#yes this is a poem inspired by a face mist

[bodyposirope]

Books

Illuminated by lamplight

Reflected in the shining surface of a bottle of

Something sweetly scented

Heavy

For something small

Indicates implicit luxury,

Do objects collect fragments of

memories from the hands

They’re passed through?

I wrap warm fingers around cold steel

And try to feel the history of

Something sweetly scented from the streets.

But I receive no visions

Only a vague curiosity about the

origins of the

elements of this

object.

This sweetly scented something

is named for a long dead empress

of a long dead empire.

Meant to inspire visions of opulence,

The shine is tarnished once you

Take a moment to think

Of colossal implications that live on long after

The Death of the Empress Queen

[lanas-delight]

invisible string

♫ rec: invisible string by taylor swift

✰ an enhypen scenario || fem!reader x sunghoon, feat. made up friends & the members

✰ description — you always believed in luck over fate—until you met him.

✰ warnings — some language, some angst, but mainly just teeth-rotting fluff

✰ notes — inspired by invisible string by taylor swift (yes i listen to taylor swift). anyways, enjoy!!

Luck was what you believed in—not fate. You would call it dumb luck, not “meant to be.” Your parents met by luck, a sweet story how one only met the other because they were lucky enough to miss their train and meet their soulmate while waiting for the next one. It was luck, and you were sure of it. Your parents always said that the saying about things only happen for a reason was wrong, that if you’re lucky, you’ll be just fine. You thought it wasn’t all that fair, but who were you to judge?

You made every decision with perfect judgment, never acted impulsively unless it was just to buy a snack instead of saving money, but you were careful, cautious so you wouldn’t have to use luck. You would just have to be patient.

You never dated, it was something that you didn’t think about much. Your friends were all dating, one was even engaged, and you were the maid of honor, but you didn’t have a date. You had no “dance partner,” she called it. Your best friend, the bride, then said your date could be the best man. You were skeptical, but to please her, you agreed.

You planned to meet him at the nearest diner, maybe food would calm your nerves. Though, you hadn’t seen what he looked like, you just knew his last name. Not his first, just his last. Not even the bride knew her future husband’s best friend at all. What were you to do? Sit alone with a sign that has his last name written in bold on it, hoping he’ll walk right over—like that isn’t crazy and stalker-like.

You were told he was “a bit of egotistical asshole,” which didn’t help your worries at all, but you were just desperate to be alone at your best friend’s wedding. It was stupid, and you felt stupid, but however this “cold-hearted player” guy (you were told a LOT of things about him except his name..) may be like, you were just hoping he wasn’t that way to you.

There, at the diner, you went in and waited, ordering a cup of tea to keep you company while you waited, and waited. It was to the point you sat there, reading a book tediously, about to give up. Your tea was just about gone and the waitress was bringing another cup to you.

“What are you reading?”

A voice rang out in front of you, one that sounded like honey, but was deep like a melancholic poem. Mist on a summer’s evening, a gentle breeze in the spring. You looked up, and met eyes with a tall, dark-haired boy with a lazy smile on his face, his teeth barely showing between his lips—it was quick to notice that he had fangs, not like a vampire, though. His skin wasn’t as pale as everyone else’s in the diner, he looked active and that he loved the outdoors. He had bigger hands, long fingers and red knuckles, maybe he did pottery or worked some construction before. He had on a loose, white long-sleeve shirt and black pants, like he had just left church. A lot of assumptions, but that’s what you did best. You were sure you’d be lucky enough to be right on most of them.

“Oh, uhm,” you placed your thumb in between the pages of the book, closing it to show him the cover, “The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo,” you answered, “my friend suggested it to me.”

His face lights up a bit, and he gestures to the seat ahead of you. You nod after a moment, so he sits and smiles, “I just finished it the other week, how do you think of it so far?” You wondered if he was gay for a second, but you shrugged it off.

“I really like it,” you smiled, “I worried it wouldn’t be all that great, despite all of it’s overwhelming great reviews, but I really like it so far.”

He nodded, “It’s great, yeah,” he looks at the book, “What chapter are you on?”

“Three. I just started this morning,” you lightly rubbed your thumb on the paperback cover. You thinned your lips, “Did you sit here just to talk about the book?—Not that I have a problem with that,” you chuckled nervously.

He shrugged, “Yes and no,” he twiddled his fingers some on the table, “That, and well, I thought you were really pretty,”

Your eyebrows lifted a little, “You think I’m pretty?” He looked up at you, almost offended at first.

“‘Course I do,” he smiled, “Do you think you’re pretty?”

“You’re a flirt,” you ignored his question, scoffing, but he continued to smile. He had a nice smile.

“Only with pretty girls,”

“There’s plenty of those,”

“Well only you caught my eye,” he admired your face, “I’m not too good with flirting, but I’m flattered you see how I talk as flirting.”

You rolled your eyes, “How is that a compliment?”

He shrugged, “You think I have game,”

“Wow,” You laughed, “You’re confident,”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I’m just myself.” He reached his hand across the table, open for a hand shake, which you obliged.

Your eyes were stuck on him like glue, “I’m Y/N,” you say, and his eyes light up a little, like there was beauty to your name and it sang with harmony in his ears. “And you are?”

“Sunghoon,” he kept your hand in his for a second more, then he glanced around, “You wanna get out of here?”

But you halted, “Oh, I’m actually—” you checked the time on your phone, it had been well over an hour since you were supposed to meet that other guy so there was nothing better to do. “Yeah,” you nodded your head, “I’d like that.” And he smiled.

“You’re crazy,”

“Am I?” He was holding your hand, but that’s not what you were calling him crazy for. Instead, it was for how he was wanting to try this kind of rice a couple blocks away from the diner you two had met at, dragging you all the way there with his hand tied to yours. Experimental—you never liked to try new things, but for some reason, you felt at ease with him. Like the world was floating, yet you kept in control of it. It felt so normal, not like you had just met him 30 minutes ago.

“Yeah, I would think so,” you both stopped in front of the food stand, waiting in a short line. The stand looked familiar, you were sure you’ve seen it before somehow. “You made me walk three blocks just to get rice? I don’t—”

“Shh,” he shushed you, “You’ll understand why,” almost implying he’s tried this rice before, but once it was your turn, he ordered for you, paid, and sat down with you at the nearest bench. Shoulder to shoulder, he handed you chopsticks and you both shared the bowl of rice, “I need a full evaluation afterwards,” he says, covering his mouth, it was full of rice.

You took your first bite, humming, then nodding. “Oh my god,” you say, “this is amazing,”

“Right?” Sunghoon laughed, his eyes crinkling a little, “I told you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you took another bite, “thank you.”

“For . . . ?” He looked a little surprised, which confused you mostly so you repeated yourself.

“Thank you,” you say again, “for all of this.”

Sunghoon smiled. “Don’t thank me just yet,” he says, “It’s not the end.”

You furrowed your brows, “End of what?”

“Our first date,” he answers confidently, “I have somewhere else to take you next,”

But you were appalled, “First date? I never said yes to a date?”

“Do you not want this to be a date?” He takes another bite, “Hm?” He tilted his head some, your eyes meeting with his. They were a dark chocolate color, warm and deep, you could drown in them and be just fine never coming back up for air.

“Well, I didn’t say that,” you grinned, take another bite. He was gazing at you, lovestruck but he didn’t know he loved you, but he was sure he would. You were starting to think that way, too.

After the rice, he took you to this aquarium, paid for you and joked when he asked you to pay him back. You actually planned to, but knew he wouldn’t accept it. He was a gentleman, a kind one that had a smile to warm, you would be just fine on a freezing, winter day. You had never loved anyone before, but you were starting to think that maybe this could be the beginning. You’ve told him stories, he’s told you some. You had completely forgotten about that best man you were supposed to meet, but that didn’t matter anymore.

Because you had met him.

For the next few weeks, you and Sunghoon went on a good handful of dates, all around the city, alone and not a word spoken to anyone about them so it would be more intimate, only about you both and no one else. You were getting to know each other, not exactly official but not looking anywhere else either.

Everything felt so right. He would tell you about places you always went to, and you would do the same for him. It felt that that any of those times, you could’ve met him, like you were both parallel lines that finally joined together to form a heart.

You had told him before on one of the dates, how much you valued luck and chance, rather than what was meant to be or not to be. He was the opposite—he believed in soulmates and what the universe may give you. He had a good argument, but so did you, though it wasn’t a dealbreaker or anything. He hadn’t asked you to be his girlfriend, but he referred to you as his girl often.

However, there was one date you would have to wait to have as the wedding was the following day and you were talking with your best friend, trying to calm her nerves for her big day. You hadn’t told her about him yet, but you were sad because he had other (pre-you) plans that next day so he couldn’t be your date either.

“You’ll do just fine, F/N,” you tell her reassuringly, “Jay’s not going to care if your hair’s not absolutely perfect.”

“You don’t know that!” She exclaims, sitting down on the couch across from you.

You stared, “Well do you know that?”

She covered her face, “No, but”

“F/N, he’s universally in love with you. There is nothing that can keep that man from marrying you tomorrow,” you tell her, though she still shakes with anxiety. She pushes her hair back a little as she leans back up. “Besides, you’ll look amazing no matter what. He’d marry you in a trash bag.”

She laughed, “God, you’re right. I don’t know why I’m stressing so much about this.” She pulls her hair back into a loose ponytail, “You sure you’re okay with no date tomorrow?”

You shrugged, “I guess I have to be. He never showed up at the diner so I guess I’ll just have to hook arms with the best man, ignore the elephant in the room, and then die alone.”

“You’re not going to die alone,” she tells you, “Maybe he forgot or something,”

“Didn’t you say he was a douche anyways? A player? Maybe I dodged a bullet,” you sat back in your chair.

“I know. But don’t worry, tomorrow will be just fine, yeah?” She smiles, but you click your tongue.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?”

“I don’t know, maybe I should take your job!”

“Oh whatever,” you sigh, “Everything will be just fine. Don’t you worry, okay?” And she nodded before both of you headed to bed, anticipating the next day where one of you will be married and the other, alone.

The next day, everyone was already starting to gather around, taking their seats. Your best friend always wanted a beach wedding, so there it was, an arch covered in vines and white roses at the end of an aisle between rows of white chairs. It was beautiful, little white rose pedals spread on the sand, leading up to where the groom stood.

You were in the dressing room with your best friend, already dressed as you helped her finish up getting ready. You had just sent a text to Sunghoon about your day, which he replied and said he hoped he could’ve been there, too. You were a bit sad, but you didn’t let it bother you all that much. It wasn’t your wedding day, after all.

Once it was time for the ceremony, you held your hands together in front of you nervously, waiting at the front of a line coming from the right, while the line coming the left was the groomsmen, where the best man was nowhere to be seen. You honestly hoped he wouldn’t show, just in case you wanted to beat his ass if you saw him, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the following moments. The flower girls, your best friend’s neices, got in front of you and the best man who had just appeared, but you paid no attention and stared forward, waiting for it all to start.

A light melody begins to echo with the wind from the piano. You reach your elbow out, waiting for the best man to hook his arm with yours, but familiarity struck once he did. You looked over, just as the flower girls started to go down the aisle, and you saw him. You saw Sunghoon, the previously labeled “cold-hearted player” that was so egotistical, you’d want to rip your hair out. He was the douchebag, and you couldn’t believe it.

“Sunghoon?” You whispered, just as both of you started to walk down the aisle together slowly. He looked over at you, then blinked a couple times.

“Y/N? You’re— You’re the maid of honor.” An obvious observation, but he was in shock, honestly.

“What’s your last name?”

“What?”

“Last name.”

“Park.”

Oh fuck.

“You’re the best man that stood me up.”

“Stood you up—” He scoffed in disbelief, “I met with you, didn’t I?”

You shook your head, “You didn’t tell me.”

Sunghoon knitted his brows together, “I didn’t know? And you didn’t tell me either,” he remarks, all of the conversation being in a whisper as you both made it down the aisle. At the end, you two parted ways and went to the opposite sides of the altar. The other groomsmen and bridemaids all follow suite and the ceremony begins with the bride walkong down the aisle, the light melody transitions into the wedding march as all rose from their seats and watched her approach her soon-to-be husband at the altar.

It was beautiful, each vow perfectly written and spoken to one another, and there, the couple were married and everyone cheered and clapped.

It was wonderful, but your mind was elsewhere. All you have come to know about Sunghoon, could have just as easily been a lie—egotistical, asshole, cold-hearted, player—was any of it true at all?

After the ceremony and into the reception, Sunghoon tried to talk to you a few times, but ultimately stopped when you ignored him every time and gave all of your attention to your busy friend, who was the happiest girl in the room.

You didn’t want to talk to Sunghoon. You didn’t want to look at him, or even think of him at all. You had no idea what to think of everything now. Was he really like that? Even his best friend said that stuff . . . You really hoped this was your happy ending, but maybe your luck just ran out.

It had been two weeks since the wedding. Your best friend and her new husband had gone off to their honeymoon, so you basically worked, went home and slept, then went back to work the next day. You made sure there was no chance you could see Sunghoon—ever. You didn’t hate him, moreso that you couldn’t, because there was something inside your heart that didn’t want you to hate him.

It was late, it was just a Thursday after work where you stuck overtime for the past four hours. It didn’t help that it had started raining heavily on your drive home. You pulled into the apartment’s parking lot, then searched frantically for a jacket or an umbrella, but found nothing to your surprise. You were normally prepared for stuff like this, but it had slipped your mind that you had taken in your umbrella the other day, forgot it on the dinner table, and your jacket was probably sitting in the dryer. Sunghoon would’ve reminded you to grab them. He always watches the weather. He’d know. You huffed and got out of your car quickly, trying to rush in before you got soaked, but just as you got out of the car and shut the door, there he was, standing there like some dramatic movie scene.

“What the hell are you doing?” You call out to him, “You’re going to get sick, you’re not even wearing a jacket!”

“You aren’t either!” He called back out to you, the rain growing harder and harder. “Y/N, listen to me okay? I—”

“No, no I don’t want to hear your excuses,”

“I don’t have excuses,” Sunghoon stated out, “I don’t have anything to say that would ever excuse my mistakes, but that’s the past. I’ve changed, and I don’t want to be that version of myself ever again.”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re insane.”

He shockingly smiled, “Insane, crazy, stupid—you can call me whatever you want, Y/N, but I’m never going to stop feeling the way I do about you.” A strong declaration, but that wasn’t as surprising as the words he spoke to you then.

“How—” you hitched your breath as you shook your head, “How am I supposed to believe that all the things they said aren’t true? That you were ‘such a player that you couldn’t find it in your cold heart to even care that you hurt them?’ How can I be sure you won’t do the same for me?”

Sunghoon stared into your eyes, distant but still warm. His heart couldn’t have ever been cold. None of it made any sense. God, the things your best friend and her husband keep running around your mind like a racecar track.

“Because I won’t. I haven’t done any of that in years. In high school, and college, I was an asshole and was convinced I was supposed to be the bad boy everyone’s scared of. I let them be scared of me because I thought no one could ever love me, and when someone did, I ran.” Sunghoon stepped towards you on the pavement, his hair wet and his clothes soaked. His face was flushed with pink, a gentleness in his eyes that only you could ever recognize. It was him. “You don’t have to forgive me, but I will do everything in my power to make up for it all.”

“Sunghoon . . .” You tried not to cry, “Our luck has run out,” you told him, but he wouldn’t hear you. He stepped even closer, standing right before you now, close enough to feel some rain droplets bounce off of him and onto you.

“No, there’s no luck, there’s no fate,” he tells you firmly, “All I know is that I’m falling in love with you, Y/N, and I’m willing to do anything for you.”

You felt the same way he did. Of course you did. There was no part of you that could ever hate him. You wanted him, and absolutely no one else. You didn’t care if you both died tomorrow, as long as you had him, you were just fine. You were more than fine. You were perfect, because of him.

You gave him a soft smile, “I’m falling in love with you, too.”

And he gave you this . . . smile.

It was that type of smile that warms your heart and eases your worries. it was one that you could never forget, one that will save you from your darkest nights, one that can heal your wounds and pain with just a glance. Your heart was beating so fast that you couldn't even get a decent breath. Your head was full of thoughts burning with anticipation as he slowly leaned in closer to you. Heat rose from your stomach to your chest and your heart definitely skipped a beat as you felt his breath on your cheeks. You watched his eyes flutter as he started to close in. That was it — at that very moment his lips brushed over yours like a wave of warmth and all of your body reacted to him instinctively. You raised your hands to his face, and kissed him like there was no tomorrow, but it was gentle, passionate, full of love. Time seemed to have just come to a great pause as we kissed. The taste of his lips silenced your thoughts.

The rain was so cold against your skin, but it didn’t bother you one bit. It didn’t seem to bother him much either. His hands went limp on your waist, but you lowered your hand and took one of his into your own, holding him close to you as your lips moved against each other. His other hand lightly pulled onto your shirt, but you tilted your head slowly and touched your lips to his for a second time, very carefully and gently as if you didn't want to break him with a single touch. The kisses began to slow after a short time, becoming tender and infinitely more. It was like you were growing more intimate. It was so easy to get lost in him, lost in his connection between the both of you.

Before, on those dates or whatever they were, you both were just friends. Friends who stared at each other a second too long. But as of this very moment, with your lips kissing his, he was no longer just your friend. Instead, he was now a lover. Your lover. He was your soulmate, as you were his.

You pulled away and stared into his eyes, and he just smiled at you, “Come on,” he whispered to you, “let’s get out of this rain,” and as you giggled, you both headed inside and out of the rain together.

The wedding was set for the spring. It had been a couple years since your best friend’s wedding and the whole declaration-turned-kiss-in-the-rain moment, and you couldn’t be happier. You had (mostly) everything finished for the wedding, even though it was in a couple months and you had plenty of time to add or change stuff.

Sunghoon helped as much as he could, though he knew how much you wanted to plan it so he would only offer his opinion when you asked. It was your day, he would say, but you would always tell him it was his day, too.

You still believed in luck, and he still believed in fate. You felt you were lucky to meet him, and he felt that it was always meant to happen anyways. You didn’t agree out loud, but you knew he was right (you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right). Because whether it was luck or fate, it was always him. It was always him you were going to love forever. And with that, you knew.

You were going to be just fine.

—————————————————————————

a/n — OKAY IM DONE W WEDDING STUFF the next fic will be something wayyyy different (itll probably be angst lolz) but NOT ABT A WEDDING. anyways, i hope u all enjoyed <3333

[swordduels]

About Circe

Obs: My version of Circe is not 100% following the myths and poems where she appears. I've borrowed aspects and spun my own story elements. She's not evil or entirely heroic but have questionable moral. My version of Circe is much like the Greek Gods themselves, very flawed.

---

Name: Circe

Age: Appear as a woman in her 35-40's but has existed long before her name was written down in Greek poems.

Sexuality: Lesbian.

Species: Human with magical abilities. Social status: Queen of her own island.

Nationality: Greece, I'll specify her origin once I've done more research.

Personality: Has a hot temper that makes her impulsive and clouds her judgement. She's prideful and hate being looked down upon. Likes treasures and a comfortable life style. Circe has a playful and sadistic streak when being angered. Because of it she creates gambling schemes for revenge that sometimes fail because of her own short comings. She take pride in her own decision making and view herself as a benevolent ruler despite the obvious hatred for men that often seep into her behavior, commentary and law system. She has a bias towards women as well as animals but can't stand being around kids. Circe's hatred towards men comes from her own experiences of creepy men who viewed her as a sexual object as well as how unfair her own community treated women.

Appearance:

Background: Circe came from a humble beginning and was taught magic by an elderly woman. As an adult she went against the Gods and Zeus himself started to fear Circe's growing powers would be used to overthrow him from his position as a leader. In order to get Circe under his control Zeus placed her onto an island with no way to leave. Around her spiritual neck was an invicible chain connected to the island's center. Said chain allowed her to move through the land and only above the highest mountain. She can swim towards the outer cliffs as well. If Circe for whatever reason tries to go farther away she'll start to suffocate.

The island: Finding the island is quite difficult as it floats around the tropical seas while being surrounded by a magical mist that obscure it's existance from mortals and non magical beings. (Yes I take some inspiration from both the Lost series and Rick Riordan's book series Percy Jackson). From time to time there are however people who accidently get stranded on the island and like Circe they couldn't leave. Every attempt to do so forced people back.

With time Circe became a queen of a growing community. The community became a culture with diverse customs regarding language, singing, dancing and other expressions. Women gained more rights than many countries in Greece allowed. Only men who were shown to do crimes became slaves. Everyone arriving to the island would get a job according to their skills and allowed housing. Those who showed open disrespect towards Circe face to face risked becoming an animal and in worst case slaughtered.

Powers: Her bread and butter is to turn people into animals with the snap of her fingers. She can communicate with animals and understand animal speach. Part of the communication ability is to order animals to do her bidding. For example, act as her eyes and ears or retrieve objects.

Another ability she has is to transfer her mind/soul into animals or humans where she will remain as long as the host accept her being there or she decide to leave on her own. While leaving her body it'll be defenseless against any and all attacks that may happen. If she has left her own body and someone succesfully kills it she is technically dead and will go through excuciating pain as the bond to her body is cut, but her mind/soul will remain in another body. She can't go back to her body and has to constantly move through different hosts to remain.

She has the ability to read minds but only as long the other person allows it.

She can move thing away with hand gestures or make items rattle through strong emotions but she's not overly skilled with transforming non living objects.

She can make plant life grow faster as long as she has water, dirt, seeds and warmth available. She can use spit instead of water or a fire instead of sunlight, when these things are lacking.

Many of her spells get stronger if she knows a person's name. Some are connected with gestures and spoken words. As mentioned earlier she snaps her fingers to turn people into animals but she can also affect emotions or give orders by clapping her hands. Circe often use mental spells with rhymes.

She can sense spells, heartbeats, scents and emotion from a distant. Circe can also sense memories in objects or places.

[taelme]

Little taste of heaven (pt 2/3)

genre: single parent!taeyong au, kindergarten teacher!y/n (fluff, angst, hurt/comfort elements?) pairing/s: Taeyong / Reader, Johnny / OC, (ft baekhyun n other nct members) word count: 22k tw: drinking, slight age gap (5 years), mentions of sex but NO SMUT, might get a bit heavy at some points a/n: anyway this is part 2!! i'm splitting the part 2 into 2 parts since it got longer than i expected so there WILL be a part 3 that im still editing but it'll hopefully get uploaded!! so pls look forward to that too :D nobody asked but this series was inspired by taylor swift's version of 'untouchable' and this part (2&3) were inspired by na tae joo's poem 'i want to give you my most beautiful thoughts' so yes! happy reading everyone~~ do lmk what your thoughts/feelings are~~ i love reading them~~  read this on ao3 part 1, part 3

“Baby, I think just 2 would be enough,” Taeyong murmured, scanning through the grocery list on his phone.

