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since64bce · 1 day

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Hell Within Hell

Alastor-Radio Demon- x Sinner reader

Synopsis: Alastor has inhibited hell for years. He knows it's ins' and outs'. But when it comes to him, his coppery heart, and an unexpected new-found perspective on his assistant, a new hell is created for him as he tries to wrestle with the shiny new concept of love. Just a few short pieces of writing and some head cannons'. Nothin' fancy.

Word count: Don't know. Warnings: Alastor.

By gosh what a tragedy. What a wonderful, terrible tragedy. What a questionable, concerning tragedy. How lovely it is. How problematic. Did Shakespeare end up in hell for all the souls he stole in the theatre? I pray for him if that was ever the case. And not because his soul wandered into eternal damnation. Oh no, there's a fate much worse than that, and his name is Alastor.

When the heart becomes stale it also becomes a waste of space, a space that could be used for more lung capacity instead. Because of this reason, Alastor often had thoughts of compulsively ripping it right out, especially, strangely, and more so now that it was finally of use. If Shakespeare really was in hell, Alastor wanted to kill him. If he was a bug, he'd place the man beneath Nifty's blade. And if he was in Heaven- which would be unwarranted given all the hearts he's crushed- Alastor would find a way to drag him down into Hell to watch his tragic little heart suffer for eternity. Because it's his texts in which Alastor has stumbled upon. And it's from his texts in which Alastor has learnt about love and all it has to offer.

Alastor is a refrained lover, if you could call the demon a lover at all. At best he's okay at love, if thats what you wanted to call whatever the thing Alastor thinks "love" is.

Being an overlord, you'd think he was capable of anything.

Uhh lower your expectations sis.

Problem No.1 with Alastor (which was really hard to find) is that he's not really the lovey dovey type. Does he get passionate about certain things? Of course darling. But when was the last time it was about a lowly sinner like yourself? (Hear the crickets babe? Yea pretty much that).

However I feel like this is true only for a few years after he's met you.

I'd say it's a "You-fell-first-(but then lowkey realised it ain't never happening type thing so you stopped)-he-fell-harder-(and got confused so didn't pursue it for like six fuxking months)

Being an overlord you'd think he was capable of anything but in all honestly love confuses this sweet🍬, sweet🍭, neurotic👹 boy.

His heart is in tatters and moth eaten like some dusty old drape. Nobody's ever come into his life that mattered to him much before.

And when I say "mattered" it doesn't come under the "slightly useful to him but couldn't care less" umbrella either.

Like it's a genuine feeling of not wishing for somebody to just fucking up and leave his demonic little world.

It's as if you're just so convenient for him to be able to slot you into his crazy, batshit puzzle of a life. And you fit so perfectly and meticulously, and you make it look rather complete, that he just doesn't really feel he needs you gone.🙂🙃

And thats his very lopsided version of love that he hasn't created a full understanding around yet. But hopefully will... one day.💕

Why would someone like him like someone like you!?? 🤯😧

Oh please bitch Alastor in Alastor's world is a special, clever little princess, nobody can top him.

When he first laid eyes on you, you were just another darling sack of shit staying at the Hazbin sorry not sorry. (Boo me idc this is how your love story goes 😤)

You weren't special at all. In fact, to him you were just a normal bad sinner doing the normal bad sinner things. There was nothing alluring about you, there was not a single aura or attractive quirk or special little something on the inside nor the outside that made him love you. You were like a crusty little stray dog, period. Not even a cute one.

In fact not even your death story was cool you got like hit by a bus or something idfc but it was nothin striking babes

You weren't even that bad of a sinner tbh. You were just a lying cheating fu k that got hit by a bus before you could find Jesus and repent

Anyways then you have Radio Demon, Overlord, Mr.Alastor who can do funny shit with his shadows oh dear lord save me

So as I said before, you, my dear, had a little crush for him first. Or, more realistically, you caught the love bug. Because don't we all know how little Nifty loves her bugs (dead).

Yes, you hiccupped on your blushy, fluffy feelings because trying to find genuine love and care within Ali's cold little heart at the time would've been damn near impossible. Like being stuck in a maze within a maze within a stone wall that had no exit.

So, yes dear, a hard pill to swallow ik but you got there in the end .

Over the years following, you and Alastor became a nice little duo. Like an elegant doberman and it's small rat-dog companion (guess which ones which).

Everybody in the Hazbin hotel has their own little niche, whether it be porn-starring or bar tending.

Yours was running errands for Alastor.

In his eyes you were comparable to an assistant even though the title was never officially yours. And he didn't want it to be yours because the role of facilities manager was a one person job.

Besides you did other things than just hotel errands.

You were more like an assistant Alastor. And that suited the both of you just fine. To Alastor you were remarkably useful, to you Alastor was an interesting boss and a form of strange company you somehow enjoyed. His presence, albeit staticky, was charming. He was a hard one to shake off, that man.

And then he began noticing you. And not just in the general way. I mean thats how it all starts off doesn't it?

It starts with a moment.

His boring "normie" of a companion... charmed him in some way. He didn't know how.

It was after one of his avid radio broadcasts when he switched off the set and just sat there in the silent darkness illuminated by the controls. Not even his voice filled the air, which was a strange noise to behold. Oddly peaceful, huh.

And then it got him thinking about your voice and how it could come and disrupt his blissful, peaceful silence at any moment. Pestering him with something new, as the very un-special sound of it filled the room.

You did like to disrupt things.

You've had your fair share of moments you've disrupted.

With your normal voice.

Filling the room.

It got his cogs spinning as he thought about you so normal and dull and boring. But it seemed that he really did know quite a lot about you.

You were never a drug addict in the middle world, never any kind of addict, never any kind of slave to anything or anybody but the lies you told others. Admirable achievement in this crowd down here.

But still, what a boring Mary Sue.

Typical Mary Sue behaviour that you should also try and recover from your compulsive lying, and actually bother to make use of the facilities the Hazbin Hotel had to offer.

Charming. But petty.

Just today he had asked you about an errand you'd run, only to find out that you had lied about running it.

You were supposed to have given some bird food to the cuckoo in the cuckoo clock. It was a fools errand he had given you to make you go away for a second. But you had told him you had actually done it.

Until you admitted you lied.

Inside the broadcast tower, Alastor let out a quiet laugh. He didn't know why it was quiet, he was the only person in the tower, and even if he were with other people its not like he'd care.

But what was so funny?

He thought back to the conversation: "I don't know what you're talking about," you had told him. "I never fed the stupid clock." And then he said, "Oh dear, well thats quite contrary to what I was told before." And you said, "damnit" under your breath and walked away, annoyed at yourself for having broken your sobriety, going to go repent to Charlie for the fifth time that day.

Again, Al found himself smiling ever wider and trying to keep his steady flow of chuckles beneath his fingers. Soon he was hunched over, finding other stories about you drifting to his head.

Unbeknownst to him, the layer of ice on his heart was slowly beginning to melt in the section that he reserved for you.

He realised you were such a funny fickle little thing, he realised he was quite fond of you as his assistant. It made no sense. And after the laughter was over something else took over.

A sense of something between fiery anger and grief contaminated his pores. He realised he had let you into his heart. He tried to quickly freeze it over again, however, it was too late, it seemed you had already brushed its surface.

The next day when you two were busying yourselves with errands, you came across each other in a hallway.

There was something off about his face on this particular day. Because when you looked at his face which was watching over your face, you never found his signature smile. For once you saw his lips relaxed. For once you saw his elusive eyes really looking at you like nobodies ever looked at you before.

And then he walked right past like nothing happened. However something had happened. Something incredibly unexpected and wrong. Radio Demon, Overlord, Mr. Alastor had found someone who mattered.

Boring, normie, lacklustre, lukewarm, little. Old. You.

It's a quiet day at the Hazbin Hotel. But it's always a quiet day isn't it? Hell is rock bottom, and once you hit rock bottom, well, what's the point in not wandering around for a bit?

You were only here because Charlie picked you up before the Sinners mentality could reach you.

At the same time, you were also only here because of Alastor.

Alastor, the lean, lanky overlord which you couldn't help but like somewhat. Cold and calculating despite the warm colours he wore. charming and pleasant despite his scary appeal. He was one reason why you enjoyed your stay at the Hazbin Hotel.

But he was also one reason why you hated it.

Lately anyway.

You've tried to bring it up with him but he simply won't listen. He doesn't even laugh anymore he just grimaces. It's been two whole months since he last smiled at you and you feel as though your beginning to get withdrawals- as sappy as that sounds. But it's true. As funny as it is to say, hell seems less pleasant, and even the Hazbin, despite Miss Morningstar's lovely presence, is falling short of joy and dunking deeper into the gloomy reality that is damnation.

They say that reality is just your perception. However, why has your perception been so fragmented by just a absence of a single smile?

Oh but you knew didn't you? You still loved him.

You thought you were past it but you weren't. You're such a brilliant liar that you can even trick yourself into believing things that aren't true. How remarkable. How depressing.

Ugh.

He's probably finally gotten bored of you. In fact, you've probably bored him into some kind of chronic depression that triggers every time he see's your boring, depressing face. Double ugh. And now you can't stand to look in the mirror. Sometimes you lay awake at night wondering what you've done to him and if it's you that's broken his perfect smile or something else. But everything he does points at you, and with this ridiculous jacket of blame on your shoulders you don't know how to look in his eyes anymore without feeling humiliated.

Oh and now he's behind you, watching you sit beneath the stupid cuckoo clock with a pile of birdseed in your palm. Humiliating? No something worse than that. You must look ridiculous. Desperate. Ridiculously desperate.

'Well, I feel it's too late now don't you? That ridiculous lie is still a lie, also the bird isn't real if you didn't get the memo,' taunted the inevitably superficial voice of the radio host. You could feel him behind you but you couldn't see him. The mans presence was very strong, a quirk, perhaps, that came with being an overlord. Although at times you could hardly tell when he'd enter a room at all. 'Now, why are you sitting, staring at the wall like a dummy? Did dear Charlie put you in time out for being a liar?'

'Fuck you, Alastor,' you huffed, 'you know I'm working on it.'

'Not making much progress I see.'

You could hear his non-smile in his voice. You didn't even turn around, you didn't have to, plus, you didn't want to.

'After you're finished working out your lying problem, perhaps you should focus on your swearing problem,' he said. You could hear the ruffling of Al's suit as he presumably crouched down, and then the cold lick of his breath as he got close to your ear. 'It's not so classy, my dear, for someone like you to have such a foul mouth.'

'Fuck- I know- just fuck off!'

You heard Alastor tut behind you, sighing disapprovingly.

You turned and looked him in the eyes. They looked bemused, however, his mouth told you a different story. He looked slightly chilling without that smile of his. Perhaps that was another reason for your sleeping troubles lately. 'Go ahead and do it you creep, kill me, I know ya wanna,' you declared, he cocked his head to the side, terrifyingly interested in your proposition. You had to resist the urge to swallow. 'Also now I've seen you without a smile I think I've seen it all, kill me I'm ready.'

You were half joking, but you still watched Alastor out of the corner of your eye, a habit you had developed.

'No.'

'That's not like you, Alastor.'

'What can I say? I am a man of many surprises. And you're far too valuable to me to kill you, assistant.' He added the last part in slowly, watching you like a hawk.

And then you saw it.

The faintest glimmer of tooth.

The littlest crease beside his lip.

And did he just call you valuable? A compliment from Alastor? Kill me now, you thought, it wasn't gonna get much better than this. And then Alastor's distinct vocals piped up again, 'ha ha! You look dumbfounded, sweetheart. Is there something I can help you with?'

His smile disappeared. And so did that feeling of hope in your stomach, leaving you empty again, and so you said, 'what do you even want Alastor? why'd you come find me? You're just toying with me now.'

'I'm afraid I toy with everyone, assistant.'

You felt him watching you as you crossed the room and put the birdseed in the bin, you felt him watching you as you dusted off your hands and made your way to the door.

'Smile,' you ordered. One final attempt.

Once again he cocked his head, raising his eyebrows, no expression in the mouth and whatever expression was in the eyes seemed to be told in another language. 'And what do I get if I do that for you?'

'My smile.'

Alastor has been a mess lately.

A clean mess no doubt. But he's been walking around half naked for months, alas, he can't bring himself to smile, which was more like a piece for clothing for him now more than anything. It got to the point where the Radio Demon thought that it had finally lost it's sincerity and emotion. But clearly not, as it's absence has been due to nothing but sincerity and emotion, two things which Alastor had never really exercised. Two things which were out of his hands.

And it's been ever since he found you wandering the hellish plains of his mind.

Yes, he was the skeleton in the closet, the monster beneath the bed, the not-your-typical-spooky-guy. But maybe he's finally found a weakness, and that thought slapped his smile right off his face.

And his assistant was all to blame.

You were all to blame.

He found his hands shaking as he looked at you, he carefully analysed that angry look about you as you stood rigidly at the door. There was nothing threatening about you, your face wasn't scary like his was, however he found himself mildly irritated by your defiances' today, mildly saddened at your obvious depression, and mildly livid that he couldn't get you off his mind.

So no, he wasn't threatened, you just mildly made him want to pull his hair out.

'Smile.'

'And what do I get if I do that for you?'

'My smile.'

Your smile? And what was that supposed to mean? Was he supposed to rip your mouth off and take your smile for his own? He looked at you, he looked at your lips, imagined touching them, imagining slicing them off you as your blood spilled and you screamed. And then he found himself putting the thought down, finding that he didn't really want that thought. How strange. Your smile wouldn't suit his face anyway, it looks much sweeter on you.

'If you smile at me I'll smile at you back,' you clarified, still with that rather hostile look in your eyes. You didn't really look in the smiling mood darling.

But it gave Alastor pause for thought.

Oh. So that's what you meant. Interesting. An equal exchange.

Al brought the memory of your smile up in his mind. It was pleasant enough. Charming enough... Oh who was he kidding? Sometimes he wished you could tell him the lies he told himself so he'd believe them better.

Your smile. It was sweet and dainty and lovely, and there was not a night that had passed in which he hadn't thought about it in some fleeting way.

Squeezing, hurting, reaching. He wanted to rip his heart out right then and there as he looked at you glaring at him from the doorframe.

And that's when he walked right up to you without warning. You barely had time to back away. And he took in your wonderful face with all of your wonderful features, from the lovely curve of your nose, to the shape of your very skull, to the fat of your cheeks to the pigment of your skin (which had turned wonderfully rosy beneath his fingers).

And then he took in your smile.

And he realised he was smiling too.

And he was so angry with himself, and irritated at you for making him feel this way. And so he leaned in and carefully placed his lips onto the corner of your mouth. Wanting to do it again and again and again but worried that he could smudge away the perfection that was you.

In the end he just grinned at you.

...

And then walked away like nothing happened.

...

A/N- Ik the tiny one shot at the end is shit but it's like 1 am and I have school tomorrow, I've watched like 4 episodes and I don't even know who tf Lucifer is yet so don't even come at me bitchens 🖕🥷

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #x reader #vivienne medrano #radio demon x you #radio demon x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor oneshot #alastor headcanons #radio demon

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yuusishi · 3 hours

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Could I request Silver, Ace and Deuce (separately) reacting to their s/o calling out Crowley for being useless and neglectful and how, if it weren't for ADeuce, they would've loved to watch NRC burn?

. . . ONLY EXCEPTION

pairings : Silver , Ace Trappola x gn!reader

genre : hurt/comfort-ish? has hints of fluff

cws/tws : yelling & cursing

a/n : sorry I was only able to do Ace and Silver !! I couldn't think of much to write about for Deuce 😭😭😭also I was doing this in the middle of a bunch of class breaks for a month so it may be messy lol

“You’re finally here, [Name]!” Crowley said enthusiastically, “As you know, there’s an upcoming festival in Sage’s Island that Night Raven College is—” “Let me guess, you want me to work on it” you said, a deadpan expression on your face, “Yeah, work on some stupid festival in an island in a world I don’t even belong in and was brought to for no fucking reason” the Headmage stared at the growing annoyance on your face, not knowing what to say. “Now, [Name], it won’t be that bad, so let’s settle this calmly” you clicked your tongue, “That’s what you said before! I’ve had to deal with a bunch of overblotting students and research how to get home on my own, all that then what were you doing? Nothing!”

A couple students started to gather outside the Headmage’s office upon hearing the commotion, and one of them was … . “If it weren’t for him and the others I would love to watch this stupid school burn to the ground.”

SILVER !!

Silver was one of the students that walked closer to the Headmage’s office to inspect the yelling. As he walked closer, he started hearing a familiar voice, his eyes widened in shock seeing that it was you giving Crowley a piece of your mind.

He’s not fond of hearing yelling (minus Sebek’s, but even then he tells him off if he’s going too far), it disturbs everyone and causes a scene. So imagine his confusion seeing you leaned down towards the Headmage’s table pointing a finger at him while Crowley just sank down his chair even further.

