#i even ordered special yarn for it!

[clamorybus]

i haven't cried since saturday but a lot of little things have made me misty-eyed. like our birthdays are in a month and a half; ever since my parents moved out her and pa's house she gave us phone calls on our birthdays. and for the first time in my life i'm not gonna hear her voice on my birthday

[uncanny-tranny]

Crochet update: guess who has two thumbs and went through a skein he just bought in three hours and still isn't finished yet (totally not me)

[beforeimdeceased]

ENTANGLED IN YOU— WHEN WILL MY LIFE BEGIN?

ways to help, daily click, do not support neil

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this actually isn’t the best but i’ll post it now and edit it later :D let me know what you think

tags: @astralnymphh

masterlist

…

once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who lived a castle…

okay maybe it was an abandoned apartment complex, and maybe she wasn’t a princess, but that isn’t the point of our story. our story focuses on how fate is inescapable.

“flower! let me up.” the doctor calls. you look outside of your broken bedroom window and quickly rush to the main room where there is a lever. you then, twist it with all your might. this triggers a series of reactions going downward which opens a space in the wall for the doctor to walk up.

this was a daily routine. doctor would go out and forage for supplies and food while you tidied up your “tower” as you called it. it wasn’t much but it was home and helped protect you from the outside world.

many years ago an outbreak occurred causing a sickness in the people of the world. doctor says it was terrifying to see. disfigured faces as a parasitic virus took over their minds.

but you were special.

you were born a few years later in a hospital doctor had been working in at the time. your mother had been seeing doctor for months and she was finally ready to deliver you. then suddenly, there was a break in. the infected monsters stormed through and bit your mother as you were being born. in a panic, doctor wrapped you up, ran as fast as she could until she found this abandoned building, and promised to always keep you safe.

she waited to see if the affects of the bite were passed onto you, and gratefully reveled in the fact that they did not. she still continued to watch you carefully. just in case. then, one day while cleaning up, she turned her head for a moment and you’d been scratched by an infected that had found its way inside the building.

you wailed and so did she before she realized that you were not turning. days began to pass and you still hadn’t turned. you were completely fine other than a small scratch on the back of your neck.

doctor rapidly got to work. after running various tests she used your blood to create a cure. it’s temporary against the infection, but it helps keep it from doing extensive damage. it gave those who were previously hopeless a reason to be hopeful.

she was excited about the results and prepared to share them with the world.

once she’d gotten in touch with the others in her field, they said in order to make a viable cure for everyone you would have to die, which she did not agree with.

so she rushed back to the tower, closed the doors, and swore to never let you leave out of fear that others would hurt you. even after you’d grown older. even after a cure had been fashioned years later from a mystery flower. even after the apocalypse had been declared over and it was semi safe to leave again. you would never leave. and she was confident that you’d never try to, until…

“are you excited for you birthday tomorrow, flower?” doctor asks as she walks into the lounge area. you were sat in the corner knitting a scarf out of yarn you’d fashioned from leaves. “i am actually. i’m more excited about the possibility of-“

“leaving to see the festival?” she finishes your sentence. you huff. “doctor, please. i look outside of my window and i see people laughing and lights shining just down the mountain. i know that a settlement is out there. have you still not checked it out?”

“no i haven’t checked it out and i’m not going to. i told you it’s probably fires started to control a large population of infected.” her tone is stern. she has checked already, it is a settlement.

you slump down in a chair next to her, hands clasped together. bottom lip sticking out. “please. please! atleast promise you’ll check on your next trip.”

she looks over at your face and smiles. “fine. we’re running out of supplies anyway. i’ll check on my trip tommorow, would that make you happy?”

“very.” you respond, smiling.

♡₊˚ 🦢・₊✧

a loud clanking is heard from underneath the tower followed by a string of curses. “doctor?” you call out. your heart begins to race. what if she’s hurt again and she needs help? or more of the cure? you quickly turn the knob and listen as her footsteps get closer.

then you hear her speak and it is definitely not doctor. you hide behind the entrance, a frying pan in hand as it was the closest thing to you. you watch as the woman steps up and looks around. breathing heavily with dirt all over her. before she can turn around, you knock her hard on her head.

[palajae]

love me (k)not. | 1k special

PAIRING ▸ niki x reader, slight jungwon x reader

GENRE ▸ soulmate! au, string of fate! au, photographer! au, childhood-friends-to-lovers, romance, fluff, angst, humor, SLOW BURN

WORD COUNT▸ 15.6k

SUMMARY ▸ yes, niki can see the red string of fate that connects two people together. and no, he can’t just tell people who their soulmate is. you’re his only friend but there’s one problem and he can see it quite clearly (and literally)- your string isn’t connected to his. 

AKA a reality check that niki loves you, no matter what the universe says. 

AN/NOTES ▸ mentions of bullying, slight violence, child experimentation, food, drinking/alcohol (but only with an aged up riki and reader!!), kissing, jungwon being a jerk for a little :(

hi guys did anyone miss me :) it’s been a long ride but due to popular request for longer oneshots here is a very long one that i basically died over! i really hope you guys enjoy it as i worked super hard, and thank you guys again for 1k (more like 1.2k now but) ily 🩷

i. one string, two strings, red strings, new strings. 

he doesn’t know when it really started. it simply happened one cloudy afternoon. and it’s not like the subject was completely foreign to riki, oh no, he had definitely heard tales from older people about the topic. 

unfortunately for him, it just had to be when he was a mere seven year old. ‘it’ meaning the delicate and thin red strings— almost identical to the yarn his grandma would use for knitting—appearing all around him, encasing him in a world like a spy in a laser trap trying to escape with their precious treasure. 

tiny riki frowned, glancing around while still having a tight grip on his mother’s hand in order not to get lost in the vast mall they were currently shopping at. his attention was suddenly caught, eyes focusing on the larger hand he was still holding onto. more specifically, the pinky finger of his mother’s right hand. 

a perfect little knot wrapped around her smallest finger. 

his eyes followed the string, but it traveled quite far through the crowd of people and he eventually gave up, the string pulling farther than he thought. later would he really figure out the meaning of this, but at the time, he simply tugged on his mother’s shirt, attracting her attention. she glanced down, answering her child with a hum. 

cautiously, riki took a quick peek around at the passerby’s, confirming what he saw on what seemed to be about everyone else’s hands as well, almost getting lost in the maze of the red before his eyes flicked up to her. 

“what are the red strings for?”

his mother raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to hear better. “what? repeat what you said, riki.”

he stood up straighter, clearing his throat. “i said, what are the red strings on everyone’s hand for?”

riki’s mother paused, a train of thoughts running through her head. once an answer finally appeared, she attempted to calm her suddenly racing heart before squatting down and leaning even closer to her son. she looked him carefully in the eye, and riki can still remember the movement of her lips speaking clearly and slowly, the words that left her lips that day and changed his life forever. 

“just like the ones grandpa told you about?”

he remembers exactly what he responded back with. 

“yes.”

they went to the doctors eventually for assistance. riki now knows it would’ve been inevitable, and perhaps earlier was better than later. 

the doctor returned back with what seemed like an impossible diagnosis: riki can see people’s red strings of fate.

their soulmate connections. 

then came the questions, tests, experiments. it lasted for a long time in little riki’s head, and it was indeed a long time for a child. several years- five to be exact. five years spent in a lab, all in solitude, to be kept under control and monitored over time. 

riki remembers the overwhelming amount of people. people like the scientists with the tidy white coats and glasses who came in and took his blood or ran tests on his eyes and brain. he also remembers the average people who would occasionally come in, usually a man and woman looking quite anxious and timid, and who would sit down in front of him, both hands clearly in sight of riki. 

every time, as if it was natural instinct, his eyes would flick down to their right hand, spotting the tied knot on their pinky. then a scientist would ask questions- 

do you see a red string? yes. 

can you see who it is connected to? yes. 

is it to each other? 

yes—most of the time. occasionally, he would answer no with a shake of his head. there was always the variety of responses from the people. a gasp, crestfallen look, maybe even tears. whispers and murmurs would come from the white coated people as they wrote stuff down. 

riki was confused. did being soulmates really matter when most people (meaning everyone except riki) never had to ability to see who their soulmate was anyways? people fell in and out of love, regardless. 

the lab came up with a final conclusion: most likely, nishimura riki could indeed see people’s soulmates through their red strings. he couldn’t touch the red strings, it was like they were just imaginary, only visible to him. but they had no idea how, but they knew he could see them and if they were connected or not in accordance with his field of vision. 

most would think he was just a kid faking it—with a great deal of imagination—but his accuracy of determining two people’s soul connection was a little too frightening to be a childish prank. 

form what riki overheard, the government planned to keep his special “power” a secret. after all, riki was just a kid. public knowledge only meant trouble and who knew what else. half argued to leave the poor kid alone, while others vouched to keep him under surveillance for the rest of his life. 

either way, riki was forced to keep his mouth shut about his ability—not that he wouldn’t have wanted to say anything anyway. 

of course, rumors and secrets still leaked out, but for the most part, riki seemed to be safe. maybe a little too safe. he didn’t really have friends. no, he didn’t have friends at all. 

personally, the imaginary ones appearing in his years of loneliness didn’t count. riki possessed a power the world had never seen before, but he had no friends. no childhood. no life. 

after five years of living alone in a laboratory surrounded by white lights, white clothes, and more white walls, riki was finally released when the government reached a dead end in their research. how much power could a kid with soulmate seeing abilities wield? the government hoped it was close to none. besides, no one knew when he could get called in again.  

his parents? yes, he supposed they did love him. but enough to keep him from being tested on for years and not having a proper life? other would argue it was for the benefit of his “special ability.” 

research gave answers that in reality, didn’t have any use. (his parents wouldn’t mention the copious compensation fee the government gave for testing on their son, though).

and riki’s red string himself? 

he had to admit, when he was first discovering his newly identified ability, he was also curious about who his soulmate could be. and like many, many others when he took a peek, the string just carried on in the distance, unable to display the carrier of the other end. 

once riki was back in the “real world,” he was kept mostly at home during the heat of the summer. but he would always remember the feeling of being taken out of his room and directed outside into a dark, heavily guarded vehicle for occasional checkups. he remembers glancing outside while driving past tall buildings and sometimes seeing countless red strings pass him by, a sight he hadn’t seen since going to the mall with his mother all those years ago. 

his mother walked into his room one day with a clean, white envelope in her hands and an unreadable expression on her face. he looked up from his hands, eyes catching her red string hanging again before looking at his mother fully. 

“you’re attending a new school, riki.”

ii. eros and psyche. 

the cursed rules echo in his mind. they were pretty simple, yet held the heaviest consequences. 

don’t tell anyone about your abilities.

especially don’t tell anyone about their soulmate. 

it wasn’t his choice to. it’s not like he wanted to, either. even at the mere age of twelve, riki wasn’t one to mess with fate or whatever the universe was doing to him. the red lines invaded his personal space, but at some point it didn’t bother him anymore.

what really bothered him was the daunting task of attending school. learning in person, having homework, interacting with others. 

riki was educated at the labs, but that schooling came in the form of simple workbooks and videos. 

needless to say, the first few days were rough. 

quite hard. 

very hard. 

waking up early probably got riki the most. being surrounded by so many other kids was quite overwhelming. especially when they stared at him whenever he passed by like he was different. 

which, he was.

everyone else had established their respective friend groups already. he learned why pretty early on, though. why the weird looks and gossip passed by him. it was all because of one girl who just really couldn’t whisper for her life. (even without confirming or denying it, he wondered how they found out?) 

he even started to go by niki instead of riki—the one letter difference was the best he could do. 

perhaps rumors were spreading quickly around about riki and his ‘power’ to see others’ red strings connected to their soulmates. 

not even a week of school and riki already developed his own reputation. a feat of its own, no? 

at first, it was hard to adjust to seeing so many other kids, waking up at the crack of dawn, and managing the stupid overload of work—basically what seemed to be about everything. but somehow, riki felt a bit more settled in, if he could even describe it as that. 

he was quiet, extremely, but still very well known around the school. his grades weren’t bad after all, it turns out riki was pretty alright at “school”, although he mostly slept in class or daydreamed away. 

the one thing he could admit he failed at as a human (albeit a ‘special’ human) was socialization. 

yeah, riki had basically no friends and he embraced it. 

he sat in the back of the class, spoke a total of four words per day, and occasionally messed around. if he really felt like it, he would put in his earbuds and listen to his mixtape like an angsty teen before going home for the day. 

all day. all week. on repeat. 

if his mother was ever concerned and asked, his rationale would be that riki simply didn’t trust other people. he forced himself to stop caring about and looking at everyone’s red string and soulmates, or anything related. 

yet he still had to deal with strangers confronting him and asking who their soulmate was. it was all random people to him, mostly. so who knew what would happen if he became friends with someone, just to discover they used him to find out their soulmate? 

even years later, his theory is proven to be accurate. 

why, riki internally sighs, do people think they can get whatever they want, whenever they want?

the two girls in front of him, he finally spares them a glance. he just wanted to call it a day, go home and watch some anime or something, not have two random girls pounce on him after school. he barely manages to keep his mouth shut. 

“so,” one of them says, arms crossed and eyebrow raised, “can you tell us who our soulmates are?”

which obviously translates to: tell us now or you’ll suffer the consequences. 

he takes out an earbud nonchalantly, a blank expression on his face. 

“no thanks.”

she takes a step closer, and his eye twitches. “but you can.” 

her eyes glare into his, and her friend does the same. 

“i can, but will i?” riki asks sarcastically, annoyance beginning to reach its limit. when one of them grabs his shoulder, he starts to panic. 

“get your hand off me.” his voice is cold. 

“or what?” they mock. 

riki grits his teeth, attempting to cool down. he can’t fight back—not just because he doesn’t want to hit them, but because it’ll attract unnecessary attention and that’s the last thing he needs. 

the girls giggle that same annoying high pitched sound, although it’s not a blissful or joyful one, it sounds more like a warning with a malicious edge to it. 

“oh come on, won’t you be nice to us girls? we’ll let you-“ 

one hand reaches out and he dodges so quickly they have to pause for a second. 

“don’t touch me,” riki puffs out, barely keeping it together. 

“i said-“

“how many times does he have to tell you two to leave him alone?”

that was the first time. 

the very first time riki ever laid eyes on you, and the very first time his eyes didn’t immediately fall to your hand and red string.

they scowl, about to retort when you shrug uninterestedly, revealing your phone camera pointing straight at them. “i can just report you guys for bullying, you know, or like harassment.”

their eyes widen, before flashing you that look- the one blatantly showing that they just cursed at you silently- before furiously stalking off. 

silence follows as you put your phone away and riki collects himself. 

you turn to him, voice and expression softer than earlier. 

“you good?”

riki shrugs, about to turn away. 

“w-wait!” you call out hesitantly. he stops, on the verge of leaving regardless of what you have to say. 

“uh, don’t worry. i didn’t actually record anything, just made it look like i did.” 

you inhale, trying your best to ignore the awkward atmosphere. “i think we have some classes together? my name’s y/n.”

his eyes flick to yours for a split second before looking away. riki barely nods, putting his earbud back in. 

you clear your throat. “and yours is?” 

you can barely hear his quiet mutter of an answer before he walks off, leaving you alone in the hallway. you already knew what it was, you just wanted to hear his voice at least once. but his answer leaves you frowning (wondering if you didn’t hear him properly or didn’t clean your own ears properly.) 

riki, you contemplate thoughtfully.

regardless of if he was niki or riki, it sounded nicer coming from himself than it did from others. 

surprisingly enough, he runs into you again the next day. or not really, you sort of just found your way towards him in the back of the classroom and plopped your stuff down right beside riki. 

he didn’t notice you because of his earbuds in until you tap his shoulder, sending a small smile. riki stays emotionless, acknowledging your presence with a quick glance over. 

he can’t count the amount of times you attempted at keeping up conversation before giving up. riki would later regret the short, blunt answers he always gave in return. but it baffled him, how you would never mention the red strings or anything related. 

you talked about normal things like a normal person, and like riki was a normal person. it was weird how he could learn so much about you based on what you said in a day. 

like how you would complain about the astounding amount of homework but always did it all on time and aced every single test. or when you said you were starving but during lunch he would catch you giving your packed lunch to your other friends who were just as hungry as you. 

even how you would never fail to greet and sit next to riki, and randomly mutter under your breath for no reason. 

he didn’t understand you and how pervasive you were. when he’s a hard concrete wall and you’re still pounding at it every single time. but deep down, he never failed to see your lively soul.

riki’s encountered so many different people with differing intentions, and yet you stand out. he just can’t figure you out. 

you pass him the paper for attendance one day and he mutters a small thanks. you practically do a double take, staring at him for a good five seconds before beaming down at your paper. riki doesn’t miss that, either. 

he doesn’t know how it happens. you talk to him, and he feels himself responding before he can realize it. you never once mentioned the words red string or soulmate ever. perhaps that was what led him to feel a bit more safe around you. maybe his guard was never let down completely, but you certainly had some effect on him. 

maybe, you two became friends. although riki didn’t even know what friends even were. even the school picked up on it quite easily. one of the most brilliant kids in the grade hanging with the outcast- the weird kid who never said a word. 

riki doesn’t understand. you have your own friends–he assumes. why even bother with him? 

you start sitting next to him at lunch, for crying out loud. 

not that he minded, it was actually nice to sit next to someone and not an empty chair or desk.

“hey,” you plop down next to riki, stuffing a grape into your mouth. “what’d you get on the test?”

he looks up. “which one?”

you sigh, taking out a binder. 

“history.”

riki takes out an earbud, blinking. “78. you?”

you tsk while popping another grape into your mouth. “i thought our study session was helpful. i got a 97.”

he scoffs, nothing your displeased expression. “you’re smart. you should be happy.” 

you raise your eyebrows, ready to retort. 

“ you’re smart too, nishimura riki.”

“-if you stopped watching anime all day.”

you just barely manage to dodge the flying grape aimed at you. 

you take the seat next to him, taking out one of his earbuds with an intent expression. riki looks up at the loss of sound in his left ear, eyebrows furrowed to object. he stops when he sees you.