“So two packets of milk?”

“Uh-huh, carry them one at a time, please, they’re heavy. And that’s a carton, not a packet,” he told her sweetly.

Byul nodded seriously, focused on her task as she inspected the array of milk in front of her and tried to spot whichever brand she remembered seeing at home.

Taeyong, on the other hand, had fished his phone out from his pocket, not noticing the smile that had appeared on his face as he read your text message.

11:21pm - I’ll be reaching soon, do I meet you guys at the supermarket? -

taeyong 11:21pm -yes please, we’re almost done shopping, just a few more stuff left-

You felt a giddy kind of excitement fill you, almost forgetting about how tired you were, the only thought on your mind being how you couldn’t wait to see Byul and Taeyong.

Walking into the supermarket, you’d adjusted your bag on your shoulder, enjoying the cold mist coming from the coolers you walked past, looking around for any sign of Taeyong and Byul.

It seemed that Taeyong had spotted you first, waving at you from where he stood at the aisle with all sorts of toiletries and household cleaning items. Straightening out your clothes, you’d waved back, Byul looking up from the shopping list she was holding and absolutely lighting up at the sight of you, running over to you and meeting you halfway, her arms wrapping around your thighs and squeezing tightly.

“Good morning,” her chin pressed against you as she looked up at you, her eyes practically sparkling as she’d smiled at you.

“Morning, Byul! Did daddy do your hair today?” you cooed, the energy in your voice making Taeyong wonder how you seemed as though you didn’t just finish a morning shift of work on a Saturday while he barely found it in him to get out of bed before 10 am that morning.

“No, I did it myself! Do you like it?” Byul had shook her head, only making the rubber band around her hair fall even more, her messy hair making you grin.

“Yes, I like it very much,” you told her, noticing how Taeyong had made his way next to you, quietly removing your bag from your shoulders to hang it on the little hook on your trolley, the gesture making you smile, thanking him with a small nod.

You’d taken over the duty of pushing the trolley, Byul standing on the little platform at the bottom of the trolley, holding tightly onto the handle as you steered it around.

Walking in front of the trolley, Taeyong used a hand to steady it when you found it difficult to steer with how heavy the trolley felt. Almost passing the canned items aisle when you saw one of the shop clerks with samples of a new drink they were selling.

“Want one?” Taeyong asked without bothering to read into the product (you realised he loved anything that looked like it promised sweetness), earning a nod from you, letting him chat with the supermarket worker as you let Byul try a small sip of the drink, careful not to give her too much. You didn’t think it was that catered to children judging from the poster.

“Does she like it?” the woman had asked. She looked nice, her tone was gentle and her eyes were filled with adoration as she looked upon you and Byul.

Taeyong’s eyebrows lifted, turning to see what the woman was looking at, the sight of Byul trying to get the remnants of the drink from the cup into her mouth eliciting a laugh from him, “Oh, yeah, definitely.”

“That’s lovely, then! You could get a packet for her, We’re having a promotion for this for mother’s day.”

Taeyong’s actions halted, his gaze lifting from his empty cup as he looked at the woman in shock.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“For your wife, dear. Your daughter can drink it too, but probably not too much at a time, the benefits are more catered to adults.”

Taeyong had glanced at you cautiously, unsure how to react now that he knew you hadn’t heard what the woman said. His wife? He was almost embarrassed to admit how much he loved the sound of that.

“Oh, oh,” Taeyong sputtered, disposing of the little paper cup as he nodded, “Oh, uh… yeah I’d love to get one, maybe we’ll get the rest of our groceries first.”

You were busy fixing Byul’s hair, running your fingers through it and tying it how she requested, finished by the time Taeyong was done talking to the woman.

Taeyong cast another glance your way, gesturing his head to signal that you could move to the next section now, bidding goodbye to the woman before leaving.

“She seemed nice, what were you guys talking about?” You asked, earning a huff of laughter from Taeyong, almost seeming shy for some reason.

“Oh, no, nothing. She was just talking about the promotion they were having for that drink.”

“It’s very yummy,” Byul held a thumbs up, her other hand enjoying the feeling of the little ponytail you’d managed to tie in her short cropped hair, making you laugh.

“Sorry, Byul, that drink is more for adults. You can drink it when you grow older,” he explained, eliciting a laugh from you and a very disdained look from Byul.

“Okay,” she huffed, “Teacher Y/N, where’s the grocery list?”

“It’s in your pocket, Byul. Can you help us check what’s next on the list, please?”

Byul let out a burst of giggles, using her palm to smack her forehead lightly.

“Silly,” she said to herself, fishing out the (now very crumpled) grocery list from her shirt pocket, her eyebrows furrowing as she went through the items on the list one by one with her finger, glancing between the list and the trolley as she went on.

“Can you help me?” she used her head to nudge your stomach gently, her hands full with grabbing the list.

“Okay, okay. You name the item and I’ll tell you if it’s in the trolley or not.”

“Cereal?”

“Check.”

“De...Deten..” Byul huffed, shoving the list closer to your face, her annoyed demeanour managing to draw a smile from you.

“Detergent,” you spoke clearly, enunciating slowly so that she would be able to sound out the word on her own.

“Detergent,” she repeated, earning a nod from you, the proud smile on her face making Taeyong’s eyebrows lift, his gaze nothing but filled with adoration for Byul.

“Check.”

You continued down the list, Taeyong letting you entertain her as he steered the trolley towards the self-checkout cashier. You hadn’t even finished going through the list, but at the sight of the cashier, Byul had forgotten all about the list, jumping off of the little platform on the trolley and rushing over to help Taeyong scan the items.

“You haven’t eaten yet, right?” Taeyong turned to you to ask, earning a shake of the head.

Taeyong sighed, almost looking as if he were talking to Byul, “You should really bring snacks to work, or something. I still don’t get how you’re surviving without any breakfast.”

You scoffed, “Says you,” you helped to pass the last of the grocery items to Byul, who scanned it happily, shoving the handheld scanner back into its holder.

“What do you feel like eating?” You asked, earning a small ‘anything’ from Byul.

Not without a little giggle at Byul’s comment, Taeyong straightened up from bagging the items, holding two of the recycled bags in his arms and letting Byul carry a special medium sized one with just the cereal boxes inside.

Slinging your bag around your shoulder, you’d taken one of the bags from Taeyong.

“I was thinking of getting a few dishes from the Chinese food place upstairs, since it’s on the way. It’s been a while since we ate there, anyway.”

You grinned, comforted at the thought of lunch as you made your way to the Chinese food restaurant.

There were no words to describe it, how normal it was for the three of you to be carrying out this routine on a Saturday morning. How normal it felt to you, as if you were a kid again tagging along with your parents to do groceries.

To anyone else, you looked like a normal happy family. That was what Taeyong was realising too, noticing how natural it was for you to look out for Byul before yourself. From making sure she was buckled in in the car, to whether she was alright carrying the groceries, to fixing her hair when it was getting all over her face. Maybe it came from your time teaching, but whatever it was, Taeyong knew it came from you, and it only made his heart swell with more love for you.

Even when you’d reached Taeyong’s apartment, Taeyong was already beyond tired, wishing for nothing more than to finish his meal, get Byul into bed for a nap and settle back in his room for an afternoon nap of his own, but the first thing you’d done was to prepare the food you’d bought for Byul to have her lunch.

Taeyong had put on some music, enjoying the feeling of time almost slowing as he was putting the groceries in the fridge and the cupboards, the sound of you and Byul talking making the house feel full.

Once he was almost done, he’d fished out another two placemats and sets of utensils, setting them down at the table on either side of Byul.

“Thanks,” you nodded, accepting the utensils and starting to eat.

Taeyong and you were fairly quiet during the meal, mostly entertaining Byul’s many questions and points of discussion. It’d been almost a year since you started dating Taeyong, but you didn’t think you would ever get bored of listening to what Byul had to say.

Getting up halfway, you’d gone to the kitchen to get an apple and a small knife, preparing fruits for the three of you.

Distracted, you hadn’t noticed Taeyong coming over to where you were, a hand at the small of your back as he hummed, “Is your wrist hurting again?”

Your eyebrows lifted, eyes widening, “How’d you know?”

Taeyong snickered, gesturing to your hand. 

“You’re doing that thing with the knife,” you glanced down at your hand, only realising now that you’d been trying to readjust your grip on the knife as you cut the apple (as if that would help).

“Here, gimme the knife, I’ll do it,” he leaned over to grasp your wrist gently, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before waving you off with a smile, “Go, go, find Byul before she falls asleep in the bathroom again.”

You couldn’t help but stifle your smile out of your own embarrassment as you called for Byul, opening the door to her room to find her picking out what storybook she wanted to read.

“Honey, I think you need to change your clothes first, you have soup all over your shirt,” you laughed, making Byul giggle, looking down at her shirt and touching the little splodges of soup.

“Do you want to pick out your clothes or do you want me to do it?”

Byul hummed, hands in her lap as she smiled sweetly at you, already making her way towards her wardrobe, “I want to do it.”

You’d let her pick out her clothes, deciding you’d might as well wipe her face while you were at it because of her messy eating habits.

“Byul, you want to eat your apples first?” you asked, earning an eager nod from her, the girl running out of her room to meet Taeyong in the kitchen.

“Go give one to Teacher Y/N, baby,” Taeyong murmured softly, seeing Byul run up to you with an apple slice. Taeyong had expected her to just hand it to you, her usual chic demeanour that showed itself whenever she was around others, but he’d been surprised into laughter when he saw the way his daughter had insisted that you open your mouth so she could feed you the apple.

You cast a wide eyed look at Taeyong, not being able to help your own heart from swelling at Byul’s behaviour, accepting the apple gratefully before enveloping her in a hug, “That’s sweet of you, Byul. Since when were you so sweet, huh?” you hugged her tight, the giggles that erupted from her pure music to your ears.

“Since just now,” she laughed, speaking around her mouthful of apple.

“Alright, when you’re done we’ll go and change your clothes and then it’s time for your nap, okay?”

She let her body lay limp against you, her arms comfortably around your neck as she ate her apple, nodding at you, her legs stretching as she tried to seat herself on your lap.

“I’m starting to wonder how much you pamper your students for them to behave like this with you,” Taeyong huffed, an amused smile on his face.

You stuck your tongue out at him, “Can’t help myself, they’re too cute.”

Taeyong’s smile grew, making his way over to you with the bowl of apples, feeding you one and humming along softly to the song playing in the background.

You gasped lightly.

“Doesn’t this song have a bad word in it?” you whispered, making Taeyong’s eyebrows raise.

His eyes widened, his smile sheepish “Byul likes it, but she hasn’t quite caught on to the lyrics yet.”

“Quick, censor it, the part is coming up,” you ushered him quickly, soundless laughter coming from you as he swayed calmly to his phone, waiting to drag the volume to 0 at the curse word and bring it back up afterwards.

“See? Problem solved,” he shrugged, making you scoff.

“I’ll go clean up, I’ll come help you with Byul when i’m done,” he told you, and you took that as your cue to bring Byul back to her room, letting her wash her hands as you prepared a small cloth to wipe her down before changing her clothes.

You could tell Byul was already starting to get sleepy, a lot quieter than she was before, slowly changing her clothes on her own before making her way over to her bed where she’d placed the book she wanted you to read to her.

You’d almost laughed when you noticed she’d picked the book about clay art that she’d gotten from the school’s family literacy programme.

Pulling the chair next to Byul’s bed, you’d let her get comfortable before holding the book up so the both of you could see, beginning to read as Byul slowly grew more tired, dozing off even as you were reading. By the end of the second reading of the book, Byul was sound asleep in bed, snoring lightly as her hand fell limp against her pillow.

Letting out a yawn of your own, you’d stood up to turn the lights off, stepping out of the room and leaving the door open halfway like you always did.

Taeyong never did that, usually just shutting the door fully, but you figured it was a habit, since you remembered a conversation you had with Byul where she mentioned how she got scared sleeping in certain parts of the classroom because it was darker than the others.

Shuffling your feet as you walked out into the kitchen, you frowned upon realising Taeyong wasn’t there. Figuring he was in his room, you were proven correct when you’d stepped into the room, dressed in more comfortable clothes, seeing him rummaging through the drawer of his bedside table for something.

“Hey,” you greeted, shutting the door behind you.

Taeyong’s lips parted, “Byul’s asleep already? I was just gonna head over,” he spoke, finally fishing out a small palm-sized box from the drawer.

“Yeah, she is,” you stared at the box, squinting as you tried to decipher the words on the box.

Tossing the box onto his bed, Taeyong had held his arms out, beckoning you to come closer to him as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug, sighing as you felt yourself relax in his arms, your own arms wrapping around his torso.

“Are you tired?” Taeyong pulled apart just slightly so he could press a kiss to your forehead, his hand coming up to cup your face as he pressed another kiss to your lips, your eyes shutting as you let yourself get lost in the moment with Taeyong. You’d felt his hand come up to rest at the nape of your neck, holding you close to him, sighing into the kiss as he deepened it, his other hand smoothing over your waist.

You were almost embarrassed at how much love you felt coursing through your veins, as if Taeyong was your very first boyfriend and every kiss with him felt like your first; you loved it.

You gave him an affirmative hum as you pulled away, eliciting a pout from Taeyong.

“Wouldn’t mind a nap,” you admitted sheepishly, the smile he gave you only making you relax further, something in his gaze putting you at ease yet just shy of making you look away.

Nodding, he let his thumb brush against the skin of your cheek, giving you another soft kiss, a tired smile on his face, “Nice dress, by the way. You look nice.”

You rolled your eyes, not being able to help your smile from making an appearance as well, “I wonder who bought it for me, maybe I should thank them, since the dress has been getting me quite a few compliments. Not to mention it’s very comfortable to work in.”

Taeyong scrunched his nose up, “You can thank them with another kiss?”

You sighed, bringing your hands up to the sides of his face, bringing his face closer to kiss him, the smile on his face almost affirming you.

“I think they deserve a better thank you than that,” he teased, grasping your chin as he directed your face back to his, sharing a longer, deeper kiss before he’d finally pulled away, amused at the way you’d averted your gaze as you tried to compose yourself. 

“Okay, okay, go get changed,” He ushered you to the washroom, letting you get changed into more comfortable clothes.

Stepping out, you set the folded dress down onto Taeyong’s desk, making your way over to where he was on the bed, Taeyong removing his headphones when he saw you, setting them elsewhere and reaching out a hand to grasp yours, pulling you to lie with him.

You let a slight wince show when you’d used your wrist to support your weight, flopping down quickly to ease the pain, Taeyong frowning.

“When did the pain come back?” he asked, rolling over so he was straddling your figure as you rested on your back. Taeyong reached over your side to grab the box which you could now identify as pain relief patches.

“I’m not too sure, maybe last week?”

Taeyong tutted his tongue, “You should’ve said something.”

Holding his hand out, “Here, gimme your hand,” he asked.

Your gaze was skeptical even as you stretched your arm out for him to take, “Tell me if this helps, alright?”

He’d gently massaged the fleshy part of your palm below your thumb where you mentioned it hurt, pinching and pulling to massage that area of your hand, “So far so good?”

You nodded, not sure whether what was relieving your pain was his actions or how cute he looked while focusing on your hand.

“Wait, there was another one, I forgot,” he took his phone quickly, unlocking it and rewinding the video he was watching before his eyes lit up, “Oh! Okay, I got it.”

“Can you flex your thumb a little?” he asked, one of his hands going to your arm to feel where the muscle moved when you flexed your thumb, massaging that part of your arm.

After a few seconds of massaging your arm, he’d let go, his gaze darting to meet yours expectantly, “Better?”

You moved your hand, nodding, your relief made known through the smile you gave him, “Yeah, surprisingly.”

Satisfied, Taeyong had flopped back onto the bed next to you, a little groan leaving him as he stretched his arms over his head, beckoning you to come closer to him.

Resting your head on his arm, you’d sighed, relaxing into his comfortable mattress and the comfort that came with Taeyong’s presence.

“I could get used to this,” Taeyong murmured softly.

“Huh?” you had almost let yourself doze off, Taeyong pulling you from your slumber just slightly, not quite catching what he said.

“Oh, no, nothing. How was work today? I thought you said you weren’t on Saturday duty this week?”

You hummed, “Yeah, I wasn’t, but the teacher on duty had an emergency at home so I had to take over.”

You yawned, hearing a huff of laughter escape Taeyong as he brought a hand up to smooth over your hair soothingly, the gentle actions almost lulling you back to sleep.

“Was it tough?” he asked, “did anyone from your class show up today?”

You nodded, a small smile at the thought of your children, “Yeah, about half of them, so they kept me busy…” you let out a deep sigh, relaxing further, “time passed faster than I thought it would.”

Taeyong hummed, deep in his thoughts as his gaze fixed on the ceiling, his hand rubbing the skin at your waist in a drowsy rhythm.

“Okay, but be careful not to overwork your wrist,” he murmured, his other hand grasping yours, his thumb rubbing your knuckles.

“I know you, and I know you wanna do your best to help the kids and the other teachers there, but when you know your wrist can’t handle it, you should ask them for help, alright?”

You laughed, “Coming from the CEO of ‘It’s okay I can do it on my own’,” you teased.

Taeyong sighed, a hint of a smile on his lips, bypassing your teasing, “You know I’m right.”

You let out a hum to acknowledge what he said (not without a harmless eye roll), “Yeah, I know, you’re right. I was thinking of getting it checked soon, since it’s been an on and off thing for a long time already.”

“Need me to ask Johnny if he has any good doctor contacts?”

You laughed, “No, it’s fine, I can just ask Kun.”

Taeyong grunted, “That’s your hospital friend, right?”

“Hospital friend,” you snickered, “yes, he’s my friend that works at the hospital.”

Taeyong let out a yawn, nodding, “Maybe you can drop by and see him when we bring Byul for her checkup.”

“Right, I almost forgot about that… it’s already the middle of May? That’s fast…” you sighed, earning a small bout of giggles from Taeyong.

“Yeah, her checkup’s next Saturday.”

You hummed, unsure about how Kun would react if he saw you with Taeyong and Byul, or whether he would tell his mom (who would tell your mom) for that matter. Your parents still didn’t know about Byul, all they knew was that you were dating a professor and that he was a few years older than you.

“Maybe,” you shrugged (or shrugged as much as you could’ve in your position), “if not i’ll probably ask him when I see him at church.”

Taeyong nodded, “Okay, good.”

“Hey, I wanted to ask you this just now,” you tapped on his chest, “is there anything you want for your birthday?”

Taeyong laughed, “It’s more than a month away, baby.”

“Never too early to start planning, c’mon, anything you’ve been eyeing? A new headset? Keyboard? Plants for your fish tank?”

Taeyong huffed, a playful lilt to his tone, "I want to... not have to mark assignments."

“No, I don’t want anything. Now go to sleep, get some rest,” he insisted, his hand coming up to cover your eyes, your laughter bubbling from you.

“What about a picnic? Or that ‘Dining in the Dark’ thing I heard a lot of my colleagues talking about i—”

“Go to sleep, please, don’t worry about it. Okay, how about this? I'll tell you when I’ve decided.”

Huffing, you lifted your face from his chest, making a displeased face at him, “Okay, but you better keep that promise. I’ll remember to ask you.”

Taeyong rolled his eyes, lifting his head slightly to press a kiss to your lips, pulling away with a smile, “Okay, you do that. Now go to sleep.”

===

“A new PC would be pretty sick, though, I gotta admit.”

You shot a glare at the boy sitting before you, happily munching on whatever fancy salad he’d ordered on a whim.

“I’m poor, Johnny.”

Johnny snickered, “I mean, I’m just saying,” he shrugged.

“Do you think he’d want something like that, though? I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. You know,” you poked at your food, “he keeps saying he doesn’t want anything but I can’t not get him anything.”

Johnny made a sound of distaste. 

“Yucks, ate a really weird tasting leaf,” he pushed his bowl aside, “anyway, you know, he’ll probably be super happy if you just had a nice day out with him and Byul.”

You huffed, “Yeah, but I want to do more than just that, he deserves more than that for his birthday.”

“Is your love language gift-giving?”

You dismissed him with a wave, rolling your eyes, “I just want to do something nice for him, okay? He hasn’t celebrated his birthday with anyone other than you and his family for ages.”

Johnny shook his head, “Dude, it’s not about what you’re doing, it’s about why you’re doing it. You think he’s gonna care? He’s so whipped you could say you’re giving him a hug for his birthday and he’d be the happiest man alive.”

You huffed, reaching over for your glass to take a sip of whatever drink Johnny had ordered for you, identifying it as a mocktail.

You groaned, “I’m stressed, whatever, let’s talk about something else. How’s your love life?”

Johnny gave you a patronizing smile, “Yeah, cause that’s always an entertaining topic, isn’t it?”

You returned the smile, “Sure is.”

You knew Johnny had been seeing someone for a while now, having started his relationship in college. You’d recalled Taeyong telling you stories about how Johnny had always tried to find excuses to talk to them, even if it was through asking to borrow a pen every other week. Johnny had mentioned needing your advice on something, so you figured it was another ‘i want to surprise them, any ideas?’ kind of dilemma.

True enough, it was that kind of dilemma.

Johnny straightened up in his seat, staring you dead in the eye as he pursed his lips, poorly stifling his smile, “Well, actually… I was thinking of proposing.”

Your grip went slack on your fork, almost letting it slip from your hands. You scrambled to get it in your hand again, your eyes wide and lips parted.

“Wow, I mean… wow.”

“Right? I mean, I’ve been thinking about it for a while now, I mean… we’re pretty steady, and we’ve talked about it before, like you know settling down and starting a family and stuff. And I love her so much it’s embarrassing. I never imagined I could have so much love for someone, I really do want to build a life with them. I don’t know, it just feels like the right time,” he continued.

Johnny fished his phone out, pulling up his notes app to show you a note titled ‘possible surprise ideas’, “Like, okay, I do want to surprise her, but I’m not sure which is better, like do I wanna do it privately where it’s just the two of us or should I do it with family and friends around…?”

“I… I don’t even know where to begin,” you gushed, your gaze hard on his phone screen.

“I mean, haven’t you thought about it before? Like, you know, how romantic of a proposal you’d want?” Johnny prompted, shrugging, “Then again, Taeyong has it easy, he could just ask Byul, anything with that girl involved would be impossible to refuse—”

“Huh?” you’d blurted out before you could help yourself.

“—You know, come to think of it, you’re pretty lucky. You’d get both Taeyong and Byul when you guys get married.”

“It’s not a game of ‘Wheel of Fortune’, Johnny. It’s real life.”

Johnny scoffed, taking another sip of his wine, “Hey, who said ‘Wheel of Fortune’ was fake?”