As much as he would've loved to go right in and calm you down himself, he could tell this was an issue that you wanted to deal with yourself. So, he waited until you ceased your barrage of insults and rants towards the Headmage and marched off outside the office, by this time the other students just began to ignore the scene and walk to their respective clubs and groups.

Seeing you walk out, Silver didn't waste a second grabbing your hand and asking in a worried tone if you were alright. He wasn't planning on forcing any explanation out of you, he already knew how you were treated by the Headmage, he just wanted to know what caused all this.

In the end, whether or not you explained yourself, he still pulled you into his arms in an attempt to comfort you. Silver didn't know what words to use, all of them felt wrong to say at the moment, so he just settled for just wordlessly holding you until you let go of him.

After this he'll make sure that you're no longer being overworked by the Headmage (reluctantly, he needed to ask help from Malleus due to his power as a Housewarden) and that, as much as he would love for you to stay, he would help you with everything within his power to get you home.

ACE TRAPPOLA !!

Ace walked you to the Headmage's office before you headed in, chatting with you on the way but he could read like an open book that faint look of irritation that you tried to mask.

He isn't one to always go against authority, only ones he knows is doing wrong. Hell, he talked shit about the Headmage with you back then when the situation wasn't that bad just yet.

So as he stood leaning against the dark walls outside the office, he and other students flinched hard hearing yelling coming in from the inside. Without hesitation, he busted in the office and saw you berating Crowley.

He felt conflicted for a moment, he wasn't sure if he should pry you off the desk or let you let it all out, he didn't know the full extent of the stress that you were put through but he sure as hell knew most of it.

For the sake of not risking expulsion, he pried you off of the surprised Headmage and dragged you out the office, much to his surprise you didn't fight back.

"What the hell was that!?" he yelled, he sounded angry but you wished he wasn't. And he really wasn't, he was worried instead.

Worried about the repercussions you would face for doing that to the Headmage. What if you get suspended, or worse expelled.

Ace wasn't the best at comforting people, so his solution was taking you out to an isolated bench in the campus with some snacks he bought.

You don't need to speak, hell, you could space out the entire time and he wouldn't be bothered at all. He knows you're not feeling the best, so he just sits there until you're ready to start talking.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #silver x reader #silver x you #silver twisted wonderland #twst silver #ace trappola x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola #ace trappola x you

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sansxfuckyou · 3 days

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top 5 etho ships ? bonus points for any explanation

my personal top five in no particular order, and like, ya gotta understand im still new here (hermitcraft/life series) so my opinions are poised to change, but the current standings are:

Bdubs/Etho/Cleo, i'll be honest, i haven't written or read any clethubs, but i saw some art of them that made my brain shortcircuit. they are femdom, himbo, and twink. i just think that Etho should have two people who are stronger than he is on either side of him at all times, bonus points if you let Cleo be the tallest. Bdubs being super clingy, Etho reluctantly tagging along, and Cleo making sure they don't fucking die because yeah they are god damn idiots sometimes, but they're her idiots. and she loves them. and probably gives them noogies and headlocks them.

Cleo/Etho, their marriage in limlife is so much fucking fun, especially when read under an aro4allo lens. Etho whose been happily married for over a decade watching his friends enter relationships and realizing that he loves differently, he doesn't even love remotely close to how they love, love isn't even the right word. hes scared so he leaves, hes not doing it right and his wife must be upset about it, that must be why everythings crumbling. and Cleo, not giving two shits, because that's her husband and by god they're gonna make it work if he can realize that being absent is whats breaking up their marriage, not showing affection and intimacy differently.

Gem/Etho, as a canadian i am legally obligated to ship this, as a lesbian i love it when men have chaotic gremlin girlfriends who put them in their place. see that one episode of hermicraft wherein Gem beats his ass on repeat and he keeps coming back for more. its like, like theres an unspoken solidarity, 'hey we're the same even though we're not' and they stick with each other. predator/prey dynamic if you go with deer Gem and fox Etho, you also get it with sea monster Gem and fox Etho, except he's the prey and she has the biological advantage instead. also, when paired with the transfemme Etho headcanon we get some yuri which im always down for.

Grian/Etho, this one came to via an Ao3 commenter and i have seen two pieces of fanart for it and like, seven fics. but i still think the dynamic of bird and fox would be fun to work with in writing depending on the bird Grian is hybridized with, especially if Grian is the smaller one. also in limlife??? hello?? Etho, swearing loyalty and promising to be someones sword is not heterosexual behaviour. what they had in limlife, even if brief, had me shaking i'll be real. also, for their hermitcraft dynamic, it'd be hot if i threw Scar into the mix, for flavour.

Pearl/Etho/Tango, consensual workplace relationships make me absolutely insane, it could tear apart their business or bring it further together. they have the kind of dynamic that makes my head absolutely fucking empty, one of those 'i just think theyre neat' kind of ships. the culture clash between each of their species and their own personal tastes, Tango's a blaze and they mate for life, Pearl's a siren and they don't do much for romance, Etho's a fox and they come and go- but they make it happen in spite of that. im working on getting them a canonized Ao3 tag right now, they have such a fun dynamic. also, they fucked in that post office when no one was looking.

tbh these are all really closely tied, and i also have a soft spot for tangtho and the team ties poly. they're all really fun ships, i just really enjoy polyships to be real with ya'll. and the life series and hermitcraft are full of so many possible polyships that its just making me foam at the fucking mouth. sorry boat boys enjoyers, the vision has not yet engulfed me, but hey im a multishipper it might be yet to happen.

#asks #the bestie anon #ethoslab #i just love putting this sopping wet pathetic excuse of a man in relationships. it makes me grin.#mcyt #heres hoping this sparks the poly postal vision in someone elses head

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that-foul-legacy-lover · 5 months

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Not sure if this is how to request correctly but I come Bearing Ideas

Concept: Reverse isekai mothman? You attempt to hide an eldritch horror of the abyss in your apartment, but all he wants is to snuggle New Friend (whether he recognises New Friend as the person behind the screen or not I'll leave it up to you :D)

ohh my goodness i'm squirreling away this idea and putting it on my shelf of favorite things

here's a sight you never possibly thought you'd witness: Foul Legacy sitting on your bed, tilting his head curiously as Genshin runs on your computer beside him. you had only left to get a glass of water, that's it, and yet those few minutes had apparently been enough for Childe's Abyssal form to get whisked from the game world to your room. carefully, you set your cup down so you can't drop it in shock, and Legacy watches your every move before standing from his place on your bed and slowly approaching you. he delicately sniffs the hand you hold out, then bumps his head against it like an affectionate cat, letting out a happy trill when he sees your hesitant smile

there's a vague sense of familiarity that Legacy feels when he's around you, like he's met you before but can't quite recall when and where. you feel safe; a kind, comforting presence in this strange new world he's in- when you're home Legacy is always a few steps behind you, fluttering his wings and chirping when you turn to look at him, and when you have to leave he follows you until you wave goodbye and shut the door. you do your best to act as normal as possible, as if you're not hiding an Abyssal monster who is twice as tall as you and definitely should be fictional in your apartment, since your neighbors can be incredibly nosy- Legacy accidentally broke a vase once and your downstairs neighbor came to investigate, looking at you suspiciously when you assured them that everything was just fine

you also have to get used to how wonderfully affectionate Foul Legacy is. you live alone, no pets allowed, so having a heavy moth-creature lay his head on your lap whenever you sit down is jarring at first. but he doesn't mind- he'll show you where he likes being scritched and pet best!! it's behind his horns and under his chin, and when he curls around you on a bad day, it feels like he's repaying you for keeping him safe, gently nuzzling against your cheek until you take a nap beside him, nestled into his warm embrace

...he's really not sure if he ever wants to go back to Teyvat

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blacktabbygames · 5 months

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Slay the Princess Concept Art

We shared a bunch of concept art on Twitter today. Sharing it here, too, where you can find it all in one post. Post contains spoilers, so proceed with caution (or just play the game already if you haven't 😉)

Going to start with the first piece of concept art Abby drew for the game.

In the earliest stages of development, we toyed around with the concept of there being multiple "end game" forms of the Princess.

The initial outline, rather than being tied together by an overarching metanarrative, structured a full playthrough as a 5-6 chapter long, self-contained journey down a single route, determined by your decisions in chapter 1. Here's an alternative late-game form:

The idea of deviating end-game forms didn't lost for very long, though. As we explored the game's themes more deeply, it made the most sense for there to be a singular "true" form.

If your reality is shaped by subjectivity and perception, then the "truth" has to be what's left when that subjectivity is swept away. the Shifting Mound's final design feels like that initial truth for the Princess, though there's also another truth if you push back against her and press on into the final cabin.

We really liked this "void" design, and I played around with the idea of it being an intermediary to the final form. The "void" Princess would be what you saw upon encountering the final Princess without understanding your own truth, but once you had that understanding, you would see her as the Shifting Mound, as depicted in the game.

That gave way to the intermediary design of the SM being a sea of disembodied limbs, and we also took parts of both designs and incorporated them into the protagonist (particularly the wings.) You can see the eyes and feathers for this void form in the ending card of the original trailer below:

You can see extremely early concept art for the spectre (top), nightmare (top-right), stranger (left), beast (bottom) and ??? (right) as well!

The eyes became a motif in the Nightmare route (Paranoid's manifestation of the fear of being watched), but I also like to think of them as a part of The Long Quiet's truth. You are space and emptiness, but you're also that which observes those things, and it's your perceptions that give the Shifting Mound shape.

Anyways, on the note of the original original concepts for the game, the Princess was initially going to remain human for several loops before taking on more monstrous forms. Some concepts of that are below. Had to get Abby to tone down some of the more horrifically cartoonish designs because they creeped me out and I didn't want to romance them in a video game.

We had to hold our cards close to our chest in the non-metanarrative early drafts, which is part of why, even in the first demo, the cabin doesn't really change much in chapter 2. More room to subtly play with the concept of transformation over time.

There were a lot of reasons we moved in a different direction for the full release. The branching was unmanageably large to write, and the game felt like a slog to write.

Using an overarching narrative as a framing mechanism in the final version gave us a lot more freedom to explore wildly divergent ideas within routes while still driving the player towards the originally planned finale.

Anyways, now we've got some concept art for individual princesses. There's a lot more than this lying around somewhere, but it's all in sketchbooks, and we'll probably wait until we make an art book to show it off.

First is the tower, who really didn't change much at all. (She got a little thicker, I guess. All of the Princesses did)

Not a lot to say about her, other than the fact that we knew we wanted a set piece where she gets so big that the trees and cabin orbit around her.

The stranger went through many many redesigns over the course of development. Here, she was a "princess skin" filled with a hive of sentient bugs. The script wasn't working for me, though, so instead she became a peak behind the curtains without the necessary context to know her.

A lot of people ask how these earlier drafts of the Stranger route would have played out, and the answer is I can't tell you, because I couldn't figure out something worth writing.

The writing process for individual routes didn't really start with outlines or plot beats. Rather, the routes started from a theme and a relationship dynamic, and I organically found their outcomes by exploring actions within those themes, and then seeing if those passed Abby's editor brain.

Neither of us found actions we wanted to explore with those versions of the Stranger, at least actions that weren't a beat-by-beat retelling of chapter 1, which contained way too much variation to put on a single chapter 2 route.

If each princess examines a relationship formed by perception and first impressions, the Stranger examines one that's fundamentally unknowable. One where you've seen too much, too quickly.

An insect hive-mind pretending to be a person seemed like a good starting point, but it was too difficult to write any interactions that didn't immediately feel knowable, if still strange. So the final version of the Stranger was designed in such a way where her unknowability makes interacting with her on a human level fundamentally impossible, and you don't get to have a real conversation with her unless you satisfy extremely specific criteria.

Anyways next up is the razor's final form. We decided she needed more swords.

Hearts became an accidental motif very quickly in the development process, too. (The fact that it is only strikes to the heart that fell her in the demo was accidental, but it felt poetic so we extended it to the rest of the game.)

So on top of adding more swords, we made her heart visible. This is something we did with the fury as well, as a way of showing their emotional (and physical) vulnerability.

Here's an early version of the Adversary and what would eventually become the Eye of the Needle, back when she was still called the Fury. Originally her hair was going to be fire (as seen on the right), but it didn't feel right in its execution.

She's hit the gym since this concept art. Good for her :)

And we're going to end with the Beast, who at this point was called the Adversary. I think this was before the Witch was added? The Beast was originally designed to be a Questing Beast who lurked in the shadows, where you'd only see glimpses of her, and where each glimpse would make her appear to be a different animal. This was too difficult to execute, though we gave her a more chimera-like appearance in the final game.

This design was from when we still has the Voice of the Obsessed, and the route was going to be a more feral mirror of what eventually became the Adversary, but it felt too thematically similar while being less interesting, so we moved in the direction of making the Beast about consumption as a form of love.

Anyways, that's all we've got for you right now. Hope this was fun!

#slay the princess #interactive fiction #character design

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alfheimr · 9 days

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My Favorite Cheap Art Trick: Gradient Maps and Blending Modes

i get questions on occasion regarding my coloring process, so i thought i would do a bit of a write up on my "secret technique." i don't think it really is that much of a secret, but i hope it can be helpful to someone. to that end:

this is one of my favorite tags ive ever gotten on my art. i think of it often. the pieces in question are all monochrome - sort of.

the left version is the final version, the right version is technically the original. in the final version, to me, the blues are pretty stark, while the greens and magentas are less so. there is some color theory thing going on here that i dont have a good cerebral understanding of and i wont pretend otherwise. i think i watched a youtube video on it once but it went in one ear and out the other. i just pick whatever colors look nicest based on whatever vibe im going for.

this one is more subtle, i think. can you tell the difference? there's nothing wrong with 100% greyscale art, but i like the depth that adding just a hint of color can bring.

i'll note that the examples i'll be using in this post all began as purely greyscale, but this is a process i use for just about every piece of art i make, including the full color ones. i'll use the recent mithrun art i made to demonstrate. additionally, i use clip studio paint, but the general concept should be transferable to other art programs.

for fun let's just start with Making The Picture. i've been thinking of making this writeup for a while and had it in mind while drawing this piece. beyond that, i didn't really have much of a plan for this outside of "mithrun looks down and hair goes woosh." i also really like all of the vertical lines in the canary uniform so i wanted to include those too but like. gone a little hog wild. that is the extent of my "concept." i do not remember why i had the thought of integrating a shattered mirror type of theme. i think i wanted to distract a bit from the awkward pose and cover it up some LOL but anyway. this lack of planning or thought will come into play later.

note 1: the textured marker brush i specifically use is the "bordered light marker" from daub. it is one of my favorite brushes in the history of forever and the daub mega brush pack is one of the best purchases ive ever made. highly recommend!!!

note 2: "what do you mean by exclusion and difference?" they are layer blending modes and not important to the overall lesson of this post but for transparency i wanted to say how i got these "effects." anyway!

with the background figured out, this is the point at which i generally merge all of my layers, duplicate said merged layer, and Then i begin experimenting with gradient maps. what are gradient maps?

the basic gist is that gradient maps replace the colors of an image based on their value.

so, with this particular gradient map, black will be replaced with that orangey red tone, white will be replaced with the seafoamy green tone, etc. this particular gradient map i'm using as an example is very bright and saturated, but the colors can be literally anything.

these two sets are the ones i use most. they can be downloaded for free here and here if you have csp. there are many gradient map sets out there. and you can make your own!

you can apply a gradient map directly onto a specific layer in csp by going to edit>tonal correction>gradient map. to apply one indirectly, you can use a correction layer through layer>new correction layer>gradient map. honestly, correction layers are probably the better way to go, because you can adjust your gradient map whenever you want after creating the layer, whereas if you directly apply a gradient map to a layer thats like. it. it's done. if you want to make changes to the applied gradient map, you have to undo it and then reapply it. i don't use correction layers because i am old and stuck in my ways, but it's good to know what your options are.

this is what a correction layer looks like. it sits on top and applies the gradient map to the layers underneath it, so you can also change the layers beneath however and whenever you want. you can adjust the gradient map by double clicking the layer. there are also correction layers for tone curves, brightness/contrast, etc. many such useful things in this program.

let's see how mithrun looks when we apply that first gradient map we looked at.

gadzooks. apologies for eyestrain. we have turned mithrun into a neon hellscape, which might work for some pieces, but not this one. we can fix that by changing the layer blending mode, aka this laundry list of words:

some of them are self explanatory, like darken and lighten, while some of them i genuinely don't understand how they are meant to work and couldn't explain them to you, even if i do use them. i'm sure someone out there has written out an explanation for each and every one of them, but i've learned primarily by clicking on them to see what they do.

for the topic of this post, the blending mode of interest is soft light. so let's take hotline miamithrun and change the layer blending mode to soft light.

here it is at 100% opacity. this is the point at which i'd like to explain why i like using textured brushes so much - it makes it very easy to get subtle color variation when i use this Secret Technique. look at the striation in the upper right background! so tasty. however, to me, these colors are still a bit "much." so let's lower the opacity.

i think thats a lot nicer to look at, personally, but i dont really like these colors together. how about we try some other ones?

i like both of these a lot more. the palettes give the piece different vibes, at which point i have to ask myself: What Are The Vibes, Actually? well, to be honest i didn't really have a great answer because again, i didn't plan this out very much at all. however. i knew in my heart that there was too much color contrast going on and it was detracting from the two other contrasts in here: the light and dark values and the sharp and soft shapes. i wanted mithrun's head to be the main focal point. for a different illustration, colors like this might work great, but this is not that hypothetical illustration, so let's bring the opacity down again.

yippee!! that's getting closer to what my heart wants. for fun, let's see what this looks like if we change the blending mode to color.

i do like how these look but in the end they do not align with my heart. oh well. fun to experiment with though! good to keep in mind for a different piece, maybe! i often change blending modes just to see what happens, and sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. i very much cannot stress enough that much of my artistic process is clicking buttons i only sort of understand. for fun.

i ended up choosing the gradient map on the right because i liked that it was close to the actual canary uniform colors (sorta). it's at an even lower opacity though because there was Still too much color for my dear heart.

the actual process for this looks like me setting my merged layer to soft light at around 20% opacity and then clicking every single gradient map in my collection and seeing which one Works. sometimes i will do this multiple times and have multiple soft light and/or color layers combined.

typically at this point i merge everything again and do minor contrast adjustments using tone curves, which is another tool i find very fun to play around with. then for this piece in particular i did some finishing touches and decided that the white border was distracting so i cropped it. and then it's done!!! yay!!!!!

this process is a very simple and "fast" way to add more depth and visual interest to a piece without being overbearing. well, it's fast if you aren't indecisive like me, or if you are better at planning.

let's do another comparison. personally i feel that the hint of color on the left version makes mithrun look just a bit more unwell (this is a positive thing) and it makes the contrast on his arm a lot more pleasing to look at. someone who understands color theory better than i do might have more to say on the specifics, but that's honestly all i got.

just dont look at my layers too hard. ok?