“you wanna hang out after class?”

“no.”

you pout. “why not?”

he shrugs. “ask my mom.”

“i personally think she would be ecstatic with you going out instead of staying cooped up inside all day.”  

he has to stay silent at that. 

triumphant, you pack up your stuff, not bothering to wait for his answer. “five pm at the gates.”

he shows up. riki wasn’t that big of a jerk (at least he thinks so). 

he did again when you invited him out after that. and again, and again. 

even when you both start adding more and more layers to your everyday outfits, nothing changes. even when exams started and the pink blossoms began falling from the trees. 

it’s like one second you were having one sided conversations and the next thing you know, you’re laying down next to each other in the grass during your lunch break. 

“so you literally just see the strings?”

oh, yeah. 

that was one of the things about you that made riki dumbfounded. at first, you didn’t say a single word about his ability. but as riki let his guard down and opened up more, he realized it was because you actually had no clue. somehow all the rumors that were spread about him never reached you. but once you found out, you did not stop asking questions. countless questions about his “really, really cool superpower” as you deemed it. 

“yeah. i see it.”

“everyday? all the time?”

he shoots you a look. “no, i can just sneeze and it’ll turn off.” 

“really?”

“no, stupid.” 

you huff, hands behind your head as you turn to glance at him and he averts his gaze quickly from your face. 

“that’s cool. but you probably wish you could turn it off, right?”

all the time, he thinks bitterly. maybe even permanently.

“can you touch them?”

“i told you already that i can’t!” he shifts, “besides, why would i want to—everyone would just be staring at me like i was a psycho if they just saw me creepily petting the air or whatever.”

he watches your reaction, seeing the corners of your mouth tilt up as you imagine it, and it makes his as well. there’s something satisfying about seeing your reaction that makes him unable to resist.

you abruptly stop, murmuring, “we’re friends, right?”

he pauses, swallowing. “uh, sure. what makes you ask that?” quickly, you shake your head. “oh no,  i just never asked you before. wanted confirmation.” 

“your only friend, right?” you add jokingly, and he elbows your side. 

“i’m kidding-“

“...but i like that,” you add quietly. 

a petal flutters down from the tree above you, landing in your hair. you don’t notice as you’re distracted, but riki does. as you start to speak again, he lifts a hand and delicately picks it out. you stop mid sentence as riki watches you gently. 

he swallows, and you quickly clear your throat. 

it was true. suddenly, riki’s quite glad that he didn’t know who your—his only friend—soulmate was. why, he’s not sure. all riki knows is that he doesn’t want to find out who your soulmate is. 

and he’d never admit it, but it was probably (definitely) fear. fear at who your string was connected to. why? 

he had no clue and that scared him even more. 

riki’s pulled along by your surprisingly strong grip, weaving through corridors and into an empty classroom. a couple of students stare as you two pass by, apparently still not over the fact that you and riki could be friends—let alone be in the same room. 

panting, you shut the door and lock it, but stay close to watch out through the window quietly. riki notices your hand still tightly intertwined with his but he decides to keep quiet. 

“what’s going on?” he whispers. your gaze breaks away from the window in order to reply to him. “this guy keeps following me-i’m pretty sure it’s the one who left the confession note in my locker and won’t leave me alone during the periods i don’t have with you.”

“someone likes you?” he asks incredulously, and you slap a hand over his mouth, shushing him fiercely as you continue your patrol from inside the classroom. 

his insides suddenly feel unpleasant. it’s already uncomfortable and stuffy enough in the room, being squished next to you behind the door so no one- well, apparently this annoying guy who’s stalking you- can find your whereabouts. he doesn’t know who this person is, but he doesn’t like it. not one bit. 

suddenly, there’s a voice coming from outside, one asking for the location of you. a couple of female ones answer, and riki figures they must belong to the girls from earlier who saw you guys pass by. 

you gasp, and riki feels your grip tighten. you pull him in closer so you’re practically squished together against the door, breaths held as quietly as possible. 

it takes everything in him not to squirm as riki waits, he fears you can hear the sound of his heart pounding. 

two… three… five minutes pass. only when you hear complete silence do you release him. flustered, riki pulls away, attempting to fix his wrinkled uniform so you don’t notice his reaction. 

it must’ve been a clear success, as you only heave a sigh of relief and flash a mischievous grin towards riki. 

“i think we’re good, let’s get out of here!”

you don’t make any leeway for him, escaping past the door and out the classroom without a sound. 

riki pauses, taking a second to catch his breath. the past few seconds of your close proximity replay in his mind. he shakes it off, brushing the weird sensation in his gut. 

still, he wonders if there was any chance you felt that too. or was it just him?

you throw your arm around riki, sporting a grin with a creepy similarity to that of the cheshire cat’s. he flinches at your action, almost cursing in the middle of the crowd of students. “what do you want?”

by this point, finally after two years, most people had gotten used to the sight of the two of you. all the gossip and whispers behind your back flew over his head—and it had never bothered you in the first place. 

you stifle a laugh. “no need to be so grumpy. come on, follow me.” you weave through the hallway of crowded kids and riki struggles to keep up, puzzled. 

he follows you to the somewhat empty courtyard, sitting down on a nice patch of grass as you wait for him to get settled. “why did you take me out here?”

you roll your eyes, “patient as ever, nishimura riki.” you dig through your messy school bag before your eyes light up. 

“close your eyes,” you order. 

he does as you say, no questions asked. riki feels a delicate sensation on his wrist—at this point he can recognize your warmth pretty easily. 

“all done.” 

he cautiously peeks his eyes open only to see you staring expectantly back at him. soon, his gaze falls down to where he felt your light touch before.

a simple, silver chain wraps around his thin wrist. 

pretty. 

confused, riki furrows his eyebrows, meeting your eyes that glimmer with a strange compassion. 

you hold up your own hand with a cute smile that makes his heart pound, displaying a matching bracelet—identical to his. 

“it’s not much but, happy birthday, riki.” 

to think that he himself didn’t even remember his own birthday. you beam at him, and he feels his ears grow red. 

“do you like it?”

“y-yeah,” he mumbles and you nod in satisfaction. “good, because i spent my own money out of my pocket for it. it wasn’t cheap, you know.” 

his eyes widen and you press your lips together. “in exchange, you have to promise me something.” 

under the peacefully swaying trees, under the warm sunlight and buzzing spring, he realizes he could promise you anything. 

you hold out your left pinky. “you’ll stick by my side no matter what. promise me that.”

he opens his mouth to speak but you’re faster, raising your other pointer finger to cover his lips. “just promise me or else i’ll take away your gift.” 

your childlike orbs envelop him, full of life and sincerity—he knows he’ll never forget that day.

nor when his own pinky reaches up to link with yours. 

riki remembers the day as clear as a fresh glass of water, a still puddle of rain that collected after the summer thunderstorms. 

you met up with him in first period as you usually did, ruffling his hair with an easy grin as he grumbles (albeit with an affectionate look that you failed to notice). 

class continued on normally, somewhat rowdy as always before the teacher came in. you get up to grab something on the floor, hair falling into your eyes. as usual, riki watches over you before spotting your foot catching on one of the chair’s legs. he quickly shouts out a warning, grabbing your wrist in order to balance you as your head whips up. 

he catches you, staring at you in concern and making sure you’re alright. you stare at him in shock, flustered and without a response. he chides you with a roll of his eyes, mumbling something about how clumsy you always were and how he always had to watch out for you.

you can’t seem to form any words, so you just snatch your arm back and sit down. riki wordlessly offers a earbud to you, and you accept it with a smile. it’s something you got used to doing, sharing music and playlists with each other. 

even as others made fun of you for doing supposedly cheesy couple things, you ignored them. but it did make you wonder. did you and riki seem like a couple? were you?

you guys were young, you had all of high school still to get through together. 

what did it mean? 

your thoughts get interrupted by the teacher opening the door. everyone settles down, attention focusing. 

but today, it was different. it wasn’t just your teacher walking in. 

there was an addition. an addition that came in the form of a handsome looking boy, around the same age as you guys. 

the teacher introduces him as a transfer student. yang jungwon, he smiles and riki swears people swoon. everyone’s attention is on him, even yours is as you all study him curiously. 

riki swore he was past all that looking at people’s soulmate strings and connections. it had been so long since he tried to put two and two together. it was a whole invasion of privacy, and he simply didn’t want to bother himself with other people’s affairs and relations. 

but once he saw that new kid step into the room, riki can only focus on his hand, the first thing that came into his view. 

and like it was in slow motion, he follows the tiny red string on his pinky down the row of desks to someone sitting a few inches away from riki himself, obviously not paying attention and oblivious to everything while listening to a shared earbud— you. 

he almost thinks his eyes are fooling him. it was barely connected by that thin, cursed string. and that’s when it really hits him.

that string was connected to yours. 

that string meant your soulmate just walked into the classroom—

and it certainly wasn’t riki. 

“jungwon’s really cool. did you know he did taekwondo since he was….”

riki ignores the chatter in the halls as he walks by, brooding as always. but this week was a bit harsher. probably, no, definitely because of the new student jungwon. 

ever since he joined your class, people had been talking about him nonstop. it seemed like jungwon was one of the popular kids now, without even doing anything. riki didn’t get what was so cool about him, anyway. 

sure he was “cute” and had a kind personality. sure he was incredibly smart and well spoken. that’s all riki had heard the past week from everyone else gossiping in awe. 

he turns up the volume on his phone, scoffing. what are they, his fans? 

riki wasn’t sure what to do with the newfound information about your soulmate. he didn’t really want to think about it, his first instinct was to look for you in his next period for some cheering up. but when he walks into the classroom, he doesn’t expect to see aforementioned person talking to you, an animated look on his face. 

jungwon gestures grandly, probably telling some super cool story from all his achievements. you seem pretty invested, watching with big eyes and occasionally laughing.  

riki feels desperation and anger swirl in the pit of his stomach. even worse, he feels loneliness. something he hasn’t felt for a long time blooms inside—something he hasn’t felt since he met you. 

what is he supposed to do now that you’ve found your soulmate? or rather, riki has? 

you thought everything was fine. everything seemed fine. after the new guy joined your class, riki acted a little weird the first couple of days but he returned to normal soon after. you figured it was because of his normally shy personality. it took you a (long) while for him to warm up to too, after all. 

but what you didn’t expect was for him to almost launch a full on investigation. on the new kid jungwon, strangely enough. 

you frown. “he’s nice? why are you asking me this? it’s not like we’re friends or anything.” 

sure, jungwon talked to you unexpectedly a couple of times, but he was very popular and did that to many people. it wasn’t like he was targeting you or anything like that. or so that’s what you believed. 

but it didn’t stop there. in the few classes you shared with the two boys, whenever jungwon would start up a friendly conversation with you, you could feel riki staring holes into your back. and whenever riki made a dumb joke in the middle of class and you flicked him playfully, you swore you caught jungwon’s eye on more than one occasion. 

you brushed it off, but one day it was suddenly no longer a matter of trivial things. 

usually it was just you and riki at your lunch table, and it had been that way for a while. your friends opted to stay away from him, and you shrugged it off. it was their loss, not yours. 

so when jungwon and his group of popular kids approached you and riki, jungwon taking the seat next to you while riki visibly tensed, you figured something was up. you could hear the onslaught of whispers from surrounding tables. 

jungwon, the ideal student, joining you and the weird outcast riki? 

from then on, the changes were too drastic to ignore. hanging out with just riki, you knew he was obviously bothered but wouldn’t tell you about it. it was visible that he had a clear disdain for jungwon, but would never verbally express it as much as you tried to get it out of him. it was an unreachable part of him, although you thought you had worked hard to get past that secretive, closed off part of him. 

worse was jungwon sitting next to you various times in class and making too much conversation for you to ignore (although you really tried to show you weren’t interested in talking the whole time). all while riki stared forward with an unreadable expression, music practically on full blast. 

you didn’t know what was going on, and you didn’t know the situation—how to get a grasp on it. you especially didn’t know the occasional looks the two boys would give each other, and how things would change so soon. 

all you knew was that it happened one gloomy day, nearing the end of the school year. 

you had just finished an exam in science and went looking for riki to walk home together, as you did every day when school ended. when he wasn’t anywhere to be found, you asked around. 

most answers came in the form of shrugs, however a couple of classmates recalled seeing him with another group of kids. 

you frowned—what reason would riki have to go off with some other people? perhaps you heard the mention of jungwon’s name but you were too preoccupied with finding riki to really pay attention. 

before you could get far, you were welcomed into a strange atmosphere when you reached the courtyard. students whispering and gossiping with a variety of expressions present. your heart began to race as you look around. where is he? 

you figure you must’ve missed something as the crowd eventually disperses and you get no answers. perhaps riki had a schedule after school and forgot to tell you? 

you could’ve sworn you heard someone say jungwon’s name again, but this time along with riki’s name. you brush it off though as you needed to get home before it started to rain—you could feel it in the air. 

so you send riki a quick message before starting on the journey home. 

the next morning, you checked your phone to find no response. weird. 

either way, you had no time to question it as you were already late to class, so you quickly slip in to the seat next to your classmate. your eyes don’t fail to see riki and jungwon’s empty seats. 

you nudge haerin sitting next to you. “do you know where niki is? i haven’t seen him since lunch yesterday and he hasn’t responded to any of my texts.”

her eyes widen as she places a hand on your shoulder. 

“y/n….you haven’t heard?”

your eyebrows furrow, “heard what? what’s going on?”

the next thing you remember, is your heart dropping. 

“niki’s leaving.” 

riki…leaving you? 

“what do you mean?”

her eyes soften, and you begin to despise the pity on her face. “he’s leaving the school. no one knows why but-“

you zone out after that. 

your best friend transferring schools—moving away for some unexplained reason? 

no one at school says anything, and you feel like everyone’s keeping you out of the loop on purpose. you hate the feeling that you’re missing a huge piece of the puzzle. 

with no explanation, with no answer from his number (no matter how many times you tried calling), riki disappears in the blink of an eye. it’s as if he never existed in the first place. 

rumors follow but you know better than to listen to them. all you found out was apparently something happened that day—you suspect, no you know, between riki and jungwon—and the damned result was riki leaving your school. 

he never mentioned anything about moving, as far as you knew. he never acted like anything was wrong either. it had to have been something from that day. or maybe not. 

at this point, you didn’t know what to believe. you had just lost your closest friend, your study-slash-lunch-slash-everything buddy, and your number one support. 

and somehow everything was supposed to go back to normal. everyone continues on normally, including jungwon. 

everyone except you. 

he’s gone and he left you alone. 

as if you ever hoped to see him again. 

iii. welcome to the world.

you exhale, smoothing out your wrinkled outfit for the tenth time. you chide yourself internally, why were you so nervous? 

it was just an internship. your first day, too. only recently did you graduate high school yourself. 

it was just the first day of your newly acquired internship and yet you were nervous for it at a new company in a new city. it was your choice to relocate to a new area for new beginnings and new memories. 

to be quite frank, you had no clue what you were doing. why did you even decide to focus on photography? you most definitely didn’t have much experience, only starting the hobby when you graduated high school. maybe you wanted a chance to take your mind off life and see things in a new light. a second chance. 

maybe photos didn’t make you feel as alone.

shivering, you shake your head to clear free of thoughts. time to get this over with. the oh so dreaded first day. 

before leaving, you don’t forget to leave some food for the stray cat outside your place. you then get up with a satisfied grunt and make your way to the bus stop. 

however, your new boss was kind and understanding of your nervousness. you visited the company a couple times before, but never enough to get familiar with the layout and other photographers due to obtaining the internship so suddenly. you didn’t expect to get it either, not as a young, inexperienced student almost fresh out of college. either luck was on your side or your talent seemed to shine through. 

it was strange to be in such a different environment than from what you grew up in. supportive, encouraging people all highly invested and passionate in their jobs. 

you set up everything in your assigned desk and wait for further instruction. 

your boss had showed you around and gotten you used to the daily activities of those working at a photography company, making your transition much smoother.  

the whole experience was a little too easy, making you feel so much lighter. you could feel it. things were good- perhaps too good to be true. 

“isn’t the first day always the best?” mr. lee, your boss, speaks up. 

you quickly nod. “so far, it’s been really good. i was just wondering what my job was actually going to be for the next few months.”

he claps his hands together, almost startling you. 

“of course—i like your attentiveness! you’ll be working under one of our best, accompanying him on his work and assisting with whatever he needs to get a feel for what we do here. we can meet him now if you’d like?” his question causes you to pause.

“of course.” you wonder who this ‘he’ was, apparently being one of the best. 

a sudden wave of nervousness hits you. all the doubts and fears start to rise, so you swallow and try your best to suppress it. 

why did you have such a bad feeling? 

as your boss leads you down the offices and desks, you nod enthusiastically and laugh at his remarks as you make your way to the stairway. you go up, about to reach the top step when you spot someone coming down, their faculty name tag flashing in the light. you just barely steal a glimpse of the name, of the face of the person moving. 

it’s foreign yet familiar at the same time. 

you pause. his face…

you doubt you heard mr lee’s sudden hearty welcome to said person, turning to introduce you with a bright smile. a smile that doesn’t know anything. 

“ha, what a coincidence. this is miss y/l/n! you still haven’t met one of our most talented photographers, have you?” 

that’s when it hits you. 

you feel like everything’s occurring in slow motion, mr. lee’s lips moving slowly, the person’s unreadable expression morphing as you both come to a realization. 

“this is our very own best nishimura. nishimura riki.” 

your heart drops. no. 

it’s not. it can’t be.

why does it feel like the world just crashed down around you? why is it suddenly so hard to breathe? your eyes can���t leave those familiar ones, the same ones that have haunted you ever since that day. 

those eyes that fill with recognition at the sight of you, you’re sure of it. 

and then, everything is set into motion once more. you blink quickly, several times, exhaling as you try to readjust. 

“nice to meet you,” you quickly bow while avoiding his gaze. this actually can’t be. 