You waved a hand in dismissal, “Anyway, aren’t proposals really subjective? You should be the one telling me if she’d prefer to keep it private or with family and friends.”

It wasn’t like you were against Johnny proposing to his partner, no, that wasn’t the case at all. In fact, you were more than happy for him.

It was just that Johnny’s words had opened a can of worms in your head that you couldn’t stop thinking about now.

What if Taeyong did propose? It was a legitimate concern for someone his age and at his stage of life, but what were you going to do? Elope and not tell your parents? You didn’t want Taeyong to be at the receiving end of your parents’ unhappiness, much less Byul. You just didn’t think you were ready to face it yet either. As selfish as it was, you were still afraid.

“Well, someone’s snappy. What’s on your mind? You’ve been weird ever since I mentioned the proposal.”

“No, it’s nothing. I just… didn’t actually think about Taeyong proposing before…” you glanced up to meet his eyes, seeing him give you a knowing smile.

“Hey, I know you’re worried- okay, I don’t actually know but I’m just assuming because you look worried but… just remember, if you love him, nothing else matters. Whatever’s meant to work out will work out, you know, in—”

“In the name of love?” your tone was sarcastic, though Johnny had simply grinned.

“Exactly.”

You scoffed, forcing a laugh out of you, “Okay, but it’s no big deal. I’m over the shock now. You were saying?”

“Alright so I was thinking, they like nature so…”

=== 

Hands clenched tightly around the handle of the bag you were holding, you took in a deep breath, breathing out in your desperate attempt to calm yourself down as you stared at Taeyong’s parent’s house, waiting for him to lock his car.

You felt a small hand tug at the fabric of your shirt, looking down and seeing Byul with her hand held out towards you. Switching the bag to your other hand, you grasped hers in yours, Taeyong’s hand gently guiding you as you made your way to the front door.

Ringing the doorbell, you waited as patiently as you could until the door opened and revealed Taeyong’s father, greeting all of you with smiles and a yell of excitement at Byul, who rushed into his arms so he could pick her up.

Greeting his father, the four of you had entered the kitchen, greeting Taeyong’s mom. 

“We brought wine,” you lifted the bag slightly to show them.

“Oh, that’s so lovely of you! Go ahead, put it in the fridge to cool it for a while,” his mother had cooed. 

You did just that, but seriously contemplated cracking it open right now to calm your nerves.

“Hey,” Taeyong murmured softly, holding the fridge door open so you could stop holding it open with your body, “don’t be nervous, it’s not your first time here.”

“Yeah, but it’s the first time I'm meeting your grandma,” you whispered, the pleading look in your eyes that begged for escape only making him laugh.

“Is grandma here already?” Taeyong leaned over your shoulder to ask his mom, earning an affirmative hum.

“Yes, honey, she’s in the living room. Why don’t you bring Y/N to say ‘hi’?”

Taeyong turned to you with a smile, “Yeah, why don’t we go say hi?”

Your expression stayed unwavering, making Taeyong shake his head, his hand coming up to pat your head gently.

“You’ll be fine. I’m sure she’ll love you.”

Love you, she did. Maybe too much even.

Taeyong’s grandma was a nice woman, though her age brought its own set of problems. Firstly being that her memory wasn’t that great, and her body was weak, so days where she felt good enough to make a visit to Taeyong’s parents’ house were rare, but cherished nonetheless. What you remembered the most about her, though, was that she was a simple woman. She didn’t ask for much, she wasn’t picky about her environment or what food she was eating, all she’d wanted was just for her children and grandchildren to be happy and safe.

She would be in a daze most of the time, not really looking at you, but she was listening, of course. It was comforting, you had to admit. Maybe you were anxious for no reason; she was the loveliest woman you’d met.

“So, how’s work been, Y/N? I heard you got promoted,” Taeyong’s father had spoken, earning a nod from you, swallowing your food as quickly as you could so he wouldn’t have to wait so long for a reply.

“Yeah! Yeah, I did,” you smiled.

“Promoted to what, dear? If you don’t mind me asking.”

You shook your head, “Oh, no, not at all. I got promoted to senior teacher. I mean, it’s a good thing, I guess.”

“More work definitely,” Taeyong laughed, with you nodding in wholehearted agreement.

You’d looked up from your plate to glance at Taeyong’s grandmother, who’d been staring at you with a satisfied smile on her face, turning to Taeyong.

“You’ve got a very beautiful wife,” she told him, making Taeyong’s eyes widen.

He seemed to recover from it quicker than you did, bursts of nervous laughter leaving him while you sat there reliving your thought process from your dinner with Johnny.

You couldn’t quite begin to explain what you were feeling in that moment. You wanted nothing more than a life with Taeyong and Byul, but that didn’t get rid of the fear that gripped you by the neck, a fear that stemmed from something you couldn’t even place. Maybe it was just the kind of excitement that made you feel sick. Yeah, maybe it was just that.

You brushed off the sick feeling you’d felt within you, smiling at Taeyong’s grandmother, thanking her as Taeyong’s parents had rushed to correct her, telling her that you were still his girlfriend because Taeyong hasn’t proposed yet.

“Sorry, excuse me, I need to go to the washroom,” you stood up, excusing yourself as you let your body lead you to the washroom, shutting the door and waiting for your thoughts to catch up with you.

Get yourself together, Y/N. It’s just your parents and the school that you have to settle, the rest will fall into place.

Back at the dinner table, Taeyong wasn’t quite feeling the same anxiety you were, but his mother might have been.

“Sorry, honey. I hope what grandma said didn’t make you guys uncomfortable, you know… especially since uh… ” she told him, making Taeyong shake his head with a shrug.

“Oh, no, it didn’t. Why would it?” he laughed, not seeming to understand why his mom seemed to be beating around the bush to what she really wanted to say.

“You know… we love Y/N, you know. She’s really… she really is a lovely girl, but, are you sure, honey? Do you really want to marry her?”

Taeyong’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze unwavering as he frowned, glancing at Byul to see that she was occupied with playing with grandma’s bracelet.

“I mean… I have been thinking about it recently. I feel like I am in love with her, you know, that it just feels natural to consider a future with her.”

Taeyong’s father had stayed silent, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as his mother had continued.

“You know, she may not be thinking of the same thing, honey. You have to remember, she’s still… young.”

Taeyong nodded, pursing his lips as he gave his parents another shrug, “I mean, yeah, but she takes care of Byul really well and Byul is comfortable around her—”

“Motherhood-” Taeyong’s mom had cut in a little too harshly, catching herself before she could get too riled up, holding a hand up, “sorry, honey, it’s just… motherhood is not an easy thing to ask of anyone. And I know what you’re thinking, and trust me, I know it too. You did a really good job in raising Byul, but you… you didn’t give yourself much of a choice.”

Taeyong clenched his jaw, setting his utensils down on his plate and keeping his gaze hard on the placemat, slowly nodding along with whatever his mother was saying.

“What are you trying to say?” he murmured, glancing at Byul, who seemed unaffected by the tension in the room, giggling as she played whatever hand game his grandma was playing with her.

“Nothing, honey,” Taeyong looked up to meet the soft gaze of his mother, “we’re just saying that whatever choice the both of you make, we’re supporting the both of you no matter what, okay? When we say we like Y/N, we really mean that. We’d love for you to marry her.”

Taeyong nodded, hearing the bathroom door open, taking that as his cue to move on from the topic, “Byul, want to watch a movie?”

===

Later that night, when you were lying on Taeyong’s bed again, Byul fast asleep in her room, you heard Taeyong’s voice cut through the soft whirring of his fish tank.

“Sorry, about just now, you know… what my grandma said.”

You let out a huff of laughter, “It’s alright, there’s nothing to apologize about.”

Taeyong huffed, “Yeah, it’s… she’s been asking me for a while now, you know, each time I see her. She’ll ask me ‘Taeyong, how old are you?’” he imitated her tone, making your smile grow, “‘oh, you should get married’,” he told you.

You smiled, rolling over to face him, meeting his soft gaze.

Taeyong brought a hand up to touch your face, brushing the skin of your cheek with his knuckles with a feather-like touch, almost making you flinch from the tickle it gave you.

“What would you tell her?”

You were certain in that moment that Taeyong had unlocked a different part of your heart to fill it with love for him, not being able to think of another time where anyone had managed to make you feel as lovestruck as you felt now looking at his eyes that still managed to glisten so beautifully like water in the moonlight. Looking at him now, you felt like you weren’t yourself. You felt as if you were in a dream and you wanted nothing more than to keep this moment between the both of you, the comfort of the silence and the warmth in your heart taking over you the more you looked at him.

Taeyong shook his head, shyness evident in his smile, the way he averted his gaze just for a moment as if mustering his courage to tell you the truth.

“I would tell her ‘grandma, there’s really not a single girl that’s interested in me’ but somehow i’ll always end up telling her I’ll get married, you know, just to see how she would smile...”

“But I have you now, so, things are… different,” he murmured, his hand moving to your arm, rubbing it soothingly.

You nodded, the slightest of smiles on your face, “Good kind of different?”

Taeyong rolled his eyes, smiling as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Best kind. I mean it.”

===

You guessed you should’ve listened to Taeyong when he told you to drop Kun a text yesterday when you were at the hospital for Byul’s checkup, because now as you stood in the pews of the church next to your parents, you were sure if the pain got any worse you would have to excuse yourself.

Thankfully enough, you’d managed to catch a glimpse of the brown haired boy when you were mid-prayer. Accompanied with the sound of the choir singing, you felt as though your prayers were answered when he’d caught your eye as well, giving you a small nod of greeting.

Approaching you after the mass had ended, his parents chatted with your parents outside the church while you spoke to Kun.

“Hey, thank God I saw you here, I kind of wanted to ask you about something.”

Kun was attentive, welcoming too, which you guessed was what you appreciated about having a friend like him. You couldn’t help but let your gaze wander to the blazer he was wearing, entertaining the passing thought that Taeyong would look nice in a blazer with that pattern.

“You were saying?” Kun prompted, drawing you back from your moment of distraction.

“Oh, yeah, right. Shit. Well, I actually wanted to ask you about this pain in my wrist that I’ve been having, it’s been pretty on and off for a while now, and I wasn’t sure what I could do to sort of ease the pain?”

“Uh-huh,” he prompted you to continue.

“One of my colleagues had something similar and she told me I could get steroid shots but I heard you could only take those a few times in your whole life so I didn’t really want that… but yeah, I was just wondering if you had any idea what it was?”

“Does it hurt when you do this?” he bent his thumb across his palm, folding his fingers over his thumb and bending his wrist towards his little finger.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you’d tried the same thing, though you’d barely managed to bend your wrist towards your little finger before you’d let go of your thumb, a yelp of pain leaving you at the pain that had throbbed in your wrist.

“... as a matter of fact, I think I know what it is. I see it happen a lot to those new mothers,” You grimaced, drawing a laugh from him, “but considering your job, I get it. I have a few exercises you can try that might help, but if anything, it’s most important to rest it… maybe try wearing a wrist guard or something? I can text you the details. I know if I told you now you probably won’t remember it for long.”

You groaned, “I wish I asked you sooner. I was really going to, you know, I was literally at the hospital yesterday—”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded, smiling.

“— and I was contemplating- wait. What do you mean, you know?” You’d felt your limbs tense, freezing place as you watched how Kun’s smile stayed the same, the same almost-wince of a smile.

“I was at the paed—”

“—diatric ward, right? In the morning?”

Your lips parted, nodding. Wouldn’t that mean that he saw Byul?

“Right, that’s… actually what I wanted to ask you about,” he confessed, a hint of hesitation in his tone, “I thought I saw you yesterday when I was on my way to see a patient but I wasn’t sure… I guess, now I know that it really was you.”

Your eyes widened, “I… for some reason I don’t believe you. What was I wearing?”

Kun laughed, entertaining you anyway, “A grey shirt. Pants.”

A small gasp left you. You were itching to ask if he’d seen Taeyong but it was as if you couldn’t bring yourself to, feeling jittery, your gaze had kept flickering to your parents barely metres away.

“I wanted to ask you about that guy you were with… he looked really familiar but I wasn’t too sure where I’d seen him before,” Kun continued, bringing his hand up to fix his hair even though it wasn’t out of place.

“Oh, really? His name’s Lee Taeyong, do you know him? He’s only a year older than you, pretty sure you guys went to the same university.”

If Kun was shocked before, he didn’t show it. But at the mention of Taeyong’s name, he practically blanched.

“Huh? You’re dating Lee Taeyong?”

“Would you be quieter? You might as well announce it to my mom,” you smacked him on the arm, making him nod profusely, shaking his head as a laugh finally escaped him.

“No, sorry, I was just a little shocked, that’s all.”

“A little?” you rolled your eyes, frowning, “So you do know him? What’s with the reaction, you act like I just told you I was dating your cousin.”

He shot you a skeptical look, “You’re kidding, right? Okay, you probably don’t know ‘cause you didn’t go to the same university but he was uh… I mean, I knew him ‘cause I had a friend that dated him- then again, I’m not sure if you can call it dating but—”

“Dude, you’re kind of freaking me out here. So, what you’re saying is he dated your friend?”

Kun let out an uncertain hum, “Not sure if you can call it dating dating, I mean they kind of… had relations of sorts but—”

“Kun, seriously!”

“Okay, fine! They were friends with benefits for a while, but that was before he started dating that other girl long term, anyway.”

You snickered, the information almost making you shy, not being able to imagine the Taeyong you knew now and how he was in college. Even if Johnny always tells you it’s more than Taeyong lets on.

“I mean… he definitely doesn’t know who I am but he was pretty… uh… popular back then,” Kun huffed, his smile faltering, “but yeah, I was shocked ‘cause after college he pretty much disappeared, no one really knew what happened to him and his girlfriend… but I’m guessing that she’s out of the picture now, obviously.”

You nodded, fidgeting with your hands behind your back in your mental debate on whether or not to tell Kun the truth. He was your friend, and someone you trusted enough, it wouldn’t be as bad as you thought it was, right?

“So you guys are dating now? What were you doing yesterday, anyway? Was that little girl you were with his niece or something?”

You cast another glance at your mom, how she was happily distracted by Kun’s mother as they both munched on the pastries from the church canteen. Letting out a deep breath before grabbing Kun by the arm, you led him outside to a shaded spot underneath a tree away from the rest of the crowd.

“That was his daughter.”

Kun’s eyes widened, clutching tightly onto your arm that held onto his shoulder.

“He has a daughter that’s that old?”

You nodded, “Yeah, she’s his daughter with the girl he was dating in college.”

“So he’s married?” Kun’s expression read pure horror, making you groan, shaking your head.

“No, he’s not. He’s raising her on his own. She’s one of the students at the school I teach at, that’s how I met him.”

Kun let out a sigh, using a hand to support himself against the tree branch next to him, “Talk about school-family collaboration.”

You gasped, smacking him on the arm again, “Shut up, I’m stressed. Okay, but look, you can’t tell my mom, or anyone that could tell her. That includes your mom.”

Kun straightened up, looking at you without bothering to hide his skepticism.

“Your parents don’t know?”

You shook your head.

“Well… don’t worry, because I sure don’t wanna be the one to break the news to them.”

Groaning, you collapsed into a squat, your hands on your temples as you scrunch your eyes shut, a frustrated groan leaving you.

“I feel like such an idiot, I don’t want to hide him and Byul as if i’m ashamed of them because I’m not! This is the happiest i’ve ever been, but i’m still here telling you not to blab on me because i’m a twenty-two year old that’s scared shitless of her mother’s reaction.”

Kun’s gaze was filled with pity, which was kind of why you didn’t really want to look at him right now, you already felt shitty enough.

“I’m guessing he doesn’t know you haven’t told your parents about him and his daughter?”

You couldn’t help it. You looked up at Kun’s pitiful expression, feeling the doomsday-awaits-esque feeling in your heart only increase, nodding at him.  

“I don’t want to hurt him by hiding him, that’s the last thing I want. But I know my mom, and unless some miracle happens, she’s not going to welcome him… or Byul.”

“Still,” Kun frowned, “you have to tell her at some point, right? You know, especially since you said it yourself, this is the happiest you’ve been with someone.”

You nodded, straightening up as you adjusted your clothes, “Okay, I know. I’ll just… slowly try to ease her into noticing how happy I am so she can’t say no.”

Kun snickered, “I mean, if it works, there’s no harm tr-” He glanced at his pocket, fishing out his buzzing phone before looking at you, “trying. Sorry, I might need to head back, my mom’s calling me.”

You shook your head, already beginning to walk back to the canteen with Kun, feeling slightly better but still a little anxious. Confident, nonetheless, that your plan had the potential to work out in your favour.

“It’s alright. We should just meet for lunch another day when you’re free.”

Kun let out a low whistle. 

“Definitely,” he shot you a pointed look, “we have a lot to catch up on.”

Sitting in the back of your parent’s car when they were sending you back to your apartment, you almost felt like you were a teenager again, staring at the back of your mom’s head when you were driving, only drawn from your thoughts when you heard your phone chime with a notification.

Taeyong 1:11pm -Byul and I made cookies, she insists that you come soon to try them before they get cold-

He’d attached a picture of him and Byul, the said girl holding up a cookie in the shape of a (little too rounded) star, the image serving to fill your heart with all the confidence you were lacking. The father-daughter pair had eyes that sparkled and smiles that were absolutely lethal.

You didn’t want to hide them. You meant what you said to Kun, this really was the happiest you’ve ever been.

===

“Teacher Y/N, why did you make your hair like this today?” was the first thing you were greeted with when you’d entered Taeyong’s car that evening.

“C’mon, Byul, I think it looks nice,” Taeyong laughed, making Byul groan.

“I didn’t say it doesn’t look nice, daddy. I was just asking Teacher Y/N why she did it like this today,” she replied smoothly, making your eyebrows raise, an impressed hum leaving you.

“I left it like this today because I was feeling a little... free today, honey,” you told her, turning to face her after you were buckled into the passenger seat, watching how her smile had widened, a playful glint in her eyes.

“You look very pretty.”

You gushed, not being able to help your laughter when you heard Taeyong huff next to you, a mutter of ‘this girl’s stealing my job’ leaving him.

“Thank you, Byul. You look very nice too,” you smiled, reaching your hand out to smooth over her hair.

“Where are we going?”

“I got us a reservation at this place Johnny’s been begging me to take you, it’s Japanese food.”

You smiled, Byul tapping on the back of Taeyong’s seat as she let out a squeal.

“Daddy quick! Before the food gets cold!”

Taeyong lowered his volume, poorly stifling his smile, “Who’s gonna tell her the sushi’s gonna be cold.”

Luckily for the both of you, you didn’t have to, the waiter did it for you.

You realised this place was somewhere your parents had been talking about as well, a new Japanese food joint that specialised in their ramen (fortunately for Byul, who wasn’t a huge fan of sushi). Coincidence, or not, you had been dying to try it, so you figured you’d ought to thank Johnny for shortening the waiting time by recommending it to Taeyong.

It was a nice little bar, not too big, you noticed. Small enough that someone at the furthest end of the restaurant would still be able to see who was at the entrance area, but you didn’t mind. Most of the people here were small families with toddlers and young children, so you knew you had nothing to worry about in terms of Byul’s possible clumsiness.

“You like the soup, honey?” you asked, scooping more noodles from the bigger bowl of ramen into the small bowl Byul was eating from, shifting your seat nearer to her so you could help to wipe her mouth.

Byul nodded, flashing a grin to you over her mouthful of noodles, her other hand holding a thumbs up to you, “I like it, it’s yummy and sweet.”

“Sweet?” Taeyong laughed, earning more nods from Byul.

“Yeah, it’s sweet! I think it’s because the corn is sweet,” she used a finger to poke at the corn in her spoon.

Exchanging a look with Taeyong, another impressed hum left you as you scooped more corn into her soup.

“Well, that’s great then, you can have more corn.”

Byul made a satisfied sound, glancing up at you to mutter a thank you.

“This place is pretty good, don’t you think?” you sighed, leaning back in your seat with a satisfied hum as you saw how Byul had done the same, patting her belly as her empty ice cream bowl sat before her.

Taeyong hummed, giving you a satisfied smile.

“You like it? I think it’s pretty good too, nice place, not too crowded,” he hummed, giving you a small smile.

“What?”

Taeyong tilted his head at you, his gaze softening, “What?” he murmured, his tone gentle, something about it almost making you forget where you were, immersed in the way he was looking at you.

“I feel like I know what you’re going to say.”

“Well, then you should know I’m gonna say it anyway,” his smile grew.

You enjoyed seeing this side of Taeyong, so different from any of the stories you’d heard about him. A hint of youthfulness from his past that was changed, matured almost, but somehow… there was no way to describe it other than to be looking at a boy that just wanted to live in love.

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t say it.” You really did want him to say it, but of course you could never admit that.

“I like it more because you’re here with me.”

You grinned, your face scrunching up in response, setting your chopsticks down when you saw how he’d rest his hand on the table, his palm open facing up.

Taking his hand, you nodded, “I know my reaction isn’t the best to these things but… I feel the same way.”

“Me too,” Byul chimed in happily, her gaze not leaving her noodles, making you laugh, reaching over to brush your fingers through her hair when you heard the waiter speak behind you.

“Alright, table for two?”

“Yes, please. Thank you very much. Honey, maybe next time we should make a reservation, the place looks pretty crowded,” the woman had responded. She almost sounds like your mom, you thought, it almost made you turn around.

You heard the waiter next to you, “Sorry, miss, if you don’t mind, could you shift your chair slightly—”

“Oh, yeah sure, no problem,” you spoke, standing up to shift your chair.

“Y/N?” your hand slipped on the back of your chair at the sound of your name, your body tensing as your gaze darted up, landing on none other than your mom and dad standing next to the waiter, your dad’s gaze fixed on you while your mom’s was fixed on Taeyong.

“What… what’s all this?” Your mom asked, her tone just bordering on hostile.

Taeyong stood up, extending a hand to her.

“Oh, is she a colleague of yours? Nice to meet you. I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Taeyong,” he smiled at her, though your mom made no move to shake his hand.

She hummed, “Right… I’m her mother.”

You wanted to say something, needed to say something, in fact. It was as though you weren’t in control of your body, especially as you watched how Byul had turned around to bow at your parents.

“My name is Lee Byul,” she greeted happily.

“Is this your uh… your niece?” your mother had asked Taeyong, earning a smile and the shake of the head from him.

“Oh, no, this is my dau—”

“Mom,” you finally blurted, receiving a glare from your mom and a frown from Taeyong.

“Can we uh… I’ll explain everything later, just… not now, please.”

Taeyong’s frown deepened, Byul sensing her father’s dismay, the question of, “Why are you sad, daddy?” echoing louder than anything else you could hear at the moment.