#process #art tutorial #unsure what else to tag this as. if this does not post properly i will cry.

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hannieehaee · 27 days

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ARE WE STILL FRIENDS (teaser)

18+ / mdi

summary: being besties with two of the most popular idols in korea always came with a few rumors here and there, but what happened when one of your platonic besties suddenly started acting a little friendlier than usual? or worse, what happened when they both turned their affections to you?

content: idol!au, hybeidol!reader x idol!mingyu, hybeidol!reader x idol!jungkook, 97liner!reader, friends2lovers, not mingyu x jk (they just share u like all besties would<3), not that much plot, afab reader, smut, oral (f and m receiving), body worship, fingering, penetrative sex, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 1.3k (teaser); 8.2k (full fic)

release date: april 27th

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: decided to write a little surprise fic!! ive been getting into bts lately and so this was born<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"Do you think the company would get mad if we did a live together right now?", Jungkook pondered out loud as the three of you sat on different pieces of furniture around his large living room.

"Yeah."

"They didn't seem to mind when Jungkook and I did it that one time," disagreed Mingyu.

"Yeah, but I'm the girl. I'm the one who wakes up to new dating rumors every time we hang out publicly."

"Yeah, but people must know we're just friends by now, right? It's been years."

That much was true.

You weren't sure of the exact date, but your friendship with both boys predated the overall international success of Kpop as of recent years. When you had met both boys, they had barely battled their way through puberty – though you weren't faring any better.

The media enjoyed making the three of you a subject, knowing that you were evidently the closest out of all members of the popular 97s friend group. Being the only girl integrant, it was common for people to have the misconception that you were romantically involved with either Mingyu or Jungkook, seeing as you were often spotted in public with them.

You'd gotten used to the rumors and hate that came attached to being their friend, now usually leaving those things in the back burner rather than letting them bother you. By now, the three of you were a bit more careless about being seen together. Being seniors in the industry, those things didn't matter much to you anymore, but being seen inside Jungkook's house would surely stir up the worst rumors to date, so going live with him was entirely out of the question.

It did bother you sometimes; the double standard. While Jungkook and Mingyu could even interact in public or mention each other freely, any time you did so you were met with hate from either fandom, sometimes even your own. It also made you worry about your future. Could you ever be in a relationship without facing the brunt of all the hate that would come your way? At 26 years of age, it was a frustrating reality to think about.

Jungkook got up at some point to go fetch some more bottles of soju. Apparently the seven bottles the three of you had drank collectively weren't enough for the large men you were drinking with.

While Jungkook was gone, Mingyu got up from his seat on the couch opposite to you and took a seat down next to you, invading your personal space like he usually did.

"Worrying your pretty little head about something?", asked Mingyu as he leaned over you, taking the occasional sip from his drink.

"It's nothing."

"C'mon, what's up?", his hand ran up and down your arm in a soothing manner.

Invading your space and being overly touchy usually meant that he was tipsy. But to be fair, you were a bit tipsy too.

"Do you ever think about dating?"

"Who? You?", he chuckled.

"No, dumbass. I mean in general."

He seemed to sober up a little at the mention of the subject, straightening up a bit as he sat sideways on the couch so he could look at you fully.

"What's got you thinking about that?"

"I don't know ... I'm 26 now. Isn't it time I started settling down? Have someone filling up the other half of the bed," you pondered, feeling a bit pathetic as you did so.

Mingyu let out a quiet sound of confusion, eyebrows furrowed and head leaning to the side in question.

"Isn't that what me and Jungkook are for?"

Not taking him seriously, you chuckled and took a swing of your almost empty bottle of soju.

"I'm serious, Mingyu. I mean a romantic relationship, where, you know, it's just us and we do couple things and we settle down and all that stuff."

"What can you do with some guy that you couldn't do with us?", he grabbed both your drinks and set them on the table.

Suddenly, his demeanor seemed a bit more serious, which confused you.

Where the hell was Jungkook with those drinks?

"I- Are you serious? Do you need me to tell you?"

"Yeah, I mean, why would you need to look for some guy if you have us?"

Oh. He was serious.

"Because we're friends?," you were beyond confused, "I can't go out with you romantically, or move in with you, or," you gulped, "or sleep with you."

"You can't?", he scoot closer to you.

"Mingyu ..."

"I just mean ... Why would you go after some loser when we can just take care of you?", his hand went back to touching you, though this time it ran up and down your thigh rather than your arm. That false semblance of innocence was gone, "You want someone to keep your bed warm? You don't even have to ask ... I'll do it- we'll do it."

Through his short speech, he got closer and closer, just as the air in the room got heavier. The atmosphere itself shifted dramatically, specially with Mingyu so close to you.

Mingyu was the touchiest man you'd ever known. Being his best friend, you had fallen victim to his touchy demeanor endless times, but never like this. Never while his eyes were hooded and heavy with some emotion you'd never seen in them before.

"Gyu, I-"

"Can I show you?", he rasped, eyes now on your lips.

"Y-you're drunk," you were sure that must've been it. The combination between drinking and talking about dating must've short circuited his brain.

"Just tipsy ... Tipsy enough to get the balls to tell you how much I want you ... but lucid enough to remember how many times I've thought about this."

The hands on your thighs moved to your waist, closing in on you, slowly pulling you toward him. By the end of it, you were halfway sitting on his lap.

"You've thought about this?"

Your nervous hands went to his shoulders for support, easily giving in to him.

"So many times. Jungkook too," he chuckled as he began burying his head in your neck, lips ghosting the sensitive skin.

Lacking any control of your body, you repositioned yourself to allow him better access to you, now fully on his lap as he sat sideways on the couch, arms wrapped fully around you and face buried in your neck.

"Gyu, I-"

"Yeah? Is this okay? Is it okay if I kiss your neck like this? This is what you wanted, right? Someone to take care of you?", he mumbled as he made his way to your ear with breathy kisses.

You were burning up, completely powerless to Mingyu. It was kind of embarrassing how easily you gave in to him. How you had been entirely unaware of his want for you until five minutes ago, yet you were now pliant in his hold, willing to listen to his senseless argument about him and Jungkook being good replacement for a relationship. You also had that to think about – the Jungkook aspect of it all.

The reminder of Jungkook's presence woke you up a bit, remembering that you were literally sitting on your best friend's lap while in your other best friend's living room.

With half a mind to let Mingyu do whatever he wanted to do with you, you powered your way through your decision to pull him away from your neck.

"Gyu, wait. Kook could get here any minute-"

"Don't stop on my account. Seemed like you were having fun without me."

Your head snapped to the door at the introduction of the raspy voice of your best friend, finding said friend leaning against the doorframe with a few drinks in one hand and a few ramen cups stacked on the other.

"Jungkook-"

"So, can someone catch me up?", he got closer, dropping off all the food he was carrying on the table and sitting next to you on the couch.

...

read today on ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one<3

NOTE: it wont let me reply to people anymore but ill be tagging everyone who comments asking to be tagged just letting u guys know<3

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saerotonins · 4 months

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in a world full of boys, he's a gentleman

ft. nanami kento x fem!reader

— in which kento unintentionally proves how much of a husband material he is.

content warnings: fluff, smut, light angst, suggestive, making out, nanami kento being a certified hubby, fiancée!kento, weddings, mentions/implied slut-shaming, reader has horrible relatives, reader is described to be non-traditional, riding, p in v sex, creampie, breeding kink, daddy kink, choking, hair pulling, curses still exist but nobody dies (yay!) and geto is mentally fine and a teacher at jujutsu tech <33, im so in love with him, some can be considered bare minimum and subtle but idc if he does it he's the standard, kento loves it when you're checking him out, just kento being a gentleman, kento is so in love with you, you you and you in his mind, reader is just as the same btw, corny ass vow (idk how to write one srry)

wc: 5591 (holy shit lol)

note: im!! so!! head!! over!! heels!!! with!! this!! man!! (it's really not that obvious, right?) he's so dreamy he deserves a lot of kissy kisses and a ticket to malaysia <33 also!! just realized this is my first piece for 2024 tehehe happy new year, everyone! 🎀🎆

best enjoyed with: slut! - taylor swift

that time when you both went out for a picnic

the sunset paints the sky with the most vibrant colors as you and kento bask in each other's presence and sit on a picnic blanket, surrounded by the quiet sways of the green grass, accompanied by some people who decided to hang out around the vicinity.

it's one of those days that kento is blessed by once in a blue moon break from being a jujutsu sorcerer. kendo's always grateful to have this kind of day because it would mean that his hands would spend their time stealing soft touches against your skin instead of fighting curses.

a faint clink can be heard when you and kento toast your glasses together, half filled with your favorite champagne. it's a tad bit sweet to kento's liking as he is not good with sweets, but he opted to bring it to your picnic instead of his favorite whiskey because he knows you love it.

kento watches you put your lips on the champagne flute and drink your sweet alcohol with glee. he takes a small sip from his as he stares at you with admiration.

satisfied with your drink, you set it aside on your coaster as you lean your head on kento's shoulders. "such a lovely day, isn't it?" you say while you close your eyes, soaking in the remaining rays of the sunshine before it sleeps, allowing the night to take over the sky.

kento hums in approval as he puts his free hand on your head, giving it gentle and loving pats as he rests his head against yours, but not before giving you a quick peck. "we should do this more often,"

"i agree; you should ditch gojo more and spend more time with me," you joked, and you heard your fiancée chuckle, "that wouldn't be so professional of me, darling," it's your turn to let out a chuckle.

"it's gojo; being professional is already out of the window."

"you're right, maybe i should," kento jested back.

the two of you just sat in comfortable silence until a slightly strong gust of wind blew in your direction. caught by the shock of it all, you close your eyes and hold your sundress down to avoid flashing the strangers. but before you could even do it, a strong pair of arms wrapped around you.

kento had covered you, so any speck of dust blown by the wind wouldn't be able to get into your eyes. your sundress is also held down by his knees between your legs. when you opened your eyes, you were greeted by your fiancée's face close to yours, assessing you. you suddenly feel your stomach tumble and fill with butterflies.

"are you okay? didn't get anything in your eyes?" he says gently, eyes observing you with worry. you give him a slight nod, "mhm, i'm fine kento, how about you?" kento answered with a hum as he tried to fix your dress and some parts of the picnic blanket that was slightly blown away by the wind.

"i think that's the cue for us to pack up, or do you want to stay for a while?" kento asks you while he starts to pack up some of your stuff into the picnic bag. "we should stay until the sun completely sets, it's a shame to leave while the sky looks pretty."

kento nods and finishes packing before he sits beside you, looking at the view. he then makes your head lean on his shoulders once again, his hands caressing the top of your head. "yeah, i agree, the sky looks pretty." he states.

he feels you nod and continues, "but you're prettier to look at," he says as he looks down at you and to his surprise, he meets your eyes on him. "i could say the same to you, kento," you say before capturing his lips against yours.

kento smiles on your lips before reciprocating your gesture, slightly tasting the remnants of your sweet champagne earlier.

and at that moment, he thought, it doesn't matter if his tongue tasted something so sweet, as long as it's from your lips.

that time when you went christmas shopping

the mall filled with bustling crowds is not a perfect way to spend time with your fiancée. but when this is the only time your schedules align to go for a last-minute shopping to buy gifts for your loved ones, you don't really have a choice.

kento especially noticed how much you were on edge today despite being excited to buy gifts for everyone especially his mentees. you weren't the type to enjoy a busy crowd, so he knows how to elevate your stress.

store after store, he gave you every opinion he had (that you asked for) ever so gently and thoroughly but not too much to overwhelm you since you're technically a ticking time bomb now. kento was attentive at every store you went to and immediately picked out gifts you thought were best to give. he stood up in the busy and long line as he let you sit on the lounge chair present in the store.

by the time you're done shopping, he carries all the bags and refuses to give you any (even the small ones). and when you insist, he gives you an offended look, telling you he can manage.

while you're walking to leave the mall, your stares don't go unnoticed by your fiancée as he sees you mindlessly gawking at his arms that flex every time he has to fix the bags while walking.

and that makes carrying your shopping bags even more worth it to him.

that time when you got drunk at a new year's party

gojo has set a new year's party that includes everyone in jujutsu tech in one of his vacation homes in japan. it was supposed to be a reasonably small party but this is gojo satoru we're talking about; he's going to be extra about anything and everything.

the party is semi-formal and requires everyone to dress up nicely. kento does not enjoy parties, but seeing you dress up in a pretty dress that enhances your assets makes him think that attending this event has benefits too.

the party wasn't uneventful per se, but despite the semi-formal wear that everyone was rocking, the event itself was casual. the house was filled with laughter and noise, mainly from the students and everyone else sharing stories and conversing. an hour or two into the party, you and kento decided to part ways as you go on your way to interact with gojo, geto, and shoko.

kento trusted you enough to be alone with them so he opted to talk with some of his colleagues whose presence calms him (obviously not gojo). he spent his time talking with higuruma, sharing ideals and mundane stuff they both enjoyed doing. it was a calming conversation for both men, who wanted peace and tranquility.

"there's this store that sells rare vintage vinyl; i think you'll love to shop there," higuruma suggests as they talk about collecting vinyl, a hobby they share. kento was about to reply, but even before he opened his mouth, he heard a very loud—

"nanamin!" which made both men turn their heads in the direction where the sound came from.

the voice no doubt belonged to itadori, his face painted with concern as he rushed to kento's area. "what is it itadori?" he asked the young man the moment he arrived while panting.

"your wife! she's—" before itadori can even finish his sentence, kento's already sprinting to where you are, itadori following suit.

kento doesn't need to know what he needs to say; the worry on itadori's face, accompanied by your name, is enough for him to look for you.

turns out you're drunk of your mind.

when kento arrives in gojo's kitchen, it's just you and him having a very drunk and heated argument about whether cereal or milk comes first.

"no! that's so stupid, cereal should come first, think about it you stupid idiot, if you pour milk first, you'll miss the chance to fill the bowl with so much cereal!" your fiancée sees you standing on gojo's kitchen island alongside him, slurring your words as you sway the glass of wine in the air, threateningly spilling as you keep on moving.

gojo scoffs at your argument, "maybe t'was the point! it's all about ratio, how else can you enjoy cereal when there's too much cereal and little room for milk!" he barks back, holding a—

is that a massive cup of sunrise tequila? no wonder he got so drunk, kento thought as he sighed.

"there's no such thing as ratio for you, gojo! you're the same person who adds too much pineapple on pizza that it becomes disgusting!" you shouted at gojo's face as you continuously pointed at his chest with your index finger.

across the kitchen island stood geto and shoko with unamused faces, looking like they were just waiting for everything to die down on its own. kento sighs and asks them, "did they have an alcohol-drinking battle again?" and all they reply is a solid nod.