“you’ll be working with him for the-“

you mutter some lame excuse of needing to go to the restroom before dashing up the rest of the stairs to the nearest safe room, ignoring your boss’s surprised voice.

once you find the restroom, you find the sink and turn on the water. you scrub and scrub your hands before staring at yourself in the mirror. 

not after all this time-

not after he left you, he can’t just suddenly appear again. did you just imagine him? 

you still can’t believe it, almost refuse to believe it. nishimura riki, after 10 or so years, appears in the flesh right before you. you had long given up on trying to find him. and here he is, working at the same place as you. 

he exists, perfectly alive and well without you. 

it was just too much. riki was all grown up. he really looked the same, just much, much taller and more grown up in his professional attire. you weren’t used to it. or the fact that, he came back. 

unless he never really left. 

all those years in middle school and high school you tried to forget come rushing back. the rumors that followed your footsteps, the questions never answered. all those years of pain and loneliness, and confusion-

staying up so many nights pondering what you did that made him run away, leave you when he promised he would be there. after all that time wondering and wondering why and how and what you did. and what could’ve been done. 

maybe you were being dramatic but it doesn’t change the fact that he left without a word, and with no contact for you to keep in touch. no attempt at all. 

you were so hurt, so closed off now. you convinced yourself that you never cared to see his face again, but what were you supposed to do when riki shows up again, unannounced in front of you like nothing ever happened? 

was there even anything left between you two? 

you decided early on that your best course of action was to pretend that you never knew him. riki was a complete stranger, and it wasn’t truly a lie. it had been so long since you last saw him. 

but you know that won’t work forever. especially not when he was the one you were working under.  

you didn’t know what to call him, how to call him. mr. nishimura sounded way too formal especially considering your history, and riki was obviously off limits.  

the next day, you stand in front of his desk with your hands clasped together in front of you like a scolded child in front of the principal. you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes. 

“so…uh, i guess you’ll be working with me for the next couple of months?”

you barely nod, shifting in your position uncomfortably. instead, your eyes fall on the pictures scattered around the walls in riki’s office. 

“i’ve never had an intern before, so-“

you interrupt him impatiently while still avoiding eye contact. 

“just tell me what you need me to do, mr. nishimura.” 

you could visibly see the both of you cringe at that. 

“-please.” you add pitifully as an afterthought. 

noticing your coldness, riki must have enough common sense to give you some papers to file and chart. 

what a wonderful first day. 

you would describe your present relationship with riki as a very formal (and strained) senior-junior one. besides your daily task of avoiding your own mentor as much as possible, you rather enjoyed the work. so far, getting to learn the true process behind taking photos was something you never experienced. 

and seeing riki in his element, with his raw talent and skill was another thing in itself. it was a lot to process, seeing an entirely different, mature riki. 

you were a little too sad that you missed his growing up. 

in the break room one morning, you sip peacefully on your freshly made coffee. it was a nice day, at least you believed so until you heard the door open, signaling the entrance of another person. 

you’re about to greet them politely until you realize who exactly it was. you swallow a little too harshly, tensing as the person approached you. 

“if you’ll excuse me,” you mutter while slipping past him. riki stands there, unmoving as he watches your figure leave. 

it had been like that since the first day when he was reintroduced to you. dry to no responses, indifferent gaze, not a single glimpse into you. into the you that he knew, or once knew. 

it was like he was the one talking to a built up wall, unable to do any damage. it’s almost funny how it’s like your positions from back then were switched. 

he figured your cold and unapproachable demeanor was only to him—understandably. there was a lot you must’ve been feeling, as well as he. it was a long journey with a lot of baggage riki was still carrying. 

still, he sees you with some of the other interns, smiling and laughing as you once did with him. as he stares at you from afar (hopefully not in a stalkerish way), riki realizes that you still have the same laugh, same smile, same attentive expression when someone calls your name. 

and yet, you’re so different. you’re so far away from him. 

as time goes on, you realize you can’t act like a little kid for the rest of your life. well, for the rest of the time you had this internship (and currently you didn’t have any plans to resign, especially since you literally just started).

during the lunch break, you don’t expect the seat next to you to be taken. you stiffen once you realize who it is—his presence was so familiar that you didn’t even have to take a glance to see who it was. 

you start to rise from your seat, but a hand clasps gently around your arm. you freeze. 

“y/n,” he starts quietly. you shiver at the sound of his voice, recognizable yet unrecognizable at the same time. you feel like you can’t breathe. 

“please. not now.” 

with that, you stalk away, meanwhile your eyes fly across the room to ensure no one saw your interaction.  

how much longer could you keep doing this? 

the more you see him, the more you can’t ignore the fact that you really, really did miss him. it’s like nothing changed—except for his appearance—and you couldn’t suppress the amount of relief you had at the realization that riki was still riki, after all. 

he was still the same boy you shared earbuds with back then, at least in your eyes.

you want to know how he’s been. what he’s done, how he came back, how he became the person he is today. 

on the other hand, riki realizes the complete transformation you’ve undergone.

the first conversation he had with you after oh so many years, you merely handed him his coffee with a short nod. his attempt to bring up the weather, school, anything just to talk to you again, obviously fell short. 

riki’s strategy? give you your space and time. of course he respected that, and maybe you noticed because it seemed to weaken the intimidating barrier from before. 

after that, you acknowledged him, greeted him (albeit shortly) every morning—riki even noticed you watching him edit some photos although you thought he couldn’t see you. 

while you would never admit it, riki looked pretty cool teaching you his tips and tricks. you didn’t realize how much his job suited him and how lucky his company was to have acquired such a talented, soulful person as a photographer. 

you can tell, riki wants to get talk to you so badly, but in fear of getting hurt again, you push him away. it’s hard, when all you can do is expect him to vanish without another trace again. 

as you finish touchups on the last photo, you sigh and rub your eyes. things were different now. no point in wondering what could have been. 

you walk out into the hallway, wishing to get some coffee to power through those last edits. but you soon stop in your tracks. 

“y-y/n.” 

your eyes lower to the floor, acknowledging him with a nod. “hey.” 

“are you going to the break room?”

you nod again. 

“then…” he hits you with those hopeful eyes and you curse internally. “can i come with?”

a surprisingly comfortable silence fills the air, along with the soothing smell of coffee. 

riki comments on your more compliant and meek nature—it’s certainly supposed to be a joke but you take it the wrong way.

you frown. “i’ve changed, riki.” 

he falters. maybe he’s done too much, too soon.

“i’ve grown up. just like you have. we both have, so maybe you should accept me now like i have to you.”

you turn to leave but he grabs your wrist. 

“please. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean it like that. i know i’m in no position to say this, but i thought we were doing okay. i really want to be friends with you again—truly.”

you sigh audibly. there really was no value in being awkward with him for your time here. at least if you tried to maintain an amicable relationship, you wouldn’t have to make up dumb excuses every time you saw him. and if you got closer again, perhaps you could figure out after all this time why he left.

even more importantly, why he came back. 

“could we please start over?” his voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it (and much deeper than you were used to). 

you wait two, three seconds before turning around, 

and sticking your hand out. 

“nice to meet you,” you introduce yourself. you watch the smile start to grow on his face. 

“i’m nishimura riki, and it’s very nice to meet you too.”

riki sighs, clicking the red x button in the corner. he finished his last portfolio with you as his assistant. it was only a matter of hours, or minutes, before he was assigned his next project. he turns off the light and closes the door behind his office, only to be greeted by your figure. 

an eyebrow of his raises. “were you waiting for me?” 

you scoff, casually kicking the ground with your shoe while looking off into the distance. “no.” 

“well, i was,” you glance at him abruptly in surprise, “let’s go.” 

“huh?” 

he shrugs, “we finished and everyone else is gone.” 

you didn’t expect riki to be so… enthusiastic about it. it as in hanging out together, as friends again. 

maybe, you always knew in the end you had to give in. there was no way you could keep up this act against riki. it had always been like that. 

if anyone saw you two out now they would probably assume you were two college kids on a date.��

wait- date? 

“-y/n?” 

you glance up, startled. “yeah?”

riki frowns, sipping his boba. “are you okay? you seemed distracted. what were you thinking about?” 

you shake your head with a sheepish laugh, “nothing. sorry.” 

you wondered how you got to this point. 

meeting riki outside of work and hoping you don’t run into any of your co-workers. honestly, it was fun to have a friend to talk with—it was fun to have riki next to you again. 

your teenage self would have been dumbfounded. 

while you had this time with him, you could finally ask some things you were curious about. 

“riki,” you start off and he tries his best to keep calm. it was the first time you had called him by his first name in years. he missed it dearly. 

“how did you get into photography?”

he knows what you meant to ask. how did you get here? 

he falls back into his chair, staring up at the ceiling. you know just know riki too well, simply waiting patiently for him to take his time.

“i don’t know, to be honest. i always felt different from everyone else.” he pauses and looks at you, “you knew that the best.”

“i wanted to study people more. so i started taking pictures of others. now i just specialize in photographing more important people, like models and idols. i still don’t know how i got here though. that’s the truth.” 

“you’re really good,” you say lamely. “you’re very talented and i’m jealous, to be frank.”

you see his ears turn red as he coughs shyly. 

“thank you. i guess it’s what i’m best at.”

that wasn’t the exact answer you were expecting, but you took it. soon, you promised yourself, you would uncover the truth. 

iv. cupid’s attack. 

you like to think that you and riki get into a good groove at work. 

you can’t help but burst out laughing, and riki almost stops in his tracks. 

he realizes that sweet and soulful sound was just as he last remembered it. it almost makes him shiver. yes, not everything changed about you.

he knows. it can’t last forever—this push and pull relationship. plus, your budding relationship has to result in an explanation. you deserve it at the very least.

as much as riki wanted to keep it hidden, secrets can’t always stay secrets forever. he can’t protect you from everything in this world, his selfish wants can’t always be kept.

as the two of you joke around, various other workers stare at you in envy. somehow, you got to work with the mysterious yet talented riki. the one who got hired out of the blue and somehow rose to the top. no one could deny his skill. 

his intimidating and mysterious aura haunted the office for some time. that is, until you came. the way he treated you was shocking to say the least. it seemed like you two were in your own world. there was definitely something, and everyone could see that. 

“sorry to interrupt,” another intern speaks up shyly, but the boss wanted me to tell you guys that the party starts at 8.”

“party?” you turn to riki with a perplexed expression. 

“ah, i forgot to mention. we have an office dinner party to celebrate the new interns and their hard work.” riki nudges you with a glint as your eyes widen. 

“that includes you.”

you weren’t the partying type—if that wasn’t obvious enough. especially not one out of the blue, one not meant for you. 

you shift uncomfortably at the large dinner table. riki ended up sitting next to you somehow. you like to think he did it on purpose, knowing you weren’t the type to enjoy socializing in large groups (and neither was he). but little did you know, he came for you. 

only you. 

everyone was urging you guys to drink, as it was custom to do so at office parties. but you had a limit, so when you get up to leave, making some lame excuse about having more work to finish up at home, riki immediately gets up as well. all eyes fall on you two, and you awkwardly take your leave with a tipsy riki in tow. 

“yeah, it’s definitely time to get you home.” 

with a rather embarrassing grunt and help from fellow co-workers, you manage to get a grip around riki’s shoulders. 

once you make it out of the restaurant however, you realize that you indeed have no clue where riki lives. 

“riki,” you start off cautiously, “what’s your address?” 

“there!” he points sluggishly toward a nearby barbecue place. you huff. 

“seriously, riki. i need to get you home. you’re way too drunk to-“

“let’s go there,” he slurs. “i’m hungry.” 

as much as you stand your ground, his incessant begging eventually gets to your head and you cave. 

“fine. i’ll just order you some side dishes. then we’re actually going home.” 

you can only blink at the amount of dishes on the table that riki ate alone (and the amount that was going to be charged to your card). 

“riki… i think that’s enough.” you softly place a hand on his still holding the chopsticks. you mutter something along the lines of, i didn’t know you ate this much this late at night… 

somehow, he manages to hear you. he sounds more sober and looks more sober as well, to your relief. “yeah, well, how do you think i got this tall?”

it’s true, you were quite shocked at how tall he got. for a second, you simply stare at him while lost in your thoughts. perhaps it was the alcohol still running in your system. 

he raises an eyebrow, “what’s so interesting about me suddenly?”

you clear your throat, felling your face turn hot. “nothing.” 

suddenly, it feels as if the mood has changed again. you know this is your chance, and you can’t miss it. not ever again. 

“don’t you need to go home soon? would, would anyone be waiting?”

riki lets out a short laugh. 

“as if. i’ve been living alone ever since i came back.” 

ever since he came back. 

you look down at your hands. 

“why did you come back?” you whisper. and yet, he hears it again. 

as he’s about to respond, you glance at him with a conflicted look. “why did you leave?”

riki inhales, placing his chopsticks on the table neatly. “i’m just… so sorry y/n, for leaving you-“

“then tell me. that’s the least you can do.” 

you hate how your voice quivers at the end. 

“i… it’s all my fault. i lost control. i got into a fight with yang jungwon.” 

you try your best to keep the surprise off your face and let him continue.  

“and with my reputation at the school, my parents and the principal came to the conclusion that it was best for me to leave.” 

“i didn’t know that it meant going overseas,” he quickly adds, “but i had no choice as a teenager. i could only listen to my parents and when i got the chance, i came back as soon as i could.” 

you almost forgot about his so called ability. but it didn’t even matter at this point. you had countless questions, but it seemed like riki was still holding back. there was something he didn’t want to tell you, something he didn’t want you to know. 

you were somewhat satisfied with his answers, but something was still bothering you. 

you can feel his eyes on you, waiting for some sort of response. 

“i see… but why didn’t you come find me?” you voice cracks. “why didn’t you make any effort at all to see me again? because so far, it seems like you were pretty okay with me not knowing that you still existed.” 

what you really meant to say was, 

you seemed perfectly fine without me. you seemed perfectly fine while i was still hurting after all this time. 

“even more,” you continue on, “after you came back all this time.” 

riki shakes his head, “i was looking for you.” 

you falter at that. 

“i always was, even in another country far away. i had to get a new phone and lost your number and all contact. but when i was finally able to come back to our hometown, you were gone. i was able to get a job at our current company due to my parents connections, and i was going to use that money to pay for travel expenses. just to find you.” 

“i swear y/n,” and you almost tear up at the sincerity in his eyes, “i would never abandon you.” 

“just like i promised all those years ago.” 

his voice grows soft, “i always wondered what happened after i left. what you were up to. i imagined you being super successful while doing something you love.” 

you laugh in order to lighten up the heavy mood, “as you can see now, that’s certainly not the case. i actually have no clue what i’m doing with my life.” 

“you’re- you’re not with anyone or anything?” 

you shoot him a baffled look, “what in the world? i can’t even take care of myself, let alone another person.” 

you’re so shocked at the question that you miss riki’s subtle sigh of relief. you hadn’t gotten with jungwon— at least not yet, he thinks. 

“then, what was high school like? you know, without me?” 

you shake your head, not willing to think about those times. 

“lonely, obviously, without you,” you grumble. 

you had some friends still, but they weren’t riki. they never would be and could never replace him. 

you decide to not mention jungwon and the short period of time after riki’s leaving in which he tried to hang out with you. most definitely not after learning what riki told you. 

it was weird even to you, how such a popular guy like yang jungwon wanted to hang out with you for some time. but he soon gave up, whether it was because of all the other students noticing and gossiping or because of your moody brooding over the loss of riki.

“that’s all?”

you nod shortly. “i graduated, became interested in photography, and applied for this internship. end of story.” 

you shake your head, “i just don’t know how we both got here at the same company, at the same time. man, i was even chosen to work for you of all people.” 

riki’s smile grows–

“it’s like it was fate,” you murmur absentmindedly. 

–and it immediately drops at that.  

“can you still see people’s red strings?” of course, you had to bring that topic up at this time. 

“yeah. but i’m done with all that soulmate connection strings and stuff. i just ignore it now.” 

you obviously see his change in demeanor at the topic. 

“that’s good. it obviously doesn’t affect your photography. i didn’t know how talented you were.” 

although so many people had told him that before, it was different hearing it from you. he blames his face flushing on the alcohol, not your compliment.

“t-thanks. you are too. i can see your potential.” 

you cock your head, “really? aren’t you just saying that because i’m working with you?”

he shakes his head vehemently. 

“of course not. i think you’re one of the most special people in the world. you would be good at anything you want to do, because that’s just you y/n.”

you cough at the sudden change in the air. you don’t think you can handle his endless complimenting. 

“thank you riki, really. but are you done eating? i think we should head out.” 

you leave with not just your stomachs fuller, but your mind and heart as well. 

other nights were spent staying up at the office, finishing edits and cuts. those were the best nights though, in your opinion. 

you got the best advice and the best late night talks with riki—he really felt like a leader now. it made you realize how grown up he became. 

“i still have the bracelet you gave me. i keep it on my desk just so i don’t lose it.” 

your mouth drops open, “ no way? the one i gave you in middle school?” he nods and you internally shudder while thinking about what happened to yours. 

“i hate to break it to you, riki, but i actually lost mine..” 

–which translated to i threw mine away out of anger and sadness. but you figured you could keep that a secret for the time being.