You saw the way your mother’s face had fallen at Byul’s question, the way you could detect nothing but anger in her eyes.

You didn’t know what to do first, your eyes almost welling with tears as you shook your head at her, “I promise I’ll explain everything just… not now.”

You quickly reached into your bag, pulling out your wallet as the waiter had ushered your parents to their table, Taeyong getting the hint and cleaning Byul’s mouth before he’d walked her out of the restaurant while you paid.

Your heart was pounding hard as you accepted your credit card from the cashier, shoving your things haphazardly into your bag as you walked out of the shop, making your way to Taeyong’s car parked next to the pavement. You saw him there, leaning against the door with his hands shoved into his coat pockets and his gaze hard as you walked towards him.

“Where’s Byul?” you asked, seeing him gesture with his head to the car.

“In the car,” he’d taken a hand out of his pocket to grasp your hand delicately, “Wait, before we go in. Can you please explain to me what happened just now?” Taeyong’s tone was steady, calm, as if he’d been through this many times before.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me it’s just… she doesn’t know about Byul and—”

“Did you forget to tell her? I don’t understand, I thought you said your parents know that we’re dating.”

“And they do, she knows, I mean, they know, it’s just that… I couldn’t tell them about Byul because...” you stopped yourself short, realizing that you didn’t have a good reason to give him.

“Because you wanted to hide my daughter?” Taeyong asked, his eyebrows raising.

“No, I didn’t want to hide her, that was never my intention.”

Taeyong nodded, “Then what was so bad about your parents knowing?”

You took in a deep breath, clenching your hands tightly in front of you so they would stop trembling.

“I just… I knew she wouldn’t be happy and I didn’t want her to say anything hurtful, to you or to Byul. I wanted to protect the both of you,” you murmured, your throat feeling tight around your voice and your vision blurring, “but I know it’s no excuse, Taeyong, I’m sorry if that ended up hurting you instead.”

Taeyong took in a deep breath, reaching his hand out to grasp your hands in his, releasing his breath through his nose, his gaze searching yours.

“I didn’t say anything just now, but… forgive me for saying this. I know she’s your mom, and that you’re scared of how she’ll act towards me but she can hurt me, do whatever she wants to try to hurt me,” Taeyong’s gaze was serious, his thumbs rubbing over the back of your hands, “but I’m not letting her hurt Byul. Byul isn’t like me, she’s sweet and innocent and loving. I won’t let anyone, no matter who they are, treat her like she’s something to be hidden, or be ashamed of.”

You nodded, certain that Taeyong could feel how your hands were shaking, his hands giving yours a squeeze.

“I know, I’m sorry. I was already planning on telling them,” your breath was shaky, but Taeyong was ever as understanding, and if anything it made you feel even worse.

“You know you have to tell her at one point, better now than never,” Taeyong told you, “I’m not gonna lie, I am hurt that you didn’t tell her about Byul, but I know you care for Byul. And I trust you, to do what you have to do, hmm?”

You nodded, sniffling, “I need to tell her tonight. I know she’ll be expecting me to come by later…”

Taeyong nodded, pulling you closer so he could wrap his arms around you, sighing as he let his head press against yours, one hand cradling the back of your head.

“It’s okay, I’ll explain something to Byul, just… call me if you need anything, alright?”

You nodded, “Thank you, Taeyong.”

He nodded, pulling away from the hug, his hands coming up to gently wipe the tear that had rolled down your cheek to your lips, leaning forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Update me, alright?” You nodded. “No more crying, okay? You’re gonna be alright, you’re stronger than you think,” he let out a small huff of laughter, his smile seeming to effectively reassure you in that moment.

You nodded, pressing your lips into a firm line.

“I won’t, I promise.”

Maybe your promise was working, because now when you were seated in front of your parents at your dining table, it didn’t feel as bad. Maybe more like a job interview, you supposed. You held tightly in your hands your glass of water, the warmth from the cup somehow calming your nerves, so much so that you almost thought your mom looked like she was feeling perfectly fine.

“Honey,” she spoke, tapping her fingers on the table, “Look at me, Honey. I’m only gonna say this once.”

You kept your gaze on her hand, humming to prompt her to continue, expecting her to just go on about how she wants what’s best for you, that she wanted you to be careful.

What followed, though, was perhaps the ‘worst-case scenario’ you were fearful of this whole time.

“Stop seeing that boy immediately.”

You glanced up at her, eyes wide with shock, your mouth blurting out the first thing you could think of. Deflecting, you supposed.

“He’s five years older than me, he’s not a boy.”

“And you’re a girl who can’t differentiate attention from attraction, don’t try to distract me.”

You glanced up at your dad, your lips parting in shock when you saw just how over-it he looked.

“Taeyong is a good guy, he’s really loving… and kind,” you attempted to talk him up to her, though it was futile, her fist clenching and unclenching.

“Well, that’s perfect for him, then. He’ll have no problem finding another woman to love him when you break up.”

“I love—”

“Cut it out with your bullshit, Y/N. You’re barely in your twenties, you don’t know anything about love.”

You wanted to laugh, you felt like what she was trying to reduce you into, a stubborn, rebellious teenager.

“Must you choose something like this to be stubborn with me?” She sighed, “Honey, you were never like this before.”

You frowned. 

“What is ‘like this’?” You let go of your glass, your wrist aching with how hard you were holding your glass, shifting in your seat uncomfortably.

“Never so eager to be stupid,” your mother’s tone was cold, harsh.

You knew what she was doing, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Why is it stupid? He has a stable job, he’s got a lovely family—”

“You met his family already?”

You nodded, blinking harshly as you watched the water in your glass become unclear when your vision blurred.

“Yes, I have. And they’re lovely people,” your tone was spiteful now, you could almost hear Taeyong telling you to be nice.

Your mom let out a deep sigh.

“There is a whole world of differences between the both of you. He’s at a completely different stage of life, with completely different priorities. And you expect him to understand you? Much less, do you think you can understand him and support him and his child?”

You weren’t sure what spurred you on. Maybe it was your anger, or the frustration that she still managed to have so much control over your emotions.

“Well, what if I do? What if I do understand him? Or what if he understands me? What then?” you snapped, almost instantly regretting your words. You didn’t think you’d ever spoken to your mom like this before.

“Watch your tone when you speak to me. You see?” she glanced at your father, turning back to you with an even icier glare, “You think I’m stupid, Y/N? Sure, now everything seems like you’re a perfect little family but you are not ready for motherhood, I can tell you that. You’re still immature and blinded by the fluff he’s been feeding you.”

You stood up, your body seeming to move before you could process, your body feeling as though it were burning with how much you’d wanted to say to her.

“He’s been nothing but good to me—”

“That’s not enough of a reason. Just because that boy ruined his life doesn’t mean you have to!” her voice raised, your dad grasping her arm and murmuring words to get her to calm down, you assumed. Whatever it was, you were too caught up in your own anger to pay attention.

Your lips parted, warmth flooding your face.

“How… How can you say that?”

Your dad had cleared his throat, his gaze searching your mother’s face, as if trying to find the part of her that wasn’t upset, “I think that’s enough, Honey. Both of you are too upset and tired to think clearly, I think we should have this conversation another day.”

Your mom had simply glared at you.

“Fine,” her tone was calm now, “If you want to throw away your future, that’s none of my business. Now get out of my house, I don’t even want to look at you right now.”

You didn’t bother reasoning, simply grabbing your things and leaving, finding yourself at a taxi stand before you knew it.

Maybe you shouldn’t have made that promise to Taeyong, since you were long past the point of controlling your tears now.

===

“Byul,” Taeyong murmured to his daughter the next day, as Byul had pointed to the woman with her young daughter in the movie they were watching, saying that it was you.

“Uh-huh?”

“Do you… ever think about your mom?”

Byul looked at Taeyong with evident disdain, picking up another handful of cereal to shove in her mouth, shaking her head at him.

“No. She doesn’t think of me, so I don’t want to think of her.”

Taeyong’s lips parted, nodding slowly. Byul had only frowned, leaning her head closer to him, getting up on her knees (making Taeyong quickly save the cereal bowl before it could fly off the sofa) and inspecting his face, “Why? Are you thinking about that woman?”

Taeyong laughed, “Don’t call her that, Byul. She’s still the one that gave birth to you.”

Byul shrugged, “That’s what grandma calls her.”

Taeyong figured that was where she’d learnt it from.

“Well, not really… I was just wondering… do you want a mom?”

Byul stared blankly at Taeyong, a small pout on her lips as she thought about it for a second.

“Do I get to choose who it is?”

Taeyong’s eyes widened.

“I mean… Byul, baby, it’s not that simple. Daddy has to love the person and that person has to love you too and take care of you—”

“I know! Teacher Y/N! She always comes to play with us and she takes care of me. Do you love Teacher Y/N, daddy? If you do then it’s perfect! She can be my mom!” She used her small hands to cup Taeyong’s face, eagerness written all over her wide eyes and her grin.

Taeyong laughed, his hands covering hers on his face, nodding.

“I do.”

Byul squealed, hands leaving his face instantly as she began jumping on the sofa excitedly before flopping down next to Taeyong again, a satisfied smile leaving her (Taeyong noticed she’d always acted this way at confessions of love, especially after watching PG family films with her uncle Johnny), rolling over to stare at Taeyong’s phone.

Taeyong had figured she’d wanted the cereal, picking up the bowl and expecting her to sit upright to receive it, though she did nothing of the sort, her gaze continued to be fixed on his phone screen.

“Why are you looking at my phone like that, Byul?”

She looked up at him, beaming, “Well, aren’t you gonna tell her?”

===

Perhaps Byul’s excitement was rather short lived, though.

A child’s thought process is interesting, to say the least. Especially a child who was always intellectually stimulated like Byul. She was advanced in her ability to converse, her grasp of language more proficient than the majority of her peers, but no matter how well she spoke, how adult-like and responsible she seemed. At her core, she was a child.

And that wasn’t a bad thing, not at all. She was innocent, inquisitive, a light to those around her. Like her father, she was affectionate and caring. Their bond was special, and you understood why. She was his number one priority, and is his number one priority, for that matter.

So when Byul had spoken to her friends in school, bragging about how she was going to have a new mom, she definitely wasn’t expecting to hear that that was a bad thing.

“Then your mommy and daddy will get another baby and everybody will play with your baby and then nobody will want to play with you.”

Of course, Byul didn’t want that. The possibility of the new love and child taking her precious dad away from her. Byul was fine with sharing toys, and sharing food, but sharing her dad? Not so much.

Maybe, to anyone else, it would’ve sounded like a problem that could’ve been solved easily, something Byul would’ve gotten over with time, you know, a ‘she’s just a kid, they’ll always be dramatic’ kind of situation.

But like you said, at Byul’s core, she was a child that wanted her father to be by her side and give her attention. And the resistance to the threat of losing that had manifested in a very intense way through Byul’s behaviour.

You didn’t notice it at first, since you barely saw Byul during the day, busy with tending to your toddlers. Which meant you also didn’t notice the way the kinder teachers had been gossiping amongst themselves, shooting you dirty looks and eye-rolls, assuming you were the cause behind Byul’s recent behaviour.

You only noticed when you were heading back from the kitchen with a full jug of warm water for your class so you could prepare their milk for them before naptime, seeing Byul and her classmate standing in front of the principal’s desk getting what you liked to call a ‘stern warning’.

Frowning, you tried your best to eavesdrop, slowing your steps as you made your way past them, only picking up your principal asking, “Byul, when we’re angry, why don’t…”

Pushing through the doors, you’d made your way to your co-teacher, nudging her, “Hey, why are those two seeing Ms Jamie?”

Your co-teacher, Teacher Ning hummed with a shrug, scrolling the food delivery app so she could order her lunch.

“Dunno,” she sighed.

You pursed your lips, “Weird… really out of the ordinary for Byul to get in trouble like that.”

Halting her actions to look at you, Ning hummed, “Wait, Byul?”

You nodded, “Yeah, exactly. Wonder what happened.”

Setting the jug of water down on top of one of the cupboards in your class, you took the tray of the children’s milk formula and a stack of cups to the cupboard.

“Hold on, lemme try asking,” She had called Byul’s teacher when she saw her leading her class back to their classroom.

“Hey, Teacher Hana, what did those two in the office do?”

You missed the way Hana had directed a pointed stare your way.

“Byul threw her pencil case at his head,” she spoke, an unimpressed undertone to her voice.

“Byul? But why would she do that? She’s never done that before, right?” your co-teacher frowned, earning a shrug from Hana.

“Who knows? Byul’s been acting up a lot these days, maybe something’s happening at home.”

You’d tapped the container of milk formula a little too harshly at the sound of Hana’s words, looking up to meet her gaze which almost looked as though she was trying to provoke you.

“Home?” Ning turned to you, concern etched on her features, giving you a small nudge, “did anything happen?”

You shook your head, trying to wrack your brain as you recalled whether Byul’s behaviour was off since the last time you saw her, coming up short. She was perfectly fine the last time you’d dropped by. Then again, that was more than a few days ago, who knows what could’ve happened since then.

“Not… not that I know of… maybe I'll ask Taeyong later.”

“Yeah, you should.”

You contemplated coming clean about the fight you had with your parents, wondering if your Ning could advise you on what to do. Or maybe you were just looking for an excuse to vent.

You were desperate to get your feelings off your chest but didn’t have anyone to tell other than Johnny or Kun, and you knew they were pretty busy with their own things. You doubted you could bottle it up for that long.

For now, you chose distraction instead.

“Hey, did you see what Emma’s mom wrote in her communication book? She was asking if we could discuss something about Emma’s seating arrangement during the parent teacher meeting.”

“Right, I almost forgot that was coming soon,” she groaned.

“It’s almost July, you know,” you reminded with a laugh, making her wave you off.

Narrowing her eyes at you, she scoffed, “Yeah, yeah. I may be old but I'm not that old.”

You put the last of the milk formula containers back into the tray, glancing at her as you got rid of the last bit of your hesitance to talk about Taeyong.

“Speaking of July…”

One thing about Ning, was that she was very understanding. And in times like this, when you really needed a friend, she was someone that always came through for you. 

“Someone’s birthday, isn’t it?”

“Wow, your memory really is better than I thought.”

She rolled her eyes, “Ha, ha, very funny. Did you plan anything special for the dear?”

You nodded, “He’s pretty into those flower gardens so I was thinking I could bring him to this park that has different trails through butterfly gardens and flower fields,” you hummed, “then I booked dinner for us at this restaurant by the beach.”

“I was contemplating bringing him bowling but I think he’d be too tired.” 

Trying not to flush at the way she’d waggled her eyebrows at you, “Anything… after that?”

Your lips parted, nudging her with your elbow, “Not anything that you’re thinking about, that’s for sure.”

She had simply hummed, “Really?”

“I’m concerned that you sound so surprised.”

“No, I just figured, you two are young… crazy in love… energe—”

“Okay, that’s enough,” you laughed, turning to face your class, “Alright, eyes on Teacher Y/N, we have five more minutes before we have to keep our books, okay?”

A scattered chorus of ‘okay’s had followed, and you made your way to the cupboard in the far end of the room, opening it to reveal the children’s sleeping mats, fishing your disinfectant spray and a hand towel from another shelf.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook, I’m coming back during lunch to interrogate you,” Ning told you with a playful grin, “Anyway, I’m ordering coffee, you want your usual?”

You kept yourself busy till then, letting her go for her meeting with the principal while you got your kids ready for nap time, using your phone to play some music for them before you were finally able to seat yourself at one of their tables. Though that rest-time was short-lived as well, your mind was running through a mental list of things you had planned to get done during naptime, a long sigh leaving you as you retrieved your laptop in defeat.

Thankfully enough, you’d heard your name being called softly, the sing-song tone accompanied with the rustling of paper making you sigh in relief, Ning soon arriving at your table with your coffee and sandwich.

“What’s all that?” you gestured to the very large sheets she was carrying in one hand.

She let out a small groan, glaring at the things in her hand, “They did a review of the curriculum, and I don’t know why but they decided to rename everything, so now we need to paste these stickers on our song and rhyme sheets.”

Your lips parted in shock, “Are they already pre-cut?” you hoped desperately for her to say yes. You already had plenty of cutting to do on your own for your materials, but this was a lot more tedious.

She mirrored your hopeful smile, “No, dear, they aren’t. I’m gonna need your help, I know I said I'm not that old but my eyesight is feeling very old, I can barely see the dotted lines on these things.”

You sighed, nodding, “Okay, fine. Pass me the red scissors.”

Alternating between bites of your sandwich (fed to you by your co-teacher) and cutting your materials, you were enjoying the time you had now where you could just do your activities mindlessly.

That is, until a text had come in.

“The professor?” Ning nudged you, though your gaze was quick to read the contact name.

dad 2:02pm -your mom hasn’t cooled down quite yet, I don’t think she will anytime soon, but don’t worry. You just do your own thing, I know you won’t do anything careless-

You’d sighed at the text, almost missing the line you were cutting along, Ning picking up the way your mood had changed almost immediately.

“What happened?”

You gave her a look, shaking your head, “Nah, it’s nothing, I just… got into a little fight with my mom.”

“Did she text you?”

You shook your head, “Nope, that was my dad. My mom’s been ignoring me for a week now, she won't answer any of my texts or calls.”

She grimaced, “That doesn’t sound like a ‘little’ fight, do you wanna talk about it?”

You pursed your lips, setting your things down in your lap so you could take a sip of your coffee.

“She’s upset because she doesn’t want me to keep dating Taeyong.”

“Well, why not? Did he do something?”

Shaking your head, you took another sip of your coffee, “Just… guess he’s just not someone she wants her daughter to date, I guess. She got upset when she found out about Byul, you know, kept saying I shouldn’t be ruining my life and getting myself involved.”

Ning had gone silent at that, a hint of a furrow to her brow as she pressed her lips into a firm line.

“Did you talk to the dear about it?”

You sighed, shaking your head, “We didn’t manage to find time to talk about it since that day, but still, I don’t know how exactly to bring it up… like ‘hey, my mom hates you because she thinks you’re an irresponsible kid and wants me to date someone else’���” you stopped yourself, an exasperated huff leaving you, “It’s just… the conversation’s gonna reach a dead end, that’s all I’m saying.”

Ning frowned, setting her drink down and reaching out a hand to grasp your shoulder gently.

“It’s not good for you, though. I can tell this thing with your mom is upsetting you… and it’s clear that it won’t end unless you guys reach some sort of... understanding—”

“Which isn’t gonna happen,” you snapped, setting your kiddy scissors down onto the table.

You’d wanted to scream, groan, whatever it was to voice out your frustration. Sure, fighting with your mom wasn’t ‘good for you’, but frankly, at this point of time you didn’t know what was.

What else was there for you to do? You were angry at your mom, and she was angry at you. Knowing her for the twenty-two years of your life, you could safely say that your mom was unlikely to get rid of her prejudice against Taeyong, and there very well wasn’t much you could do about it.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to get angry, I just… feel really shitty about it,” you huffed, letting go of your scissors and rubbing at the flesh below your thumb, already aching from all the cutting you were doing, “Of course, I don’t wanna fight with my mom, but I’m not ready to just… give up my relationship with Taeyong. And for what, anyway? Just because she doesn’t think he’s high-profile enough?”

Nodding along, you’d felt her giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze, “It’s tough, definitely. But I think… if I were in your position, I wouldn’t give up yet, you know? Let your mom see how your relationship is, the goodness of it. Maybe it’ll warm her up to the idea after a while.”

You hummed. You had to admit, it did sound possible, but you figured the more pressing issue at hand was to figure out what was triggering Byul’s behaviour lately. You hoped it was nothing serious, after all, all you wanted was for the girl to have good memories of her childhood.

You guessed now that your problems were more systematically laid out in front of you, you could only tackle them step by step, feeling a little more hopeful than you were just moments before.

“Okay, okay. I know. I’ll just talk to Taeyong, then I’ll talk to my mom, then I’ll just see how things pan out from there.”

===

Things were going relatively well in the other administrative tasks on your list. You’d managed to book your reservation for Taeyong’s birthday dinner, you’d gotten your mom to finally open your texts, you’d completed your lesson plans for the next week. Things seemed to be falling into place. Or at least… most things.

In the time that you were speeding through your tasks, you hadn’t realised that all this time wasn’t necessarily helping Byul’s (bubbling) pot of emotions.

Taeyong had mentioned it one or two times, how Byul was a lot more clingy towards him recently, but you’d both dismissed it to be her way of showing more affection to her father, you know, since she had a secure attachment to him.

But whenever you were around… it had almost heightened. Byul wasn’t as keen on giving you time alone with Taeyong, nor was she as welcoming of your presence as she was before. Something had definitely shifted, and it was simply a shame that it had taken you so long to realise that it was more than just something to go ‘aww, that’s cute, she’s really such a daddy’s girl, isn’t she?’ at.

You were feeling the full extent of the ‘off’-ness today. Coming into school early for your morning shift, you were sitting at the front of the school doing health checks for the children on a Monday morning.

Greeting the children as usual, you’d greet the parents and make simple conversation as you took the children’s temperature. This time, though, you seemed to be greeted with not-so-welcoming stares and hushed whispers, not to mention the occasional discomfort expressed by some parents through requests for another teacher to do the temperature check instead.

“I don’t need you trying to seduce my husband either,” you heard one of the mothers mutter under their breath as you stood up, their mom-friend snickering behind them.

Frowning, though making sure to maintain your composure in front of the children and parents, you did as they requested, feeling an indescribably shitty feeling take over you.

You didn’t know why it had taken so long to settle in. You knew there were rumours about you and Taeyong floating around for a while now, but the parents hadn’t bitten the bait until now, you supposed. At least, not as strongly.

You could already see it happening, getting called into Ms Jamie’s office and her firing you, getting blacklisted and having rumours following you into whatever school you applied for a job at in the future.

It didn’t help that as you were walking back into the centre, letting Teacher Hana do the temperature checks, Taeyong had spotted you through the windows of the preschool, giving you an innocent wave, holding up a cup of coffee for you to see.

It would’ve been a sweet gesture, if you weren’t already in your head about the parents seeing you and Taeyong interact.

Walking briskly over to the window of your classroom, you tried to be as discreet as you could, pretending to arrange the art displays on the grill as you spoke to him.

“Hey… thanks,” you murmured softly, not feeling able to go any louder than that, “you didn’t have to.”

Taeyong shook his head, using his hand to adjust his tie, “It’s fine, I knew you wouldn’t get one since you usually don’t have time when you’re on morning shift,” he smiled.

Letting him pass you the cup of coffee through the window, you glanced around nervously, seeing one of the parents near the door eyeing Taeyong curiously.

“I need to go, I’ll text you,” you told him quickly, not even letting yourself wait for him to say goodbye before walking away and seeking refuge in the teacher’s resource room.