"gojo got too competitive and drank that sweet poison, which led to this... argument," shoko adds, looking at both you and gojo incredulously. "they immediately started gulping down the alcoholic drinks right after midnight," geto said, a chuckle threatening to leave his lips.

"please help me break them up," your fiancée kindly pleads to geto and shoko. they immediately showed empathy to their former junior and decided to hold gojo back together while kento held onto you.

it took almost half an hour to break you and gojo apart, not to mention the commotion and your silly drunk discussions that blew out of proportion because the both of you are just so passionate and no one would back down without a fight. after successfully separating the two of you, kento immediately guided you away from the party and to your car, not without leaving shy goodbyes to the people he would face along the way.

the drive back home was thankfully not chaotic, but it was definitely filled with your drunken chatter as you slur words kento can barely make out.

getting you to your shared home was relatively easy; you were patient enough to let kento walk you off to the front door and remove your heels before gently placing you on the couch.

he was about to let go and grab some water until you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to your face; kento felt his heart race. "hey there," you whispered against his lips, distance threateningly close.

kento could smell the alcohol on your breath, probably a mixture of beer, wine, and then some. still, he couldn't bring himself to care when he knew your lips would probably taste slightly sweet. "have you ever been this handsome, kento?" you ask, your voice dripping honey despite being out of your mind, trapped in your own drunken bubble.

"maybe that's just the alcohol's doing, darling," he jokes.

"no no, i think i already saw this face years ago."

"really?"

"really. you look even more handsome now, you should give me a kiss," you say as you pucker your lips, slowly leaning towards his.

kento couldn't even say no even if he didn't want to (not that he will ever not want to kiss you). he decides to give you a swift peck just to entertain your shenanigans, but when he is about to let go, you deepen your kiss, tightening your wrap on his neck, forcing him to lean forward and straddle you with one of his thighs digging on the couch.

he can taste the red wine you had recently drunk, and he's confident he can get drunk with your lips alone. kento's mind went hazy as he moved against your lips languidly, letting himself drown in your kiss. he wanted this to last longer, even take it further, but alas, kento has always been a man of self-control, so he lets go of you, not before giving you one last kiss on the forehead before heading to the kitchen.

the whole night, kento tends to your every need that you couldn't do. he had prepared you a warm bath, removed your makeup, and did your skincare for you that he knows at the back of his hand. he had lathered you up with your favorite lotion, dried your hair (not without a fight since your drunk self found the hair dryer too loud), and kissed you good night before tucking you to bed, leaving a pack of aspirin and a water bottle on your nightstand before sleeping.

the morning after, you woke up to the smell of your favorite soup and your fiancée insisting on feeding you even though you told him you could manage.

you make sure to pay him back really well that same day.

that time when you attended a family reunion

it's always this dreaded day you always wanted to avoid but couldn't.

you would rather stay home with kento rather than attend a gathering that will just piss you off, but your mom had pleaded with you to come— "so that they won't gossip about you," she said.

you know that's a lie; whether or not you attend, they'll always find a way to talk about you anyway; there's no winning. but since you wouldn't want to let your mother down, you suck it up and prepare for it regardless.

what makes you nervous is that this is the first time Kento has come along— or more like you let him come along.

you had heard complaints from your relatives about not meeting kento when he was still your boyfriend, and now that you're engaged, you should've at least let them meet him. you begrudgingly agreed, but it doesn't mean you're not nervous.

your relatives have been annoying throughout your life, always meddling with things they shouldn't even care about.

it always started with asking about your weight change, school activities, grades, chosen course, and relationships, not to mention the ever-so "you should do better" undertone in all aspects of your life. and for some reason, always making you feel small is included in their mandatory list to piss you off.

you know that once you let them meet your now fiancée, they would bombard him with questions and annoy you and him for the rest of the day. you only keep up with the tradition because your mother is too kind to tell them off, laughing awkwardly when they berate you and always giving you a silent apology through her eyes.

it wasn't her fault; you just wish she'd shut them off.

kento had noticed your change of behavior ever since this morning while preparing in your home. you had been silent and spacing out, only replying when he had finally snapped you out of your daze. he doesn't know what the deal was with your relatives, but all he knows is that your mood drastically changes whenever they're involved in the conversation, and that's enough for him to tell you that they're not really good news.

"are you sure you want to go, honey? we can always drive back home," kento said with worry, cutting through the thick tension in the car. "it's fine; I can handle it; we're almost there anyway. it would be a waste if we turn around," you tell him with a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

Kento replied with a small smile, taking your hand to his face and kissing your knuckles, "just know that i'll always be there, alright?"

you nod, feeling slightly relieved, before looking out the window to drink in the scenery as you pass by.

it turns out you can't handle it.

you thought your relatives would be a little tamer because you have someone over, but you were totally wrong.

ever since you both arrived, your aunties had surrounded kento and bombarded him with questions. from his age, degree, university he graduated from, where you met, wedding date, monthly income (which is incredibly embarrassing), to how many children he plans to have.

most of it wasn't a problem, but your blood boiled the moment they asked about what he saw from you.

this would've been such a sentimental moment if it weren't for your auntie's sarcastic tone, as if the question was meant to belittle you, to make you feel like you're not worthy of him.

when kento was about to open his mouth just to pour out how much he loves you and how he's lucky to have you, one of your aunties butt in with their loud mouth.

"well, she isn't really a traditional partner isn't she?" she said, a smug smile forming on her ugly and wrinkly face. "yeah, i mean, i assume with a fine man like you wouldn't be attracted to someone like her," another one added.

kento clenches his fists as he felt fury fire inside of him. how dare they think about you like this and talk about you like this, like you weren't just in front of him, seething in pain and anger.

he was about to give a proper and calm response when your uncle had spoken, "besides, she dresses like a... you know," then an ugly cackle. "a what?" your auntie had joined, taunting him to say the word.

"oh, you know, like a sl-"

that was the final nail in the coffin. his words are cut off when kento angrily smashes both palms on the table, seemingly angry, forming an angry red aura you have never seen. "i've had enough," he started, while all eyes are on him, including yours.

"i will not allow any single one of you to disrespect my wife any longer. i will not tolerate your old and immature ways of talking about her. i've been patient enough, but this bullshit is something I will not allow," kento's vulgar choice of words has made everyone's eyes at the table grow wide, shocked.

"i would say this respectfully, but you guys weren't to my wife either, so please, i'll say this once," he inhales, trying to calm himself down.

"fuck off," kento declares before taking your hand and exiting the venue.

during the walk to the car, he had been slowly calming himself down. once you reach it, kento holds your face gently, "i'm sorry for the outburst there; i just couldn't stand them disrespecting you any longer, so I had to." he says before putting a gentle yet quite long kiss on your forehead.

once he lets go, he sees your face. your eyes had been filled with tears, and it broke his heart. "that's fine, i've been wanting to tell them to fuck off for years anyway. if anything, i should thank you," a smile spread through kento's face before opening the car door to let you in.

once the both of you are finally settled in your seat, you ask, "by the way, I just noticed you called me your wife; what was that all about?" you ask him out of curiosity. he knows you're happy about that based on how happy your voice sounded when you asked him.

"i'm just so sure you'll end up with that title anyway, unless you're having cold feet?"

"oh god, no! i'm just touched, 's all," you shrugged as you settled in your seat, a smile stretched across your face.

kento chuckles and leans forward to kiss your cheek before starting the engine and driving off.

your mom visited you and kento later that week, saying she was happy she was finally not invited to the next reunion. she then made you your favorite dishes as an apology for that day.

you don't mind what gossip they would come up with next, not when you have the kind of man kento is.

their little toxic gossip train had nothing compared to the love that kento gives you every single day anyway.

that time when you asked him to be rough

the night is still young and cold but kento does know how to make it hot.

his hands fumble the plush ass as you keep on taking his cock, sloppily riding him as you let your hips and thighs do the work. your cunt meticulously takes all of him, molding your walls just like it was made for him. "hah, faster darling, please," kento pleads, voice broken and desperate for release.

his calloused hands caress your body gently like you are someone sacred, a figure that shouldn't be harshly touched or you'll be condemned, the same hands that used to exorcise and kill curses without a single thought. and yet with you, he carefully carries them lightly, holding onto your waist, not too tight enough to leave you in pain.

you feel your stomach tie into a knot, slowly feeling yourself come to a climax, "shit, kento, you're so big, mngh, make me feel so full," you say through gritted teeth, further speeding up your pace. the sound of your thighs slamming against his echoes through your bedroom, accompanied by your ragged breaths and kento's broken moans of pleasure.

your fiancée's hands then find their place back on your ass, squeezing it tight, but not too much, guiding you to bounce on his cock more as he feels himself closer. "s'good for me, yeah? taking me like a good girl?" kento looks at your eyes lovingly, his brown orbs touching your soul. you nod, not finding the words to say, mind too hazy to answer as you keep on taking his dick, taking him in like you always do.

"yes, oh god, yes, kento— please, inside— me," were the only words you managed to let out as your movements kept on getting sloppier and sloppier each moment passed by. he knew what it meant, and who he to deny such a polite request?

kento let himself release inside of you with a groan, making sure every drop of his cum is given to you.

your pants envelope the room as you both try and catch your breaths— then a beat of silence.

you take kento's face in the palm of your hands and caress his cheek, "you know, i sometimes wish you could be rough," you say as you observe his sexed stupor, "i occasionally get rough on you, don't i?" he asks, eyebrows raised with confusion.

"no, like i mean, rough rough," you emphasize, "you're always so gentle. you don't think i can handle you?" faux sadness evident in your voice, one that your fiancée can never say no to, not when you're asking this nicely. "oh darling, i'm sorry, i will do it next time," he coos, fixing the loose strands on your hair by tucking them behind your ear.

"we can do it now?" you suggest, making the corner of kento's lips perk up, "oh? you sure you can handle it?"

"i know i can handle it," you say as your voice rang with confidence.

you knew kento had it in him to be rough, but good god, you never expected him to be this good.

he had given you a more than good fucking, which leads you drooling on your sheets, with your back arched, ass up, and your hands held behind by kento as he drills his cock into your sopping cunt. his hands left prints on your ass and thighs, which left a delicious burn on your skin. "want to take my babies, don't you?" kento says as his hips meet your asscheeks.

"mnghh, yes, daddy! full— 'f your babies!" that was enough for him to unload himself inside of you, burying himself deeper to make sure you'll take all of it before he pulls out.

you were about to sit up, panting, when you felt kento's large hands wrap around your neck from behind, squeezing it while the other was pulling your hair.

"who said i was done with you, pretty?" the deep timbre of his voice went straight to your pussy.

this side of your fiancée is undoubtedly a pleasant surprise.

the following day, though, you were treated again like a queen, a bath ready for you by the time you woke up, surrounded with fresh flower petals that he had taken the time to buy from your nearest flower shop, and your favorite candle burning alongside your bath products. kento also insisted on giving you a full body massage to ease any tension and muscle ache.

you asked for it anyway, but you also don't mind this kind of treatment from him every now and then.

that time when you had a cold

you woke up feeling like absolute shit.

you don't know when or why it happened; it just did.

your head was throbbing the moment you opened your eyes, squinting at the sun rays that peeked through your windows. your body felt heavier than usual, and your shoulders felt sore. kento had taken notice of this as soon as he woke up, tending to your every need.

it pains your fiancée to see you in such a state, voice hoarse, your sniffles meet with a crumpled-up tissue near your nightstand, a mucus-filled cough every now and then, and an occasional "my throat hurts" whenever you speak. you had begged him to bring you some slightly cold water along with your food because lukewarm water doesn't hit just the same. but being the ever-responsible adult that kento is, he says no, leaving you sulking as you begrudgingly eat your food with a frown.

taking your medicine, though, is a different kind of task.

you stall every single time, finding it hard (or hating) to swallow the pills. even more so if he gave you water with a dissolved effervescent tablet, claiming it's too gross to drink, even if it doesn't really have any flavor. whenever you're sick, this is always the obstacle he has to face.

"please give me some juice or candy kento; it'll help when i drink the medicine," you begged, adding a touch of cooing pleases to make him say yes.

"i think the sweets you ate are what led you this way, darling," he says, which practically means no.

a pattern he noticed is that whenever you eat too much salt or sweets without drinking the right amount of water, it always leads to you getting this sick. "it'll just be a little sip, please? baby?" you had finally hit a new low, busting out the occasional nickname when you need something from him.

"you're a big girl, honey; you can drink this. here, i'll cover your nose for you," at this point, you just let him do it; there's no way you'll be able to convince him. you reluctantly nod and decide to drink the medicine instead.

kento pinched the sides of your nose together, effectively covering the smell, or lack thereof (he doesn't even know why he covers your nose, he just knows you'll take it if you don't smell anything). your face scrunched as your tastebuds are met with an unfamiliar and unwelcome taste, but you drink it anyway, your throat desperately chugging it so you can be done with it right away.

once you felt that you had finally consumed all of the medicine, you immediately let go of kento's hold on your nose, quickly reaching out to the glass of lukewarm water on your nightstand. after you drink enough to allow the aftertaste of the medicine to go, you place it back and let yourself lie in bed.

"i'll prepare you dinner, and i'll be back, alright?" kento takes away your glasses and places them on the tray he had brought them with. he was about to leave the room when he felt you tugging on his shirt "hm? do you need something?"

you shake your head, "no, just... thank you,"

a small smile spread on his face, your fiancée takes his free hand on your head and gently ruffles your hair, "this is nothing to thank about darling, i'm just doing my job," he bends down and gingerly places a long kiss on your forehead, "i love you, get some rest."

you nod, but not before giving him a small smile back.

that night after you had eaten your dinner and drank your medicine (albeit hesitantly), you spent the night with kento caging you in his firm, warm arms.

you feel yourself get better by then.

that time when you got married

when you walked down the aisle, kento looked at you like you had hung the stars for him. his eyes sparkle as he sees you wearing the gown you've been working on for months; even kento himself can't believe he's seeing an angel.

is this what heaven is? is this a dream? are you even real? how lucky is he to be with someone like you?

kento always believed you're out of his league, someone out of reach, and like the stars from the sky, the only way to capture your beauty is through his eyes. but he couldn't believe that the universe was on his side, fate working its way to make him yours, and he happily obliged.

cupid had shot him through the heart, and you stole it, and he can't even be mad at it. he'd happily give you all of him at the snap of your fingers. let himself be bare to you; let himself mesh with you. your soul, senses, beliefs, and love clouded onto him.

he consumes every single aspect of you within him, lovers stitched together by fate that no one can even cut.

kento sees himself becoming one with you, so he will never regret the time he got on his knees to present you with the prettiest ring he could ever find, but nothing can compare to the beauty you carry, not even this ring.

when you accept him with a delighted "yes," kento swears he's the luckiest man alive ever, blessed by your whole being.

so when you finally reach his side, everyone becomes a blur, his eyes focused on you the whole time, soaking in your beauty; he can't believe this is the face he's going to see every morning for the rest of his life.

"hey handsome, you look great," you say, holding kento's hand. "i could say the same to you, pretty," he replies, and he had to stop himself from kissing you right there and then.

and comes with the exchange of vows; kento feels slightly nervous but proud because he gets to declare his love for you in front of the people you both cherish most.

he clears his throat before opening up the letter in his hands and looks at you with such love and contentment.

"to the person who helped me see love in your form,

you've always painted colors on my blank canvas, and i cannot thank you enough. you shed light when i'm in my darkest days, have been with me through my stormy nights, and share my gloomy days.

you have been the compass to my lost soul, guiding me to the destination i know as love. you give harmony to my life as your laughter always brings music to my ears; your voice reminds me that you're here with me. you had composed the greatest symphony that sang its way to my heart, making me bare my soul, something that i will never regret," kento pauses, his voice croaked, words stuck in his throat as he tries to stop his tears from spilling. he fails to hear the audience coo in awe, focusing on you.

he continues, "loving you became my eternal pursuit, my garden whose roots are planted deeper than the sea where my endearment continues to blossom.

every step with you feels like a dance, one that i will not get tired of swaying my heart with. your hands had made a map of my body and soul, imprinted the images of love one couldn't see, and only i could feel.

and the only time i get to call something home, i stare into the deep abyss of your eyes and see myself tangled with you.

with you, i am willing to get even our souls intertwined, dancing through life as we face the uncertainty together, with love ink deep within my veins.

to my anchor, my only solace, the only anthem my heart will forever sing,

i hope the warmth of your arms will forever embrace me, even after death." the attempt to keep his tears falling fails, so does the audience, and so did you.

your eyes filled with tears, but one that's full of love. your heart feels so full that it's threatening to spill out of you. you love kento so much that it hurts; it aches to the core that someone could ever love you this much.

and you're forever thankful.

that day, your promises to each other are officially sealed with a kiss so intense and wedding bands that even evil couldn't break, that no trespassers shall get into and rip your bond away.

when kento's lips met yours, it was soft, it was warm, it was sweet, it was comforting.

finally, your husband thinks.

that day sealed the chapter to your newfound forever.

another note: i'm not so proud of the vows i made but i hope it captured kento enough lol srry 😭

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dreamingonfilm · 1 year

Text

✧˖*°࿐ Love Letters | d.m

Draco Malfoy x f!reader, fluff

Summary: In which Draco tries to find the girl who sends him love letters, unaware to the fact that it’s you.