“it’s fine. i’ll just get us new matching ones.” riki swears he never will forget the satisfied smile on your face, eyes twinkling and nose scrunching. 

that was it. riki really tried. 

he tried his best, but he can’t help falling in love with you. 

he can’t even tell if you like him back or if you’re just being kind, because you are originally just a kind and beautiful soul. 

he likes you too much it hurts, but he can’t be hurt again. he doesn’t want to be. 

he doesn’t want to tell you about all the secret pictures he would snap of you instead of the actual model that he was working with. the amount of time and effort put into his hidden collection of you. it was one of his works that he was the most proudest of. one that he would cherish forever. 

he didn’t even know when he realized it— that riki loved you. perhaps it was the countless hours spent up at night thinking about you, all alone. 

but loving you came easily and naturally. red string or not, niki would love you endlessly no matter what. and whatever happened in the end, he would only want happiness for you. 

occasionally he would wonder why he had to go through all that testing when he was young, why he had to go thought that entire, torturous and isolating experience. 

but then he thinks about you and how without being stuck in the lab for however many years, he would have never met you in the conditions that you met in. you would have never gotten the chance to save him from those bullies if he had gone to school at a normal age and been like all the other kids. 

everything that happened to riki, it was to bring him to you. for some reason, he’s sure of it. 

even with all that—the feelings and acceptance and denial— riki tries his best to suppress his feelings and just enjoy being with you again. just to make up for lost time, he reasons. 

he knew you two weren’t soulmates, he saw it once more the supposedly fated day he met you again for the second time. 

still, he doesn’t think he could be with anyone else but you. riki knows in his heart you’re the only one for him. he stares at his own red string leading off into the unknown distance. even if the universe said otherwise. 

even if the universe said otherwise, he didn’t want to lose you again. 

the vip landyards you got for entering the venue backstage weren’t vip after all. 

one good thing about riki’s job was the free access to public events, obviously to capture the best photos. but on this occasion, you two were denied access for no particular reason. 

no matter how much riki demanded, the even taller and intimidating body guards wouldn’t budge. 

“it’s fine,” you place a hand on riki’s shoulder to calm him. “we can just go through the front. i bet someone will be willing to listen to us there.” 

you know riki wants to argue more but you give him a look and he concedes. 

the crowd was wilder than you thought though. mainly due to it being some group called oncolon or whatever performing. navigating through the huge crowd, riki suddenly takes your hand tightly. 

you almost trip over some person’s foot, glancing at him with wide eyes and a slight blush. he doesn’t say a single word. 

you’re sure you’ve gotten knocked and pushed several times in the wild crowd. you try your best to keep up, but at some point, too many bodies separate you and riki. 

a rather hard shove causes you to lose your balance, falling onto the ground (with a painful jolt up your butt). 

all you can hear is the booming music for a moment and the flashing lights, until a hand suddenly reaches through. you almost don’t notice it at first until you hear your name being called. 

suddenly you’re being pulled up forward, into sturdy arms. 

“are you okay? sorry i lost you-“

when you see that it’s riki, dark orbs filled with concerned as he speaks, you nod dumbly while zoning the rest of his words out. 

you couldn’t really concentrate, not when you were trying to process the fluttering of your heart and his body oh so close to yours. 

but oh no, it doesn’t stop there. 

it was rather sudden—you called riki over to your desk to ask for his opinion some time later. 

“should i lower the exposure more? i know you were going for a darker look since it fits the concept-?”

what you don’t expect is him to lean a little too close to comfort over you and your desk to reach the computer. even more, you don’t expect his hand to cover yours over the mouse as he clicks a few things. 

all you do is hold your breath but you can still smell him faintly, a comforting and familiar scent. your eyes almost flutter shut. 

suppressed feelings are coming back. coming back to haunt you for good. 

it does indeed feel a little too good to be true. you feel so giddy around riki, like a high schooler experiencing their first love. but you never got to. 

it felt like you were getting to reexperience your teenage years properly with riki—how it should’ve gone. but it’s a little different. it feels a little too different. you want to blame it on the fact that you guys are older and you overthink things, but the feelings and emotions inside you say otherwise. 

v. the thin line between love and hate. 

you startle at the sudden coffee placed in front of you, by a bashful riki. 

“hm? what’s this for?”

he scratches the back of his head, “you’ve been working so hard lately, too much for an intern. i don’t want to be known as the guy who overworks the newbies.”  

the warming of your heart falls flat.

“ha ha ha,” you laugh dryly. “thank you though.” 

before he leaves you to continue your work, he adds, “don’t forget to eat too. i brought some lunch for you in the fridge.” 

you don’t fight off the dumb smile on your face when you open the community fridge to see a packaged lunch with a sticky note on top reading, 

y/n’s only!! no touching!! (please and thank you) 

in someone’s very familiar handwriting that hadn’t changed at all since middle school. 

still, you don’t know how you haven’t gotten fired yet. you tried your best to maintain a professional relationship at work, yet the amount of jokes and ridiculous faces riki made was going to be the death of you. 

he manages to get a choked sound out of you as you put your head down in an attempt to hold back your laughter. he only looks on proudly when you try your best to chide him. 

“focus, riki!”

“how can i focus when his feet smell from across the roo-“

you place a finger over his soft lips, eyes raising from them to his innocent (yet deadly) looking gaze. 

“stop disturbing the others!” you scold. 

“i think you should tell his feet that.”

you stare at each other blankly for a second or two, your eyes flicking to the man’s shoes across the room, before you both can’t help but bursting into a silent fit of laughter. 

meanwhile everyone else looks on, confused but starting to get used to the two of you at this point. 

as riki admires your face full of glee, he thinks there couldn’t have been anything better. 

maybe he should’ve known the universe wouldn’t let him off that easy. 

you’re on the way home from work when you receive a message from riki. he asks for you to stop by the store to grab him ice cream, and you roll your eyes. 

you already knew what that meant. anime night at riki’s place although his deadline was the next day. 

when he sends the begging emojis, you sigh and change routes to the nearest mart. you couldn’t resist him, even if you wanted to. 

you’re browsing the aisles, adding more and more snacks that you really didn’t need but you knew would make riki (and by default—you) happy. 

as you reach for the bungeobbang snack, you don’t notice the hand that grabs it at the same time. a shock courses through you for a split second, and you pull your hand back. 

“sorry…” 

you glance at the figure. and you cock your head. 

a distinct pair of eyes blink back at you. 

wait a second… 

“no way. yang jungwon?”

his mouth drops open. “y/n? it’s been years!” 

you nod, almost laughing at the complete turn of events. “i can’t believe it either. what are you doing here?”

it turns out jungwon was in town for work, as per a client's request. he had also grown up a lot and changed much more than you expected. 

he was still the same, handsome and charming jungwon. but he had definitely matured and you found yourself enjoying the catching-up talk with him. to the point where you lost track of time. 

only was it until you see riki’s name light up your phone do you remember. you scramble to get your things (and probably melted ice cream). 

“sorry jungwon, i have to get going.” 

he gets up to help you gather your things. you can’t help but notice the warmth of his hand lingering on yours when he passes you the last grocery bag. 

“it was really nice to see you again. do you maybe want to keep in touch?” 

you only nod at his hopeful eyes. “of course! we can exchange numbers and meet up again while you’re still here.” 

feeling strangely light on your way to riki’s place, the guilt hits you when you are greeted by riki’s worried face. 

“what took so long?”

you think about jungwon and cringe internally. you don’t think you have the heart to tell riki. not today. 

-Is what you keep telling yourself. days, and days after that first encounter. you just don’t know how to bring it up to riki, or when. after everything that happened, 

you don’t think you can’t risk it. not when you just got your riki back. 

you’re surprised at how often jungwon texts you. maybe he was still the same jungwon after all, still wanting to hang out with you all the time like back in the old days. 

but this time, you had no reason to object. again, guilt washes over you as you respond to his text before looking over at a focused riki. 

just once wouldn’t hurt, you manage to convince yourself. 

it’s not like riki would care that much anyways. the past was the past and things were different now. why would he care if you hung out with another guy? 

it’s not like he liked you… right? 

you repeat that to yourself everyday. everyday that riki greets you with that adoring face of his. everyday that he teases you, makes you laugh, and helps you through all the hard times. 

even the day that you thought he was going to kiss you. when he reached over you to grab the remote, but he didn’t go back to his spot. he stayed hovering over you, faces inches apart. 

and he stared at you, into you, with those eyes that he always looked at you with. 

yet riki didn’t do anything. he didn’t make a single move, so that means it should be fine if you met jungwon just this once? 

even so, you get off work early, rushing to get home and prepare. you brush off riki’s reminder of him stopping by your house later to return your jacket he borrowed. how it fit him, you still don’t know. 

even more you don’t know is why you feel pressured to dress up nice and prepare, just to see jungwon. it was just a simple catch up with him. it wasn’t like you were going to keep seeing him after that. it wasn’t a date of any sort… 

jungwon pulls out the chair and you awkwardly sit down and thank him. 

ok so maybe you should have dated in high school, just so you wouldn’t have been so clueless now. 

it wasn’t a date. you know it wasn’t. and you keep repeating it to yourself. 

maybe jungwon notices your stiffness, because he compliments your outfit. 

“you look really nice.”

“thanks,” you smile, “so do you.” 

“i didn’t know what places were good in this area, but i liked this cafe so i thought it would be a good place for us to talk!” 

you’ve always admired jungwon’s thoughtfulness. or rather, been jealous. there was only one other person who could compete with him on that: nishimura riki. 

again, time passes you as you spend the night with him. it’s quite dark out when you realize you should get going. 

jungwon being ever the gentleman offers to walk you home. he also lends you his jacket, which you have no choice but to accept both his offers. it would end on an awkward note if you rejected him—which you didn’t want—so you decide to bear with it just this once. 

jungwon was simply a cool and fun person to hang out with anyway, so you had no complaints. you trusted him naturally. 

it was all fine until you reached the outside of your apartment. 

you certainly weren’t expecting to see riki waiting outside your door, looking visibly and obviously upset. your feet come to a halt.

you completely forgot. 

jungwon grabs your arm suddenly. “is that niki?” 

you see the expression on riki’s face visibly change, and you rush to explain yourself. 

“riki, please let me-“ 

ignoring jungwon, the coldness emanating from riki physically makes you shiver. 

“we need to talk.” 

you bite your lip. 

“jungwon, i… think you should go.” 

he complies when you ask once more, but not without a concerned request to contact him later. 

even with jungwon gone, riki still looks like he’s about to get attacked, threatened and rigid. 

you call out his name quietly, “can we at least go inside first?” 

you reach for his hand but he pulls away before heading in. fair, you think. 

“-i’m sorry i didn’t tell you earlier, but it was a sudden decision.”

“i still don’t get why you didn’t tell me,” he snaps. 

you don’t like the way this is heading. and you both know where it was going to go. “it was just one small hangout, we were only catching up,” you frown. 

“but you know how i feel about him! you should have told me-“

you feel your anger rise as well as you get to your feet. 

“do i have an obligation to tell you? why is a fight that happened over ten years ago still such a big deal? what’s your issue with jungwon?”

you cross your arms, facing an agitated riki. 

“nevermind that. why can’t you just tell me what happened back then?!” 

the silence, accompanied by the sound of your mixed heavy breaths, leave you weary. you pinch the space between your eyebrows. 

“riki-“ you reach out for him but he pulls away. he’s doing it once again. 

it hurts more than you thought. “fine. if you’re not going to say anything, then i think you should just leave.” 

and you don’t object when he listens to your suggestion, without a second glance back. 

it felt like deja vu, seeing him leave just as he did before. 

it’s been days since you last talked to riki, let alone spared a glance in his direction. work was awkward enough, just like it had been the first week you came.

how could your relationship turn back to strangers so suddenly? did riki not care? 

if anything, he cared too much—but you would have never known. 

it’s hard to work next to him, be near him without the unspoken feelings rising up. a hand brushing his when he passed you papers almost felt like it was burning you. riki noticed how you would flinch away, every time. 

it didn’t matter. your internship was coming to an end, and you were already preparing yourself to leave. 

maybe this was just a sign from the universe telling you that you and riki were meant to be apart. that you weren’t meant to be together after all. 

you loved the area, company, office environment and just about everything else. it should’ve been perfect. 

but you don’t know if you can stand working here, staying here and living here, 

knowing that riki is right around the corner, carrying your heart without a second thought. 

the power that he holds, the fact that he’s able to break your heart in the matter of seconds or make you smile like the happiest person in the world, it’s just too scary for you to handle. 

you’re already planning to head back home and stay with your parents for a little until you get things figured out again. 

you still had tickets to a small festival at the nearby plaza that you planned to go with riki, but that certainly wasn’t happening anymore. 

you didn’t want the second ticket to go to waste, so in your lostness and desperation (and several rejections by coworkers), you asked jungwon. you were leaving soon and didn’t know when the next time you would see him was. 

you greet him with a halfhearted smile, and he gestures for you guys to get closer to the stage to get a better view. but there’s a big crowd, and you stumble over an arm or leg or something. 

for some reason, you expect him to be there and help you up. like someone else did in a strangely familiar situation. 

but there’s no one. nothing except the crowd of bodies that’s starting to get a little too overwhelming. 

for the first time, you wish to the universe for one thing. you wish you had riki again, with you by your side. 

it’s then you realize you’ve been thinking about him the whole time. he who’s been the one always to pick you back up. he was always there for you. 

you know, you need to do something before you leave. you can’t handle leaving things like this. 

you plan to, however, the next day is the last day of your internship and some of the kind workers surprised the interns with a small going away party. it’s bittersweet, especially when everyone assumes you’re getting hired for an official position due to your exceptional work, and another person. 

you were grateful for everyone who planned and showed up. but there was one person who didn’t that you kept looking for. everyone knows who, but no one knows why. 

at the end of the day, you make your way back to riki’s office in order to pack up your stuff. 

you take one last glance around the room and all of its memories. leaving this place felt like leaving riki behind as well. 

you were grateful that you got the chance to see him once more. you were beginning to accept that this was the end. 

putting all your stuff in boxes, you frown while wondering where your compartment desk key was. maybe riki mistakenly took yours instead of his?

you open various drawers, rummaging around. but when you get to the bottommost drawer, your heart stops. 

it’s only a plain cream folder, but what’s written on it takes your breath away. 

just your name. 

photos and photos of you, beautifully crafted and arranged together. it’s riki’s work, you know that for sure. memories spanning your entire internship—from the first day to the last time you talked to him. 

you don’t know when and how he took these photos. or when tears fell down your cheeks. 

you hastily rub the wetness away, sniffling as you close the folder and continue your search. now wasn’t the time to get sentimental. 

it would be alright, because you planned on finding riki the next day before you left. it was too late today, and you needed to finish packing. you just wanted one last chance to say everything you wanted to before going. 

you have to because you feel it deep within, tugging at your heartstrings. 

it’s about 1am when you finish packing. you don’t even want to think about the time you need to get up, nor the fact that you still had to find a way to see riki. 

you zip up the last luggage when the doorbell rings. who in the world would be at your door this late? you consider grabbing some sort of weapon, but decide against it for the time being. 

you nervously peek through the peephole, before throwing the door open. 

“r-riki?”

you’re more shocked that he was crying than him even showing up at your place. 

riki almost lunges forward, trapping you in his arms. he hiccups and you feel a pang in your chest. 

“y/n- please- just please, will you forgive me?”

“what?” you breathe out. you couldn’t even process the situation. 

“please. never leave me.”

“what? why would i ever?” you comfortingly bring a hand to rub his back. it takes a little bit to soothe him, and he speaks again when you feel his erratic breathing has calmed and his body relaxes. 

“i’m so scared to lose you again,” he whispers shakily. you soften, pulling back to see his red eyes and nose. 

“riki, please tell me what’s going on.” he knows immediately what you mean. 

you reach up to wipe the corners of his eyes and the side of his face gently. he closes his eyes at the feeling, to go back into time. 

honestly, he remembers that day as if it was just yesterday. it was a day that haunted him up until now. 

riki always knew then. maybe you weren’t aware but he definitely was.  

yang jungwon liked you. it was obvious. 

riki could see it—physically too. that cursed red string mocked him everyday he saw you two in class. 

riki knew jungwon could feel it too. you were too close to riki and everyone knew that. jungwon knew, and he didn’t care. 

it was raining, as riki recalled many times over and over again. he was alone while waiting for you to finish class. riki was alone until jungwon and his group of friends approached him. 

jungwon knew about his power. he said his father worked for the government, worked with riki. riki suddenly thought of one of the head scientists and his eyes, strikingly similar to jungwon’s. 

so that was his father, he remembers thinking. 

riki never liked him.

regardless, jungwon asked if riki could see your string. just like the others. riki chooses not to answer as always, but jungwon naturally got on his nerves. 

riki remembers the exact words. 

“if you two aren’t dating, does that mean you aren’t soulmates? you would’ve asked y/n out already if you were, am i right?” 

at that, riki’s blood began to boil. but he couldn’t do anything. mainly because jungwon was right. and it infuriated riki. 

jungwon laughed. “then… i can ask y/n out? since you guys aren’t soulmates?”

riki doesn’t remember the next part. maybe he blacked out or chose to erase it from his memory. but apparently, he punched jungwon. he snapped for the first time. 

riki opens his eyes again slowly, seeing your heartfelt gaze on him and him only. 

he almost doesn’t recognize his own voice when he speaks. it sounded too quiet. too defeated. like he was already accepting his loss. 

”you’re jungwon’s soulmate. not mine.”

he glances down at your pinky. it had been a while since he saw your red string, let alone anyone else’s. 

“no matter how much i wished your red string was connected to mine, it wasn’t.” 

at some point, riki assumed his string had no other person it was attached to, because he had never met anyone who made him feel like how you did. no one else made him as happy, as sad, or as loved as you did. 

riki knew if he had a soulmate, it would have been you and only you. 

“i-i was upset when you saw jungwon again that you would fall in love with him. and leave me.”

it was a lot to process. you know and he knows. it wasn’t what you were expecting, but you were fine with that. 

when you call out his name, your hands reach to the sides of his face to guide them to look at you. you take a deep breath. 

“i’ve always loved you.”

and exhale. 

“jungwon was never on my mind, only you’ve been. even after all this time-” 

abruptly, riki reached forward to kiss you harshly and you instantly reciprocate it. your hands tighten around his neck while his come to wrap around your waist, naturally. 

you just can’t seem to let each other go. 

you ask jungwon to meet up with one last time before he leaves, at the same cafe he suggested last time. 

you comment on the nice weather and he agrees. you fiddle with your fingers. 

“this is a bit random, but do you believe in soulmates?” 

jungwon looks confused but he says, “yeah. from what i’ve heard, i think so?” 

your eyes narrow. “even if two people are soulmates, do you think they can love different people?” 