Thankful to find it empty, you’d set your coffee down there, fishing your locker key from your pocket to unlock your locker, retrieving your laptop from the little wooden compartment and shutting the locker, letting your hand linger on the key a little longer to give you time to calm down, taking your time to step out of the resource room.

Ignoring the stares you were getting from the parents, you shut the door of the resource room behind you, rolling your shoulders back as you gave yourself a mental pep-talk.

Sure, people could say you were running away from your problems, but frankly, there was nothing much you could do about the situation right now, at 7:58 in the morning, you didn’t have time to worry about this now. You had breakfast to serve.

===

The feeling had lingered at the back of your mind till lunchtime, feeling a little annoyed that the spitefulness you detected in the parents’ behaviour was also showing up in Hana’s behaviour. You were thankful your children had managed to distract you from the yucky feelings she was giving you, but you guessed with how obvious she was being, it was only a matter of time before you had to answer to these rumours.

And that time had come sooner than you thought.

You’d been working on your write-ups for the children’s portfolios when you heard quick footsteps coming your way, the unmistakable sound of Ms Jamie’s arrival. Looking up out of curiosity to see who she was looking for, you’d almost felt your heart stop when she’d met your gaze, gesturing to her office.

“Teacher Y/N? My office, please.”

Setting your things down (and taking one last sip of your coffee), you’d followed her in silence to her office, the tension that settled when you had shut the door behind you making you desperately want to escape.

A petite woman, with short cropped hair that was almost fully grey. Ms Jamie had quite the reputation among the staff in the centre. She was rather a no-nonsense woman, precise about the operations, organisation of and the quality of the staff in her centre. You’d heard it since your first day here, ‘Ms Jamie hates it when her staff aren’t in line’.

So, you did what you supposed was the smart thing to do. You submitted your lesson plans on time, did the children’s documentation and prepared their academic portfolio to the best of your ability, and always made sure to produce quality work no matter what it was. Because of that, you managed to avoid butting heads with Ms Jamie in your entire year working here.

Now, however, as she was sitting across from you at her desk, her expression almost void of emotion, you knew she was pissed. So much for one year of star-employee behavior, huh.

“Y/N… I think I’m just going to start by saying how I’ve loved having you work for me for the past year. Though I know you were fulfilling your bond, it's been a really great year working with you, nonetheless… I think I’ve always appreciated your work ethic, and your ability to always stay on task and lead in the projects I've assigned you to. I’m sure you know this, with your recent promotion, and all.”

You nodded along with her, your hands clasped tightly in your lap, leg bouncing anxiously as you anticipated her next words. You could almost hear it already, yeah you’re a senior teacher and whatever, but we think you’re super unprofessional, so you’re fired!’

“I’m just a little concerned by the calls I’ve been getting from some of the parents recently… as well as feedback from Teacher Hana about Byul’s recent behaviour. You know, as an employee I trust you, so I wanted to hear directly from you on whether they were just rumours or whether you are actually…  in a romantic relationship with Byul’s father.”

You’d surprised yourself at how calm you were, nodding at her as she continued to tap her fingers absently on her table.

“I understand. I think… there’s no way to beat around the bush for it so,” your gaze was anywhere but hers, flitting from the box of surgical masks for kids to the little container of sweets next to her computer, even to the large scheduler she had splayed across her keyboard.

You could just say it, no big deal. You were stronger than this (You hoped).

“Yes, I’ve been seeing Mr Lee.”

Ms Jamie had gone still at that, her hands halting their tapping as her gaze remained firm, “I understand. How long has this been going on?”

You purse your lips, pressing them into a firm line before biting the inside of your cheek, your hands loosening their grip on each other, “About a year.”

She hummed, taking in a deep breath and letting it out through a long sigh.

“I’m sure you know this, despite your actions, but our school has a very strict policy about parent-teacher relationships We do not condone anything of the sort, for the child’s sake,” she gave you a pointed look, “unfortunately, it seems that you have let this go on longer than it should have,” her tone was disappointed, like how you imagined your mother would’ve sounded scolding you (if only your mother wasn’t a live wire).

“Considering that you are a short time from completing your bond and you have proven yourself to be a very capable teacher, I was initially planning on offering you a permanent position here. However, because of… this, I’m afraid that can no longer happen. I value the reputation of the centre, which your current relationship is affecting. Many parents have expressed concern about conflict of interest for Byul and the other students.”

You stared blankly at her, mulling over her words in your head. You’d originally planned on taking on a permanent position here, doing part-time studies to complete your masters after you were done fulfilling your bond, but Byul was only turning 5 this year, she still had almost one and a half years left before she would graduate.

Sure, there was the option of just quitting and finding another centre to work at, but you already had so much going on for you here, it would be more than difficult for you to just throw all of that away and start over in another centre. Not to mention the pay at this preschool was a lot better than what you would get at the other schools in your city; you knew if you took another job elsewhere, you’d need to get at least one part-time job on the weekend to pay your bills. And if you wanted to do your masters on top of that, it would definitely be too much for you to handle. There was an option to go overseas to do your masters, of course, but that option already spoke for itself.

The cherry on top was that the kids you were teaching were a class that you were supposed to follow to graduation. You would be devastated if you had to leave them halfway (and, of course, pity the children who would have to adjust to their next teacher’s teaching style after getting accustomed to yours).

You didn’t even know why you were considering all of this, even after she’d basically just told you you were getting fired.

“So…” you finally spoke, your previously glazed over eyes now regaining their focus, meeting Ms Jamie’s gaze.

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly feeling dry and your head beginning to ache, “So, basically, my options are to either stop my… relationship, or… quit?”

Ms Jamie wasted no time to give you an affirmative nod, “Somewhat. Y/N, regardless of whether you are working here or not. I hope you understand that this is for the benefit of the child. Byul has recently expressed a lot of distress and confusion about your place in her life. I hope you’re smart enough to know and admit that whatever you’re doing is not good for Byul. The child is confused and upset by your relationship with her father and what that means for her.”

You frowned, did she speak to Byul?

As if reading your mind, Ms Jamie had answered, “I have already spoken to Byul this morning, and these were the sentiments she shared with me. Regardless, I know I have no power over whatever decision you choose to make, but I will say one thing, and that is that you are damaging this child with this relationship of yours, to ask her to welcome you with open arms is expecting too much of her.”

“Teacher Hana has told me she had heard Byul multiple times during activities telling her peers that she did not want a mother, and had mentioned you as that mother figure multiple times.”

If you thought you felt shitty in the morning, now you were feeling really shitty. You’d wanted nothing more than to bury yourself in a hole in the ground and never come back out.

“Discontinuing your employment here is an option you’d rather take to keep your relationship, I know that. But for the sake of the child, Y/N, this relationship has to stop. Regardless of whether you remove yourself from the preschool, if you do not remove yourself from the child’s life, you will continue being their teacher in their head. Her behaviour will not be improved just by your departure from the preschool.”

You knew what she was trying to say. You needed to separate yourself from Taeyong, for Byul’s sake.

“Did you uh… did you speak to Taey-I mean, Byul’s father yet?” you’d dared to ask, unsure what to feel when you were met with the shake of the head.

“We have updated him about Byul’s recent behaviour, but that was when we were still trying to pinpoint the trigger. I thought I'd at least give you some time to discuss the matter personally with her father first.”

How nice of her.

“Okay,” you murmured, your voice sounding more tired than you’d expected, “How much time do I have? To… you know... discuss.”

“I understand you’re busy with preparations for the parent-teacher meeting, so I’ll expect your decision to arrive the week after that. I understand that you still have two months before your contract ends, so depending on your decision, we will discuss things like serving your notice period after that.”

“So… the Monday right after the weekend of the parent-teacher meeting?”

Ms Jamie nodded, “I trust that's enough time for you to have your discussion.”

Today was the 21st of June. The parent-teacher meeting was on the 3rd of July. That was two weeks. Fourteen days. It sure didn’t feel like enough time, but you knew you didn’t have a choice. This whole mess was something you willingly walked into anyway, you were just dumb enough not to have thought about this sooner.

You stood up, giving Ms Jamie a small bow.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to get back to you as soon as I can,” you pressed your lips into a firm line, glancing at her face just as quickly as you averted your gaze, “I’m really sorry, by the way… for all the confusion I caused.”

You heard her sigh.

“Dear, I think we both know it’s not me you should be apologizing to.”

===

“You’re what?!”

His reaction had made your heart sink, triggering your already sensitive state as you felt your throat constrict, the pain sharp and stinging.

Well, thanks for making me feel better, Johnny.

Johnny’s gaze had softened, watching as you kept your head down as you ate your food, poorly hiding the fact that you were on the brink of tears.

“Hey, hey, c’mon, don’t cry,” his tone was immediately gentler, his hand reaching out to take yours, clasping it between his hands and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Take it slow, we’ve got all the time you need to explain what happened, alright?” he insisted, a weak hum of acknowledgement coming from you.

Sniffling, you swallowed your mouthful of food, leaning back to fish in your bag for a packet of tissues, finally finding it but groaning when you saw that there was only one tissue left in the packet.

You wiped at your nose, “I mean, it’s not like I didn’t see it coming, it’s just… I feel so stupid for not thinking about it sooner. I’m a teacher, for God’s sake! And I didn’t even realise how much I was affecting Byul,” you huffed, your tears rolling down far too quickly for your pathetic piece of tissue to handle.

“So, she’s been acting up recently, you know? I don’t know when it started, but it was about more than a week ago,” you began, shutting your eyes tight as you tried your best to regulate your breathing, embarrassed to be crying in the middle of a casual eatery.

Johnny intuitively knew when it started. He remembered the conversation he had with Taeyong around that time, about how happy he was that Byul was open to the idea of you as her mom. Perhaps it had started then.

“But Taeyong and I, we just thought it was her being affectionate. I mean, I’m an idiot, I should’ve realised sooner. It’s so obvious, now that I think about it. She was avoiding me, Johnny,” you frowned, wiping at your nose as you let out a shaky sigh, “When she would come to school, she wouldn’t want to say goodbye to him, she’d just keep crying and clinging to him. She didn’t want me around Taeyong, it’s like she’s scared I’m gonna take him away from her and I feel so bad for… for letting her feel that way.”

Nodding along as he listened patiently to you, Johnny felt his heart ache. He had a feeling he knew where this was going, and he hated every bit of it. It’d been a long time since he’d seen Taeyong so lovestruck, so happy, so… Taeyong, that he knew it would be nothing short of terrible to see him lose that.

“And I know that the right thing to do is to think about Byul and what will make her happy and what’s good for her, but I don’t like it, it feels like shit because it means I can’t…” you pouted, feeling as though you couldn’t get your words out.

“keep Taeyong by your side,” Johnny murmured softly, the look in your eyes showing Johnny that he’d spoken correctly.

“I don’t know,” you huffed, “maybe my mom was right, maybe i’m too young for this. Maybe I just don’t know how to handle myself and now I’m ruining Byul’s life because of that—”

Johnny frowned, “C’mon, don’t say that.”

“How am I supposed to think about a future with him when something like this is all it takes to make me like… this,” you gestured to yourself, hand covering your eyes as you begged yourself to stop crying, “She’s right, Johnny. I’m not in a good enough mental state right now, I have too many things in my mind and it’s just… too much of a mess.”

You tore your gaze away from the placemat to meet Johnny’s sympathetic gaze, “Taeyong doesn’t deserve this… he deserves better. He deserves someone that can actually love him and support him and Byul.”

Johnny shook his head, “That’s not you talking. You think you can convince yourself you don’t love him? Can you even say it? That you don’t love him?”

Your tears seemed to never end, shaking your head, “I love him.”

Johnny glanced at your phone that lit up from a notification.

taeyong

8:12pm -just dropped Byul at my mom’s house, do you want me to come pick u up?-

“He just texted you.”

“Shit,” you wiped harshly at your eyes and cheeks, “I’m supposed to meet him later.”

Johnny’s lips parted in shock, “Well, what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head, hands finding purchase on the strap of your bag.

“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes tightly, opening them and forcing yourself to stop crying, “I know I need to talk to him about it, but I don’t know what he’s gonna say.”

Johnny frowned, a defeated sigh leaving him. As his friend, he hated seeing you like this and knowing there wasn’t much he could do about it.

“You’re not giving him a choice, you know?...” Johnny fiddled with the stem of his wine glass, “you know he’ll choose Byul’s happiness over his no matter what. That’s just how he is.”

You inhaled deeply, already feeling a headache coming on from your crying.

“I know. I don’t want to put him in a position where he has to choose either.”

“Then, aren’t you the one that has to decide?”

Sniffling, you shook your head, “That’s the thing… I have no choice. Everything just points to me breaking up with him.”

Johnny pursed his lips, deep in thought as you focused on getting yourself to calm down.

“Getting Byul to recover won’t be easy, but it won’t be any easier with you around,” Johnny finally spoke, “but you want my honest opinion, right? And I think… what you and Taeyong have together is too good to give up. I think, if you’re patient enough, things will work out in their own way.”

You huffed, “You’re not making this any better, Johnny, you always say this.”

Johnny nodded, “And I’m serious about it, look at my face, does it look like I’m kidding to you? It’ll work out—”

“In the name of love,” you sighed, touching the skin under your eyes that felt tender now.

“Exactly. Now, do you want some eye-drops? Your eyes make you look like you’re super stoned.”

===

“Hey, what happened? Did you drink?” Taeyong giggled upon seeing your face, greeting you with a kiss.

You could only return a weak laugh, wincing at your lack of energy to put on a brave face.

“Your eyes are really red, do you want some eye-drops?” he asked, removing your bag from your shoulder and carrying it as he led you to his room.

Guess Johnny’s eye drops didn’t help.

The sniff you’d let out made Taeyong frown.

“Wait, did something happen? Are these… crying eyes? Or did Johnny lie about bringing you for dinner,” he murmured, leaning closer to you, “Okay, but then again, there’s no smell.”

You huffed, not being able to help your smile as you shook your head. Taeyong set your bag down quickly, taking your hands in his as he searched your gaze.

“Nah, just… tough day at work,” you pressed your lips together tightly, taking in a deep breath in your attempt to steady yourself.

“Okay, how about this. You can go wash up first, then we can watch a movie or something. We’ve got the whole night to make you feel better, alright?”

You nodded, murmuring a small thanks as you felt him let go of your hands, one of his hands moving to the back of your head as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

Coming out of the shower, putting on the spare shirt and shorts you’d left here for days when you slept over, running your hands through your hair with a sigh. You could hear the faint sound of the television coming from the living room, figuring Taeyong was there busy selecting a movie.

As you towel dried your hair, you made your way to sit at the foot of Taeyong’s bed, watching the fish swimming around in his fish tank. What a simple life his fishes had, you were almost envious. Watching them swim had calmed you down, definitely, but that didn’t change the fact that you’d felt heavy, wanting nothing more than to just shut down but you couldn’t.

Stepping out of his room, you saw Taeyong using his phone on the sofa, his legs tucked up to his chest, giving you a soft smile when he saw you.

Getting a glass of water for yourself, Taeyong had tugged your hand gently, prompting you to sit next to him as he wrapped his arm around you, letting you rest your head on his chest as you lay on the sofa together.

Watching whisper of the heart, the two of you were relatively quiet, Taeyong’s hand playing with yours. Though Taeyong could sense that you weren’t paying attention, your usual comments and questions whenever you watched movies together were absent tonight.

“Did you have a good time at dinner with Johnny?” he murmured, earning a hum from you.

“Yeah… was good,” you murmured, earning a hum from Taeyong.

“What happened at work? Anything I can help with?” he asked. You wondered what you’d done to deserve someone like Taeyong, always so thoughtful.

You shifted in your seat, turning around to look at him, almost being able to see yourself in the reflection of his glasses. Reaching your hand out to brush his hair away from where it was falling over his eyes.

“Nah, it’s just… I was feeling a little stressed and stuff… thinking about what my plans are after my bond is over.”

Taeyong’s gaze remained unwavering as he nodded at you, “You said you’d wanted to continue with this job and do your masters part-time, right?”

You nodded, “Yeah, I did… I was just thinking like, you know, what if I didn’t want to continue at this preschool and stuff.”

Humming thoughtfully, Taeyong’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “But, you said yourself, right? The pay there is one of the best in the city.”

You sighed, “Yeah.”

“I mean, maybe if you really wanted to, you could try applying for another job elsewhere? I’m sure Johnny has contacts at a few good ones with good pay. Hmm? See how that goes before you make your decision?”

You let out a groan before you could help yourself, eliciting a burst of laughter from Taeyong.

“Wish I could just take a break from work and go do my masters overseas, or something. But long-distance isn’t something I’d like very much.”

Taeyong grimaced, “Me neither.”

“The distance might do Byul some good, though,” you’d mentioned as casually as you could, earning a dismayed grunt from Taeyong.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, earning a shrug from you, shifting in your seat again so you were sitting upright now, your hand fiddling with his that was resting on your thigh.

You hummed, “I mean, you know, since she’s been acting up recently.”

Taeyong dismissed your worries with a shake of his head, “Don’t say that as if it’s your fault—”

“Okay, but what if it is?” you insisted, hoping Taeyong would get the hint and look past his feelings for you.

Just as quickly, Taeyong had grasped your hand, interlocking your fingers.

“It’s not your fault. We’re partners in this, okay?”

There it was again, the little sparkle of his eyes as he looked at you, somehow managing to dissipate your worries just for that moment, overwhelmed with the feeling as though you could get over this issue, “Whatever it is, we’ll figure out how to help Byul, together. It isn’t something you should feel solely responsible for.”

On the contrary, Ms Jamie and Teacher (BYUL) would definitely beg to differ.

It was almost ironic, all the things you studied about how there were so many factors to consider in a child’s environment that could affect their behaviour. Yet when push comes to shove, people tend to take the easy way out and eliminate the most glaring factor- which in this case was you.

“Y/N,” he called, your thoughts halted as you met his gaze, shocking you when he’d pulled you closer, meeting lips with yours.

You meant it when you said every kiss with Taeyong felt like your first. And you said that because it was like each time, you were reminded of how much love you had for him, as heart-wrenching that reminder was right now.

Pulling away, he’d rest his forehead against yours, his tone gentle and soft, but no less serious.

“I love you, alright?” a small smile played on his lips, “We’ll figure something out, together. I promise.”

“Promise?” you echoed, more out of shock than as a question.

He nodded, “Promise.”

===

“Promise!” Byul stretched her hand far in front of her, her pinky finger sticking out (demanding a promise from Taeyong to get her bread to snack on later on) as Taeyong snapped a quick picture of her on his new film camera, his birthday gift from Johnny.

“Y/N, you’re in the shot, pose!” Taeyong called out, his grin letting you know how happy he was as you posed a few paces behind Byul, Taeyong taking the picture and letting his camera hang from his neck, walking towards Byul with his hand stretched out for her to take.

Taking your own pictures of the flower field, you cast a glance at Taeyong and Byul. The father-daughter pair hand-in-hand as he squatted next to her, pointing at the pond and telling her something about the floating plants in the pond you couldn’t quite catch.

You didn’t mind the fact that Byul had stuck to Taeyong more throughout the morning, you’d expected it, even. But it was alright, as long as Taeyong was having a happy birthday.

Using your phone, you’d taken a photo of the both of them, crouched carefully on the wooden deck as they looked into the pond.

Shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, you sighed, enjoying the cool air and the smell of the water, the sound of quiet conversation from the people around you.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Taeyong’s voice floated through the air, softer in the sound of the trees rustling with the wind that you almost missed it.

Glancing at him, you gave him a small smile, your eyebrows raising.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, interrupted when Byul had squealed, jumping in shock and steadying herself, calling Taeyong urgently.

“Daddy, did you see that! I think I saw a turtle!”

“Really? Why don’t you try to see if it’s gonna find it’s friends?” Taeyong grinned, turning to you and scrunching his nose.

“She’s really enjoying herself, it was a good idea to bring her here,” he laughed, making you nod, feigning nonchalance.

“Of course, I have enough experience planning field trips.”

Letting out a giggle, Taeyong reached his hand out to grasp yours in his, swinging your hands gently.

“There’s something I wanna show you. But… do you wanna go see the tulip garden first?”

After the tulip garden, Byul was a little quieter, and you knew this was partially because it was time for her nap. Holding her hand as you walked, you frowned as Taeyong had led you to a more secluded part of the garden, a relatively hidden path you noticed not many people would head down, since there weren’t many tulips there.

“Oh my god, I didn’t think it would still be here,” He gushed in excitement, his face practically beaming as he used his free hand to hold yours, dragging you and Byul along to follow him through the path.

Coming out, you noticed that the path had led you to the other side of the pond you were at previously, there was a sea of pebbles and rocks along the edge, but what you’d noticed almost immediately were the stacks of rocks next to the pond.

“The last time I came here was like… after college. I really thought they would’ve done something else to this place by now,” he laughed.

“You built one?” you didn’t even realise you were smiling, the thought of Taeyong here, wondering what he had wished for back then.

Taeyong nodded, scanning the different stacks before he spotted his, the telltale carving on the rock letting him know that that was the stack he had built.

Bending into a squat next to a small stack of rocks, you squat together with Taeyong, little Byul next to him yawning.

“Why are we looking at a rock tower, daddy?”

You giggled, turning to Taeyong, “Care to explain to Byul?”

Taeyong pressed his lips into a firm line, crossing his arms over his chest so his hands touched his shoulders, “When daddy put a rock here, I made a wish. You can make wishes for whatever you want, so daddy made wishes for grandma and grandpa... for great-grandma, for uncle Johnny, for my special Byul."

“Did it come true?” Byul asked, her tiny finger counting the rocks, “One… three… four. You made four wishes. You made so many wishes?”

Taeyong laughed, Byul walking behind him and crawling on his back, trying to wrap her arms around his neck so he could carry her.

Wrapping his arms around her legs, Taeyong straightened up with a grunt, “Wow, Byul, Daddy’s getting weaker, I don’t think I can keep carrying you like this.”

Byul had giggled, shaking her head, her hand touching Taeyong’s cheeks, “No,” she insisted, “you’re strong!”

“Are you tired, Byul?” you’d asked, the girl casting a quick glance to you before averting her gaze, nodding her head, “Oh yeah, Taeyong, Johnny said he could help us look after Byul, you know, let us have some alone time for dinner."

“But before that, should we take a little tea break first? Byul didn’t really eat much for lunch and that was quite a while ago,” you suggested, Taeyong casting one last long look at his stack of rocks before turning to you with a small smile, nodding.

Taeyong felt as though he were living on a cloud, his heart feeling warm at the thought of how you always looked out for Byul like this.

He did think about what you said that day, wondering if he could have triggered Byul’s behaviour by bringing up all the ‘mom’ talk recently. He didn’t want that to strain your relationship with Byul, especially with how stressed you were as it was with worries about the future.