W/C: 1.5k

Draco’s fingers traced over the writing on the pink envelope once again. His mind was not able to rest as he tried to piece together who left the note on his bedside in the middle of the night. Delicately opening it once more, he reread the words inside;

Draco,

I hope you can learn to see yourself the way that I see you, with love and acceptance. You are what makes everyday worth it. Constellations are named after you, and each day I can’t help but to be thankful for the sun breathing on you once more. You are my light.

He carefully closed the envelope and placed it inside his bag. ‘They like me.’ the boy thought to himself, ‘someone actually likes me.’

It’s not that the boy was a stranger when it comes to love, but never once has he been perceived as something more than what he truly is. He’s always been Draco Malfoy, heir to the Malfoy throne, son of Lucius, and most importantly a Slytherin. For this reason, he constantly rejected any advances that came from the female students around him. While his rejections came off as rude and cold-hearted, the other students failed to see that Draco, just like everyone else around him, was human too. He was scared of being hurt by the one feeling that he craved the most.

The walk to class was almost unbearable, he couldn’t stop thinking about the letter. He wanted to know the poet behind those beautiful words, the ones that kept repeating over and over in his head as he tried stirring potions or taking notes. You are what makes everyday worth it. He became hyper aware of his surroundings, assuming that he would know when he sees her, but he failed to realize that she was not someone that could be so easily spotted. She came exactly when you needed her to, not by desire alone.

—-

“Draco,” his friend Blaise called to him, “focus.”

“Oh, right.” Draco replied, trying to get his thoughts together as he walked back to his seat. It was the middle of the school week and his mind was only getting more crowded with the thoughts of her. As he sat back down, his friends swarmed him with questions as to what it was that he smelled in his amortentia, assuming that this would be the first step to finding her.

“I can’t describe it.” He sighed, running a hand through his platinum hair in defeat. “She has me going crazy and I don’t even know her.”

“Well,” Pansy spoke up, “I suggest maybe moving on? I mean, if she wants to be anonymous it may be for a reason. Plus, you have hundreds of other girls that would kill to be with you, Draco. Maybe try your luck somewhere else.” She flashed him a sincere smile before going in to hold his hand, but her efforts were cut short as the boy suddenly stood up.

“I don’t want to be with anyone unless it’s her.” He sneered, shaking his head as he turned around and started heading straight to the door. He said a hushed goodbye to his friends before exiting into the crowded hall.

Why couldn’t his friends see that he didn’t want anyone else? He didn’t care about her wealth, status, or looks, all that he wanted was someone that could love him in full. Love him in a way that can’t be tamed, a love that lives long after they do. This was something that he knew he wasn’t going to find any time soon, for as long as he was at Hogwarts he could only be Draco Malfoy.

His hopes were on her.

He walked through the hall, pushing through students that stood in his way as he asserted dominance with a ray of confidence and high ego. Students glared at him but none had the guts to say anything, this fear that Draco instilled was not one that was going to go away any time soon. It was one that he brought upon himself and now had to live with. Somewhere in between his daydreams and the crowded corridor, he felt someone bump into him. Their shoulders collided as his books fell to the floor. The stranger mumbled a quick apology before running off.

In the midst of his anger, he froze. He smelt it. That same scent that clouded him only a few minutes before. There it was, it was her, but just as quickly as he smelled it, she was gone. Only seeing her hair as she turned at the corner of the hallway.

He quickly got up and chased after her, pushing and shoving anyone that got in his way. This was his chance, he was finally going to meet the girl that’s been making him mad, the one that he’s been dreaming of. His heart was pounding as he ran faster and faster down the hall, students staring at him in confusion as he was passing them by, quills and journals flying out of his bag – but he didn't care, he couldn’t let her get away.

Once he turned the corner, he couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sensation of defeat. His heart crushed as he stared into the empty hallway.

—-

Two weeks have passed since the day that Draco and her collided. He sat in his bed, holding a brand new letter. The same shade of pink as the one before, with the handwriting that he’s fallen in love with.

“Draco,

I’m sorry for not writing to you. I’ve been thinking of you every day, and I just can’t bear to keep dreaming of you without letting you know that I’m sorry for bumping into you in the hallway. The truth is, I’m scared, Draco.

I’m scared you aren’t going to like me for who I am. I’m scared that writing to you was a mistake. I’m scared that the only way you will ever see me is through these letters. I see you every day, why can’t you see me?

You’re always in my heart, shining above me every night, my constellation. If we remain strangers forever, just know that I’ve never come to love someone like how I love you.”

He was getting restless. Constant possibilities of who it could be running through him, he even considered the possibility that this could be a prank, but no amount of doubt could prevent him from finding her, his hope overpowered all the fear that he had.

Draco sat up once more and started getting ready for dinner. Brushing his hair and straightening out his tie, he needed to look presentable for the off chance that he could be meeting her today.

He headed down into the Great Hall and that’s when he saw it. A pink envelope in the hands of a girl he’s never talked to, but not just any girl, it was you.

He shouted out into the void, but he wasn’t quick enough. “Hey wait!” he called out, as you quickly grabbed your things and ran off once more. He couldn’t see you like this, it wasn’t the right time. Your face flushed red as you ran, your breathing quickening as your legs started to grow tired, but you could not let him find you.

Draco chased after you, he was only a few feet behind but with enough determination you knew you could lose him. As you sprinted through the maze of halls, you started to grow light headed, you knew that if you didn’t stop soon you would faint.

But it’s not the right time

You stopped in front of a random classroom, rushing to open the door before he could catch up to you, but it was too late. He crashed into you, both of you falling to the ground with a loud thump, his hands landing on either sides of you as you laid in between him.

He finally found you.

“Who are you?” He asked, not wasting any more time to get to know the girl who stole his heart. You stared into his eyes, feeling a frog in your throat as you mustered up the courage to finally talk to him.

“M-my name is (Y/N).” You whispered, neither of you breaking eye contact. He smiled, grabbing hold of your hands as he went to pick you both up. You were both nervous, too scared of saying the wrong things, but wanting to say them all regardless.

“(Y/N),” he repeated, looking at you with a face full of love and adoration, “I’m Draco.”

He brushed your hair with his fingers and went to pat the dust off your shoulders. You didn’t know what to say or do, but you didn’t have to.

This was the right time.

“Come along then (Y/N),” Draco smiled, interlocking his hand in yours before leading you back down to the Great Hall, “we have a lot of catching up to do.”

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astraystayyh · 1 month

Text

The snow falls, we fall apart.

summary: when heartbreak looms on your life, and winter becomes a time you loathe, hyunjin helps you rewrite your memories with the season, and with it, everything you once believed about love.

genre: producer student!hyunjin x reader. roommates!au. friends to lovers. acute descriptions of heartbreak and general sadness. slow burn. hurt/comfort. healing and hopeless romantic hyune. very inspired by long for you so lots of pining and yearning. (wc: 13k)

warnings: mentions of alcohol. it is implied that reader was in an a very toxic relationship but no details are shared.

a.n: happy birthday to my hyunjin, my muse, my light. thank you for being so full of love that it made me love love again in return. this is i think my most personal piece, and i hope it reminds those who need it that love should be soft and kind, that it shouldn’t hurt, that it should heal not break. i love you guys and i love you my xi, writing this collab with you has been a true honor <3 also!! please listen to long for you while reading :,)

winter falls masterlist.

You’ve only ever felt utter despair twice in your life.

First, when you were seven years old, playing hide and seek with your cousins at your grandma’s house. It was a warm summer afternoon, the air sweetened by pastries you devoured hours ago. You decided to hide in a wooden cabinet up in the attic, only to end up stuck there. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, the oxygen seeping away from the cracks underneath the door, leaving you deprived of air, of life.

Second, at twelve, when you've come to discover sorrow's new facet, clad in grief's heavy cloak. Your parents adopted a hamster for your birthday, but they did not know he had a terminal disease. You were distraught, to say the least, when you awoke to its still form, death claiming a frail heart unaware of its imminent fate.

And now, third, many many moons later, you are knocking on Hyunjin’s door a few minutes after midnight. It is cold out, tears tracing rivulets on your cheeks, your fingers tinted pink from roaming outside in the harsh winds, your heart much heavier than when you were a child. More grief-stricken, at your own hands, this time.

A disheveled Hyunjin opens the door, his blonde ash hair tousled and sticking upwards, a clear indication of the many times he had run his hands through it in fits of frustration. His gray hoodie zipped up hastily, revealing the silver cross necklace he was wearing, nestling perfectly against his honeyed skin.

You've always had an aversion to seeking comfort, saw it as revealing your deepest vulnerabilities to a world that isn't always kind. It was easier, much simpler to do so when you were a clueless child— when you sank in your cousin Lia's hold as she attempted to steady your breathing, when your mother cradled you in her lap after Pinky died.

It is much harder now, much more embarrassing because Hyunjin has never seen you this sad, never glimpsed your shadows that now swarm his doorstep, unannounced.

“What's wrong?” he quickly asks, eyes darting over your figure in a rapid search for visible wounds. He wouldn’t find any. All your injuries stem from within— blood doesn’t have to be spilled for your heart to weep.

You had rehearsed a lie as you walked up to his doorstep. You would say that your car broke down near his place and ask if you could stay over for the night. He would insist he could drive you to your place and you’d refuse, saying that it was too late and you did not wish to bother him. You’d sleep on the couch and slip away in the early hours of the morning.

Yet, it is the genuine worry etched in his eyes that dismantles the fortress you've hidden in, melts the lie in your throat, morphing it into a steel lump coiling in your throat. He looks concerned when all you’ve had directed towards you recently was anger. And you missed someone looking at you in care, not reproach.

“I didn’t know where else to go.” You admit, your voice shattered, fragments of your vocal cords scattered out in the wind like a broken mosaic, the sound of it scraping against your ears.

Blow one hurt. It felt like your body turned against you as it deprived you of oxygen. The sobs that escaped you once you perceived the light pained you, perhaps more than being confined in the darkness.

Blow two was even worse, it was your first time experiencing grief. It was too hard of a concept for your innocent heart to grasp, too complicated for you to find solace in anything as adults do.

You promised yourself that you’d reserve blow three for monumental agonies— big pains and big sorrows only. That’s how you managed to keep all your tears at bay for most of your life. Would they be worth losing your third sob for? No, you've always found the answer to be.

And in all the twisted scenarios you’ve conjured up in your mind, deaths and illnesses and the haunting tale of failure, you did not imagine that it would happen on Hwang Hyunjin’s doorstep. That you’d burst into sobs at the compassionate look in his gaze, and the sad smile he sent your way. As if he knew, as everyone did around you. That you had handed a knife to a serial killer and it was only a matter of time before he stabbed you in the heart.

Two weeks ago.

“I’m trying to understand you but you aren’t helping me,” Seungmin is frustrated as he paces relentlessly before you from left to right like a swinging pendulum. You sit on the couch, beholding only his shoes, avoiding his gaze that would reflect the truth you dare not confront.

“He’s sucking the life out of you, can’t you see that?”

You can, out of everyone that surrounds you, you can see it the most. You feel as if you are carrying a skin that isn’t your own, weighed down by a relationship that has taken everything from you. But admitting it is admitting that you were wrong, in trusting him, in loving him. You couldn’t bear it.

“We are fine!” you shout back, the defiance in your voice surprises even you. This is a familiar script with Seungmin, a recurring conversation spurred by your puffy eyes and diminishing appetite. He tells you, begs you to leave, but where could you go? How could you leave a home where you've shed all your treasured belongings at the door— your skin, your bones, your very self.

What place would welcome you now that you're stripped bare of your soul?

“When was the last time he made you smile, huh? All he does is hurt you, and you...” he chuckles incredulously, running his hand through his hair. “You are letting him.”

Deny, deny, deny.

“This isn’t true. He loves me,” the words taste foreign in your mouth like rusty metal dragging across your lips. A small voice whispers that love shouldn't feel like this, but you quiet it down.

“Are you hearing yourself? Yn, I…” he kneels before you, his hands resting comfortingly on your knees. This is Seungmin, your best friend of five years. You know he has your best interests at heart, you are even more sure of it when his voice softens, shakes slightly when he utters your name. “Yn, please. I’m trying to help you. Please.”

“I didn’t ask for your help,” you push away his hands, standing up. “I don’t want your help, and I don’t need it.”

You quickly leave Seungmin’s dorm, your heart heavier than when you entered it, foolishly hoping that he'd ignore your distressed state after yet another fight with your boyfriend. But Seungmin doesn't understand, no one around you does— you’ve gambled your heart, and you cannot stop drawing the cards, even in the face of losing strikes.

❁ ❁ ❁

Hyunjin offers you a cup of tea with a gentle smile and you grab the steaming drink from his hands. The smell of chamomile wraps around your senses, and your brain fizzles out for a second before the soothing aroma. But it is a fleeting respite, the tempest of your thoughts crashes back onto you with an unsettling force, causing you to almost drop the drink as your hands shake. You place it down the table without taking a sip.

“I’m sorry for coming unannounced,” you apologize, wincing at the intrusion, “I hope I didn’t wake you up.”

“I always sleep late. Don’t worry about it,” he smiles, but you know it isn’t a genuine grin, because his eyes betray an unsubdued concern, refusing to morph into their usual moon crescents.

You’ve always thought that Hyunjin wears his emotions openly— when he laughed, he did so loudly, his boisterous giggles traveling around Seungmin’s dorm. When he hurt himself, everyone in the vicinity would know so from his loud yelps. And when something worried him, he would bite his lip, toying with the plush flesh to ease his nerves.

As he is doing now. Looking at you.

“We broke up,” you quickly say, and your words hang over you like a gloomy cloud. “But I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Do you want me to fight him? I’ll bring changbin too,” he suggests a serious tone underlying his playful offer, and it manages to tear a reluctant giggle out of you.

“Changbin doesn’t know me well enough to fight for me,” you counteract and he shakes his head. “He’ll fight for me, I'm his princess.”

“Are you now?” The giggle escapes your mouth less forcefully, and the smile that graces Hyunjin’s face is a genuine one.

“I am. My proposal stands,” he extends his hand and you wrap your fingers around his palm. “Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind,” you smile but he frowns, flipping your hand around in his hold.

“You are freezing,” he whispers, using his other palm to rub warmth into yours.

“It’s fine,” you lie, slipping your hand out of his grasp, not feeling deserving of his kindness.

Wordlessly, Hyunjin stands, walking into what you assume is his bedroom. You only know of his place because you dropped off Seungmin here some time ago. You are too exhausted to even drink in the interior.

“Here,” he returns, handing you a navy hoodie of his and black joggers. “This will keep you warm at night.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, hesitating for a few seconds before speaking again. “Can you please not tell Seungmin, I... I can't face him right now.”

“Of course. I’ll be awake still if you do need something.”

Hyunjin’s clothing is warm, although peeling away your own garments felt like shedding layers of your skin, as if the fabric melted into your very flesh, just like memories from the day did. You have never felt this worthless before, discarded like a forgotten leaf on the roadside, one he stepped on for his own enjoyment, leaving you crushed in his wake, unable to fly away again.

Hyunjin’s rose perfume wraps around you, and you find relief in sleeping somewhere where your, his, scent was no longer around. You foolishly hope that if you close your eyes hard enough, you’ll manage to convince yourself that you’re someone else, tonight. Someone who isn’t tethered to the heartache, someone who can slip away from the clutches of a love that hurts more than hate could ever manage to do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Heartbreak isn’t beautiful, no matter how eloquently you try to dress it in the syllables of poetry, no words can soften the burn in your lungs, the searing ache that courses through your very core, reminding you that deep within, down to the fundamentals of your being and the most basic alchemy that ties your atoms together— you are unlovable. Whether you cut your hair or allow it to grow, change your heart, or leave it as it has always been, you will remain so.

You don’t remember much of the past week, blurry fragments here and there that float in your mind like a distorted water reflection. There is little room for memories when you are busy trying to remember how to breathe— one inhale in, one exhale out. The simple concept seems harder when there are unkind hands permanently lodged into your heart, squeezing it tight.

What you do remember is telling Seungmin through text the next day, because you couldn’t bear the way his eyes would soften if you spoke to him in person. No signs of surprise cast on his figure, because he knew that it was long coming, a train with one final inevitable destination— you in shambles, him okay.

You remember Seungmin cradling you in his arms when he came to see you, and you trying desperately to keep the tears at bay— too focused on pinching your arm to let Seungmin’s warmth radiate through your being, Hyunjin lingering uncomfortably by the entrance of his living room.