“y/n, where is this-“

“answer the question and i’ll explain. i promise.” 

he scratches his head, “i… i suppose so?” 

“and if two people aren’t soulmates, do you think that they can love each other?” you continue. 

“sure. but i don’t get why you’re asking-“

ignoring him, you nod thoughtfully. “okay.”

he opens his mouth to respond, but you hold up a hand. 

“i just wanted to say it was nice seeing you again.” 

he looks a bit surprised. 

“me too. i enjoyed the time we spent together. i know that i’m leaving soon and this is a bit sudden, but do you want to see each other again-?”

you sigh, looking out the window again. 

“i’m sorry, but i don’t think that’s possible. i hope the rest of your life goes well as you want it to, yang jungwon.”

he nods solemnly. “it’s because you’re with niki, right?” he smiles at your shocked expression. “i figured since he was outside your place. no harm in shooting my shot. but wow, you guys really found each other again.”

you don’t know what to say so you just nod. 

“tell him that i’m sorry for what i said in the past and that i wish him the best too.” he gets up from his chair, prompting you too as well. 

“we can still be friends, of course,” you rush to add. 

jungwon laughs, “it’s alright. i should get over you first before considering a friendship.” 

“maybe in another life. we get along too well,” you joke. he laughs too and you know it’s not forced. 

“come on, i’ll walk you home.” 

you stare at jungwon’s side profile during the walk, as he speaks about random topics and leads the way back. 

it’s strange, imagining him as your soulmate. it was weird imagining a life with anyone else but riki. although yang jungwon may be your soulmate, he’s not the one that you want. that’s okay. 

when he drops you off, riki opens the door. you’re hesitant, but you see the two give a final nod to each other. jungwon leaves without a glance back, and riki closes the door. 

“how was it?” 

you lean in to peck his lips. “good. better than i expected, to be honest. now can we start the movie? i was waiting for this all day.” 

riki smiles as you take off your shoes and get ready for a night in with him. he glances at your matching gold chain bracelets that he bought recently, a promise for the future. just as riki wanted. 

riki doesn’t know what’s going to happen in the future. all he knows is that he’ll be with you forever, red string or not. 

that night, he realized he couldn’t give up on you. not again. he would fight like he did before and choose his own destiny. 

because the only destiny he had was one with you. 

nishimura riki couldn’t see the end of his string. he probably never would. and he didn’t want to. it didn’t matter, after all. now, he looks back at your hands and imagines a perfect little knot in the middle connecting both your red strings. 

and he smiles. 

hi it’s jae again—thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed it as i put a lot of work and effort into it (my longest one shot so far skxnksdnj so pls excuse mistakes/typos if i missed some) actually it hurt to write won as the “bad guy” but i couldn’t think of anyone else close enough to fit the role lol. anyways that’s all, just wanted to say that i’m thankful for all the love, comments, rbs, and support i receive as it keeps me going to write more. i truly do appreciate all 1.2k and more followers, see you guys again in the next works coming soon ;)

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @kynrki @heesterical @jungwonize @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii @love-4-keum @nyanggk @luvhyun3 @dimplewonie @yjjungwon

ONESHOT TAGLIST ▸ @annoyingbitch83 @rizzshimura @enhastolemyheart @naddii @st4rfiles @officiallyjaehyuns @xiaoderrrr @miercerise @jhopesucker @if-i-like-i-reblog @4imhry @1-800shutthefuckup @luvistqrzzz @asyleums

@ertekeszoi

@kflixnet send in a message to be added to the taglist!

[quiteliterallyilliterate]

If you are open to requests, I would like to request anything with Fae!Hyrule or maybe a feral Fae!Hyrule (follows classic Fae rules, protect your name, don’t thank a Fae, don’t make a deal, etc) , or even a cute fluffy Fae!Hyrule X Reader fic. There just isn’t enough fairy Hyrule, especially X reader fics, they are practically nonexistent. I just read your last post of a fairy/malice Hyrule X reader and am hooked. Your previous work has fed my obsession, thank you 🙏 .

Order up!

Sorry that this ended up taking so long! Just wanted to make sure everything worked out. This unintentionally got really long and i didn’t wanna convolute things as I intend to do. Special thanks to @litrllyvoid who proofread this.

Hope you enjoy~

tw: Dementia loosely described

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your mother always told you that you were blessed. You’d watch from your little stool as she weaved her fabrics, shuttle passing through the rungs of yarn with precision. Her words were low and hushed, embellishing every word with an air of mystery. You were six months old, she said. The forests were cold and menacing as they still were, and within those woods, she sung. An odd act many of the people now would warn against for the very same reason she did it. The fae. Tricksters of the woods with sharp tongues and sly deals, your mother had them bless you. Now, you see the price. While you never were injured as a child and never fell ill, your mother took the brunt of your illnesses. She sat now in her rocking chair, hands too worn to use her loom as her mind withers. Wrapped in the great blankets she used to weave, she doesn’t remember that she made them. She doesn’t recall who she used to be. You read her books about the fae sometimes and her tall tale is all she ever mentions anymore. The small smile she has is all that’s left of her —truly her— anymore. So, with a book, a green cloak and some payment, you set off into the forest with the hopes of recovering what’s since been lost.

You’ve since grown increasingly thankful for your cloak, the furry lining keeping you blessedly warm as the fog only grows thicker and thicker. The light begins to dwindle from your path despite it only being sometime around noon. The birds are gone now. Their chitters and chortles are replaced by wind whispers and the quiet sway of your breath. You stop at an odd formation of rocks stuck in the ground, crocus and clover flowers blooming around the edge of each rock that forms the circle. Carefully you step in, leaving a velvet bag of silver coins as payment for your intrusion. The air stands still and the humidity increases, each breath uncomfortable.

“Hello there” The voice is as cautious as you feel, and yet clearer than your vision at the moment. You turn to see a thin, scruffy looking boy, brown-blonde waves of hair tousled like a sea of their own. His head is tilted to the side, hazel eyes combing over you carefully. He holds out a hand in expectations. You hesitate as you hand him the bag, especially as his thin lips twitch towards a frown. “I do not want your money” He shakes his head, his nose crinkling at its bridge.

“Wh-“ You turn fully now to face him and he doesn’t feel as scary as the stories paint his kind to be, perhaps that makes them even more terrifying. “Then what do you want?” His lips part to a tight smile, the edges of his teeth showing, you can’t tell from where you stand if they’re pointed.

“Your mother could sing, couldn’t she?” A chill skitters down your spine as his deceptively innocent voice calls. You don’t even dignify him with a response, suddenly feeling unwelcome on the grass you stand. “My mentor actually dealt with it— not me” He chuckles at the end of his words, complimenting them like birdsong does to sunrise. “We love a good song you know” You can’t for the life of you tell what it’s supposed to mean, what he intends behind the simple words. And yet his pointed ears wiggle as he smiles reassuringly, as if you weren’t bargaining over a life.

“That’s the thing-“ You choke over the words, feeling yourself root down to your cause. “She’s unwell because-“ Looking at his curious eyes picking you apart, you feel bad at the sentiments you hold. It feels as if your mind is being mixed, and yet there’s nothing apparently wrong. “Because of the deal. I want to know how to fix it.” You’re unsure exactly of how you managed to keep your voice so even, but the boy in front of you buys into it. He nods in acknowledgement before his lips pursed, his sharp cupid bow shifting.

“An eye for an eye” The wind picks up, ruffling the trees. Suddenly the small boy in front of you no longer feels nearly as harmless. “A life for a life, one must understand.” His eyes close and he sinks in on his feet, speaking so calmly of mortality. Truly because his kind holds so much over it “To save yours, she sacrificed her own. That cannot be easily undone” His words make you sink as well. Nothing to be done. Not even for the ones who’ve done it. “Be not afraid. There is a solution” His smile is back, tight and lacking the warmth of a human. “A life for a life.” He giggles, as if the words were funny “Say you managed to bear me a child- Oh that won’t do. Too cliche. And horribly disrespectful” A freckled hand curls around the base of his chin as he ponders. “Are you unwed?” His eyes glint with a silvery light that you failed to see before. In the pure shock of the moment, you shake your head, shuffling back slightly. “Really? Wow- Sorry. If you are willing to spend the remainder of your life with me, I will save your mother. Only if we are married —wholly married, not simply for the sake of the spell— then will I save your mother. You'll still be able to visit and what not, but you'll live with me, as is proper.” He holds a hand out to you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Uh-“ You sip in some of the uncomfortably humid air and feel your head get lighter. An eye for an eye. Your life for hers. She was a good woman, one of unfortunate circumstances. Feeling calloused hand meet your own sealed your fate to something you could only hope to be respectable. The fae aren’t known for breaking deals. Nor are they known for breaking their pacts. Till death do you part, afterall.

[essentiallyleaf]

Welcome! To start, what are some of your favorite smuts that you've read?

hi frostedtuskwalrus, and thank you very much!

such a difficult question! off the top of my head, and in no particular order:

WINTER WEATHER ADVISORY, by @capslocked,

we could call it even, and for all the right reasons, part 1, and part 2, by @majorblinks,

Through A Red Veil, and the entire Finding Love series, prequel included, by @ifeelsounsure0 (sorry, i really couldn't choose),

The Yarn We Spin, and Fibonacci, by @worldsover,

Learning From The Best, and the entire A Family Affair (1, 2) series, including any and every new chapter that is possibly going to exist, by @sinswithpleasure,

NO UPPER HAND, JUST HOW MUCH ARE YOU WILLING TO GIVE FOR A DREAM THAT BIG?, and THIS TOO SHALL PASS, by @iznsfw,

ROMEO, by @yieldtotemptation,

Acmé de la Vie, by @midnightdancingsol,

Just Testing (obviously), and A Collection for a Special Date: Part III, by @fillinforlater (though every single Smite series is top tier),

Eudaimonia, by PlateauWorld on AFF,

and its sequel SHATTERED PSYCHE, by @usedpidemo,

as well as so, so many others.

thank you for reminding me about all these great works.

humbly, leaf.

[balkanradfem]

I keep thinking everyone knows the exact same information as me, but since I'm about to make more posts about textiles and clothing, as I'm reading the book on them, I'm going to write down some basic information, just in case it's not very common, because a lot of this I only gathered recently. If I get something wrong please correct me in a kind way!

So where does the clothing come from, and how do we make it? During most of the history, textiles were made by women, from natural materials; flax, wool, cotton, silk, jute. Recently we started using more synthetic materials, like acrylic, polyester, nylon, spandex. If you want to make clothing from the natural materials, like wool or cotton, they first need to be processed, cleaned and combed, then spun into yarn, or thread. Spinning is the process where women manage to pull a thin part of the material and spin the fibres into one consistent, firm thread. It's super impressive to watch them do it and I have no idea how they manage to make it consistent, I've not yet tried to do it myself.

Once the thread is done, it can be made into a textile by knitting, crochet, or weaving. There are also other more complex, decorative methods, like tatting or lacing.

For knitting, you need two needles, or a special circular needle, or, there are also knitting machines, which you can use to make woolen fabric. For weaving, you need a loom. For crochet, you need a crochet hook. While knitting and weaving can be done by a machine, crochet can only be done by hand. Woven fabrics are firm, sturdy, durable, and not stretchy, while knit fabric is the most stretchy and soft. I'm not sure about crochet since I only have one crochet garment, but mine is very sturdy!

All of these methods were historically done by women; families were able to grow flax plants close to their homes, and women would then create linens, woven textiles made from processed flax, which was used to make sheets and clothing. Linen was specifically useful in keeping people clean, since it's very good at absorbing moisture. Used as an under-garment, it was capable of absorbing sweat, and protecting the outer layers, which were not washed. Experiments have shown that frequently changing into clean linen was more effective at keeping clean than showering and then putting on the same clothing back on.

Women's ability to create clothing was sadly exploited, and women were even banned to sell it commercially, or from competing at the commercial market, but their husbands were allowed to profit off of their craft.

In the USA, cotton was the most produced material, however for this too people were enslaved and exploited; cotton took human labour to grow, harvest and process, it also required a lot of water, and caused destruction of environment, because of the chemicals used in it's growth, and the unsustainability of monocrops.

Creating a piece of clothing out of textiles, or sewing, is a process that still cannot be completely automated; while you can use a sewing machine, you cannot make a machine that would produce a whole garment out of textiles. No mass-produced piece of clothing was sewn by a machine, it always has to be made by a human being. This is why a lot of the sewing labour is currently outsourced to third-world countries and companies use modern slavery in order to create fast fashion; there is no machine that can do it, so by the rules of capitalism, the companies are trying to get that labour as cheap as possible, often at the cost of human lives.

We didn't use to have as many garments as we do today, in the 18th century people would have two outfits, one for normal days of the week, and one for Sunday. The clothing they owned was usually made to fit them exactly, either by a female member of the family, or a seamstress, and these garments were made to last them for decades. As clothing became cheaper to buy than to make at home, and more of it became mass-produced, people started acquiring more of it, but also using it for lesser period of time. This would eventually grow into a bigger problem, due to the amount of chemicals and labour used to grow, process, dye and sew the garments, and the amount of waste we were starting to accumulate.

Introduction of synthetic materials, like acrylic, made the yarn and the textiles much cheaper, however it lacks the important properties natural materials have. Do you ever notice how synthetic garments sometimes continue smelling bad even after you wash them? That is because they'll absorb sweat, but become hydrophobic when wet, meaning they will take in your sweat, but refuse to let it go once they're in the water. This means that the longer you have them, the worst their stink becomes. This, of course, can be hidden by the generous use of scented fabric softener, but it won't exactly make the garment clean. This information I've learned recently, but it helped me identify what were the most synthetic pieces of clothing I had. Acrylic clothing had also proven to shed 1.5 more microplastics than any other polyester when put into the washing machine.

Having our clothing grown, processed, spun, woven/knit, and then sewn far out of sight, it's possible to lose the sight of where it came from, or how it's made. Only by trying to do it yourself, or learning closely about the process can one learn to appreciate what a monumental task it is, to create fabric, or a garment. Other than the synthetic textiles, of which I still know very little of, all of the natural clothing is a product of plants and animals, it takes land, farming, agriculture and water to grow the plants, raise the animals, and then labour to process and spin the fibres. It's also something people used to do in their gardens, inside of their homes, something that was normal for women to do, and to trade for anything else they needed, saving them from having to work for wages. Women making fabric was always to the benefit of everyone around them, while m*n taking over the industry and doing it commercially, ultimately brought slave labour to a lot of people, cheap and low quality garments to the select few, and money to the hands of the exploiters.

Being curious about clothing and what becomes of it, is a big benefit to the environment and the future of the earth! Knowing what the textile industry is doing, and how does it affect the planet, can be a great motivator to try and sew, or upcycle and mend clothing, or create garments. It's presented to us as something women were forced to do in the past, and it's connected to 'feminine hobbies', but in actuality, it is power to create something humans cannot do without. Women in the past used it's power too, whenever they could. And we are the only ones who ever used this power for good.

[whatgaviiformes]

Fic: Grannies - Part 4 (Finale)

Summary: Gordon's committed to the bit. The bit just happens to be an obnoxious amount of granny squares.

A/N- In the finale: warning for a bit of whump. Whole lotta love though. Words for this part come to 2K.

Part 1 here | Part 2 here | Part 3 here | AO3

Thank yous: craftyfam, patient readers, my yarn stash for inspiration, Kat for the read through and assuring me this was post ready. FFXIV I can't thank you because you are a menace and a distraction no matter how much I love you.

*****

Part 4: Finale

Because Gordon never goes half-assed into anything, Virgil is still finding granny squares. 

He has to keep reminding himself that he appreciates Gordon’s dedication. He actually relies on this part of his brother’s character. Frequently, in fact. 

But as he pries a stray granny square out of his sock drawer and tosses it into the project basket housing its companions, Virgil has to roll his eyes. Fondly of course. In the project management world, they call this scope creep - with no real end in sight, the project keeps getting bigger and more involved, and it’s all too easy for it to just keep living on indefinitely. But then, Gordon is one big Scope Creep anyway since he was never one for boundaries in the first place. 

His definition of an appropriate time to stop was very different from Virgil’s. 

At this point, the new square isn’t anything Virgil hasn’t seen before. He knows by now what to expect from Gordon’s work. And, honestly, it’s just like Gordon to somehow manage to desensitize Virgil away from everything he knows about color theory, however briefly. So, neither the presence of the piece of fabric nor the color combination provides any shock value anymore. 

What it does do is remind him that he’s got his own project balancing to do. That of actually… you know… finishing the damn thing. And figuring out what to do with the rest of the squares, he reminds himself as he slides on his socks and laces up his boots for the day. 

The newest acquisition - two rounds of golden yellow followed by two rounds of aubergine purple and a final in white - doesn’t look as visually discordant alongside its peers, the scrambled rainbow they are.  They are all the ones that didn’t make the cut for Gordon’s afghan, the  squares Virgil keeps finding anew, and inevitably the future ones Gordon will continue to make until he receives another lightning strike of an idea.

Right beside it is a second project basket. Gordon likes a big blanket, so enough squares to fit a king sized bed are already packed up and labeled in their sequential order. As he’s had time, Virgil has started sewing them together based on the design Scott helped with. There’s enough space still for him to store the bolt of fabric John helped him find too, once it finally arrives. 

Virgil’s grateful for their help, and their part in the project has made it just that bit more special. He hopes Gordon feels that way too. It took Scott reminding him that it wasn’t his own aesthetic he was trying to please for the design to come together. Otherwise, Virgil has no doubt what he would’ve designed would’ve been lesser for his own misery trying to force order into chaos. 

Somehow, with the power of math, Scott’s perspective on patterns and probability and randomization had been just the ticket. Gordon also probably hadn’t realized just how many squares he’d made that started with the shade of yellow or orange or his typical bright shades. Just that little bit of consistency was all he and Scott needed to figure the rest out as they laid out the squares. It wasn’t a pattern, a fade, or even entirely randomized. But a couple edits later, they had the final layout, the squares numbered, and Virgil had gotten to work joining his own granny stitches into his brother’s work in the only color Gordon considered “neutral” - yellow. 