In the midst of his (mild) brooding, Taeyong had barely noticed the waiter that had come up to your table, greeting Byul with a smile.

“What can I get you guys?”

Taeyong perked up, his gaze flickering to the waiter’s name tag (for no reason, it wasn’t like he was going to introduce himself), “Right, uh we’ll just get a chocolate croissant, a scone, an iced americano and a glass of apple juice.”

“The apple juice is for me,” Byul quipped with a smile.

Scribbling your order down quickly, the waiter had turned to you. You gave him a polite smile, unsure what he wanted.

“Is that all? Anything for the mommy?”

Your smile faltered, Byul frowning as she turned to the waiter.

“That’s not my mommy. I don’t have a mommy,” she insisted, her tone harsh and firm.

Quickly intercepting before things could get any more tense, Taeyong shut the menu, handing it to the waiter a little too hard, “Yep, that’s all, thanks.”

Thankful that the waiter had wasted no time in leaving the table, you forced a smile from yourself, dismissing Taeyong when he’d mouthed an apology to you.

It wasn’t like Byul was wrong, you really weren’t her mom. Taeyong, however, didn’t know how to react. Byul’s reaction clearly wasn’t as simple as just correcting the waiter, something unwelcoming about her tone. Then again, maybe it was just all the sass she was adopting in her speech after Baekhyun had visited the apartment that day.

Suppressing the unsettled feeling within you, you’d gone along with the flow of events as planned. After Byul was done with her croissant and you and Taeyong had your share of coffee, Taeyong spent most of the time after that showing Byul the booklet he’d picked up about the different types of plants and flowers in the garden.

Afterwards, you’d offered to drive to drop Byul off at Johnny’s apartment, especially since it would make it easier for you to drive Taeyong to the restaurant afterwards.

Johnny seemed over the moon to see Byul, the young girl practically leaping into her uncle Johnny’s arms (claiming that Johnny was stronger than Taeyong, which wasn’t exactly an inaccurate observation), wishing Taeyong a happy birthday.

Though, you didn’t miss the look he’d given you, a small nod asking if you were alright, which had only made you feel even worse that you had such a huge discussion yet to be had with Taeyong.

Not on his birthday, at least, you didn’t want to ruin the day for him.

Once you were at the beach, you didn’t miss how much more affectionate Taeyong was being with you, rendering you into your giddy, lovestruck mess. Oh, if only your mom could see you now.

“This place is really pretty,” Taeyong remarked as you’d entered the restaurant, letting the waiter lead you to your table outdoors on the second level of the restaurant, overlooking the beach with the prettiest view of the sun setting.

“I’m glad you like it,” you’d relaxed visibly, “I just hope the food is as good as they say it is.”

Taeyong simply smiled, “I’m sure you know what I’d say to that, but I’ll spare you for today.”

You huffed, though unable to stop yourself from smiling. You could already hear it.

‘What matters more to me is the company I get to share it with.’

Once your food had arrived, you were both in a much more relaxed state of mind, enjoying the breeze and the ambience of the place, the sound of the people and the gentle rushing of the water. You figured you needed this just as much as he did.

“Thank you, by the way, for arranging all of this,” he murmured shyly, running a hand through his hair and fiddling with his earrings.

You shook your head, swallowing your food with a wince, “No, seriously, it’s fine. I mean, I know it probably would’ve been better if Byul could join us for dinner but… yeah, really, you don’t have to thank me.”

Something in Taeyong’s gaze had held you captive, unable to process anything other than how pretty he looked in this light.

Taeyong reached his hand out, resting the back of his hand on the tabletop as a silent invitation for you to place your hand in his.

Doing so, he’d used his thumb to gently rub the back of your hand.

“I’m more than happy spending this time with you,” he gave you a soft smile, “I want you to know… I cherish my time with you just as much.”

His words were even prettier.

Flushing, you’d squeezed his hand in your panic, nodding as you brought your glass to your lips to take a sip.

“Honestly? I could get used to this.”

You frowned, gesturing around you with raised eyebrows, eliciting a chuckle from Taeyong.

Shaking his head, he’d smiled, “No, not this, but… this,” he gestured to you and him.

“Like, I don’t know, just… the thought came to me a few times today. You know, seeing you and Byul, spending time with you guys together, just… kind of felt like… nothing was missing.”

Taeyong hummed, “not that anything was missing before, but you get it right? It's like... things were good as they were and I don’t know how to describe it other than things being so much… better with you around.”

You’d tensed, nodding at him, not being able to muster anything other than a hum, your brain immediately doing a run through of your tasks just to give you a reality check.

Resign, apply for a new job… and then?

“I get it, don’t worry,” you reassured him, hating the sour feeling your words left on your tongue. There was really no easy way around your decision, you were realising.

“Anyway, how was the kids’ graduation that day? You met up with Mark and Donghyuck, right?” you asked, the look on Taeyong’s face making you laugh.

“Honestly, I never expected them to be the students I was the most reluctant to see graduate.”

You scrunched your nose up, “Knowing them, I’m pretty sure they’ll still keep in contact with you after graduation.”

“I’m trusting them to do just that, I’m secretly hoping I can get Mark to be Byul’s guitar teacher.”

You cooed at the thought, “That would be so cute, I’m sure she’d love that.”

Sighing, you continued, “They make me feel old sometimes. Thinking about it now, college was pretty fun.”

“You’re not even that old,” he giggled, earning a grunt from you.

“After working in the preschool, it sure feels like I am,” you huffed, “Hey, your college life was pretty wild, right? Johnny always mentions how he’d probably lost five years of his lifespan from all the parties you guys went to.”

Taeyong looked akin to a deer in the headlights, just the faintest hint of embarrassment in the smile on his face as he chewed slowly.

“I mean… wild makes it sound a lot more extreme than it was…”

Seeing the knowing look you gave him, Taeyong huffed, “Fine, let’s just say… I was a very different person in college.”

You had a curious glint in your eyes, your smile making Taeyong curious as to what you knew and what exactly Johnny had told you.

“Do you have pictures? Can you show them to me?”

“Should I be worried that you sound so excited?” his laughter almost doubled, “Anyway, I’m pretty sure Johnny has loads on his instagram.”

“Right, I forgot you don’t have instagram,” you hummed, pulling your phone out to pull up Johnny’s instagram page, scrolling down as quick as you could while Taeyong looked on in disbelief.

“Okay, honestly, I didn’t look that different compared to now,” he offered, your excitement causing your filter to disappear.

“Just as hot?” you laughed, earning a scandalised look from him.

Taeyong’s lips parted, slowly curving into a smile, “You’ve never called me hot before.”

You paused your scrolling, looking up at him, “Really? Never?”

“Never.”

You were already in the 4 years ago range, so you figured you were close.

You laughed, rolling your eyes at how happy he looked, “What a shocking piece of news, Taeyong, your girlfriend thinks you’re hot.”

Ignoring Taeyong’s giggles, you continued to scroll, slower this time, Taeyong let out a sudden grunt, “There’s a video.”

Frowning, you clicked on the video, seeing a rather badly lit video, a few people sitting on a couch and some on the floor, faint music playing in the background.

“Are you in this?” you asked, trying to look at the faces in the video closely so you could identify Taeyong.

Turning on the sound, Taeyong watched with his lip between his teeth, the camera panning from Baekhyun to the sofa, going closer to film the person sitting on the couch.

You had to admit, though you couldn’t see their face, there was a certain aura the person exuded that reminded you of Taeyong. Their dyed dirty blonde hair was messy atop their head, wearing a dark flannel over a white graphic shirt, piercings adorning their ear as they sat there using their phone, lollipop in their mouth.

“Taeyong,” you heard Johnny’s voice call in the video, the boy looking up from typing on his phone to look at Johnny.

“No way, that’s you?” you gasped, your cheeks hurting from how much you were smiling.

Taeyong scoffed, “Why do you sound so shocked? I don’t even look that different!”

Taeyong in the video had taken the lollipop from his mouth, eyes filled with amusement as Johnny had asked what he was busy with on his phone. One thing that stayed the same, you noticed, was his eyes; just as playful and innocent-looking.

“Studying,” Taeyong had answered, the camera slowly moving even closer to Taeyong.

Johnny let out a loud gasp, the video shaking as you heard Johnny burst into laughter, a loud ‘dude!’ escaping him followed by bouts of laughter.

“You’re studying… very hard, I see. Applying your knowledge very wel—”

Taeyong reached out his hand to grab Johnny’s phone and the video ended.

Looking back at Taeyong, he looked a lot more sheepish now, his hand coming up to cover his mouth, “Kind of forgot that was in the video.”

“Do I wanna know what you were doing on your phone? Johnny makes it sound like you were sexting or something.”

You didn’t miss how Taeyong’s eyes had widened, the boy rushing to regain his calm composure, not having expected you to be so spot on.

“... Well,” Taeyong let out a high-pitched hum, making you gasp.

Thinking about it now, you did see what Johnny meant about Taeyong being fairly different from how he was in the past. Based on the stories alone, you noticed that the Taeyong you had come to know was much more controlled, much less reckless. In the time you’ve known him, Taeyong had never pushed you to do things you didn’t want to do (well, unless you both knew it was good for you). He was always understanding, always respectful. You liked that.

Though you could understand why without Taeyong needing to explain it to you. After what happened with Byul’s mother he figured if he was ever going to be so intimate with someone again, to put his trust in someone, he wanted to be really sure that he loved them.

“Now I know why Kun had trouble recognising you,” you laughed, “I mean, you look different now, but it’s not a bad thing.”

“Kun? Your hospital friend?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, “Yeah, you know he went to the same uni as you?”

Taeyong’s eyebrows raised, “Did he?”

Before you could speak, you were interrupted by the waiter who had given you the bill, exchanging a glance with Taeyong.

“Maybe we could head down to the beach for a walk? Since it’s still early.”

You nodded, insisting on footing the bill since it was his birthday, Taeyong taking your hand as you made your way down to the beach.

“Anyway, you were saying just now he went to the same uni as me?” Taeyong asked, earning a nod from you.

“Yeah, he did,” you hummed, a laugh escaping you at the thought, “Pretty sure he didn’t go to a lot of parties, though, so I don’t think you guys would’ve crossed paths much,” you teased.

Taeyong gave you an unamused look, “What’s his last name?”

“Qian.”

Taeyong knew he’d heard that name before, and not from you, but he wasn’t sure if he was remembering correctly.

“He said he was friends with this girl that you uh… you were… buddies with,” you felt him squeeze your hand, a huff of laughter escaping him.

“You don’t have to be shy to say it,” there was a hint of mischief in his tone, “Anyway, I know who he is now.”

You shook your head, “Feels weird to say it.”

Stepping out onto the sand, you and Taeyong had taken your shoes off, finding a spot away from the number of people where you could sit and talk.

Sitting behind you with his legs on either side of yours, Taeyong let his arms wrap around your torso, his head gently resting on your shoulder in a hug, your back pressed against his chest.

“I have something for you,” Taeyong murmured gently, pressing a gentle kiss to your neck, the warmth almost making you shiver.

You turned to look at him, “Isn’t it supposed to be the other way ‘round? You know, I give you a gift on your birthday instead of you giving me something.”

Huffing, Taeyong pressed another kiss to your cheek, his hand rubbing the skin of your forearm.

“Consider it… my birthday present to myself,” he fished in his pocket, pulling out a small palm-sized red box.

Your heart had almost stopped then and there, watching Taeyong open the box to reveal two identical rings. Two overlapping bands, one paved with diamonds and the other being the clean metal. To say they were pretty was an understatement

“Okay, now, don’t laugh at me for saying this but…” Taeyong couldn’t help himself from laughing either, especially when he saw the nervousness in your expression, “No really, I was just thinking about how stressed you were lately with work and all, and I was just talking to Johnny about it and, you know Johnny, right? That thing he always says… about how things will work out…”

“... in the name of love?” you offered, Taeyong’s smile akin to that of a little child.

He nodded, “Yeah, that. I know it’s kind of cheesy but it meant a lot to me ‘cause it just feels like me meeting you was just… felt like things worked out for the best. You know, I more or less threw away the idea of finding another partner when Byul’s mom left but when you showed up it just felt like things were meant to turn out that way.”

“And I wanted these to be something like… something like a promise ring, but a different kind of promise, you know? Like the reminder for us that we’ll support each other and respect each other because we… you know, love each other.”

There you saw it again, that look on his face, in his eyes, the look of a boy who simply wanted to live in love.

And what a blessing it was, to be able to love someone like him.

You nodded, “That’s really sweet of you.”

He smiled, concealing his shyness as you made to take one of the rings, carefully putting it on his index finger.

Taeyong had done the same, something about the delicate way he held your hand, to the way he’d so teasingly brought your hand up to press a kiss to your hand afterwards had made your heart stir.

“Happy birthday, Taeyong.”

He nodded, his hand coming up to touch the side of your face, tilting it slightly so he could press his lips against yours, tilting his head so he could deepen the kiss, his touch gentle but his kiss almost needy. A small sigh left you when you felt his teeth graze ever so slightly against your lower lip, feeling Taeyong smile against your lips.

Taeyong pulled away slowly enough to show reluctance, returning to your previous position, his chin resting on your shoulder, hugging you as his fingers fiddled with your ring.

“Can we stay like this a little longer? Before we head back,” he murmured.

Reaching your other hand behind you, touching the back of his head gently, you heard him sigh.

“Of course we can, we’ll stay here as long as we want.”

[djmarinizelablog]

Hi! Are you accepting prompts? If so can you write something about zekehan? Very much appreciated, love your fics 💛 Have a good day.

Here's a short piece inspired by Failing and Flying, a poem by Jack Gilbert:

cw: slight smut/nsfw, poetic language, angst

1.

Hange forgets the tales that Zeke has ever told her, that the sun can also symbolize the end, or that Icarus also flew. She forgets the stories as if the act itself were deliberate, and there is a certain detachment, also a kind of longing, to save whatever can be saved. Here is the man she married, devoid of any compassion nor empathy, but still a man she loves nonetheless. The flame flickers for a bit, but it's not the embers in the fireplace that does it. He makes an attempt of a conversation, a list of books he promises to get for her, and Hange does relent. Zeke snaps when she doesn't say much to avoid another argument. She's seated on the couch in their library, one they've built together throughout the years, and she pretends not to hear him when he says he's getting tired.

Yes, she thinks, I am, too.

2.

Everyone does forget, according to that poem he once read to her, but everytime she sees him, it's hard to tell when love comes to a fade, that some marriages do fail and people say it was a mistake, that everybody said it would have never worked. There's hearsay here and there, the rumors spreading that their separation is imminent. It lurks through their circles, through the interactions with friends and family, in between them. She stops by a florist's shop and gets curious about the meanings of every flower. She brings home a bouquet to put on their table, wild roses, yellow marqueriles, poppies. She will try to arrange it in a nice vase, tilt the flowers a little bit to the side, but Zeke will walk by it, won't even notice, and when she points it out, he will only shrug and get back to work. The air will be stifling.

Hange should have known better.

Hange is old enough to know better.

The language of flowers teaches her that the arrangement means there is pleasure and there is pain, here it is, happening soon, and no one is free.

2.

He holds her tenderly but all that Hange feels is the roughness of his hands, the punctured statements in his voice. He kisses her shoulders down to her chest and her stomach, and it doesn't feel like his movements are deliberate. It's forced, scripted, like this is how he expects it to be. Like this is bound to happen. But anything worth doing is worth doing badly, this she remembers. Every effort that they put in the relationship means something, even if it only matters to push them forward to the end. The next night he undresses her again, holds her face to his hand and draws a long kiss on her lips. She tries, she really tries, but Zeke instructs her as if she weren't his equal, that she was merely an object of his desire, a tool for his pleasure. She tries to enjoy this, nevertheless, so she comes up with different images in her mind: the beach, perhaps. There's the sand, hot on her feet. The sun, too. Blinding. The waters, stretching into infinity.

3.

There is that summer ocean beyond the island where they can watch the horizon while the love was dissipating out of them, the bright stars that glowed above the skies while they knew fully well that the lights would extinguish sooner or later. Zeke wakes up every morning with Hange in his bed, and there's this gentleness in her, a visitation, like the mist of the dawn where figures would come and go.

In the afternoons, he would watch her silence upon her return from a stroll by the ocean, listen to her while she rambles upon her discoveries during lunch. This time it's his turn not to say anything.

How can they say the marriage failed? Hange believes there are things she can only hold on to despite the futility of impermanence. Icarus was not failing as he fell, Zeke has told her---he was just coming to the end of his triumph.

This may or may not have been influenced by @/TundrainAfrica's Lovebug

[itswildwinters]

Ask for writers

Thank you @theisolatedlily and @soldouthaz for tagging me, I really appreciate it! This lovely tag was created by @soldouthaz, which I think is brilliant to get to know other writers!! I love it, so thank you Sarah!

This is quite long, but I still hope it’s entertaining!

1. describe how you first started writing and when you first posted: I’ve always wanted to write. I know that I only began publishing this year (January 2020) but years back, I always would open up a blank document and just... write. Lack of confidence and language barriers (I wanted to write in English, but it isn’t my first language and I only became fluent three years ago) have made it so that I would never finish a story. I think we all had our wattpad moment but even on there I would never really publish because the platform just wasn’t right. But then I discovered ao3, where I’d read fics and also improve my English. Then I found out about fests, and I decided to participate in one last year (2019 BLFF) and my first fic then came out! 

And ever since, I’ve been able to write and finish what I start. It’s as if the lock that had been put to block my creativity had been destroyed; posting my first completed fic has acted as a turning point. I was extremely nervous when I first posted, still am, but now I have this need to write and I love sharing what I write and ever since I became a writer, my life’s been a lot better!

2. which of your characters do you typically resonate most closely with? do you base any characters off of yourself?: I switch between Louis’ POV, or Harry’s POV depending on the story; I tend to sprinkle a bit of myself in the characters I write, but then again they’re also completely different from me! I’ve never based a character completely on myself, which I find quite boring (haha); sometime unconsciously, I’d write a character based on someone I knew. I think some examples on how my characters can look a bit like me, is Hamlet in a sea of mist which has gotten his clear-headedness from me; or in my Murder Mystery fic, the way I describe Louis’ fear is heavily based on how I feel whenever I’m faced with something that makes me uncomfortable.

3. where do you often find inspiration?: art (paintings, music), books, quotes, poems and movies!

4. has quarantine helped or hindered your writing process?: having so much free time on my hands has definitely helped; I would seek refuge within my stories, to spice up quarantine!

5. do you listen to music/noise while you write or do you prefer silence? I love love love playing classical music (Chopin, Saint-Saens, Debussy, Yiruma, Einaudi, Faulkner, Schumann, Tchaikovsky, Mozart to name a few) while writing. I can’t write when it’s anything else. But I can also write when there’s nothing; hearing the rhythmic clicking sound of the keyboard as I press over its keys can be relaxing to me.

6. what is your biggest writing pet peeve in your writing or in general?: hm in my writing I guess I tend to write very long sentences, and also I still do grammar mistakes. I hope to work on those points. I also find the way I space my fics very annoying (which is why I’ve begun making outlines!).

7. describe your ideal writing setup: in a couch or a bed with several pillows piled up behind my back, classical music in my ears and a steaming cup of tea next to me.

8. favorite time of day to write?: I love writing when it’s very early, usually after I’ve woken up and freshened up. I don’t like writing when it’s too late because I’m not a night owl; rather an early bird. I especially love when I write and it’s still dark outside, then slowly dawn breaks in and the sky becomes tainted in warm hues of orange, yellow and sometimes even purple and pink.

9. favorite genre to write + one you’d like to try writing in the future?: I love writing fantasy, horror, suspense, action, thrillers. Especially angst and hurt/comfort, as well as slow burn. I’d like in the future to explore sci-fi and magical realism!

10. do you struggle with writer’s block? how do you typically overcome it? I haven’t suffered from writer block so far, which I’m glad!!

11. what is the easiest part of your writing process and the most difficult? writing is the easiest, but outlining (as in, coming up with plot ideas) is quite difficult for me. Also dialogues can be a bit of a problem to me.

12. how do you come up with original characters? (if applicable): I just make them up in my mind, and create them when they’re necessary to the story, giving them personality traits that will help the story develop.

13. what is your favorite and least favorite word? it’s hard to choose cause I have several but favourite: petrichor and least favourite: big

14. what is one thing about your writing that you’re really proud of and one thing you hope to continue working at?: I am proud of the way I describe, which allows me to really settle the story in its verse. I love describing, giving importance to the ordinary. Also feelings; I love describing them and exploring how I can translate them into words, so that the reader can feel them. But I have to work on my dialogues methinks.

15. what work of yours has your favorite ‘verse/world building? how did you come up with it?: those who from the Pit of Hell, roam to seek their prey on earth. I’ve always wanted to begin writing thrillers/Murder mystery fics and with that one I think I managed to? I had read an article on forensic medicine back in the 19th century and it sparked this fic’s plot!

16. what font and size do you write in? single spaced or double?: Arial, 11pt, single spaced

17. what is a typo(s) you find yourself making consistently?: I don’t know if this can be considered as a typo but I tend to repeat, within a paragraph, A LOT my character’s name instead of using pronouns. This is because I’m afraid of confusion when another character arrives in the scene.

18. (if applicable) do you separate fic writing from fandom?: I don’t know if I understood the question properly, but yes? When I use Louis or Harry in my fics, they’re completely different from real-Louis or real-Harry; they’re my characters, they only have the same names, but their personality reflects in nothing real-life Harry and Louis. 

I think to answer this better: I do separate fic writing from fandom, but I still think that fanfics are important to a fandom; I haven’t heard of a fandom without fanfics! Fanfics spice up fandoms, I reckon, they’re important to bring people together.

19. what emotion is your favorite to write? which is the most difficult?: Angst is my favourite thing to write, as well as fear. And I struggle with writing humour, I’m not a funny person to be honest

20. what is one thing you hope readers always take away from your works?: I always hope they like my writing and the plot, also the way I portray my characters. I want my readers to feel the writing, and the story in general. I just want my readers to truly enjoy what they read from me <3

21. what is the best and worst writing advice you’ve ever received?: I was told to always write very specifically and to fit my writing into a mould — don’t write ‘he’s’ but ‘he is’, or write shorter sentences, or stop describing so much. But in the end, there isn’t one way of writing — write the way you want.

22. which one of your works would you most want to see turned into a film/television show?: only one? ahhh this is hard! But I’d love to see those who from the Pit of Hell, roam to seek their prey on earth be turned into a movie. There are also a couple of wips that I could see on-screen but I’ll stick to that!

23. do you write scenes chronologically or out of order?: chronologically. Haven’t explored anachronies (analepsis/prolepsis) at all, but I might soon!