You remember begging Seungmin to grab your belongings from the apartment you shared with your ex because you were unable to face him, him, and everything that your old place spelled out for you. Stand in the ruins of what you once thought would be your permanent home.

And now, you watch as Seungmin and Hyunjin bring suitcases full of your stuff into the latter’s place. And you feel like an outsider in your own body, standing at the corner of the room gazing at utter destruction, unable to stop it, unable to mend it. Seungmin quickly reassures you that you could crash in his and Minho’s place until you find a new one to live in, already taking out his laptop to search for new apartments for you.

But you did not care for it, your eyes zeroed in on the satin shirt peeking out of your suitcase. The one he bought you on your first month anniversary. Back when love felt like a gentle feather running down your spine, and not a dull knife slicing away at your skin.

“This place's expensive too,” Seungmin sighs, rubbing his temple warily. Your logical best friend could not fix your heartbreak but he took it to heart to alleviate your other troubles. You would thank him for it, later, when your tongue finds enough will to move.

“What if you move in with me?” Hyunjin suddenly says and his words filtrate through the fog in your mind easily, as if he rehearsed them enough times so they’d roll out smoothly out of his mouth. “I mean, Felix is away for the next year since he went back to Australia. And I was looking for a new roommate anyway.” He shrugs and Seungmin turns to look at you, his eyes convey the question his mouth doesn’t articulate— is it okay with you?

“I don’t…” your voice is croaked, so you clear your throat. “I don’t want you to do things out of pity.”

“I’m not. If I was, I would've told you to move in with me for free. I still need you to pay rent,” he raises his eyebrows, a playful tease and you smile in relief, nodding, “Okay, I will. thank you.”

Heartbreak is ugly and all-encompassing, weaving through the roots of your heart and infecting each organ with its insidious touch. It renders you immobile, incapable of performing the simplest tasks, burdened by a weight unseen by the world. But you try your best, your very best to contain it.

You smile at the cashier as she hands back your money only to wonder if her soft, well-manicured hands would too crush a soul without remorse. You go to all your classes without fail but your mind is elsewhere, contemplating why the sun filtering through the windows no longer warms your skin. Can nerve endings perish when subjected to too much pain? What's left of life when you can no longer feel the caress of the sun?

You watch a movie at Seungmin's dorm but your mind is elsewhere, fleeting to this morning and how you refused to stay in the shower for more than three minutes because your thoughts might become haunting ghosts tempting you to follow them. You brush your hair and spray your perfume, only because you have to, because you live with Hyunjin and you wouldn’t want your sadness to taint him too. You wonder how long you’ll have to bear it. You wonder if it’ll ever leave you or if the veins in your heart have molded themselves after the pain and they wouldn’t know how to accept happiness anymore.

You greet Hyunjin as he walks past you, shaking your head when he asks you if you want to eat dinner with him, quickly retracting back into your room. You have ten unread messages and a pile of growing laundry you need to do, but all you can muster is to gaze at the empty walls, mirroring the void within you. Your mom told you to call her again and you don’t know how you’ll speak to her without bursting into a sob, how you’ll tell her that all it took was one person to break you. Or maybe it was two people, your hands and his tearing apart your flesh and bones. Maybe that’s the worst part about it. So you don’t call her.

And you only ever emerge from your room when you need to, just like now because your water bottle is finished and you need to refill it. You go to open the kitchen door when you hear Hyunjin’s muted shatter, Felix’s distinctive deep voice coming out of the phone speaker.

“Next you add the melted butter and stir it,” Felix instructs, the sounds of pots and utensils clinking in the background. You fidget slightly, mustering the strength to paint a fake smile on your lips.

“What next?”

“Sift the dry ingredients then add them to your wet mixture,” Felix explains, met with a few seconds of silence. You can almost visualize Hyunjin's perplexed expression, blinking rapidly in confusion.

“Explain it to me like I’m five years old,” he requests, prompting a small smile to etch itself onto your face.

“How are you surviving without me?”

“I’m not please come home,” Hyunjin sounds horrified as Felix’s rich chuckles fill the air. “Why do you suddenly want to make brownies anyway?” he then asks.

You go to open the door when Hyunjin’s response catches you off guard.

“They’re for Yn.”

Hyunjin's words resonate in the air, causing a hitch in your throat and Felix’s teasing whistles simultaneously, but Hyunjin is quick to stop him. “No, no, no, it’s not like that. They’re just a bit down and I remember them loving your brownies. So…”

It takes you a fleeting moment to dig the memory out of your mind, a year ago, right before your ex came to pick you up from Seungmin’s dorm. You had a bite of Felix’s brownies, a surprised gasp escaping your lips at its delicious taste, back when food had taste and happiness came easily to you. It was an insignificant memory, you did not imagine Hyunjin, out of everyone, would remember it.

But he did, and he’s now pacing before your closed door, contemplating how he’ll convince you to finally eat something with him. He throws a thumbs-up in the air for no one but himself, inhaling deeply before knocking on your door.

“Hey,” he greets with a hopeful smile, his gaze meeting your tired form. He hesitates for a second, clearing his throat. “Brownies?” You remain unmoving and he falters, “Hm? Please?”

“Sure,” you nod and a wave of relief floods through Hyunjin as you step out of your room. His joy is short-lived when he takes the brownies out of the oven, only to find them thoroughly burnt.

His mouth hangs agape, and he walks back shamefully to the oven, lowering its door only to scream inside of it.

“This will be more therapeutic,” you say, pointing nonchalantly to the fridge and he agrees, opening its doors and yelling once again in the much larger space.

Your melodic laughter fills the kitchen, Hyunjin’s embarrassment is suddenly a forgotten memory.

“I’m craving kimbap. Should we get it instead?” you propose, a touch shyly and he quickly agrees, afraid you’d change your mind and walk back to your room where he can no longer ensure you are okay.

Hyunjin absentmindedly dances along to the music blasting through the convenience store when a girl sidles up to his side, a saccharine grin on her lips as she looks up at him, “hi,” she greets and his tentative smile mirrors hers. “Hey.”

“Are you single?” she asks, her gaze briefly fleeting to the window. “I think you are really cute.”

“I’m…” he glances at you but you're suddenly engrossed in the ingredients of the tuna kimbap you are holding, pretending not to listen. “I am but I’m not interested, thank you.”

“Oh, come on,” she places a hand on his arm and he physically recoils. “Give me your insta and we could talk.”

“No,” he repeats, grabbing her hand to remove it when a loud voice startles him. “Baby, what’s taking you so— What are you doing?” Hyunjin watches in horror as the girl’s eyes grow wide, before she scrambles to the man’s side, feigning fear.

“He kept hitting on me when I said I had a boyfriend, baby.”

“What?” both you and Hyunjin gasped in comical unison. He would find it amusing if not for the escalating anger radiating from the man, who looks like he spends all his days in the gym. Hyunjin suddenly regrets not working out with Changbin.

The man strides towards Hyunjin. “Do you want to die?”

“No? there’s a misunderstanding,” he replies, swiftly standing before you and shielding you with his arm. “Your… baby,” he wiggles his finger in front of the man's face, “she was the one hitting on me!”

The man scoffs loudly, his face growing redder from the anger seething in him. “So you hit on my girlfriend and then accuse her of cheating?” His fist rises threateningly, prompting Hyunjin to step back, accidentally bumping into your chest.

“Wait, wait, wait! Let’s go talk outside, man to man,” Hyunjin pauses, his voice taking on a taunting edge, “unless you're too scared?” he smirks as he feels you pull at his shirt, whispering an incredulous- “What are you doing?” He shakes his head, grabbing your hand and leading you outside, throwing a sly wink at the man behind you now.

“Are you seriously going to fight him?” you ask, your gaze shifting towards the deranged couple who are about to step out of the grocery store. “No, of course not. I'm a lover, not a fighter.”

“You said you'd fight my ex,” you point out and his eyes soften surprisingly.

“You are an exception.” He looks back at the man, who's now walking towards you both. “But anyways, do you know how to run?” he asks and you frown, “who doesn’t know how to—” you pause as realization dawns on you. “No," you whisper furiously.

“Yes.”

“No,” you shake your head, horrified and he nods, eyes apologetic.

“Yes.” His fingers entwine with yours, he squeezes your hand once before he takes off running.

“Hwang fucking Hyunjin!” you shout and he looks back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. “I’m sorry Yn my face is too pretty to be beaten up.”

“He’s following us!” you yell, looking back horrified as the, even angrier, man runs after you.

“Well, run faster!”

“I’m wearing fucking slippers!” you curse and he giggles, tipping his head back, the wind slamming into you both, his hand never letting go of your own.

“Oh my god why is he still running!” you groan and Hyunjin picks up speed, moving you even closer to his sprinting figure

“I know, is it ever that serious?” he yells above his shoulder and you dig your nails into his palm.

“Shut up, this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t so gorgeous.”

“So, you think I’m pretty too?” Hyunjin grins proudly and an incredulous laugh escapes your lips.

“Really? Is this what you’re getting out of this situation?”

“Silver linings, Yn, silver linings,” he shouts as you round a small alley, finally stopping to catch your breath. You both fall to the ground, heavy breaths escaping your chests.

“Holy shit, I’m not athletic at all,” he heaves, his eyes meeting yours. He expects to find anger lingering in your gaze but all he can grasp is your amused smile before you collapse into a fit of laughter, clapping loudly and clutching your stomach with your hand.

“Oh my god, I’m crying,” you laugh harder, wiping away at the tears falling from your eyes. Hyunjin’s weariness disappears in the blink of an eye— he did not realize how much he missed your smile until he glimpsed it again. And it is beautiful. Happiness looks beautiful on you.

“Idiot,” you hit his shoulder playfully, and his response is delayed for a few seconds, the warmth from your smile rendering him immobile.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckles, pulling you up. “Here, I’ll carry you home,” he squats slightly before you. “How impolite of me. How dare I make your majesty run.”

You shake your head, amused, before climbing atop his back, his warm palms holding your thighs securely. “Only because the slippers hurt my feet.”

You walk in silence for a while, your arms wound up around Hyunjin’s neck, the ghost of a smile still lingering on both your faces.

“They said it will snow tomorrow,” Hyunjin speaks suddenly and you stay silent for so long he starts to wonder if you even heard him.

“Mm? That’s nice,” your tone is melancholic, and he pauses at the peculiar sadness in it— as though you were trying to act nonchalant about something that has once meant the world to you.

“Don’t you like the snow?” he asks and your hold on his neck falters.

“I loved it. Loved ice skating and building snowmen.” Your voice is light and airy, like Hyunjin’s favorite mint chocolate ice cream. “But now it reminds me of bad times, bad memories.”

“I understand.”

Hyunjin knows what it feels like to relinquish parts of yourself you never wished to part from. For someone to grab your happiest places and to cast a gloomy filter atop them. Sometimes it is the loss of a season that hurts more than the departure of a person.

And Hyunjin loves winter.

He’ll do everything so that you’ll come to love it again too.

❁ ❁ ❁

Is it a nightmare if the person in it is one you once loved, looked forward to beholding with your gaze, hoping they’d never slip out of your reach? You don’t know, but you are growing tired of having the same dreams every night. Of waking up with an exhaustion that goes beyond your restless sleep but pleads from your soul to rest after almost a year of torment.

You sigh wearily, rubbing a hand through your face before walking to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water. You find Hyunjin there, eating a cupcake while standing shirtless, scrolling through his phone. You blink at the sight.

“Hey,” you clear your throat and he startles, dropping the cupcake on the ground. He goes to pick it up only to bang his head on the table, a loud yelp escaping his lips. You barely contain your giggles as you walk to his side, rubbing your palm soothingly on his head. “I'm sorry I didn't mean to scare you.”

“At least pretend you are sorry,” he mumbles, pointing to your amused smile and you chuckle, taking his hand and helping him to his feet.

“What are you doing up now?” he asks as he grabs some napkins to clean up the pink frosting smeared across the floor.

You hesitate for a few seconds before whispering, “Just nightmares. And you?” you quickly add, not keen on pushing the subject any further.

“I'm working on a song,” he explains, as his gaze lingers on your sunken eyes, weighed down by dark circles from too many sleepless nights.

“And the cupcake?”

“Some people need caffeine to function. I need flour.”

“I literally see you drink three americanos per day.”

“Okay well maybe I need both,” he admits sheepishly and you grin, drumming your fingers along the countertop.

“Can I sit with you while you work?” you ask quickly, before the words linger enough in your mouth that you no longer wish to spit them out.

The smile that Hyunjin sends you is kind, pushing the shadows of your nightmares just slightly out of reach.

“Of course, yeah you can. Don’t even need to ask.”

Hyunjin walks first into his bedroom, quickly slipping on a hoodie while you take in the interior. It is a quite simple room— a large bed with gray covers, and a desk filled with what you assume to be his producing equipment sits adjacent. But what catches your attention is the dried rose hung delicately on the wall, and the array of paintings surrounding it. You edge closer to it, drawn to the well-crafted paintings— a sun-drenched beach, a couple lost in an embrace so intimate their forms can no longer be separated, and an elderly pair riding a motorcycle, their love radiating vibrantly as if enclosed in eternal youth.

“You paint?” you ask, turning around to find Hyunjin watching you. He steps closer, enveloping you once more in the fragrance of his rose perfume.

“In my free time.”

“You are amazing, Hyunjin,” you compliment sincerely, your gaze fixed on that imagery of the old couple, one that most likely grew together. It tugs at your heartstrings, stirs a painful longing within you, a memory of a time when you too believed you’d find such boundless love.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, before brushing his fingertips gently against your forearm, for a fleeting second. “Are you okay?” he asks, a tenderness you’ve been aching for latched into his question. Your eyes refuse to peel away from the paintings and the love spilling from each paint brush stroke, a love that refuses to rest on your being as if you were harboring an armor that repels it.

“No,” you reply sincerely, turning to face him. “It’s really hard,” you say with a smile, hoping that the mechanical display of happiness would keep your tears at bay, tricking your brain into believing you're not as sad as you feel.

It fails to do so, and the tears well in your eyes like a gathering storm. Frustration twists your features as you shut your eyes, tilting your head upward in a desperate attempt to contain the flood. It pauses as Hyunjin cradles the back of your head, drawing you close to the warmth of his neck. His palm glides soothingly along your spine, before patting your back ever so gently.

Your back stiffens, hands curling into tight fists, breath catching in your throat. You've grown accustomed to pushing away comfort, putting up tall barriers to shield yourself. But tonight, Hyunjin seems to break through your defenses.

Tonight, you soften, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, head nestling deeper against his tender skin.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he whispers and another sob wracks through you, but he only holds you tighter. “It’ll get better soon.”

“I loved him,” you hiccup, your voice breaks, “a lot.”

“I know, that’s why it hurts.” His voice is gentle, and yet his hold on you feels secure as if you could stumble and fall, and he would be there to catch you

“I want it to stop hurting.”

“It will, with time.”

Your next words are tinged with a childlike vulnerability, reminiscent of blow one, then two. But you do not care for it, in that instant, you crave the reassurance, you need someone to plant a seed of hope in your soul because your hands are too frail to dig for it.

“Do you promise me?”

His response doesn’t come hastily, carelessly thrown into the air like idle chatters. He takes his time, considering it with the gravity of an oath.

“I promise you.” He finally says, each syllable infused with sincerity. A brief pause hangs in the air before he adds. “And if it doesn’t then you can hit me.”

“On your pretty face?” you ask, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

“On my pretty face,” he confirms with a chuckle.

“What an honor,” you roll your eyes playfully as you lean back and he grins, tenderly wiping away your tears with the back of his fingers.

“I can't believe it took three minutes for you to cry in my room. This isn’t good for my reputation.”

“Good thing this will never leave this bedroom, right?” you point a finger at him threateningly, and he pretends to zip his lips, tossing away the imaginary key. “You got it.”

“So what are you working on?” you ask as you settle on the edge of his bed, knees drawn up to your chest.

“It’s a pretty sad song, wanna hear?” he offers, sitting across from you on his chair.

“Yeah, I'd love to,” you smile, and Hyunjin deftly adjusts a few buttons, before his melancholic whistles weave through the air, coupled with the somber melody of a piano. Your breath catches in your throat, the music reaching into the very depths of your soul. It's as if the notes are calling out for a loved one, for a time that has long passed, for a past that will never come back no matter how much we long for it.

The instrumental continues, each piano note and each violin string echo like a bittersweet lament, springing tears to your eyes. But the melody remains beautiful, akin to the beauty always found in the sadness— in the tears that cascade down your cheeks like glistening crystals, in the tremble of your hands akin to branches swaying in the wind, in the rise and fall of your chest with each breath, mirroring the ebb and flow of the waves.

Hyunjin watches you intently as the music envelops you both, his gaze softening with each passing moment. You bring a hand to your chest, almost unconsciously, too engrossed in the melody to even blink. He feels a blush sprout on his cheeks as your teary eyes hold his with the last fading guitar strings.