Unable to resist the smile it brings, Virgil tugs the blanket out of the basket and unfolds the two rows he’s finished, with the third halfway complete. It doesn’t bother him that his connecting yarn is still live - the hook has his last loop stabbed into the working skein, and even if it does come unraveled a little, crochet is not so difficult to start again. 

It had taken a few tries to find the right hook to help him match Gordon’s stitches. Even though Virgil taught him a few years ago, no two makers’ work was exactly alike. And Gordon was as carefree with his gauge as he was in the rest of his life. 

Excitement thrums through him; it’s morning, the birds are chirping, and he’s feeling motivated and productive. The crochet work is soft in his hands, the next square in the sequence visible in the project basket below but hiding the rest of the queue for the third row. It’s the perfect day to grab some coffee, hide away in his studio for a few hours, and let the project surprise him. 

That’s the way a WIP should work: it should inspire along the way. 

Virgil has just thrown a towel over the basket to make it seem like it could be laundry - just in case he runs into a wayward squid - when the alarm in his room sounds and John’s voice comes over comms. 

They have a rescue. 

~*~

Virgil awakes to the smell of antiseptic and the uncomfortable feeling that his mouth tastes like cotton. 

Something about that makes him want to giggle, except he can’t actually do that. 

“Easy, Virg.” Hands, soothing, graze his hairline. “They’ve got you on the good stuff.”

He can tell. He hasn’t opened his eyes yet to know if he’s in a hospital or the infirmary, nor does he know what happened to land him there.

Based on the cotton in his throat and in his head and in his lungs, maybe he ate Gordon’s blanket. 

The giggle turns into a groan. 

“You’re okay now. Rest, Virgil.” 

Since the voice is Scott, he does so.

~*~

The next time he remembers waking, he’s in the infirmary on the island. Again, this he knows not because he’s opened his eyes to figure it out, but because his senses tell him so. Only one brother knows sea shanties enough to be familiar with that one and, if Gordon is here humming it, they’re both definitely not in a hospital.

The words he wants to say trudge through the molasses on their way out.

“Wha’ happ’n?” 

“Virgil!” It’s surprise, and excitement, and relief all rolled into one, but Gordon has the good sense to keep his voice low once the original shock of him waking settles.  

Gordon knows the drill well, his voice barely above a whisper as he closes the blinds and scoops some ice chips into a cup. Virgil’s grateful for the gentle way he moves about the room; he can hear him shuffling around, dictating as he goes. By the time Gordon returns with the cup of blessed relief for the feeling in his esophagus, Virgil has managed to tearily blink his eyes half-open. 

Beneath his brother’s brushed fringe hides a bruise the size of a fist, purpling so harshly at his hairline that Virgil ignores the ice chip Gordon offers him in favor of reaching up to check the injury out for himself. Immediately, his body protests the movement, and Gordon urges him to lower his arm back to the support of the bed.

“Yeah, maybe don’t try that?” Gordon waves him off. “I’m fine. What do you remember?” 

Through the pain in his lower half and the color of Gordon’s face, the memories of the rescue come back clearer. Unfortunately, of all things, they’d been called out to a mudslide. He’d checked Gordon out in the field, he remembers. A panicked civilian with a wayward right hook while Gordon was calming his husband. The man had been incredibly apologetic, and Gordon assured him no harm was done, but Virgil pulled him off duty as a concussion risk and left him in Two with  Grandma talking to him.

Then, when Virgil went after a lifesign in a toppling two-story… 

“A house hit me.” 

“Well, more mud than house. You’re ok though. You were buried from the waist up. Had some compartment syndrome. Everything you’re feeling - or not - is temporary.”  

“You came to get me.” Virgil could argue that grounded meant grounded, that Gordon should never’ve gone after him in such dangerous conditions, that he’s the big brother and Gordon’s the little one and he should keep himself safe when he’s told to do so. But there’s a challenge in his little brother’s warm honey eyes already, and he remembers faintly words spoken in worry and fear, assurances that tighten in a coil around his heart.

“I did. There wasn’t anyone else.”  

He owes Gordon everything.

Virgil hums, “Thank you.”

Between the pain medication and water soothing the grittiness in his throat, he feels more aware by the minute and ready to try sitting up for a time. Gordon helps him settle a few pillows into position and raises the head of the infirmary bed to the appropriate level. He’s got to let Scott know he’s awake - and Grandma -  Gordon tells him. Before either of them decide to have scolded Squid for dinner. 

Virgil doesn’t have the energy to chuckle, but it does as he knows Gordon intended: leave him with a smile for the few moments Gordon needs to step away to communicate Virgil’s situation. 

His heart is music, his soul is color. Where sound is oversaturated with the wisps and hums of machinery tracking his vitals, his heartbeat in rhythm, color becomes his touchstone. Outside the window will be the cerulean of the sky and sea. Green, which he thinks in its most basic form because it’s every combination of the hue throughout the robust plant-life of their Island. Dandelion yellow - the sun and safety and Gordon’s baldric. 

Past the shut blinds, it’s all just a sliver. More prominently, there’s just white and infirmary clean grey.  He has to blink away the dullness, as he tears his gaze away from the window and finally musters the strength to glance at himself and especially at his lower half past the pain where Gordon promised his lack of feeling, muted through painkillers, was temporary. 

Color, so much of it that it’s blinding, greets him with the neon of signage amidst the Las Vegas cityscape and the celebration of the New York Pride parade they attend each year. The blanket draped across his lap is authentic Gordon through and through, in familiar squares assembled in a chaos true to their variety. No rhyme, no reason. 

So much care. 

“Grandma will be in shortly.” Gordon plops into the chair at his side, wiggling in the armchair to reacquire the work he’d placed on the seat cushion. He catches him looking, wide-eyed. “It’s not your project, promise. Though I did bring it in for you to work on when you’re feeling better. It’s over by the holoscreen whenever you want me to bring it over. You’ll be here for a bit healing, so I figured…” He shrugs, trailing off. 

“Gordon?” He slides his fingers between the stitches and curls them gratefully into soft, comforting colors. “What are you doing?” 

“I’m - uh -” Gordon flushes in dim light. “I’m weaving in my ends finally,” he admits, holding up the darning needle. “Sorry if you had another idea for the squares, but once I finished putting yours together, I realized we had enough still to donate some more blankets and those really should be finished.” Gordon weaves a red tail end back and forth between the strands the way Virgil taught him, and the way their mom taught Virgil. “I really did go a little overboard on granny squares didn’t I? I just figured it would be okay for me to help you along. So you could finish what you were working on. Was that ok?”

“More than.” 

It also tells him a significant amount about how serious his injuries were and how long he might have been out of commission, if Gordon’s found the time to finish as much as he has. The concern for what he’s put his family through spikes his heartbeat again, and his younger brother glances up to check on him, the monitors, back at him.

Virgil gives him a weary smile, tugging the blanket further up his chest. “I’m ok,” he assures him. “Thanks to you.” 

“Don’t do it again,” he admonishes, shaking his head.

Neither of them can promise the other, not in their line of work, and they both know it. 

The words go unspoken, but they are woven delicately in the strands of their gifts to each other. Virgil feels the care against his skin, in colors that chase away greys, and soft cotton that sifts fear and worry out through openwork patterning. And when Grandma finally makes her way in to check in on him, his heart is so full with the chance he’s been given, the support he’s always had by the people he cares for, that the love hits him with a wave of exhaustion. 

Into sleep he falls, deeply into dreamless rest by the time Grandma finishes her checks and  Gordon tucks him in with a thankful salute to the stars above.

The End

[swordheld]

how do you think in poems? i really enjoy the tags under your posts i've always wanted to write down my own thoughts that way bc in my head they feel so thorough and magical but whenever i put it in words i feel it just gets so much flatter and i no longer see a point and give up

oh oh oh, but lovely, can't you see that you've already started? it's a perspective that you hone, over time, something that is specific to you and you alone – that's the piece of it that makes it so special! you've already begun, and it only goes forward, up, sideways from here, wherever you wish to go!

think of it like a skill, for a moment, or a kind of muscle, if you'd prefer. you have to work at it, with it, over time and differing experiences, in order to progress.

(a quick important note: not progression as in the kind of quality-check of a grading scale, but progression as in evolution. shifting change. think of the leaves and their colors across the months of autumn, or temperatures rising with the sun and cooling with the evening dark. change isn't intrinsically a qualifying thing, it can just be, sometimes. this is difficult to remember, especially in the midst of frustration, but it is worth it. you are always doing better than you think you are – harshest critic, and all that.)

which is not to say that it's a simple thing to do! compare this to the vibe of me picking up crochet recently, with my shaking hands and too-quickly dwindling adhd focus – my first attempts at making a lil headphone sprout have not been going as well as i once hoped. my stitches are either too big and sloppy bc i'm not holding the yarn tightly enough to get clean ones, or i feel frustrated due to it not looking like how i'd like it to look in my mind when i started it, or even as i begin my umpteenth attempt.

but!! i know that it won't ever look the way i want it do if i set it down and never keep trying. it'll take awhile, like everything does, even the seasons take their time, the moon and its phases; but what i do know, is that, eventually, it'll resemble something i want it to. vaguely, maybe, but it is something. it doesn't have to look exactly like the guide i'm following, or the examples i'm inspired by, because it's mine – something made by my own hands, my own time and experience with every mistake and thrilling joy along the way to learn by.

take it from me: i want to be good at things i want to be good at so badly. and that excitement makes me want to be at the skill level i need to be at in order to do so right then and there, no learning curves or building blocks allowed. which is never how it happens, unfortunately, but –

i think, gently, that we tend to overlook what a pleasure it is to learn. to see the slow progression of things, to begin and change and continue and get better. and even if it's different as we go along, in a way it's our own little kind of magic, maybe, to create and never be done if we don't want to be.

which is all to say: it's already yours. why does it have to be anything else, anything more? why can't it just be good as it is now, where it might never be again? what is there to lose by enjoying the moment of where you are?

like everything, it will grow and shift and evolve with time, maybe into something you'd hoped for, or maybe into something you don't even have the words to describe right now at all. but that's the fun of it: how even now, even then, there, across time and distance and skill, there is a common thread of things; it will always come from your heart, your experience, where you are right then and there and now.

and if you think of that like magic, well, it becomes a little like magic, doesn't it?

also, something to consider: sometimes things you feel or think can't be put into words at that moment, or even at all! something else you could try (that i certainly do) is making something else with whatever it makes you feel - whether that's another form of art, or any other kind of media. if it makes you want to go outside and take a walk or get cozy and read or play a video game? that counts too! that's still an experience, you're still feeling.

i think that counts a little more than anything else, you know?

and as a little ending fun side-note, can i share something cool? i've never thought of it that way before, as thinking in poems. in my mind it's always been a kind of perspective of personal wonder, but you're right – it's poetry, in it's own way. you gave me that – so thank you, from the heart of me. i hope your journey finds you with every bright joy.

[allisluv]

COMING CLEAN

Chapter Five — the list

pairing: finnick odair x fem!oc

content warnings: president snow is a warning in himself, tooth rotting fluff mostly, flirty comments, traumas, implied sex work, dissociation and i think that’s it <3

word count: 3.1k

previous part — next part

Dahlia had never managed to escape what had happened during the 67th Hunger Games for very long. Everywhere she turned, there were reminders. A cold snap in the weather. Sickles in district nine. She grew to associate the colour red with violence and blonde thirteen-year-olds with Alara. Carbon copies of the young girl she was meant to protect. Carbon copies of the young girl she couldn't save.

Even in her sleep, she could not separate herself from the horrors in the arena. Her dreams were plagued with disturbing memories. Beckett's lifeless body lying limply in her arms. The way the colour drained from Mallory's face as Dahlia slit her throat. The light leaving Xavier's eyes. How Apollo had used Eleanora's body to light a fire in the mountains. Alara crying out for her mother.

Dahlia woke with a start, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Tears gathered on her waterline and she blinked them away quickly. Beads of sweat trickled down the back of her neck and into her damp pyjama shirt.

Finnick was snoring quietly, his chest rising and falling in steady motions. He must have been a deep sleeper to keep dozing through her tossing and turning. The alarm clock on his locker flashed with a hologram of the time.

It had only just gone 10am which gave her plenty of time to relax before tonight's gala.

She pulled back the duvet covers and quietly crept her way towards her suitcase. It was still open from last night, so she didn't have to worry about the zipping noise waking him up. She pulled a yarn of wool and two knitting needles from her suitcase before tip-toeing her way onto the balcony.

It wasn't anything special: two white plastic chairs and a matching round table. There was a row of potted plants through the bars and a view of the bustling Capitol streets. Not all that different from her own hotel room.

She settled in the shade of the balcony and got to work almost straight away. She was three-quarters of the way through knitting a black sweater for her sister; Ivy had outgrown at least half of her wardrobe in the last month alone.

Having something to do took her mind off the particularly harrowing flashbacks from last night.

Beneath her, cars honked their horns at other drivers on the road and she could faintly hear a conversation from the penthouse suite above her. It was rare to have a peaceful morning in the Capitol and it certainly made her trip that much easier.

Finnick stumbled onto the balcony about an hour later. He squinted in the morning sunlight and wiped the traces of sleep from his eyes. "Morning," he sat opposite her and set two full mugs of coffee on the table. "Have you been up for long?"

Dahlia was too absorbed in her knitting to offer anything more than a shrug. Her eyes were trained on the stitches as she threaded the needles through the wool. Eventually, her fingers stilled and she discarded her completed knitting to one side. She peered into the cup he had nudged in her direction and was surprised to see that he had committed her coffee order to memory.

"Thank you," she cupped her hands around the mug, craving the warmth. Finnick shot her a soft smile and sipped his iced coffee. Dahlia tentatively lifted the mug to her lips and gulped it down, the liquid scalding her throat. "Did I wake you up? Sometimes I forgot how loud the knitting needles can be."

Finnick let out a breezy laugh and shook his head. "I'd probably sleep through an earthquake so you haven't got anything to worry about," he ran his hands through his strands of bronze hair and attempted to untangle the knots with his fingers.

"How long have you got until your first appointment this morning?" he asked gently, taking care to keep the question as casual as he could. He didn't want to make a big deal out of it. "Have you got enough time for me to show off my magnificent breakfast skills? I can assure you that it'll be worth it," he grinned, cockiness seeping from every word.

Dahlia bit back a smile and ducked her head until she had regained her composure. "That depends on whether or not pancakes are on the agenda," she quipped, her head tilted at an angle. "I have very high standards, you know," she teased with raised brows.

Finnick ran his tongue over his teeth and jumped to his feet, digging his hands into the deep pockets of his pyjama pants. "Oh, I'm sure you do honey." He yanked open the balcony door and the curtains fluttered in the wind.

She gathered her patchwork into her arms and slipped into their hotel room, sliding across the wooden floorboards in her white socks. She placed the almost-finished sweater vest on her bedside locker and dug the knitting needles into the ball of wool for safekeeping.

Finnick was scouring through a cupboard for a frying pan as she made her way towards the kitchenette and opened the fridge.

She sifted through packets of waffles and bottles of pink lemonade in search of the butter, which was the only thing she couldn't pinpoint a location on.

Letting out a small noise of triumph, she pushed herself onto her tippy-toes and pulled the butter from its hiding space. To his credit, Finnick had pulled the rest of the ingredients out of the cupboards while she was preoccupied.

She used her hip to push him aside and he laughed, folding his arms across his chest like a child that had been kicked out of the kitchen while the adults were talking.

"I thought I was meant to be making you breakfast," he protested, a slight whine in his voice as he leaned against the oven.

A smart remark died on her tongue when someone knocked on the door. She fired a tea towel at his chest and he caught it without even blinking. "If you give me food poisoning, I'll kill you," she warned.

Dahlia stepped away from the oven to see who was hammering their fists against the door at this time in the morning. Her gaze softened when she saw a young Avox on the other side of the door. The boy held an envelope in his hands and he couldn't be any older than twelve.

"Hi there," she sunk to her knees and clasped her hands together in her lap. Dahlia didnt like towering over him - it may come off as intimidating and she didnt want him to be frightened of her. "Is this for me?" she whispered, pointing at the letter clutched in his fist. He nodded nervously and placed it into her outstretched palm. "Thank you." He picked up his feet and scurried off down the hallway.

Dahlia hauled herself to her feet and closed the door, wandering back into the kitchen with the letter in her hand. Finnick cracked an egg against the side of a mixing bowl as she sat on the countertop next to him.

Dahlia's eyes briefly scanned the neat handwriting on the front of the envelope and she let a laugh slip past her lips. She ripped it open and read through the letter as Finnick flipped the pancakes in the air.

Dear Dahlia,

Why the fuck didn't you tell me you were going out with Finnick O'Dair? I want to know every little detail. Since when? What's he like? Is he really as handsome as everyone says? Does he treat you like you hung the moon and stars? He better. You deserve someone who treats you like there's nowhere else they'd rather be than with you, Lia. I can't wait till you get home, so please write me back as soon as you get this

Did you know otters sleep holding hands so that they don't drift away from each other? I bet you didn't know that, did you? Tell Finnick. Tell him. I bet he won't know that either! And tell him that there are six thousand different types of coral. I think he'll like that one because of his district.

I wish you were here. I miss you terribly. River won't let me feed Thumper ice cream and he's really not a good cook. I think I might die of starvation by the time you get home. Also, Wyatt is sad again and I don't know how to cheer him up. River is trying his best but he keeps giving out and shouting at him for not moving from the couch. I'm trying to look after him because I might not know how to make him feel better, but at least I don't scream at him.

You're the only one who knows how to make him do things. He doesn't eat a lot, even when I add smiley faces to his food, which usually works for me. Anyway, please tell me how you do it and maybe it'll work.

I hope you are doing okay. Tell Finnick that I said hello. Everything is okay so please try not to worry. Thumper is alive and thriving. You were right, he does like lettuce. Anyway, write back and let me know how you're getting on.