24. how do you handle criticism?: really well!! As long as they’re constructive and not mean, I love hearing what people think. Criticism is the best way for me, a person whose first person is not English, to improve!

25. what is the advice you would give to someone who is looking to start writing?: DO IT!! Honestly, don’t tell yourself, ‘I’m not good enough’. Just do it. Open a blank document and write your heart away, even if it’s not a story; just begin it. Explore your writing style, then maybe try to mould it into a plot. Writing is not limited to a certain category of people; it’s not just for those who can write. Writing is for everyone, and like most things, one must begin before improving (practice makes perfect!!) <3

26. what kind of feedback on your work always makes your day?: anything!!! Just the fact someone clicked on my story, read it, and took time to leave a comment — just that is enough to make my heart bursts with joy. I am so so grateful to every single person who’s ever read something from me.

27. which fic ‘verse of your own would you most like to exist in? which fic’s characters would you most like to befriend?: The verse I’m talking about is still a wip, but the siren/mermaid one that I’m currently building! I’d love to live in it.

28. what do you always enjoy getting asks about/wish people would ask about more?: Anything, really, my inbox is open to anyone and for everything! I love discussing books, movies and poetry as well as quotes, and maybe I wish people would come forth to ask me more about my fics or my wips, if they have any inquiries! Or I’d love to write drabbles! 

29. what has writing added to your life? how has it changed you?: It has made my life so, so much better. Writing has stitched up a gaping hole in my chest. It’s permitted me to improve in English, has made me more confident and has allowed my creativity to flow. I just... I love writing so much. It has also allowed me to meet some incredible people on tumblr, which I’m very grateful for!!

30. why do you write?: for many reasons; to spice up my life, to help me develop my creativity, and because I love it. I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

boost yourself + tags!

1a. share the last sentence you wrote:

The words echo around his head and collide with his temples like truncheon blows.

2a. describe the wip you’re most excited about:

I’m excited for all of them, but I’ll go with my third BLFF fic. It’s very angsty, post-war, ABO, exes to lovers. It tackles heavy topics, it’s such an emotional fic. I’m so so excited for her (she comes out in January).

3a. share the piece of dialogue from one of your works you’re most proud of: 

This is hard. But I’ll go with one from in a sea of mist cause the way Louis answers Harry... I love it:

“I feel like you want to kill me,” he pants out, using his right arm to hold himself up while his other hand comes up to rub at his burning cheek and nose, where Louis had hit him with the sole of his shoe.

“Before our date? No, never,” Louis blinks sweetly, chuckling and climbing up as Harry smiles to himself.

4a. share the best first and last lines from your work(s): I will do only those that are already published:

best first lines are from the hope that warbles in my fluttering breast: There, against the window, was stuck millions of snowflakes, their see-through quality no more as they huddled together, pushed against hard surfaces by the merciless wind. 

best last lines are from in a sea of mist: It takes a while for Harry to go to sleep, elation pumping through his veins so fast that the previous tiredness he felt has flown out of the window. But when he finally focuses on Louis’ heavened out breathing, and when he breathes in Louis’ natural perfume that always acts as an ambrosia over him, he manages to close his eyes, and for the first time in a while, he dreams of a future that’s devoid of any darkness.

5a. link the last fic you read: currently reading sweet like honey by @falsegoodnight and Spoonful of Sugar by @zanniscaramouche and they’re absolutely amazing!

6a. link the last work you published: in a sea of mist

7a. link to your ao3 (if applicable): tomlinvelvet

8a. someone that inspires you: Louis <3 his music and just his personality overall leaves so much scope for the imagination. There are also so many writers (both non-fanfic writers and fanfic writers) that inspire me daily.

9a. a comfort fic/work that you’ve been grateful for this year: even the best laid plans and just a flicker in the dark both by @falsegoodnight as well as eyes off you by @soldouthaz ... these fics are just so amazing, everything about them is top tier

10a. other writers that you’d like to tag! @falsegoodnight @scrunchyharry @hadestyles @mercurial-madhouse @youreyesonlarry @raspberryoatss @jacaranda-bloom @soldouthaz @behisoneandonly @vintageumbroshirt @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @lougendarey @quelquesetoiles <3 no pressure ofc!

[chocochipsgirl]

Bouquet of violets part 1

inspired of the song “un ramito de violetas”

oc x canon (Aricia x jschlatt)

notes: did I finally grow the courage to make public my love between canon x oc, and also my obsession for asshole x sunshine?

request: nope

summary: Aricia and Jschlatt are in love, but he is an asshole and Aricia is way too naive. Aricia is upset about the way Jschlatt treats her, but a bouquet of violets changes her mood.

tw: jschlatt, slight swearing

Aricia was in love with Jschlatt, that was a fact that everyone knew. But what no one knew is that, in fact, the feelings were mutuals. though, Jschlatt would rather die than let anyone know he had a soft spot for that cinnamon roll.

—Hey schlatt! —greeted the girl with her bubbly happy voice— how are you today?

—Hey —coldly answered the president, as he knew he had to act like she wasn’t the reason she wakes up happy everyday, or else he would be teased non-stop by his fellow coworkers.

Ignoring the fact that, once again, her question was ignored, she proceeded to make a summary of the work she and the rest of the workers made that week. Aricia was indeed one of the most productive workers Jschlatt had. Looking at her eyes, the hybrid could she the cutest shadow of pink those orbs, and her silky brown hair decorated with a pinky hairpin keeping it from falling into her face, her smooth slightly brown skin, and her-

—Mister president! —another energetic voice almost screamed while saluted.

—uhg, hello quakcity —although he was annoyed about the shorter man's sudden appearance, Jschlatt was glad the other broke his trance, hiding all the embarrassment he felt that bare second—the meeting is starting soon, are you both ready with your paperwork?

A chorus of “yes sir” followed before they entered the room, and so, another day in the white house began for everyone.

If there’s one thing Aricia was good at, it was hiding whenever she was upset about something. Nobody notices the way she looks the other way whenever her ram crush flirted with someone, I mean, if it was a few people somethings would be okay (a little bit jealous, nevertheless okay), but everyone except her all the time? There was a lot of time she wondered what was wrong with her that, no matter what, she couldn’t get his attention.

Jschlatt was fine with how things were going, Aricia was not.

The day everything started to change, it started with something really simple.

Jschlatt entered the room of the meeting, sitting as per usual waiting for his dear.

—mister president —was all that the girl said (still with respect but lacking her happy-go-lucky tune). Everyone turned their heads towards her, including the proper president, with a shocked expression he managed to hide fastly, making her slightly anxious —well, uhm, now that I got your attention…

The rest of the meeting was normal, but glances towards both of them couldn’t be helped.

From then on, the distant only grew between them. Both of them started to look miserable without each other, him being always grumpy and getting drunk, her being sad and quite all the time. Until it happened.

This was one of those rare days where Jschlatt would take the day off, one where he finally realizes how much he has fucked up.

He was in the surroundings of his beloved nation, when she heard it. a small, quiet cry.

he wasn’t one to care for other people, but then, the moment he realized whose was that cry, he froze. it was Aricia's. He observed her from a distance.

—I-I Swear fundy —the girl cried— i don’t know what the fuck I did wrong! I don’t get where I failed!

Seeing her like that, Jschlatt was about to swear to all the possible gods from out there that he was about to make the motherfucker who hurt her pay-

—I-I… I love him so much, but he doesn't even acknowledge my feelings! Do I mean nothing to him? —it was this instant that he knew, he fucked up.

He fought the need to go, grab her and hug her right there, it would be creepy if he just revealed that he eavesdropped their conversation.

—It’s alright Aricia, he doesn’t deserve you. I’ll help you move on.

—But I don’t wanna move on, I want him with me! I want him to show me love somehow!

“show her love?” jschlatt though… and an idea came. With that in mind, he left before they could spot him.

Later in the afternoon, Aricia was returning home when something caught her attention.

A letter and a bouquet of violets, her favorites flowers.

“huh…” she picked both things, opening the letter.

When I too long have looked upon your face, Wherein for me a brightness unobscured Save by the mists of brightness has its place, And terrible beauty not to be endured, I turn away reluctant from your light, And stand irresolute, a mind undone, A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight From having looked too long upon the sun. Then is my daily life a narrow room In which a little while, uncertainly, Surrounded by impenetrable gloom, Among familiar things grown strange to me Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark, Till I become accustomed to the dark.

— Edna St. Vincent Millay This is a poem I want to dedicate to you, as I think someone as wonderful as you deserves to hear sweet words to make you smile. I am truly in love with you, Aricia, and you don’t know how much I wish to kiss your lips and make you the happiest woman in the world, but for that I must wait. until next time my dear.  love, your secret admirer.

At this point, Aricia’s face was covered in a shade of red, wondering who sent this letter. A few possibilities came into mind, but she was unsure of all of them… and a small hope came into her heart.

[ace-in-a-shopping-cart]

Toxic Thoughts

Summary: Logan is ADHD. Songfic of Toxic Thoughts by Faith Marie. This is kind of a vent fic. If you don’t understand anything, feel free to ask!

Word Count: 1,607

Taglist: (Send an ask to be added or removed!) @starlocked01​​​ @spoopy-turtle​​​ @lizluvscupcakes​​ @more-fandon-than-friends​

Logan crumpled the paper with only a few lines on it, tossing it behind him and letting it fall among the others. He didn’t turn back to pick it up, no matter how bothersome it was going to be later. He didn’t even look at it, just started on the next page. He didn’t notice the room growing dark around him, the only light coming from the hash yellow of his desk lamp. 

He stared at the next page, his brain filling with thoughts of failure but unwilling to stop. He felt trapped in an endless cycle of failure but had no way of getting out. He put his pen to paper, knowing what he wanted but not knowing how to get it to come out in a manner that others could understand. So, he tried. He tried again and again and again, he tried to get his words down on the page in a meaningful way.

A knock at the door sounded but Logan didn’t hear it. He didn’t notice anything except the music blasting through his headphones and the words on the pages, the words scattered on the floor. A hand touched his shoulder and he jumped, slipping the headphones down and letting the music fill the room. Piano and violin, cello and oboe, Bach’s carefully planned sheets coming to life within the confines of modern technology now being set free.

Looking up, he was met with a dark room and a father standing by his side, looking over his work as he waited for a response from his son. “Dad? Did you need something?”

Virgil looked at him, a soft smile sitting on his face. “Just the evening reminder to eat, college student.”

A sinking feeling hit Logan’s stomach. It was more than just the realization that he was hungry, it was the feeling that always came when he was reminded what stage of life he was in. It was the feeling that came when he was reminded of the standards he set for himself that he was failing to meet, the understanding that he was at least three years behind his peers in both social and academic standards, no matter that he was already working through his general education prerequisites at sixteen, no matter that he was still in high school but was already starting on college. He knew he was behind, it was his driving force for most of his academic career as soon as he learned that fact. He wished he was told more about himself at a younger age, told that it was okay to not want friends, to know he was behind in social skills. He knew it wasn’t his father’s fault, after all, how could the most recent foster (adopted now) parent tell him anything during his childhood.

“Logan?” Virgil’s voice dragged him out of his thought process, reminded him of the hole in his stomach that needed to be filled with food.

Logan looked up at Virgil, putting his pen down. “Yeah, food sounds good.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. You want anything in particular?”

Logan did. He really wanted mac-n-cheese. He also really wanted not to be a burden so just shook his head. He knew it was irrational and illogical to not tell Virgil his wants. He knew it was no use as Virgil wouldn’t see him as a burden and would love to make him food. He also knew that bad habits die hard.

Virgil nodded, his smile growing. “How about grilled cheese? Is that okay?”

Logan nodded. Grilled cheese was his other comfort food. “That’s fine.”

Virgil frowned. “Are you sure?”

Logan felt frustration bubble up inside of him like tar, something he could easily get stuck in if he wasn’t careful. He took a subtle deep breath. “Yeah, it’s great.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay. Do you want to come down while I make it or do you want me to get you when it’s done?”

Logan thought about it. He knew he would get dragged back into his hyperfixation if he was allowed to stay here. He also knew that he might lose the train of thought if he were to stop. Finally, he shrugged and stood. He couldn’t find the words anyways so why worry about losing the train of thought that never left the station. He followed Virgil back downstairs and watched as he grabbed the things he needed to make food.

“So,” Virgil attempted to make small talk, “what were you working on?”

“I need to write a poem for my english lit. class.”

Virgil nodded. “Butter or olive oil?”

“Butter. I just can’t think of any words. It’s like there’s too few parameters and too many at once.”

Virgil hummed in thought. “First thing’s first. What are the parameters?”

“It needs to be in iambic pentameter. Other than that, there’s nothing! No set subject, no set length, nothing!” He moved around the island, grabbing a glass and the juice. 

Virgil looked over at him. “Would you get me a glass of that too, please?”

Logan nodded and grabbed another. “I just don’t understand why professors will assign something with so little instructions. Am I supposed to have figured out how to be self sufficient after the rest of the school system drained it out of me?”

Virgil snorted. “That’s a bit drastic, even for me, Lo.” He turned, grabbing another few slices of bread while briefly looking at his child. “It could also just be that most neurotypical people understand how to follow the bare minimum of instructions. Do you need me to pick a subject or length?”

Logan shook his head. “No, I’ll need to do it eventually and I might as well learn now.”

Virgil sighed, turning the stove off and coming to rest a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Look, when I adopted you, I knew things like this were going to happen. I knew what I was getting into even before I decided to foster you. Your thoughts and feelings are valid. It might take you a bit longer than your peers to understand yourself and that’s fine. Life isn’t a race and you are in no way a failure for taking things at your own pace.”

Logan’s shoulders shook, tears rolling down his face as he tried to screw the cap back onto the juice bottle. Virgil gently took his hands and turned his son to face him, giving him a hug. He ran his hands up and down Logan’s back in a soothing manner. “Yes, you deserve to take life at your own pace. But you also deserve to be alright, to sleep at night. You shouldn’t have to wonder why you are different and I’m sorry I didn’t get to meet you sooner. I’m sorry you had to go through life thinking you weren’t good enough. You are allowed to feel the emotions you do.”

Logan clung to him, tears wetting Virgil’s shirt but neither cared. Virgil hugged him tightly but not enough that he got sensory overload. Logan held on as if he were falling and Virgil was his lifeline. When he finally calmed down, neither pulled away. Virgil still hugged him, not caring about the cold food. Logan basked in the feeling of being loved and safe.

When they did pull away, Virgil allowed Logan to do it first. He pulled his hoodie off and threw it over Logan’s shoulders, dwarfing the skinny teen in the bulky fabric. “I’m gonna finish making dinner. How about you pick out a movie and we can watch it. Your homework can wait.”

Logan nodded, moving from the counter to the living room and kneeling by the movie rack. “How about The Sound of Music?” He called.

“Sounds good to me.” Virgil called back.

Logan smiled, walking back in and hopping onto the counter. Virgil looked over at him and smirked. “That kind of day, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“I think your new puzzle box came in the mail while you were at school.” Virgil nodded toward the table with a package sitting on it. “Maybe you can try to solve it while we watch the movie.”

Logan smiled. “You know, most parents wouldn’t be this chill with things like this.”

“Like what?”

“Homework being put off for no reason-”

“You are mentally exhausted and are heading toward burnout. You need other activities to recharge your batteries.”

“Other parents also wouldn’t deliberately suggest something else for their child to do when spending time together. Most would complain about the child not paying attention.”

Virgil smiled as he plated. “Yeah, well, I’m not the typical parent and you’re not the typical child. I adjust to your needs, you shouldn’t have to adjust to my whims.”

Logan’s eyes misted over and he slid off the counter to grab his plate and the package, stuffing it under his arm to grab his drink and carry everything into the living room for a family night. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen scribbling the idea that just came to him onto the paper so he doesn’t forget.

Virgil walked into the room and sighed. “I thought I said homework could wait.”

Logan shrugged. “Inspiration comes when it comes.”

Virgil nodded. “Fair.” He set his things down and put the movie in as Logan put his thoughts down on paper. 

The rest of the evening was calm, eventually both ending up in the same corner of the couch as they bonded. It made Logan realize that maybe perfection might be unattainable but it’s something to strive for, even if the ultimate goal is to see the proud smile cross Virgil’s face again. 

[junie-bugg]

The Heartrender - Chapter Two: Embers

Hey everyone!

Here’s chapter two, in which a truce is struck, crude jokes are made, and we learn more of Peeta’s childhood.

You can read here on Tumblr or here on AO3 (I suggest reading on AO3 because I add a poem at the beginning of each chapter that I feel fits nicely with the story’s themes or the chapter’s plot.)

Big shoutout to my beta reader @nonbinarypeeta​. You da best music💕

Rating: Explicit

Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content

Relationship: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark

Tags: Enemies to Lovers, witch!Katniss, witch-hunter!Peeta, AU - Shipwrecked, AU - Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Furs and Fires, Angst and Fluff and Smut, sexually experienced Katniss, virgin Peeta, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Loss of Virginity, Laughter During Sex, Blood and Injury, Imprisonment, Peeta has some prejudices to work out, Peeta also has an accent, Inspired by Six of Crows

Summary:

He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. Not even a little bit.

After a shipwreck has left an abducted witch and a member of the ominous Order bent on wiping out her kind stranded on the icy shores of an uninhabited land, the two must work together to survive or face tearing each other apart in the process.

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04

ALSO, I made a map! Yes, I am that level of writer nerd. (If you look closely, there’s a little Hunger Game’s reference in there. Let me know if you see it, lmaooo.)

Chapter Two: Embers

His commander had gone into the city for the night, leaving the crew on standby at the docks. Their ship, lovingly named The Bloody Rose, needed tending and Peeta, an exhausted soldier running on three hours of sleep, needed a drink. He longed for a pint of proper ale. Not the bitter swill that the ship’s cook had distilled. 

A chilled autumn wind whistled through the harbor, jostling netted shrouds and furled sails. The white and blue flag of Sjorkden snapped proudly above the crow’s nest where Thomas Jaclin quietly kept watch. There was a muted hush about the night, as if the world were holding its breath in anticipation, knowing something was about to happen. At this point, with his chores done and nothing left for him to do except lose another round of cards or go off to bed, Peeta wished something would. 

He was nursing a cup of moonshine and chatting with his friend, Yasser Pjengo, when they heard the sounds of a scuffle. He and Yasser crossed the deck and looked down onto the dock that the ship was moored to. 

There, struggling to drag someone up the gangplank, was the commander. 

“Commander on deck!” Peeta announced with all the authority he could muster, hoping his voice carried down to the lower levels to rouse the men from their games. Peeta had only recently been promoted to lieutenant, and he was going to prove he deserved it. He felt a rush of pride swell within him when the crew emerged from their sleeping quarters, blinking both the mist of alcohol and the gleam of gambling from their eyes. 

Commander Snow was of medium height with a thick beard and hard blue eyes. Though the hairs at his temples were gray, the way he carried himself was young. He spoke softly but commanded the kind of respect that caused listeners to lean in and catch every word. He now dragged a young girl with him onto the ship. Her red dress was torn and low cut, revealing the hollow between her breasts. A few strands of hair had been pulled from a tar-black braid to hang limply in front of her face. She had a blooming bruise on her jaw and a cut above her eye but otherwise seemed unharmed. 

“Men! Say hello to our newest addition. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s sure to be a feisty one.”

Some of the crew had laughed and hooted, including Peeta, but the girl snarled as she twisted and spat in the commander’s face. In return he sent a heavy punch to her gut, causing her to whimper and double over in pain. 

“I have to warn you all. This here is no ordinary witch. She’s a Heartrender.” 

Peeta sucked in a breath and felt a chill pass through the assembled crew like a breeze passes through dead grass. 

“A Heartrender…” 

“One of her kind cursed my uncle. Turned his feet backward.” 

“I heard they could snap your neck with a flick of a finger.” 

“They don’t just stop hearts. They cut them out and eat them.” 

Peeta had heard of Krellian Heartrenders. The rarest of the witches, Heartrenders could use their magic to manipulate bodies: peel the flesh from bone, collapse lungs, knot intestines, burst eyes in their sockets. He could only imagine what she would unleash upon them if her hands weren’t locked into those metal hand caps. 

Snow cleared his throat to quiet the men. A hush fell over the deck. 

“I see you’ve all heard the stories. If you let her out of those shackles, we’re all dead. I want at least one guard on her at all times.” His eyes shifted to Peeta in the front row. “Mellark, you take the first watch. Gerholt will take over at midnight, then Dawson, then Pjengo. This will be a rotating schedule. You’ll all get a chance with her before this voyage is over.” He twisted her arm, throwing her into the semicircle that Peeta and the crew had formed around them. She collapsed onto her stomach, a wilted heap of red dress and chains. “Now get her out of my sight.” 

Peeta and a few others bent down to lift her up as the commander retired to his quarters, but she swung out her arms to ward them off. 

“Don’t touch me,” she spat in Krellian. 

“Get up and walk or I’ll drag you, witch. Your choice,” Peeta growled. His accent was thick, but he knew by the way her nostrils flared that she’d understood him.

She stayed crouched on the ground, her metal covered hands in her lap. 

Peeta’s anger erupted. 

“Fine,” he snapped. He wrenched her off the floor, threw her over his shoulder, and listened to her screams the entire way down to the brig. 

X

During their slumber, the witch had commandeered his arm. 

She lay sound asleep, his bicep propped under her cheek like a pillow. He only awoke when his hand had gone numb, the blood trapped, circling and pricking within his fingers like a swarm of wasps scrabbling to get out from under his skin. He watched the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the pulse that fluttered at her temple. She looked peaceful. Almost innocent. But he knew what she was really capable of. 

Her head smacked the ground with a dull thud when he took his arm back. 

“Ow!” 

The witch glared at him as he massaged the feeling back into his palm. She made it a point to rub the tender spot on her head dramatically so that he’d feel bad. 

It didn’t work. 

“Get up,” he rumbled. 

The witch turned over and curled in on herself. “Five more minutes.” 

He rose from the nest of furs, grabbing one and wrapping it around his waist to cover his nakedness, then moved to sweep the curtain out of the doorway. From the watery yellow sun high in the sky, he determined it was noon. 

“Get up,” he growled again, injecting more anger into his tone. “We need to keep moving.” 

“Why? We found shelter,” the furry lump on the ground said. 

“If we want to find civilization we’re going to have to move. We need to get home as soon as possible.”

She turned on her side and rested her head in her hand. Her eyes gleamed like freshly polished silver in the light pouring past the curtain. “You’re letting me go home?”

“I meant my home,” he corrected, allowing the curtain to fall and shrouding them in dusk-like darkness once more.