“You keep on making me cry,” you whisper, your voice choked with emotion, and he grins, tilting his head shyly against his shoulder.

“You like it?” he asks, a tad eager and you nod, not bothering to wipe the lone tears that are falling down your cheeks.

“I think this is what my loneliness sounds like,” you confess softly.

“As do mine.”

A silent beat runs between you both, it isn’t uncomfortable, but safe. Because you understand him, just as he understands you.

“Sometimes I long for things that have passed," he admits, “although I know I can't get them anymore.”

“The most terrible thing you can long for is yourself.”

“Because no one’s to blame for that loss but you?” he muses and you nod, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah, exactly.”

You bite your lip, casting a glance back at the paintings adorning the wall. “I don't love him anymore,” you begin quietly. “I stopped a long time ago because there was no room for love anymore to grow amid weeds and thorns.”

He remains silent, sensing that this is a weight you need to unburden yourself from.

“But in the midst of it I think I stopped loving myself too,” you whisper, a confession too terrible to be uttered out loud. “That's what I long for. The things I used to love that I'm indifferent to now.”

“Like you’re a stranger before everything once familiar to you.”

“Yeah, you express it prettily,” you remark with a small smile.

“It's my job,” he grins lightly.

“I think when your heart is pure,” he begins after a while, pausing to carefully choose the words that will soothe your burn, help sleep come more easily to you. “You give love to others more readily than you do to yourself. And it takes time, patience, to redirect that love back to your own heart once again. But it's not a mistake to love, you shouldn’t hate yourself for it. Nor should you blame your past self for loving the wrong person because they did not know what you now do.”

“Think of it as a caterpillar in their cocoon,” he continues gently, “when they finally emerge from their chrysalis, they might long for who they were, where they once were because it is the only place they've ever known. But they do not realize that they've transformed into a beautiful butterfly, that they can now fly, and witness much more than their chrysalis. So maybe, your new self will love the same things as before, or maybe you’ll find new, better things to love that you would have not known before. But in either way, your heart is beautiful. That is what matters, no?”

A small pout draws on your lips, your eyebrows scrunched as you gaze at him.

“You have a very tender soul, Hyunjin.”

Your words linger in Hyunjin's mind long after the sunrise, as you lay peacefully asleep on his bed. The melody of the instrumental he produced continues to play faintly in the background, serving as a gentle lullaby that eases you into slumber, entwined in his sheets, your arms wrapped protectively around yourself, one hand cradling your shoulders and the other resting gently on your stomach. The image sears into his eyes as he sketches the outlines of a figure holding itself absentmindedly, long into the night.

Hyunjin has had his fair share of compliments, mostly pertaining to his face, and others to his craft. but it is you who seems to have sensed that a part of his soul resided in his art, that he left pieces of his heart hidden in the notes he composes and the lyrics he writes, hoping they’ll find soft hands that will take care of them, just like your own.

Five days later.

hyunjin [11:34 p.m.]: are you home?

yn [11:34 p.m.]: yeahh, do you need anything?

hyunjin [11:35 p.m.]: come downstairs, im waiting for youu

if you say no i’ll freeze to death..

hurry i can’t feel my fingers anymore (please please) ㅠㅠㅠ

“This better be a life and death situation Hwang Hyunjin,” you say threateningly as soon as you appear before Hyunjin, causing him to straighten up from the wall he was leaning against.

“It is a very dangerous life-altering situation that requires your immediate assistance, indeed,” he responds solemnly, ushering you gently to his car and opening the door for you.

“Which is?” you ask as soon as he settles inside the car and he simply grins at you, his left dimple coming forth like the very sun on a gloomy day.

“You’ll see.”

Hyunjin’s eyes fleet to your figure every now and then, but you do not seem to notice, your gaze lost into the blurring lights ahead. He can tell you're still not entirely yourself, so he was prepared to forcibly drag you along with him. He’s almost surprised you accepted to come down so easily.

“Is that… Seungmin?” you speak suddenly, pointing to a man waving in the distance, as Hyunjin parks his car near an empty field.

“And Changbin? And Minho?” you continue, squinting your eyes, “and a bonfire?” you giggle with a hint of excitement.

“You love s’mores during the winter, right?”

Hyunjin smiles, your soul softens.

“I do,” you say quietly, “I really do.”

You quickly exit the car, running into Seungmin's arms with a grin of disbelief plastered on your face. “This is insane,” you almost shout, squeezing him tight in a hug.

“It was so hard to find the perfect middle of nowhere for this,” Minho grumbles as you move to greet him, but the warmth of his embrace assures you he's only teasing.

“Thank you,” you say with a smile as you hug Changbin, who affectionately ruffles your hair. “It was Hyunjin’s idea,” he reveals, and you glance back at Hyunjin, who stands with his hands buried deep within his sweatpants behind you. You mouth a silent “thank you” to him, but he shakes his head modestly as if it is nothing to bring happiness to a bruised heart.

The night unfolds in endless laughter, with Minho and Hyunjin taking turns roasting marshmallows over the crackling bonfire, and Seungmin serving you hot coffee to keep your hands warm. Your stomach aches from the uncontrollable fits of giggles that overtook your being as Minho recounts the time he danced so vigorously on stage for his dance club that he ripped his pants, feeling a breeze where there shouldn't be one; and Changbin tells you the story of the time his voice cracked in the middle of a rap battle, and how none of the boys stopped teasing him about it for months to come.

And as the four of them take turns making you laugh, a quiet, tender realization dawns on you—you are loved. It is something he tried to convince you was impossible, that no one around truly cared for you but him. And even then, you weren’t deserving of his love whole, only scrapes of it, as if you were a beggar tugging at the outskirts of his heart.

But Hyunjin reminded you otherwise. And if your friends found something worthy of love within you then perhaps so will you again, one day.

“Did you have fun?” Hyunjin asks as he opens the door to his, your, apartment hours later. What he doesn't expect is for you to respond by wrapping your arms around his slender torso, squeezing tight in gratitude.

“Thank you,” you whisper and he nods, though you cannot see him, returning the embrace by wrapping his arms around your shoulder blades.

Hyunjin doesn't let go first, sensing that perhaps you need this hug more than he does. He smiles as your eyes meet his again, but his grin falters when he notices your gaze flickering towards your bedroom, a hint of unease clouding your expression. It's as if behind that door lie monsters only you can grasp, wearing the faces of people you once knew, once loved.

“Wanna stay with me while I work on the song?”

“Last time I ended up sleeping on your bed,” you say a bit shamefully, recalling the morning you woke up to find yourself covered with a thick blanket that wasn’t there before, alone in Hyunjin's room.

“It's okay,” he shrugs, “I missed sleeping on the couch.”

You stare pointedly at him and he chuckles, “Fine, I did not miss it. But you needed the sleep, so it’s okay with me.”

“Fine,” you concede, though you did not need much convincing for it. “But only if you promise you’ll wake me up if I end up falling asleep again.”

Hyunjin tilts his head, thinking to himself for a few seconds before shaking his head stubbornly, a small pout drawn on his face, his eyes semi-closed. “No.”

“Hyunjin!”

“Nu-uh,” he insists, shaking his head once more as he walks back towards his room. “I'm waiting for you!”

“I'm not coming!”

But you do eventually join him, after changing your clothes and washing your face. You find Hyunjin clad in beige and white checkered pajamas, his glasses pushing back his silky hair as he hunches over his journal, scribbling away before erasing what he wrote.

“Struggling with lyrics?” you ask, leaning against the wall and he startles. “Do you float on the ground? Why can I never hear you come in?”

“Or maybe you just love being dramatic,” you sing-song, laying atop his bed, much more at ease than the previous night.

Hyunjin sticks his tongue out childishly in response, and you playfully mimic the gesture before both of you dissolve into happy giggles.

“Kind of,” he explains once you both settle down, “I have this specific feeling in mind that I need to convey.”

“You'll do well,” you reassure softly, “your lyrics are always so beautiful. Remember Cover me?” you smile and he scratches the back of his ear, a shy grin spreading across his face.

“You still listen to it?” he asks and you nod eagerly, attempting to belt into Seungmin’s ending high note. You fail horribly and Hyunjin throws a crumpled piece of paper on your face to get you to stop singing.

“My poor ears,” he laughs loudly, and you retaliate by throwing back a pillow on his head.

“You just don’t get my artistic abilities.”

“I’d get them more if you stayed silent.”

You gasp, faking offense as you stand up to tickle Hyunjin on his chair, he starts squirming immediately, his loud giggles spilling all over the room, coating it in vibrant hues of happiness, and you’re suddenly captivated by the sight of him— his head thrown back, a golden lock framing his laughter-filled eyes, his top lowering slightly to reveal glimpses of his collarbones and the delicate veins that trace enticing paths on his neck.

You pause, your hand hovering over the side of his stomach, as a long-forgotten warmth spreads through your heart, like the first rays of dawn greeting the earth after a long winter night. It doesn’t diffuse quickly through your being, but rather drapes like sticky honey on your veins, making you well aware of your growing blush, of how beautiful Hyunjin is in his joy.

“Never singing to you again,” you clear your throat, laying atop his bed once again, and quickly reaching for your phone, anything to avoid his eyes which rival the crescent moon outside his window.

Hours pass before a warm hand gently settles on your shoulder, rousing you from your slumber. Blinking away the fog of sleep, you find Hyunjin leaning over you, his grin wide and infectious. “Wake up,” he whispers, but you only groan, burying your face deeper into his pillow.

He doesn’t yield, taking hold of your wrist and guiding your drowsy figure upright, before wrapping the blanket snugly around your shoulders. Without a word, he leads you out onto his balcony, carefully putting his neon green beanie on your head to shield you from the cold.

“It’s snowing!” he smiles, and his excited tone manages to dissipate the fog in your mind. You blink repeatedly and soon enough, you too behold the fallen snowflakes, each one resembling a tiny speck of light bidding farewell to the sky to greet the earth.

“You missed the first snow so I didn’t want you to miss this one too,” he explains, and his thoughtfulness blankets you with a warmth that seeps into every crevice in your body, drips down your fingertips and makes the cold of 4 a.m. seem less harsh, less biting to the touch.

You don’t know how to say thank you, because those two words don’t encapsulate the depths of gratitude that you feel for Hyunjin. Because he is speaking to the person within you who still loves snow, the part buried underneath layers of dust from a ground heartbreak. But you still manage to hear him, and you squeeze his hand tightly, and he doesn’t let go until you finally do.

❁ ❁ ❁

Remembering has become easier for you these past two months— both the good and the bad. And each day, the scale tips towards one side or the other. Sometimes you recall the suffocation you felt with him, the feeling that no matter what you did you could never please him, that your hands were crafted to break rather than mend. And on those days your wound grows, it throbs and bleeds different emotions.

Sometimes it's anger— at him for treating your heart so carelessly as if you were a being devoid of feeling. And then at you— for staying, for giving him excuses and desperately searching for goodness within him, for the one redeeming quality that would convince you he was worth the pain.

And other days bring an excruciating sadness along, a weight that presses down upon you until you're paralyzed. Because you feel bad for yourself and for everything you went through. Because you’re unsure how to rise when unseen hands push you deeper into the abyss.

And on these days, Seungmin becomes your anchor. He buys your favorite food, skips classes with you, and takes you to your favorite gardens. He talks and he talks and you try your best to laugh because you do not wish to worry him more. It is enough to be your own burden, you do not wish to burden him too.

But when he drops you home, your facade slips away, the smile fading from your face as if it were never truly yours to wear. You are too tired to pretend so you don’t, and Hyunjin doesn’t let you, either. He brews you tea and orders takeout because he knows you lack the energy for cooking. He goes with you on walks and drapes you in pieces of his clothing— scarves and beanies and gloves because he knows you couldn’t care less about a cold when there is a frost coating your bones. He lets you sit in his room while he works on his songs, and while he paints. Sometimes you talk and often you don't need to. But he’s there. He's there with you.

But you also remember the good. You remember your movie night with the boys, Hyunjin building an entire fort for you, adorned with twinkling lights and the softest blankets. How you watched movies until 5 a.m. your bodies so closely huddled together that there was no room left for sadness.

You recall Hyunjin begging you to build a snowman with him at the crack of dawn, the two of you collapsing in fits of laughter as you threw snowballs at one another, your footsteps marking the fresh fallen snow.

You remember being so exhausted after one of your showers that you simply laid atop the couch, gaze fixed on the void, too drained to even untangle the knots in your hair. Yet, it is not the tiredness that you exactly recall, nor the salty tears you shed underneath the scorching water jet. But it is Hyunjin's tender hands as he brushed through your hair, his fingers tracing the nape of your neck, his knuckles ghosting over the slate of your shoulder. You remember whispering that it was a particularly hard day and Hyunjin understanding. You remember him watching many YouTube tutorials to prepare your favorite seaweed soup, only for it to end up being too salty. But you still ate it all, because he made it for you, to lift your wounded spirits. And that alone was enough for it to taste good.

You remember your heart hardening then softening again, breaking then stitching itself back together, closing off then blooming like flowers on the first day of spring. You remember smiling only to cry then smile again. And you remember liking snow, a bit more than you thought you would. Because Hyunjin was there, holding your trembling hand, steadying it enough for you to rewrite your memories with winter.

So, you want to say thank you.

You do not wish to spell it out, because there are too many things to thank Hyunjin for and too few words to do so. Instead, you drag him to the farmer’s market near your home, and you tell him to help you pick flowers.

“I could be in bed watching my favorite show and yet here I am bestowing you with my enchanting presence,” he sighs, not too modestly, as you both eye the array of colorful blooms.

“Okay, Shakespeare, are you done?” you roll your eyes, attempting your best to hide your grin.

“Done annoying you? Never. These are very pretty,” he adds, pointing to the white roses in full bloom, their delicate petals emitting a sweet fragrance into the air.

“I agree, what else should we add?” you ponder, picking out four roses.

“Mm, Hibiscus? The red in the center is so vibrant,” he suggests, taking out his phone to capture the flower.

“Cute. Baby breath’s would look good too,” you say as you gather the flowers, heading to the cashier with Hyunjin trailing behind, still admiring the delicate blooms.

“Can I write a note?” you ask the middle-aged man as he wraps the bouquet in a powder blue paper.

“Sure,” he replies with a smile, and you return the gesture, quickly jotting down your words.

“Are you done?” Hyunjin grins when you return to his side and you nod, exiting the flower shop.

“What do you think?” you ask, angling the bouquet towards him.

“It's beautiful.”

“It’s yours,” you smile, growing shier at the intensity of his gaze as it lands on you, then the flowers, then on you again. “Take it,” you hand it to him, your cheeks flushing like the hibiscus’s crimson core.

“Actually?” he says softly, his fingers trembling slightly as he accepts the flowers and you nod in response. You bite your lip as you watch him take out the note, his eyes softening once he reads the words inscribed in it— thank you for making my winter less cold.

“Should we go?” you say a tad too cheerfully, turning away, but Hyunjin grabs your wrist, spinning you around once more. His fingers trail up your arm, coming to rest gently on your cheek as he leans down to plant a tender kiss there.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, his lips lingering against your skin for a moment longer than necessary. You think that if his soft lips grace your skin a few times more, your nerve endings might forget the harshness they were subjected to. If his gentle hands remain on your cheeks, then maybe, your heart would heal quicker, better. Maybe your past self that you long for would emerge again, maybe Hyunjin would be able to unearth it.

Your hopeful thoughts disappear as quickly as they arrive, overshadowed by a sense of helplessness that crashes over you, all of the sudden. You sense him before you hear him, the familiar anxiety that is only synonymous with your ex’s presence.

“Yn?” the sound of your name feels harsher in his mouth, the syllables spat out rather than spoken tenderly, as they are when Hyunjin pronounces it. Your veins run cold as his voice pierces the air, your heart skipping three beats at once before plummeting to your knees. You wrap your hand around Hyunjin’s forearm instinctively, and he looks down at you, his expression morphing into one of concern.

You’re unsure of what he sees in you— whether it is your pale face, the quiver of your lower lip, or the fear that has coated all your features— but his eyes harden, his brows furrowing as he gazes at the man behind you.

You refuse to turn around, bracing yourself for his next words. “Yn,” he repeats his tone laced with anger, his fingertips grazing your arm as if intending to force you to face him. But before he can touch you, Hyunjin intervenes, swiftly stepping in between you and your ex, shielding you with his own body protectively.

“Leave,” Hyunjin's voice is cold, dripping with a venomous edge you've never heard from him before, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.

“Is this your new shiny toy, Yn?” your ex taunts and his voice cuts through your being against your will, triggering a flood of memories you've tried so desperately to suppress. Memories of his cruelty, his manipulation, and the pain he inflicted upon you—using your love as a weapon to bolster his own ego.

“What's in it for you?” you find your voice again, though it trembles when you speak. He is the very embodiment of your pain and everything you loathe about yourself. You wish for the ground to swallow you whole, for a bolt of lightning to strike the earth, anything to spare you from facing him.