Lots of love,

Juniper xx

"Pancakes are ready," Finnick announced, transferring them onto linen napkins marked with the Capitol's seal. He grabbed the sugar and lemon from the cupboard above his head and joined Dahlia at the kitchen table.

She wasted no time in rolling up the pancake and ripping into it with her teeth. "June wants me to tell you that there's six thousand different types of sea coral," she covered her mouth with her hand as she spoke. An amused smile played on his lips. "She wants me to find out if you knew that or not."

Finnicks warm laughter filled the room and it made her heart buzz with that pleasant feeling again. "I didn't know that," he admitted, sprinkling sugar over his pancakes. "Is she a fan of the water then?"

"Ironically, she's petrified of the water. I've tried to teach her to swim but she wasn't having a bar of it. No, she just likes memorizing facts and then repeating them in her head," Dahlia explained.

He was about to answer when someone rapidly knocked their knuckles against the door. His spine straightened out and he struggled to his feet, but she was closer and beat him to it. A glance at the clock told her that it had just gone noon which meant that it was probably one of their prep teams ready to poke and prod them into perfection.

She unbolted the door, expecting to see Bloom or Caspian standing on the other side, but was met with an unpleasant surprise. Dahlia's blood ran cold.

President Snow's right-hand man, Everett Montgomery, was on their doorstep. Two armed peacekeepers accompanied him.

"Miss Holloway. Is Mr O'Dair around?" Everett grunted. Finnick ran to the door at the sound of his name and Dahlia absentmindedly put herself between him and Everett. "I'm to escort you both to President Snow's mansion. He would like a word."

Dahlia stood her ground and dug her heels into the floorboards as Everett tried to push his way into their hotel room. "I'm afraid you will have to wait ten minutes while we get ready." Everett opened his mouth to protest but she was quick to cut him off. "I wasn't asking for permission."

By the look on Everett's face, it was evident that he had never been told no before. She left no room for arguing and with his mouth hanging open in shock, Dahlia slammed the door in his face and locked it for good measure.

"You have five minutes, Miss Holloway!"

The room was swaying as Dahlia stepped away from the door. She moved over to the sofa and pulled herself together. "Do you mind if I use the bathroom to get changed? I won't be long," she sat on the sofa and pulled her case apart in her haste to find a change of clothes.

"Yeah, go ahead," Finnick yanked a few items of his own from the chest of drawers. "There's no rush. Everett can't exactly leave without us, anyway."

Dahlia disappeared into the bathroom and winced when she saw her reflection staring back at her in the mirror. The lace of her pyjama shirt was barely concealing the hickeys along her collarbones. Her hair was disastrous and she had a feeling it would take a while to untangle all of the knots. She hadn't done a good job of cleaning off her makeup last night; she could still see streaks of foundation along her face.

She stepped out of her pyjamas and discarded them on the bathroom floor. Slipping a black shirt over her head and pulling a pair of ripped jeans over her wide hips, she ran her brush through her long locks of caramel hair. She never bothered with makeup -- she had enough of that during galas -- and once the traces of last night's mess were gone, she pulled on a pair of shoes and peeked her head out of the door, eyes firmly squeezed shut. "Are you decent?"

"Don't act as if you wouldn't love to see me without my clothes on, honey."

"Finnick!"

"Calm down, I'm only pulling your leg, of course, I'm decent," he laughed and laced up his trainers. He turned to her as she bundled her pyjamas into her suitcase. "You ready honey?"

She glared at him but there was no heat behind the look. Maybe the nickname was starting to grow on her more than she cared to admit.

Everett hammered his fists against the door until they answered. He marched them into the elevator and the peacekeepers were practically walking on the back of their heels. If she had to guess, they were under strict instructions to make sure neither of them made a run for it.

The armed peacekeepers cleared a path through the mass of reporters gathered outside the hotel entrance. Everett ushered them into the back of a limousine with tinted windows and jumped into the passenger seat. The driver stepped on the gas pedal, weaving in and out of the crowds as photographers continued trying to snap a shot of them.

The pancakes had turned sour in Dahlia's stomach and she was praying they wouldn't make a reappearance. She smoothed her hands along the material of her trousers, fingers gliding over her kneecaps. It was soothing and she managed to keep her breakfast down the entire car ride.

Everett led them into President Snow's mansion and guided them down secret hallways that were guarded by armed peacekeepers in crisp white uniforms.

While Dahlia had been in the President's mansion for many a gala, she had only been invited into his private quarters twice before; the first when she was propositioned on being sold to rich Capitol men and women and the second after her parents were murdered and she had exchanged her bodily autonomy for her sibling's freedom.

Everett slowed to a stop in one of the corridors and gestured to two plush velvet armchairs and an array of magazines. "Wait here. I'll call you when the President is ready," he opened the heavy double doors to Snow's study and let it slam closed while they took their seats.

Adrenaline shot through Dahlia's body like a drug. Not knowing why they had been called in for a meeting was killing her. She was too busy wrecking her brain for what they could have possibly done wrong to notice that her cuticles were starting to bleed.

Finnick's leg was bouncing up and down as he reached across and gently took her hand in his own. "Stop that," he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, trying to provide a slither of comfort in the darkly lit hallway. She couldn't get the words to leave her mouth so she squeezed his hand to convey her thanks.

Time seemed to move in slow motion as they sat in the corridor. It felt like waiting on death row because whatever Snow wanted, it couldn't be good.

After what felt like a lifetime, Everett beckoned them inside.

Finnick gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he led the way into the study. President Snow sat behind an oak desk, fussing over a white rose in his lapel. He didn't look up until the two of them were settled in the chairs opposite him. "I've always favoured the white roses. They bring out my eyes, don't you think?"

Dahlia had a habit of laughing at inconvenient times and she bit down on her tongue to stop that from happening. It was probably a rhetorical question, anyway. "You wanted to see us, President Snow?"

"Yes, Miss Holloway, I did," Snow left the rose alone and clasped his hands in front of him. "I want to commend you both on your acting, for starters."

"Who said we were acting?" she countered.

He shot her a tight-lipped smile. "Let's cut to the chase, my dear. I'm sure you're aware that there's been an increase in demand for your services. I wanted to personally make sure you both understand that our agreement has not changed. Here is a list of clients that you need to see before you are free to go home."

He slid two pieces of paper across the table. Finnick couldn't help but notice that Dahlia's list was significantly longer than his.

Dahlia wondered how mad the president would be if she ripped up his goddamn list. "There are at least forty names here."

"Seventy-five. There's more names on the back," Snow corrected matter-of-factly. "I must remind you that your clients are to be treated with the utmost respect. That goes for you as well, Finnick. We wouldn't want a tragic accident to occur, now would we?"

Dahlia dug her nails into the palms of her hand until blood dripped down her wrists. Her jaw clenched and she refused to break eye contact with him.

Fire burned through her veins, setting her nerve-endings alight and it was at that moment that she knew Snow was going to regret ever laying eyes on her.

She was going to burn the Capitol down from the inside out.

[linasofia]

A Shooting Star

Part 5

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Vega

Summary: Lady Vega loves to sneak out to Erebor’s rampart to study the night sky, but one night, an unexpected visitor joins her. It is the beginning of a story whose end only the stars can tell.

Warnings: none

A/N: This is the fifth part of this fic. You can read all the previous parts here.

Special thanks to @legolasbadass & @lathalea 💙💙

Khuzdul: Thutratur - Little star

A careful knock on the front door interrupted Vega’s late lunch with her mother. Vega, always keen to assist her—even though her mother told her repeatedly that she was not that old yet—was the one answering the door. The women had been to the market and filled their basket with herbs, dried flowers, yarn, and a thin roll of silk. Vega’s mother enjoyed sewing small bags and filling them with different fragrances—to Vega’s father’s dislike. He thought it was a waste of money to seal good herbs in a bag instead of letting them slowly cook in a stew, but Lady Vanadis paid no attention to her husband’s remarks, and the bags stayed.

On the other side of the door stood a young dwarf, barely old enough to be growing a beard, and in his hand, he held a book wrapped with a ribbon to prevent the tome from opening.

”Delivery to Lady Vega, from the Royal Library.”

”I have not requested this.” Vega lowered her voice—she was certain she was not expecting deliveries.

”I was asked to deliver this to you in person, My Lady. Let me assure you that all is in order.” He held out the book with a kind smile, and as Vega thanked him, he made a courteous bow and left. She closed the door with a frown and took a closer look at the book. The cover was blue, and it appeared to be ancient. She ran her fingertips along the back, and her heart skipped a beat when she read the intriguing title. The Book of the Heavens, Volume III, The Stars of Kheled-zâram. Only one person could have sent it to her. She would have to wait until after lunch before she could lock the door to her chamber and give the book its deserved attention. She groaned impatiently, and she decided to put the unexpected gift on her nightstand, next to her candle, and come back to it as soon as possible.

”Who was at the door?” Her mother was watching her curiously as she returned to her seat.

”It was just a book delivery, amad. I have been trying to find something new to read for a while.”

”Then I hope it is what you are looking for.” Lady Vanadis smiled, and Vega felt a sour taste in her mouth, as if she had eaten one of those small, strange candies her friend once brought back from the market in Dale. Vega hated lying, especially to her mother, but it was a small lie—and necessary.

When lunch was finished, Vega boiled her mother a cup of chamomile tea and then retreated to her chamber with a vague excuse. As soon as she closed the door, a feeling of energizing curiosity washed over her, like the refreshing water from the cold stream near the Blue Mountains—in which she had washed her hands and face many times in the past. She picked up the book, sat down on her bed, took off the beautiful ribbon, and started to examine the details of the cover. Time and eager fingers had left marks on the leather, but the book was still in decent condition. Very carefully, Vega opened the book. Inside lay a folded paper, different from the characteristic color of the old pages in the book. A note. Vega grabbed it and quickly closed the book. The handwriting was beautiful, no doubt practiced during endless hours in the youth of the sender. She read it, holding her breath.

Dearest Vega,

I hope my letter finds its way to your hands, as intended. A messenger reached Erebor yesterday morning, carrying a message for Lord Dain. A series of unexpected incidents forces him to leave Erebor in greater haste than planned. I will be accompanying him, and together we will deal with the matter. Do not be alarmed; it is of a political nature and not in arms way. I am likely to miss the next full moon, but I will watch it from the Iron Hills, picturing your delightful company.

Affectionately, Thorin

Vega read it slowly one more time, trying to take in his words. The next full moon was only days away, and her thoughts quickly jumped between disappointment for him leaving the Mountain and the greatest joy. Thorin did not only write her a personal note—he arranged for a discreet delivery, too. Vega pressed the note to her chest and closed her eyes. Her silly heart refused to listen and made it impossible for her to relax. He cared enough to let her know. She hoped he would return soon, but in his absence, she had what seemed to be a very interesting book to read. With a smile, she hid the note in the book, caressed the cover, and returned to her mother. She needed an instant distraction. Any chores would do.

…

The nights were shorter and warmer upon his return than when Thorin accompanied Dain to the Iron Hills. His stay in his cousin’s halls lasted longer than planned, but his loyalty towards Dain could not be neglected. Now, however, he was pleased to be on his way home. He wanted to breathe the air of his halls, sit on his throne, visit the massive forges and feel their heat penetrate all his layers of clothing. And he wanted to stand on the rampart and drown in a pair of enchanting emerald eyes. Vega. Not a single day had passed without her occupying his mind. As he sat by the fire, with a full belly, surrounded by Dwalin and some of the most loyal warriors in Erebor—members of the royal guard—he turned his gaze to the sky. The night air was clear, and the stars appeared even brighter than they did in Erebor. Sheltered behind a number of large rocks, they had made a fire and were as comfortable as it could be expected in this terrain. Heavy smoke rose from the fire—the wood they collected was wet and hissed in protest as they lit it. But with the certain persistence only found among dwarves, the logs finally gave in and burned steadily.

It was more pleasant to sleep under the stars when the winter storms were gone and less precautions were necessary. Thorin looked at the moon and let his mind drift to Vega. Her smile alone had the ability to warm him from the inside and out, and his mind grew soft—as if he was nothing more than a young, inexperienced dwarf. The laughter from the men beside him soon pulled his attention back to the dancing fire. Frustrated, he stood up from his seat and the group silenced, expecting him to speak. But he had no such intentions. Instead he gave a quiet word to Dwalin and then walked away to seek a private moment high up on the massive rock furthest away from the light. He unclasped his baldric in which he carried Orcrist, sat down and let it rest between his boots. These parts were relatively safe, but he knew better than to walk around unarmed, even with the guards nearby. Thorin turned his attention to the sky again. It was beautiful, but it would have been even more mesmerizing if Vega was seated next to him. When he concentrated, he could hear her voice in his head; warm, encouraging, and sensual. He smiled to himself. In his thoughts, she was whispering his name.

The spring’s warm rays of light made the low bushes below the Mountain slopes explode in crispy green colors. Life was returning to the grass and a lonely thrush searched desperately for a mate high over the slopes, filling the air with its song of hope and longing. When Thorin finally entered the front gate to his kingdom, it was with the same longing in his chest—but his search was over. By a chance meeting under the stars, he had found the one he had given up searching for long ago. Until he met Vega, he had been convinced these feelings were never meant for him. But after their last encounter on the rampart, Thorin no longer doubted Vega felt something too—the real question was if she would dare to speak the words her eyes had already revealed to him. He wanted to see her as soon as possible; the time spent in the Iron Hills only made his feelings stronger. Thorin knew exactly where he wanted them to meet for their next stargazing, and this time, nobody would interrupt them.

Vega’s heart was excitedly beating as she hurried further away from the massive gate. She expected it to be harder to leave the Mountain during the evening, but the gate was open and a stream of merchants was coming to Erebor with carts and wagons pulled by goats or ponies, so she only had to hide in the crowd to skean away unnoticed. She grasped the note in the pocket of her skirt, a note she received the same morning—sealed with the official stamp by the King Under the Mountain. Vega knew breaking the royal seal, if you were not its rightful receiver, was considered a serious crime, but she was unsure if the stories of punishment were true. They all originated from a time when King Thrór ruled under the Mountain and Vega was certain Thorin did not share his grandfather's merciless ideas.

As Vega came closer to the large stone, which marked the road to Erebor as a path for fair trade, her attention was caught by a figure moving in what was left of the light from the fading day. With part of the sky still glowing behind him, Thorin came walking towards her, a broad smile on his face. He was dressed less formally than during their previous meetings—still regal—and without the heavy authority of his crown.

”Vega,” he spoke softly as they got closer. ”I am delighted to see you received my message.” Her smile made his endless waiting worth it.

”Good evening, Thorin. Yes, it was delivered to me this morning. Thankfully, my mother was not at home, so I was spared the hard work of trying to explain why I received a letter with your unmistakable seal.” A small teasing tone lingered in her voice, but Thorin instantly picked it up and took it, together with her visibly relaxed shoulders, as a sign of how comfortable she was in his company. What he hoped for was within reach—he could feel it. Vega had possibly started to see beyond the heavy fabrics and his royal duties. Could it be that she sometimes thought of him as only Thorin?

”For a lady who—night after night—manages to sneak out to the rampart in the middle of the night, surely, a simple note cannot be difficult to explain?” Vega’s hearty reaction to his reply made it even harder for Thorin to refrain from instantly taking her in his arms. Vega’s giggle bubbled like warm water in a hot spring, and her unusual emerald eyes glittered like the stars in Durin’s Crown.

”You have not met my mother. She can make even the toughest liar confess.”

”I will keep that in mind,” Thorin said with a grin, and the thought of meeting Vega’s mother—not only as Lord Vimar’s wife—briefly crossed his mind. ”I want to show you something,” he changed focus. ”It’s not too far, but I hope it will be to your liking.”

Vega nodded, and they parted from the road and started walking over the sprouting grass. It did not take long for Vega to break the silence; she was curious about how his travel went and what Thorin had seen and experienced while on the road. Thorin gladly told her, her unquestionable curiosity guiding him through his journey and all its significant events.

Eventually, they reached the endless fields with black, large rocks in strange formations. The rocks were remains from battles long before their time, when the stones were used in war and slung by beasts much larger than any dwarf. Thorin stopped by one of the massive stones, offered Vega his hand for support, and urged her to start climbing until she got to the flat top. He followed her closely.

As they sat down, Vega noticed how Thorin placed himself close, but still with a respectful distance between them. A small sting of disappointment cut through her body—she wanted him near—but Thorin was known to be an honorable dwarf, and for that, she was equally grateful. The sky above them felt even grander than from the rampart, and Vega eagerly searched for the constellation she knew by heart. The night was quiet, the cold winter winds had returned to the north, and not even the smallest breeze disturbed Vega as she turned to Thorin with an excited smile.

”It is still early spring, but if you look closely, you can spot Raven’s Nest far to the east.”

”I do not know what to look for. Please, describe it for me.”

Vega beamed at him and moved a little closer, holding out her arm and pointing to the east. ”It is a tiny constellation—nothing more than a small circle of stars. And just outside the circle is a single star, shining brighter than all of the others. Can you see it?”

Thorin followed her pointed finger but failed to see what she was trying to show him. Countless stars gazed back at them as he carefully moved so he came to sit close to her. It was a small advancement—but he knew he crossed the line for her private space. To his great surprise, she leaned—ever so slightly—against him and then urged him to look closer. Suddenly it became clear to him what stars she meant. Vega had been right the first time they met; when one knew what to look for, it was easy to find. But before that, the small constellation was well hidden among the other stars, hard to discover. Just like a real raven's nest.

”I see it,” he mumbled, suddenly unable to think of anything else than her beautiful hair, which spread as a dark shawl over her back, teasing his gaze and fingers. He loved that she braided only half her hair; the style made her appearance relaxed, but not undressed. Thorin allowed himself to imagine how she might look with all her dark hair spilling freely over her shoulders, and the significance and intimacy of the picture made his body ache for her.

With a frantically beating heart, Vega took a deep breath as the musky scent from the dwarf beside her reached her nose. He was irresistible before, but now, all she could think of was how much more of him she wanted. The thought of him touching her made her head spin, and her heart leaped in her chest when he cleared his throat. She forced herself to focus on the stars—instead of thinking of the size of his hands.

