kaiju combatant, Nagi Seishiro.” “You don’t have to say all that all the time though,” Hyouma says drily. “It's okay if you just call him Captain Nagi when you're in a hurry.” The blow dryer shuts off, and Nagi—no longer looking like a waterlogged Borzoi thanks to it—rises from his seat in his best imitation of the world's fastest sloth. He stands there for a second, and Hyouma catches himself wondering—stupidly, naively—if this is the day Nagi Seishiro finally acts the way a proper captain—nay, a proper human—should, but then he lets out this soft, somewhat grating mix of oof and uwek, and plops right back down the stool.

“Can’t… Too tired…” Nagi whines, holding his arms out to Reo pathetically. “Carry meee.”

Hyouma feels the recruit reaching his limit (goodness knows he's reached his faster back when he first met the two), and so in a rare bout of altruism, he takes pity on him and places a hand on his shoulder. What can he say? Sometimes he can be just as pretty on the inside as he is on the outside.

“Right. This is Barou Shouei,” he introduces with faux-formality—gun to his head, he could not muster any genuine respect when his officers are too busy acting like freaks. “He’ll be joining us from now.”

And without further ado, he turns on his heels and ushers Barou back into the hallway.

Protocol demands that they wait for their commanding officers to give their dismissal first before they leave, but Hyouma knows for a fact that Reo has already forgotten about them now that he’s too busy fussing over their captain, and he highly doubts Nagi has even taken note of their presence in the first place. As far as Hyouma’s concerned, protocol was shot dead the moment those two were appointed as their superiors.

Unsurprisingly, Barou explodes once he's deemed they're far enough away to be heard.

“What—” “Yep.” “The actual—” “I know.” “Fu—” “You’ll get used to it,” Hyouma lies with a saccharine smile.

Barou keeps his tirade going all the way to the cafeteria, and Hyouma makes a mental note to steer him away from Zantetsu for as long as possible.

After all, it wouldn’t look good for the First Division if Barou files for a transfer on his very first day.

[neominthe]

Idea belongs to @butterfirefly thank u for the suggestion!