“It's only been three months, I didn't know you were a whore.”

Hyunjin's fist connects with his cheek before you can register his words. It all unfolds so rapidly that you barely have time to comprehend it. Your ex staggers back, blood trickling from the cut on his lip, while Hyunjin stands before you, his chest heaving with restrained anger, his right hand clenched into a fist, the bouquet still held tightly in the other.

“Fine, I deserved it,” your ex chuckles, his voice laced with mockery as he wipes the blood from his lip. His gaze meets yours briefly behind Hyunjin's back.

“You might not be a whore but you are unlovable, keep that in mind.” He spits out before walking away, crude words that tear at every scab covering your wounds, reopening them with a brutal force. Hyunjin moves to follow him, but you grab his shirt, pulling him back.

“He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Your words seem to snap Hyunjin out of his haze as he turns to look at you, worry cast across his figure. He moves to cradle your cheeks but you step back, refusing to meet his eyes. He swallows thickly, clutching the bouquet in his hands. “Are you okay?”

You let out a heavy sigh, your shoulders slumping as you shake your head slightly. “Let's just go home,” you whisper, eyes fleeting to his for a split second. All the lights in your gaze are muted.

You’re crumbling before him once again and he cannot stop it, no matter how much he yearns to.

It's long past midnight when you find yourself seated on the floor of your living room, a bottle of red wine placed between you and Hyunjin. You exchange it wordlessly, taking turns sipping from it, the alcohol warming your insides but doing little to ease the ache in your heart. You don’t exactly recall when Hyunjin sat next to you, but you don’t mind. You were too lost in your own thoughts to even register his presence.

“Yn,” he calls out softly and you hum absentmindedly, memories of when your ex spoke your name haunting you, each time he yelled your name, uttered it in disdain as if it was the starting point of everything wrong with you.

“Talk to me, please?” he pleads, angling his body towards your own. But you refuse to meet his eyes and Hyunjin’s heart twists in his chest. He is afraid of all the ugly thoughts that must roam your mind. He wishes he could enter it, open the windows wide, and usher the light in.

“I'm sorry you were dragged into this,” you say, your gaze fixated on the bouquet placed atop the table. The crimson painted on the hibiscus’ petals reminds you of the blood that spilled from your ex’s mouth, and your gaze fleets to Hyunjin's hand, slightly bruised from the punch.

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers, “there is nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s as though you don’t hear him, your fingers trailing gently across his scraped knuckles, tears pooling in your eyes the more you stare at his hand.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, voice thick with emotion, and Hyunjin’s quick to shake his head. “No, don’t worry about it. He deserved it.”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt.”

“Neither did you.”

Your disbelieving scoff that follows scares him. What if you’re slipping away into a dark place yet again, one void and barricaded, in which the only sound that echoes is your ex’s hurtful words? What if he can’t reach you again?

“If the only person I’ve ever loved says I’m unlovable then maybe I am.”

You’re drunk, you wouldn’t have said such an ugly thing otherwise, wouldn’t have allowed this sentiment to materialize into the air, to take a tangible form apart from your abstract thoughts.

“No,” Hyunjin says in a panic as though he’s trying to quickly pull the brakes on your free-railing thoughts. He cups your face between his palms, your tears falling freely atop his hands but he does not move away.

“No,” he repeats, more calmly this time. “How he treated you is a reflection of who he is. And how you see him is a reflection of who you are. And you wanted him to be loving because you’re full of love. You wanted him to be good because you are a good person. And he can’t stomach that, can’t stomach that you are happy without him so he’s trying to ruin you again.”

“Hyunjin…” you shake your head but he only inches closer to you, his thumbs gently caressing your cheekbones. “No, listen to me. Seungmin loves you so much he couldn’t eat properly for the first few days you stayed here, texted me all the time asking me how you were and if you were feeling better. He isn't good with words so instead he tries to make you laugh. He wishes he could give up parts of his happiness for you.”

A sob swells within you but Hyunjin presses on. “And Minho, he tried to memorize all your favorite recipes so he could cook them for you. It isn’t a coincidence that every time we go over to their dorm it is your favorite food that we eat. He takes more pictures of his cats these days so he could send them to you because he knows it cheers you up.”

“You told me Changbin doesn’t know you well enough to fight for you but when we saw your ex across the campus one day he wanted to get up and beat him. He always asks me if you are well and if there is something he can do for you, anything.”

He inhales deeply, tears welling up in his eyes as well. “And me…” a tender smile graces his lips as he gazes at you, ��you make this house a home. I feel like my true self when you are around and loneliness doesn’t come to me as often as it did. Because you are here. You are like a beam of sunlight that lightens up every life you touch, mine first,” he’s baring his soul to you, vulnerable yet resolute. “So tell me, Yn, what’s not to love in you when you yourself are so full of love?”

“Hyune,” you speak the nickname for the first time, and Hyunjin’s heart thrashes achingly around his ribcage. “If you keep talking like this I might end up loving you,” you smile sadly at him as if it is a terrible thing to be loved by you.

“But I don’t want to love you, because I won’t know how to, not anymore. So I'll end up leaving. And I'll long for you, and I don't think I can stomach longing for you from afar.”

“So please,” you place one hand atop his own, wipe away the lone tear rolling down his cheek. “Don’t make me love you, hm? You deserve more than to be loved by someone like me.”

You leave Hyunjin in the living room, alone before the white flowers you gifted him. He doesn’t want to put them away in a vase, for as soon as he grabbed them from your hold, everything around you both crumbled. So he leaves them there for the night, the creamy white petals aglow underneath the moonlight. He spends the night painting the bouquet from memory, but the petals end up too tinged with red, perhaps mirroring the blood his heart refuses to stop spilling still.

He did not realize it before, maybe he blinded himself so he wouldn’t see what was before him all along. But it is all the clearer to him now— that in his attempts to make you love winter again, Hyunjin only ended up loving you.

A week later.

hyune [1:25 a.m.]: i miss you

You and Hyunjin spent the last seven days avoiding one another, well you more than him. He just understood your silent plea when you took a step back the one time he tried to talk to you in the kitchen, swallowing thickly before inching away, allowing you to move past him.

You did not know how to face him after what he said, partly because you were embarrassed by your own response, mostly because even in your drunken daze, his words etched themselves permanently into your memory.

It is his reassuring words that echoed in your brain for the past week, not those of your ex.

hyune [1: 26 a.m.]: and i miss sleeping on the couch

You giggle, shaking your head before replying.

yn [1:26 a.m.]: no you don’t

hyune [1:26 a.m.]: no i don’t ㅠㅠ

but i finished the song

wanna hear?

Walking to Hyunjin’s room feels as familiar as going into your own. And when your gaze finally meets his you can’t help but break into a relieved smile. It was foolish of you to punish yourself, enough people have done that for you already.

“Hey,” he greets tentatively, and you respond with an awkward wave, a moment pregnant with anticipation passes before both of you dissolve into laughter.

“What is this? Are we in middle school,” he teases and you giggle, settling comfortably on his bed once more.

“I know. We are so lame.”

“You are,” he corrects with a grin and you gasp, pretending to leave but he quickly catches your hand, stopping you. “No, please stay. I meant it when I said that I missed you,” he repeats quietly, as if afraid that his confession would make you run away once again.

Your heart aches, the knots in your stomach tightening and unraveling all at once. “I missed you too,” you admit softly, and he smiles, his thumb tracing a gentle path above your pulse before releasing your hand.

“So it's done then?” you ask and he nods, running a hand through his hair with a hint of anxiety. “How do you feel about it?”

“Good. I hope you’ll like it, mostly.”

“I'm sure I will,” you reassure him with a soft smile, and he nods once more, pressing a few buttons before his melodious whistles fill the air once again.

Nothing could have braced you for the sound of Hyunjin's voice that followed, its timbre soft as silk yet imbued with profound sorrow. It's as though he recorded the song on one of his loneliest nights, his honeyed vocals dipped in an excruciating nostalgia that seeps into every corner of the room, every corner of your heart.

In the faded photo, I come across a smile spread across a youthful face, overlapped with the seasons.

Your gaze flickers to Hyunjin as a shadow of recollection dawns on you. You remember telling him that you couldn’t stomach looking at pics of your past, ones in which you smiled so freely because you were blissfully unaware of what was to come.

The night’s so cold that it’s almost unreal.

Because you weren’t aware of the winter that will follow and the biting cold that it would bear, for everything that will go astray in your relationship, for your ex's facade to crack like a glacier succumbing to the pressure of lies and pretense.

I wake up in another silence, and I close my eyes.

You remember Hyunjin confessing that silence haunted him more than words ever could, and you had agreed, sharing how sometimes you shut your eyes, pretending that the reality you woke up to wasn't the one you were living.

The white flower we planted together has bloomed. I do not dare pick it. Now it withers away.

You gaze at the white flowers you brought him, now wilted in the vase placed on his desk, yet Hyunjin refuses to throw them still. You see the card you wrote for him hung on the wall, right next to the dried red rose. He kept it. Though it withered, he kept it all.

So I long for you. And I long for you. And I'll long for you.

You remember the longing you both spoke of, how he understood a feeling you felt so incredibly alone in. How he tried to reassure you when he too was caught in the webs of the past. How you longed for him in the past week. How you wished he longed for you just the same.

So I can keep loving you. So I could be loving you. And morе.

The violin swells and so does the emotion in your chest. You remember him asking you ‘What’s not to love in you’ and how you've spun those words in your thoughts ever since. You remember thinking that if he gave you a few more weeks, just a bit more time, you might have found it in you to believe them.

You see Hyunjin’s glimmering eyes holding yours, you see his heart atop a platter handed to you, and you see the resignation in his being. Don’t make me love you, you told him. You didn’t dare to tell him not to love you in return, deemed it too foolish of thought to entertain.

For he was Hwang Hyunjin, the quiet producer who paints in his free time and who wears his heart on his sleeve. Who remains hopeful, loving, and tender, despite the thorns pricking at his side. Who is beautiful, so much so that he allowed you to see beauty in the universe once again, through his eyes.

How could he love you?

How could you not love him?

“The song,” you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips as you stand, trembling, on your feet. Hyunjin rises too, meeting you in the center of his room.

“It is about you. For you,” he says simply as if his words don’t cause your world to burst at the seams only to mend itself once again, too eager to fix itself and exist in the same timeline as Hyunjin.

“I don't… I don’t know what to say,” you say earnestly, feeling your heart pound in your chest, its beats resounding loudly in your ears.

It is wrong of you to assume he wishes you to say something. He is Hyunjin, the one who finds words in your silences too, after all.

“I don’t need you to say anything,” he shakes his head, taking another step closer to you. “I don't want an answer, I don't wish to pressure you. I just wanted to tell you that my love is here, it is yours to take or to leave, to cherish or to discard. But it is yours, because this is who I am. I am someone who loves you.”

“So do not tell me to forget you because I don't know how to. And don’t tell me that you’ll leave because I will love you still, because you’d still be you, near or far, you are you. And you are someone I long for.” He pauses, his voice softening. “And I long for you, Yn, more than anything I've ever longed for. And I've spent all my life longing.”

His lips meet your forehead tenderly, and you feel your entire being grow limp at the chaste kiss, as if your limbs wish to liquefy and form a puddle on the floor. His touch is soft, and you miss it the moment he parts from you.

“There must be something in this room that keeps on making you cry,” he smiles and you bring your hands to your damp cheeks, surprised to find there tears you didn’t realize had fallen.

“It’s you,” you pinch his arm playfully and he squirms away from your hold, stabbing his toe on the desk in the process. A loud fuck echoes around the room, and your laughter dissipates the tension clinging into the air.

“Can you play it again?” you request softly and Hyunjin’s theatrics fade as a shy smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“Is it good?”

“It's everything to me.”

“It's called ‘long for you’, by the way.”

“Long for you,” you repeat quietly. There has never been a prettier combination of words.

The title all but makes sense as you lay on the bed, your gaze fixed on the paintings hung on the wall, Hyunjin sketching quietly on his desk, the song resonating softly in the background. You've longed for many things in your life—the person you once were and the tender love you once craved—but amidst it all, nothing has weighed heavier on your heart than the longing for the man sitting just two meters away, almost in your loving grasp. Almost.

❁ ❁ ❁

It is an excruciating five days that Hyunjin spends apart from you, the both of you too caught up in your assignments to find a moment to properly speak. But you do not shy away from him when he greets you, and your grin is kind as it drapes across his being, and Hyunjin swears he has never seen a prettier sight than you smiling.

On the sixth night, Hyunjin completes the cover for the song— a figure wrapped around itself protectively, mirroring the way you hug yourself in your sleep. He hangs it on the wall, right next to your thank you card and the white bouquet he drew once again, wishing to properly immortalize its beautiful flowers, to purify that memory from the tumult that followed it.

On the sixth night, the house is quiet, the full moon high up in the sky, snowflakes falling softly to the ground. Hyunjin wonders if you too mimicked the snow’s descent— both of you falling apart with it.

But then, there’s a knock on his door.

His heart catches in his throat, his body freezing as if it forgot how to move. You are here.

“Come in,” he manages to say, his voice barely above a whisper. You push the door open, and Hyunjin's words wilt on his tongue as he sees what you're carrying—another bouquet, filled with white flowers, yet again.

“Hey,” you smile, standing by the door.

He remains silent, unsure of what to say, or how to speak. He longs for you when you are away, even more so when you’re before him.

“We shouldn't let these white flowers wither away too, right?” you smile slightly, placing the bouquet on the desk before walking to Hyunjin’s bedside. His voice falters, vocal cords refusing to move and overshadow your voice.

You sit beside him, gently pulling his hand so that you’d both lie on the pillows. Your hand doesn’t leave his own, instead, it moves to rest on his cheek, reminiscent of the many times he had cradled your face before. Inch by inch, you close the gap between you, nuzzle the tip of your nose against his own. “Hi, Hyune”, you say softly, and he swallows thickly, his voice coming out just as quietly.

“Hi, my Yn.”

“If we take care of the white flowers together do you think they’ll survive a bit longer?” you ask, your gaze never wavering from his, countless stars twinkling in the depths of your irises.

“I believe so,” he says tentatively, too aware of the warmth of your palm against his skin, of the sweet ache unfurling within his being.

“Mm, and even if they wilt we can always buy new ones. We can learn how to care for them better, with time,” you say, and he nods in agreement, laying his hand atop your own, tilting his head to bestow a chaste kiss on your palm.

“With time,” he echoes softly and you smile, vulnerable yet secure in his gray sheets, in his hold.

“Will you give me time too?” you ask, and Hyunjin reads in your eyes what you mean, understands in the shake of your voice the question you are too afraid to voice. Will he give you time to heal in order to love?

“As long as you need. I’m not going anywhere,” he reassures, pressing his forehead gently atop yours, and you both close your eyes, as a running warmth encloses you both, blooms a blush on both your cheeks.

His arms wrap around your back, drawing you close until your chests are pressed together, your head resting naturally in the curve of his neck. And it is long forgotten in your mind, all the nights you slept in this very bed alone. You feel safe, safe enough to long for love knowing that it patiently awaits you behind the door, once you find enough courage to turn the doorknob. You feel serene, as Hyunjin’s warm palms glide soothingly up and down your spine, as every muscle, every nerve, every atom in your being relaxes in his hold.

You are healing, slowly, with each fleeting second that passes in which Hyunjin’s heartbeat resounds within your chest, as its melody runs through your veins, melds with your own as if it was destined to be there all along. As you rest in Hyunjin, as you find a safe home within his soul to discard your worries at the doorstep and breathe.

“It did get better,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade. “Hm?” He leans back to look at you, and he’s so beautiful, so tender as he gazes at you, you can’t help but trace the contours of his face with your fingers, hoping to commemorate him with your eyes, with your touch.

“You promised me it’ll get better, and it did,” you smile, as your legs further intertwine with his, and his rose perfume becomes an indelible mark on your skin. “Too bad I can't hit your pretty face now,” you joke and he giggles, tipping his head back.

He's so beautiful, body and soul, and he longs for you, you alone.

“But I can still do this,” you murmur before finally pressing your lips against his like a boat finally reaching the shore after months of sailing. You both exhale, in yearning, in relief, as your mouths move together in a slow, languid dance, his hand finding the pulse on your neck, yours settling atop his jaw.

He would kiss you again, this intimately, in the coming months, when your heart expands enough to contain the love Hyunjin deserves. He would kiss you again, when your past comes to haunt you, and healing sounds like an elusive myth you’d never encounter in your life.

And he would kiss you again, over the kitchen table and under the fridge’s light, in between paintings and in supermarket aisles, while picking flowers and watching the first snow.

He would kiss you, this tenderly, in the next winter, and the ones after it, as if his longing for you never wanes. Till blow three disappears from your memory, till all you remember is the love, the true one, the kind one, the soft one Hyunjin alone could have brought you.

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