”The Raven’s Nest tells the story of how the ravens came to be allied with the dwarves of Erebor in the first place. I am certain you know the story, Thorin.”

”I do,” Thorin replied fondly as he thought of his own friendship with Roäc.

”I love the story,” Vega continued quietly, as if speaking more to herself than to him. ”How it came to be, a long time ago, when a tiny raven fell out of the nest and badly hurt its wing. The nestling was picked up—and saved from a certain death—by a young prince of Erebor. He cared for the bird until it was healed and they formed an unlikely bond.” She turned to meet Thorin’s gaze. ”The lonely bright star in the constellation represents that raven and I always think of my home in the Blue Mountains when I see it. I never fell—I was excited to leave—but there were times I missed what I had.”

Thorin nodded and placed a hand behind Vega, allowing her to come even closer if she wished. She seemed to hesitate, but then she leaned against his shoulder, and a warm feeling spread in Thorin’s chest. They sat in silence, listening to the quiet surrounding—and their beating hearts.

”Vega,” Thorin was the first to break the silence, and when Vega lifted her head from his shoulder and met his gaze, the expression in her eyes made him speechless. There were simply no words strong enough to express what he felt in his heart; they belonged together. Overwhelmed by his emotions, he lifted his hand to gently caress her cheek.

His lips were remarkably soft. Much softer than Vega ever imagined when she—without even thinking—pressed her lips against his. Thorin’s beard tickled her skin as he cupped her face with both his hands, and he held her tenderly while they carefully explored the new sensation. What started as an innocent kiss quickly escalated to a sensual dance between them, and the pleasant smell of pine and fine tobacco surrounded her when he wrapped his arms around her. With only the moon and the stars as their witnesses, Thorin kissed her passionately—until she was burning on the inside. When they eventually broke the kiss, Thorin reached for her hand. After taking such a bold initiative, Vega felt more vulnerable than she had ever done and she could feel her heart racing—not only from their kiss.

”In your hands, you hold my heart,” Thorin said softly as he carefully placed Vega’s palm upon his chest. ”Please, be gentle.”

”Thorin… what are you saying?” Vega whispered and stared into the mesmerizing azure eyes resting on her. She could sense his warmth through the fabric of his tunic.

”I offer you my heart—such as it is. What I feel when I am with you is something I have never felt before.” He squeezed her hand. ”I wish to court you, Vega. I wish for us to meet more often—beneath the full moon is not enough. If you accept, I can openly show my feelings for you.” Thorin fell silent. What he said was true, but there was more to it than just that. Even if he did not look old, the sorrow he constantly carried had made his heart age much faster than his body. He did not want to waste time now that he had finally met Vega. She was his torch in the dark, his guiding star in the night and she alone had impacted his predicted path in life. In return, he wanted to give her everything.

Vega swallowed hard. The words she secretly dreamed to hear Thorin speak were finally uttered, and it filled her with excitement beyond measure. Hope mingled with insecurity in his eyes, creating an expression of deepest earnestness. He was watching her so intently, she was not sure her voice would hold.

”Of course I accept,” she then said, and the smile she received in return was warmer than the flames of a newly lit fire. Thorin pulled her even closer, and with a firm arm around her lower back he kissed her again.

”Will you do me the honor of braiding your hair?” Thorin mumbled as he rested his forehead against Vega’s.

”Yes,” she breathed, thankful to be sitting down. She felt dizzy but not in a discomforting way, and she trusted Thorin. Since she came of age, she had—with the support of her mother—turned down several suitors. This time however, her heart made the decision for her, and she was helpless against the strong force in its arrangement.

With a slight tremble in his hands, Thorin selected a part of Vega’s hair, remembering what his sister had taught him a long time ago about making a complementary braid into a woman’s already existing pattern. When he found the perfect placement, he braided slowly, savoring the moment and taking pleasure in the feeling of her soft hair running between his fingers. The braid turned out beautiful, as if he had practiced it countless times, and Thorin took it as another sign from Mahal that Vega was his One. He removed a clasp with the symbol of his house, along with his name, from his hair and attached it to the end of Vega’s braid. When he was done, she turned and looked happily at him while running her fingertips over the newest addition to her hairstyle. She was, without doubt, even more gorgeous when carrying his courting braid, and Thorin leaned in to kiss her again, feeling lighter on the inside than he had done in ages.

”Thorin,” Vega’s voice was serious but laced with insecurity. She had never had this type of conversation with anyone, especially not with a king. Nor did she wear anything suitable for Thorin, but in a moment of insight, she realized she had a bead she received as a young woman while living in the Blue Mountains. Since they had both spent many years there, and the metal was inscribed with her name, she hoped it would do—at least for now. It was easy to remove, she discovered thankfully, as she reached for it, and when she had it safely in her hand, she met Thorin’s gaze again.

”Will you allow me to braid your hair in return?” When the words fell from her lips, they sounded like the most natural things to say. Vega sighed blissfully when he smiled back at her. The king was not present—it was only Thorin.

”Nothing would make me more happy at this moment, thutratur.”

💙 If you like my writing, please consider spreading the love and reblogging.💙

Taglist and others who might be interested: @lathalea @legolasbadass @laurfilijames @i-did-not-mean-to @enchantzz @fizzyxcustard @middleearthpixie @xxbyimm @bitter-sweet-farmgirl @kibleedibleedoo @mariannetora @haly-reads @sunnysidesidra @rachel1959 @knittastically @quiall321 @medusas-hairband @fulltimecrazy @s0ftd3m0n @emrfangirl @glimmering-darling-dolly @lilith15000 @clumsy-wonderland @theawkwardbutterfly @exhausted-humxn-being @beenthroughalot @chaikittie @piscesvancouverite @sotwk @dontaskmehowdontaskmewhy

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed.

[hykar]

💫🌷Flowers for you•°~

Sucheon Kang × Reader

[User: SCHNKXG, Wants to send you a message!]

Said the notification that popped up on your screen. "Is this at my main or business account?" As someone who runs two accounts for two completely different reasons, You ask this question to yourself a lot to avoid any incidents of messages being sent to the wrong person at the wrong account.

You swiped down the notification and looked at the small text on top that determines which account of yours received it. Business account. You clicked on the notification and read the customer's message.

"SCHNKXG: Is the Everlight bouquet variation still available?"

"🌷Hi customer! Thank you for contacting Shelter of Flowers through our official Instagram account!

Yes! The variation Everlight bouquet is still available! Would you like to place an order?" You replied with the thought of the customer being someone familiar thanks to their username, The account having no profile picture nor posts and on private doesn't help satisfy the curiosity unfortunately.

"SCHNKXG: Yes, I'll be placing an order for that bouquet."

"🌷Certainly! Would you like the bouquet to be made of paper, crocheted yarn, or real flowers? Would it also be a small, medium, or large bouquet?"

Shipping might take a while... Wilting or nearly wilted flowers isn't ideal at all... Having it crocheted will take long too... "SCHNKXG: I'll have it made from paper, Can I also know the price range for the sizes and variation type?

"🌷Certainly! Here is our price range:

-Bouquets: Crocheted, made of paper, real flowers.

•🌷: ₩1500 [Small, 1 to 10 flowers in total]

•🌷: ₩2500 [Medium, 10 to 15 flowers in total]

•🌷: ₩3500 [Large, 15 to 20 flowers in total]

•🌷: Custom [Negotiable]"

"SCHNKXG: Would it be weird if I gave the receiver a large bouquet?"

Your head slightly tilted to the side as your brows furrowed, "Personally, that would depend on the circumstances/relationship you have with the person you're going to give the bouquet to, Maam/Sir."

"SCHNKXG: Right... Would it be alright if we went with your judgement? I'm not great with matters such as this."

Oh they're inexperienced, Cute that they're trying though. "Of course! It may be a bit of a personal question however, How would you describe/what is your relationship with the recipient?"

"SCHNKXG: I know deep down that I do have feelings for them no matter how much I deny it, I don't want them to know just yet either considering how we're not even that close.. And I'm afraid of doing something that would make them feel uncomfortable."

Sometimes you just want to close down your shop with how jealous your customers make you feel, Yet, Playing a small part in your customer's love story makes you happy too, For the beauty of running a flowershop is seeing the efforts of people make someone feel loved, thought of, and cared for; dead or alive, In a romantic relationship or not. The bravery to confess despite the uncertainty of it, The happiness, Effort, Care, and Love that comes along with it is something who's worth is unmeasurable, Would I get to receive flowers one day too? Dreaming about him gifting me flowers wouldn't hurt to do right?

"I suggest starting off with a small bouquet with a dedication for them :)!"

"SCHNKXG: Okay, We'll do just that."

"🌷Noted! Please fill out the form sent to complete order details!

•🌷Customer Name:

•🌷Order Details: Everlight Bouquet [S] [W/Dedication] [Paper]

•🌷Address:

•🌷Contact Information:

•🌷Method of Payment:

1). Electronic Money/Transaction

2). COD

•🌷: Dedication message:"

"SCHNKXG: Name: Sucheon Kang, Address: --------, Contact Information: ---------, Method of Payment: 1."

Sucheon...? You placed your phone down to the side, staring at the ceiling as you lie down on the soft mattress of your bed. Well thats a new level of hurt...

That's one thing hurtful when you run a flowershop, sometimes the person you like will order a bouquet from your shop for someone special to them. And we can't say that the special someone is you.

But why Sucheon Kang? out of all the people you could've liked why him? Why him of all people? Why did you like the hot-headed and prideful heir of Baekdu? Is it because of how he looked at you in the eyes with acknowledgement every single time? How he treated you like an actual authentic person and not just by an assumption of your character? Or something deep that struck right through you that weaved you to him immediately? Everything perhaps?

What should I even say? I don't want to seem like a creep or an obsessive stalker. I mean my name wouldn't be put on the note but still... Sucheon paced around his room, thinking.

Your phone vibrated against the mattress, catching your attention. Right, he didn't send the dedication message yet and must've typed it last. He must've sent it now- HOLY SHIT?

"SCHNKXG: I like you, [Reader]. -Someone who admires you from afar."

[missamyrisa2]

I'm special agent Stern coming to you with a very serious allegation regarding the truthfulness of your hips.

Several belly teases have come to our attention and we've determined a full investigation is in order. We also have a warrant out on a pair of ticklish feet in the area, we're just going to ask yours a few questions while we're here...

nnnnnhhhh~!!! Those allegations are hugelyyyyy fabricated and blown out of proportion and that is just quite a yarn someone has spun now agent in fact lets seeee some credentials because that's the worst agent name I've ever heard and I'm gonna need to see your requisition for the form to launch such an investigation do you even bureaucrat? Whyyyy I'm pretttyyy sure I don't even have hips it's just unsensitive unticklish skin here and feet? Well no, see these aren't the type of shoes that come off so errrrrr warrantttt? Whoooo wrote a warrant for such a thingggg stopppp stoppp don't put meeee in the chaiiirrrrr no questionssss no interviewwwss I pleaddd the ummmhhh? The uhh filibuster gerryyyymandering porkbarrel legislation? I dunno I plead somethingggg!! You wouldn't tickle someone with glassessss would youuu?

[gaviicreates]

National Crochet Month - Days 12-18

12. Favorite Yarn - I have a few because of the different types of projects I do. In the world of doilies, my favorite crochet thread is called Alize Miss Batik, which can be a little hard to come by. It's a size 10 mercerized cotton and each colorway has long strand variegation to create such beautiful final products. In the world of what I purchase from my LYS - my heart sings Malabrigo. While Arroyo/DK is my preferred weight here, I've worked more with their ult sock and sock weight. As far as value yarns, I'm partial to Lion Brand's options. I have a bit of a collection of Mandala cakes. Though Caron Simply Soft is where I started. In the world of cotton - I like hobbii's friends cotton.

13. Something [color]

I asked my fandom to send me a color for this, and then I crocheted a granny square in order of each color received until I couldn't find a color in stash close enough. It was lilac that did me in. So I'd be happy to share the randomness of with you for this part of the challenge. Random Rainbow:

14. 3 Crocheters I love My mom, obviously, and my friends here. But I imagine this question is to share creators and entertainers that inspire us on line. For that, here are a few I follow:

Toni from TLYarnCrafts Juan - JuantheYarnAddict For patterns - especially those do mandalas and might want to give some thread crochet a try, I recommend grace fearon and draiguna and handmadebyraine.

15. Blanket

The blanket you're about to see is not one I made, but it's one that I've always known. I've shared this story before on my instagram, and it felt right to share here for this part of the challenge. As a child, I loved all the bright colors and I liked playing with the fringe. I didn't find out until I was older that it was made by the grandmother I'd never known. Years before me, my mom taught her mom how to crochet as an outlet for when she was sick. She had just turned the corner of fringe before passing away, and mom couldn't bring herself to finish it.

It means so much to me that this craft can create a bond. Even reach across generations.

16. Crocheting in Public Yes, it depends though. I don't always carry around a project bag that's portable, as I also prefer to be at home more often than not. One of my favorite places/times to crochet is when I am on vacation, so I've been known to bring some projects down to the beach front.

17. Something for Me

At the moment, the big crochet blanket is the thing that's most for me. It was a huge splurge for nice yarns, has been an absolute joy to work with as hand-dyed merino, and the end piece isn't going to mean much to anyone besides myself and my husband. I think people who also play ffxiv might appreciate the idea, but we've also added yarns to represent our Warrior of Light, so the final product is going to be subtle, special to us, and probably look like it doesn't go together at all to everyone else. It's making me happy though and that's what matters. Though, I am also terrified of it getting ruined, so it might end up carefully bagged and stored until I want to use it. #blanket of the seventh dawn 18. Crochet Buddy Most of my crochet friends are online, which is great because it's such a great way to bond over timezones. I love seeing progress, being a part of inspiring each other - sometimes not always with crochet, and just chatting life and projects. On the other hand it means no yarn-y friends to take to the LYS or craft store with me. I have to be my own reality check (admittedly though, I'm often my own enabler). Anyway - you know who you are :D

[saffscrafting]

Let’s do a WIP roundup with links if possible.

Starting off with the Dino sweaters (Ravelry link). I have the baby’s stitching all done and about 2/3 done toddler’s. The spikes are knit and ready to be sewn on, and then the side seams. Hoping to have these done, washed, and blocked as best you can with acrylic by the end of the weekend.

They may appear to be the same size but I promise the blue dragon is smaller. Though we just did our latest well baby check and he’s apparently off the charts for his height so he may be in the same size as his sister before long.

The next thing on my hook is a Grace Blanket for a special little girl due in April. I’ve finished one repeat of the pattern. I have a massive ball of gradient yarn that I’m just going to use till done. So far I’m enjoying this one, even the popcorn stitches, which is funny because I normally hate bobbles and nupps in knitting.

This grey will blend to blue and then to white which I think will be lovely.

I don’t have pictures of my sewing stuff yet, but I’ve chosen patterns and fabric. I’ll see about doing another post once I get the chance to pull them out and iron them.

I’ve also got an order in for a couple things I need to complete these, mainly lining material, and material to make a baby wrap since little man is 23 lbs but loves to be carried and cuddled. So hopefully that will help save my back and shoulders.

I’m still resisting the @lacerotalong at least till I get these dinosaur sweaters done, but boy is the siren song singing loudly in my ear.

[checanty]

The other week both my ancient (10 years!) winter coat and my beloved creepy tote bag (7 years) decided it was a good time to break. I have to admit I have been toying with the idea of getting a new coat already, especially as it’s growing pretty threadbare in general, but I also feel very strongly about making the things I already own last and let’s face it: I can get another 3 years or more out of that coat. And I do still like it. It’s just old and worn and looks like it. (But I’ll keep an eye open when I go thrifting from now on...) By tote bag has a special place in my heart as well because I ordered it from my own Society6 shop back in the days when I was new to being a pro illustrator and seeing your own work on a physical (and useful!) object is always very exciting! At the time I would have loved to order a bag for each of my artworks, but thankfully I did not, even though it was more money constrains than awareness for environmental issues that held me at bay. Nowadays I think a lot more about how our actions impact our planet, both because I love the natural world (which we imo mistakenly separate from our human ‘civilization’) and everything living in it (apart from ticks), but also because I’m worried about our--let’s face it: my own--future. I know that especially over here in the wealthy west we’re consuming we’re consuming far more than is sustainable. Thusly, whenever I’m promoting my print (and merch) shop, I’m a little bit torn. I of course want people to buy my art so I can make a living, but I also want to promote making conscious consumer choices aka not buying stuff on a whim or to make yourself temporarily feel better only to regret your purchase later, but being sure you actually want and will treasure something or really need something before clicking ’buy’. Anyhow, I’ll be using my tote bag until it fully disintegrates (and then I’ll probably use it to stuff a pillow :D). Some years ago I stumbled upon the concept of ‘visible mending’, which was primarily appealing to me because I’m pretty bad at sewing and not being able to make something look ‘as good as new’ kept me from pro-longing my clothes’ lives. However, most of the cute ‘visible mending’ examples feature nice embroidery and let me tell you: I also cannot embroider at all and ‘the mending has to look stylish’ is putting just as much pressure on myself as ‘it has to look new’. My takeaway, however, was that it’s okay if people can see that my clothes had holes once (and now very amateurish stiches). Caring for my belongings and making them last, reducing the amount of resources I use and not supporting fast fashion is part of my value system and I’m ok if people notice.

So now when something tears my measurement of mending success is whether or not I can use it again. Yes, I could have gone the extra step of at least buying some darker yarn to match my bag, but that extra step would have taken me weeks (not kidding. this stuff ends up on my ‘to do’ and will just never be done) to accomplish and my bag would have started to accumulate dust. Now it’s fixed and can go back to carrying groceries for me. I also sewed my coat button back on and the entire procedure took less than an hour and both items are back in use, hooray! Anyhow--I guess here’s a link to my Society6 shop. Please only buy when you’re willing to keep the purchase forever and ever!