There was a tense moment where both knew the time to act was upon them. Either kill the other or let them live. Both were risks. If Peeta killed the Heartrender, he’d be left to fend for himself. There’d be no magic to keep his blood warm. But if he hesitated and let her live in the hopes that he could return her to Sjorkden and have her tried for witchcraft, there was a chance she’d kill him down the line. It would be so easy to reach out and crush her windpipe, deaden those bright eyes, neutralize the threat. She may have magic but she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Peeta had height, strength, and military training on his side. He was arrogant enough to assume the odds were in his favor.

He thought she was thinking along the same lines because she eyed his muscles warily. He was broad-shouldered and obscenely muscular, the product of a decade doing hard physical training at the academy. She couldn’t crush his heart if he lashed out and stalled her hands first. He may be heavy but he was surprisingly quick. After all, he hadn’t become a witcher for nothing. 

She pursed her lips as if considering something. “I think we’d both sleep better at night if we made a truce.”

He laughed and shook his head. “Your word is as valuable as a campfire is to a fish.”

She scowled slightly, a deep line forming between her furrowed brows. “This isn’t a promise that I’ll never harm you, just as I know you won’t agree to never harm me. You are a witch hunter after all. Bloodshed is your life. But let’s make a pact that until we make it out of this, we help each other.” She paused a beat and looked away as if ashamed. “After that, all bets are off.”

Peeta had nodded, but this truce didn’t mean he trusted her to stick to it. In fact, it made him even more suspicious of her. What kind of demon agreed to the drawing out her own demise? He thought her gamble unwise and surmised she had some angle to play against him. He’d have to be especially careful from here on out.

 They faced away from each other and put their clothes on quietly. She still wore the red dress, the one from The Bloody Rose. It looked looser on her now, but the sleeves were elegant, poufed at the shoulders, and fitted down to the wrists. The skirt was still full, even after she had spent so much time sitting in her cell and thrashing about in the sea. She would have looked ready for a party if the dress wasn’t so dirty and torn. 

 She caught him watching her and winked. “Like what you see?” She twirled and the skirt flared like the petals of a blooming rose, twisting and shimmering in the low light. 

Peeta grunted as he did the last button on his dusky blue jacket. His undershirt was still damp against his skin. “It doesn’t fit you where it counts.” He gestured towards her breasts. 

 She had snorted then, happily surprised he was loosening up. 

They set out with empty hands, only having the clothes on their backs and the furs wrapped around their shoulders. The witch had taken a liking to the black one. She stroked it between her thumb and forefinger like a child would clutch to a blanket for comfort. 

The briny scent of the sea permeated the air and even so high up as they were on the cliffside, Peeta felt the fine spray of the waves collect on his cheeks. The constant rushing of wind blew his hair back and whipped the fur about his shoulders. 

They had been walking for hours when the witch asked, “What do you miss most about home?” 

Peeta wished they could just be quiet. 

“A bed to myself.” 

“Right,” the witch crowed wickedly. “I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me. I felt it pressing into my hip last night.” 

Peeta’s cheeks flushed scarlet. He had never been with a woman. He was a member of the Order: chaste until he earned his talisman and won the right to choose a wife. For his service to the Order he’d be allowed the hand of a nobleman’s daughter. Pretty, young Sjorkden maidens with hair of palest gold and soft, supple bodies. Daughters of the nation raised in the ways of womanly charm and domestic knowledge, basket weaving and child-rearing, dancing and singing and carving. 

He had been dreaming of what his future wife would look like, what their first carnal encounters would entail, the holy honor in producing a child. As a father, a former witcher, and the husband to a woman with status, he would be granted an official seat on the council of Rjaka. His first solid foothold on the ladder of power. It was a lower rung, but it was a start. If only he could get back to his post and fulfill his service, then he would be given his freedom and permitted to marry. 

Those dreams, full of glory, sex, and fatherhood, were the source of his arousal and frustrations, not the witch’s soft skin against his body. Her deep complexion and ebony hair were not of Sjorkden. Her lips were too large, her nose too wide, her body too slender and bony. She looked as if she had spent years scrounging about for meals, with ribs and hips that protruded like sticks in a canvas bag. He liked rounded women with pillowy bosoms, not scrawny little birds. 

Or so he told himself. 

“Why do you say such lewd things?” 

“Because I can. And because I like when you turn red. It does wonders for that pale complexion of yours, valkrӕlla.” 

Valkrӕlla. 

Barbarian.

“You’re disgusting.”

“You like it,” she teased and continued walking, swaying her hips beneath the cloak of fur clasped at her throat and sweeping a glossy curtain of hair over her shoulder. Even here, in the permafrost fields of the tundra, she still smelled of moss and jasmine, as if the misty forests of Krell dwelled within her pores. 

Peeta scowled. He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. 

Not even a little bit. 

X

They walked in the hopes of finding a fishing village, or maybe a trading outpost, somewhere with an inn they could stay at. But as the day dragged on and the sun dipped precariously close to the sea, Peeta started losing hope. The witch stumbled behind him, making her way over embedded boulders and paling tufts of dead brush sticking out from the snowbanks. She squinted against the burning red sunset staining the landscape in bleeding color.

“Maybe we should head back,” she said, though they both knew this wasn’t an option. They were many hours from the whaling camp and turning around now meant they’d just be back at square one, with no food and no fire. 

 Peeta hadn’t been hungry last night, but his adrenaline had burned off, leaving his body weak and watery. He salivated at the thought of rosemary crusted mutton and boiled potatoes, buttered peas in ceramic crockery, honeyed mead, and angel cake with lemon filling. What he wouldn’t give to be back in the vast stone dining hall of the academy, laughing with Yasser through full mouths of meat and drink. After a feast, all the boys would tell stories in large circles or spar each other for prizes. Peeta had been one of the best hand-to-hand fighters among his peers and as such had accumulated a treasure trove of their makeshift awards. The wishbone of a chicken. A fork with a bent prong. A pearl someone had found in an oyster. When he had tired of winning, he would climb the stone steps to his dormitory and sleep dreamlessly on a goose down mattress. He’d wake to the rising sun and Yasser’s deep snores and know that he’d have a day of training ahead of him. Advanced lessons in combat, weapons handling and upkeep, survival skills, sailing, and instruction on foreign languages. He was a well oiled hunting machine, as he was raised to be by the masters. 

 But that was the past, a boyhood he would never return to. Peeta was a man now, and nobody was coming to instruct him. He was on his own. 

 Well, not entirely. He looked back at the witch. Her skin glowed deep bronze in the fading light and her dark hair whipped loosely about her angled face. She caught his eye and winked. 

 No, he thought grimly. I am not alone. 

X

Peeta had only been seasick once. It had been his first time on a ship, sailing from his birthplace to his new home. As the other boys “oohed” and “aahed” at the gray stone towers of the academy rising up from the mists, Peeta had vomited over the banister. 

The others had made fun of him for it. Groups targeted him in the corridors, tripping him or pulling on his hair. Others mocked him, knocked him down hard in training, and then pretended to retch dramatically as he struggled to his feet, fighting to hold back tears. They called him ‘Greenie’, for the color of his skin on that first voyage.

It was better than ‘runt’ but he still resented himself for it, ashamed he had shown weakness. He trained hard after that, alone if he had to. Classes would be over, dinner would be served in the great hall, but the masters would find him in the training rooms practicing his punches on a dummy, or throwing knives, or moving through his stances with a blade. The hours of solitude paid off, and once the students were old enough to compete for rank in the sparring circles, no one came close to Peeta’s brutal technique or raw ferocity. 

And after he broke Geoff Tonson’s leg, no one ever called him ‘Greenie’ again. 

Peeta climbed down into the bowels of the ship, feeling the slight sway of the ocean lapping against the hull as he descended. The Heartrender had been on board for two weeks now and hadn’t earned her sealegs. He shriveled his nose as he came upon her cell. The acrid scent of vomit filled the compartment.

“Time to switch?” Wilhelm asked from his seat in the corner. 

Peeta nodded. He hated guarding the Heartrender. She was in her own cell, isolated from the other witches he and the crew had captured. At least when you guarded the others you could eavesdrop on their conversations. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

Wilhelm Larone, a fresh-faced recruit on his first-ever witcher voyage, rose and stretched languidly. He hadn’t been able to grow a full beard, but his top lip held some promising peach fuzz. “I thought a Heartrender would be more entertaining,” he said, his dark eyes sparkling as a thought occurred to him. “Hey!” He rattled her bars. “Lift up your dress.” 

The witch slumped in the corner, her skin waxy and coated in a film of sweat. Her hair was matted and oily. She blinked slowly at the wall and ignored Wilhelm’s racket. 

He sighed like a disappointed child at the zoo. “I thought the commander said she was feisty.”

“That was before she had vomit on her dress,” Peeta said dryly. 

The witch responded to Peeta’s voice, turning her head slightly to watch him between lanky strands of hair. A chill ran down Peeta’s spine at the intensity of her gaze. They hadn’t spoken since the first night when he had thrown her over his shoulder and dragged her into this very cell, but she remembered him. 

Peeta tore his eyes away. 

Wilhelm had placed his foot on the lowest step, moving to leave when she croaked: “Water.” 

“When was the last time she was fed?” Peeta asked. 

Wilhelm turned, a confused look on his face. “I don’t know. Ask the commander.” 

“At least get her a cup of water before you go to bed. We want to keep her alive for the trial.” 

Wilhelm smiled wickedly. “I have a better idea.” He jumped off the stairs and sauntered over to the Heartrender’s cell once more. “You thirsty, witch? Here, drink up.” 

Peeta watched in horror as Wilhelm unbuttoned his pants and began pissing through her cell bars. Wilhelm’s eyes, which Peeta thought were too far apart in his head, darted up to the older man’s face. “You owe me two gold pieces if I can get it in her mouth.” 

The witch made a strangled sound of disgust and tried to move away, but she was already in the corner. There was nowhere to go and her dress was soon soaked a deeper red. 

“That’s enough,” Peeta said, but Wilhelm’s stream only grew stronger. “I said that’s enough!” he barked and shoved Wilhelm away. 

In his surprise, Wilhelm sprayed the wall. “Damn, Mellark. It's a joke. Dawson’s right. You are no fun.” He shook the last drops of piss from his cock and then stuffed himself back into his pants. He turned to the witch and winked. “Maybe next time you can drink straight from the source. If you promise not to bite of course.” He then fixed his uniform and lumbered up the stairs. Peeta watched him and his half-mustache go. 

“Krą khiăh,” she whispered after the creaking of Wilhelm’s steps faded. 

Thank you.

“I didn’t do it for you,” Peeta snapped. “It was unsanitary, and your kind deserves hellfire, not some quiet death on a ship.”

Peeta spent the remainder of the night sitting on the chair in the corner, breathing in the scents of piss and vomit and misery. He hid his annoyance when the witch started sobbing. 

But the next time he reported for guard duty, he brought her a cup of water.

[silvysartfulness]

Writer meta asks: 3, 19, 20

3. What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway) 

I already answered this one in another post - there’s no special such scene; if I want to write just a standalone scene I’ll do it as a one-shot and imply context and set-up in-writing. But there are scenes I look forward to writing; for the Roadtrip, a lot will go down and shift perspectives all around in the arc I mentally call the Mountains of Mist arc. That’s definitely a bit I have high hopes for!

... Technically the scene I’m supposed to be writing right now has also long been one of the “oh yeah, I’m really looking forward to this one!” bits, except now that I’m actually about to write it, I’m finding myself a bit frozen. Hopefully I’ll be able to push through this block and make it as good as I previously envisioned it...

Oh, no wait! To be honest - there are a few scenes I haven’t managed to find a good place for in the Roadtrip timeline yet, but have been very entertained by in headcanons, and that’s a fair number of WWX and XY interaction scenes!

I don’t know if I’ll manage to work things out enough in the story to make any of that fit, but I have a vivid image of WWX and XY literally bumping into each other at the market street of a random town while departing a liquor stall and candy stall respectively. XY is delighted by the chance meeting and toothily compliments WWX’s reflexes in catching the falling bottles, WWX is mostly “wtf how are you still not dead??” about things. If I can get the timeline to allow for it, it’s a scene I’d still love to write, but we’ll see.

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?) 

Ahaha. I suspect if you do a word count in my writing, you’ll see the word “pain” repeated at somewhat alarming frequency?

I like to describe body language, especially what people are doing with their hands. And eyes, I pay a lot of attention to eyes.

As for tropes, just stamp me with the “redemption arc” stamp and move on. I love, more than anything, characters who have to face their mistakes and go through a painstaking journey of sorting messes out, setting things right. Sometimes willfully, out of a genuine desire to make things better. Sometimes reluctantly or even trying not to, only sullenly agreeing in the end for one well-founded reason or another.

I love to write messy characters, greyscales, heart wrenching situations where both sides are equally wrong and right. Am also absolute sucker for “hard, cold-hearted character, absolutely coming apart at gestures of care and kindness”. That gets me every single time.

20. Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Uh-oh. You've done it now. I'll place the rest under a cut, because I can and will talk about this at length.

I already wrote in a previous post about the layers of meaning in my chapter titles, so I'll leave that aside for now.

I love using symbolism and allegories in my writing. There are some obvious ones at first glance – I often refer to Xiao Xingchen as the moon himself, especially from Xue Yang’s point of view (the moon has been one of the few proxies for Xiao Xingchen he’s had for a long time) His inner light, something with beauty and integrity but also phases of both light and dark and the ability to shift inbetweeen, unreadable. The same way I will often use ice and frost to describe Song Lan - ”he realized with frostbite clarity” is a sentence I remember that I liked writing for him.

Xue Yang isn't as clear cut; his themes shifts depending on the pov character – Song Lan thinks of him as serpent-like, and there's a wolf-theme coming up as well. But my main subtle motif for Xue Yang in this story is the tiger. Drawn partly from the obvious angle of him being able to create a Yin Tiger Amulet of his own, as well as wearing clothing with a leopard-spot like pattern in Yi City, and finally Wei Wuxian's comment of ”releasing the tiger back to the mountain” when learning Xue Yang escaped punishment for the Chang massacre. In Chinese animal symbolism, the tiger is the king of beasts, something very powerful and clever, but also unreliable, prone to lash out.

In one of the first chapters, Xue Yang is described as being ”bound with enough ropes and knots to subdue a tiger” and there are many references to the Yin Tiger Amulet throughout. I drew him and Song Lan as shishi statues in the illustration for chapter 7, feline guardians of the dead that can be interpreted as lions but also tigers. So that's a semi-secret theme. :)

Another layer of symbolism is the Daoist philosophy sprinkled throughout. Sometimes directly, through outright quotes, but often more subtly in how Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan relate to the world and other people.

”Take action by letting things take their course, he reminded himself. The more he hurried, the longer it would take to get where he was going. He could be patient. Would be.”

”He smiled again, grateful for the understanding, for the simplicity, patience, compassion.”

“An empty patch on the ground,” he signed. “We'll make the future a spot where nothing is yet growing.” “An empty spot, where the Universe may plant a seed,” he finished. Song Lan nodded, made the softest hum of agreement.

“Now, now - haven't you heard, Song-daozhang?” he giggled, unsteadily, hauled along in unceremonious jerks. “Treat those who are kind with kindness, but also treat those who are not kind with kindness, only thus is kindness obtaine-... ow.” ← Xue Yang is not above throwing their teachings in their faces for his own benefit, either.

Another thing I enjoy writing is how Xiao Xingchen will very easily fall into familiarity with both Song Lan and Xue Yang when he interacts with them, but they're two very different kinds of familiarity, and he's often not at all aware himself that he's doing it. (They are. Especially the party not currently being interacted with, glaring daggers at the other.) He often just... assumes they'll do a certain thing, and they'll automatically find themselves doing it.

They are both utterly dedicated to him, though they may not realize it themselves, and he certainly doesn't. He doesn't want to take anything for granted with Song Lan, and he doesn't dare trust Xue Yang, but in the little moments of thoughtlessness, they'll just accidentally fall into old familiar roles of attachment, and then blink awake, surprised and disturbed at the ease of it. ♥

I also find it delightful how Xue Yang absolutely despises Song Lan, but is still ready and willing to rope him into herding Xiao Xingchen when necessary - and Song Lan will grudgingly follow his lead, to a point. They may not like it, but they do have a goal in common in keeping their person safe.

There is a certain point to the fact that Xue Yang mostly only mentally refers to a-Qing as ”the girl” in his mind. Nothing quite as strong as actual remorse, but it's a slightly chafing subject he does avoid thinking about. She wasn't supposed to die - hurt, yes, be punished for her perceived part in the destruction of their happy home, but not die - and now that Xiao Xingchen is back, it is odd, at times, that she isn't there as well.

Finally - have some teasers for future written chapters! The apples of the merchant in Tanzhou will make a reappearance, as will the beggar girl by the gate. Xue Yang will write Song Lan a heartfelt poem in an upcoming chapter. Song Lan is made to promise to write a couple of old ladies letters. Xiao Xingchen performs emotional manipulation so badly it offers the other two an unexpected moment of bonding. Xue Yang slips and does an unprompted Good Deed and instantly regrets it. (it does help when Xiao Xingchen smiles at him.)

There are more themes of foreshadowing in there, but I also don't want to spoil things, so I'l leave it at this for now.

As always, if anyone has any specific questions about the Roadtrip, please feel free to ask! I may evade if it's spoilery, but 99.9% of the time, I'll happily flail for hours about this story – and it helps keeping me inspired and writing, too! ♥♥♥

[scotianostra]

And so we come to my last historical post of the day, the month, the year and the decade, and it's a meaty one, I really should have posted it in a few easily digestible segments but I left it too late in the day so here goes.....most of the post has been taken from John Gregorson Campbell’s The Gaelic Otherworld.

Hogmanay high jinks, it's all a matter of tradition in Scotland.

It has been said that Hogmanay is a Godless Christmas celebrated to excess – and Scots have long known how to celebrate the New Year with devotion.

With the old feast of Christmas generally discouraged by the Kirk following the Reformation, special focus was placed on New Year with the period running up to Hogmanay, and its aftermath, always celebrated as a holiday period in Scotland.

With the old feast of Christmas generally discouraged by the Kirk following the Reformation, special focus was placed on New Year with the period running up to Hogmanay, and its aftermath, always celebrated as a holiday period in Scotland.

This period was known in Scotland as the ‘daft days’ – a time given over to celebration, merriment and excess, with licence given for enjoyment during the often bleak midwinter.

Now anyone who follows my post on here might remember the ‘daft days’ from previous posts, it is also the title of a poem by the Edinburgh Poet who inspired Burns, Robert Ferguson.

It covers the period in the year running from Christmas (25 December), through New Year, and into the first Monday of the year, known as Handsel Monday. After the Reformation of 1560, the old feast of Christmas was generally discouraged by the church, but the period running up to New Year’s Eve, and its aftermath, was always celebrated as a holiday period in Scotland. The first Monday of the year was called Handsel Monday because it was the custom on that day for Scots to exchange a handsel, or gift, as a good luck token. The word handsel derives from Old Norse and Anglo-Saxon and means to ‘give into the hand’.

It is still the primary period of national celebration in Scotland, with stage-managed events in Edinburgh on Hogmanay (‘New Year’s Eve’) – a word believed to derive from Old French ‘aguillanneuf’ (and in Northern French ‘hoguinane’) meaning a seasonal gift. Others suggest it was first used by the Celtic Druids and could be derived from terms of the celebration for the turning year used by the Icelandics, Saxons

In the daft Days Fergusson describes the darkening, bleak weather, the stillness of the wildlife, and the shelter that Edinburgh offers. In the city people can take their fill of food and drink while enjoying conversation, dance and music. But he warns the reader not to drink too much aqua vitae (whisky) or else fall prey to the notorious city guard, whom he also mentions in the poem Hallow Fair.

The Daft Days

Now mirk December’s dowie face

Glowrs owr the rigs wi sour grimace,

While, thro’ his minimum of space,

The bleer-ey’d sun,

Wi blinkin light and stealing pace,

His race doth run.From naked groves nae birdie sings,

To shepherd’s pipe nae hillock rings,

The breeze nae od’rous flavour brings

From Borean cave,

And dwyning nature droops her wings,

Wi visage grave.Mankind but scanty pleasure glean

Frae snawy hill or barren plain,

Whan winter, ‘midst his nipping train,

Wi frozen spear,

Sends drift owr a’ his bleak domain,

And guides the weir.Auld Reikie! thou’rt the canty hole,

A bield for many caldrife soul,

Wha snugly at thine ingle loll,

Baith warm and couth,

While round they gar the bicker roll

To weet their mouth.When merry Yule-day comes, I trou,

You’ll scantlins find a hungry mou;

Sma are our cares, our stamacks fou

O’ gusty gear,

And kickshaws, strangers to our view,

Sin fairn-year.Ye browster wives, now busk ye braw,

And fling your sorrows far awa;

Then come and gie’s the tither blaw

Of reaming ale,

Mair precious than the well of Spa,

Our hearts to heal.Then, tho’ at odds wi a’ the warl’,

Amang oursels we’ll never quarrel;

Tho’ Discord gie a canker’d snarl

To spoil our glee,

As lang’s there’s pith into the barrel

We’ll drink and ‘gree.Fidlers, your pins in temper fix,

And roset weel your fiddle-sticks;

But banish vile Italian tricks

Frae out your quorum,

Not fortes wi pianos mix –

Gie’s Tulloch Gorum.For nought can cheer the heart sae weel

As can a canty Highland reel;

It even vivifies the heel

To skip and dance:

Lifeless is he wha canna feel

Its influence.Let mirth abound, let social cheer

Invest the dawning of the year;

Let blithesome innocence appear

To crown our joy;

Nor envy wi sarcastic sneer

Our bliss destroy.And thou, great god of Aqua Vitae!

Wha sways the empire of this city,

When fou we’re sometimes capernoity,

Be thou prepar’d

To hedge us frae that black banditti,

The City Guard.

In the 18th century, it was recorded that children out and about on 31 December in Scotland would shout out: “Hogmanay, Trollolay/Give us your white bread and none of your grey.”

The world ‘trollolay’ from the Scots song may also come from the Icelandic word trolldir which denotes a troll or evil genii who devoured mortals who strayed into their territory.

Fantastic records exist on how Hogmanay was celebrated in Scotland over time.

In the Highlands and Islands, the seven days from Christmas to the New Year were known as Nollaig.

During the “easy-going olden times” no work was done during the period but men gave themselves up “to friendly festivities and expressions of goodwill,” according to John Gregorson Campbell’s The Gaelic Otherworld.

Another wee rhyme that was used in "olden times was ......

Get up, goodwife, and shake your feathers,

And dinna think that we are beggars;

For we are bairns come out to play,

Get up and gie's our hogmanay!'

And another I would suggest was maybe recited by first footers, chapping on the doors of their friends and neighbours to wish them a happy new year.....

My feet's cauld, my shoon's thin;

Gie's my cakes, and let me rin!'

A common saying of the festive period was often shared: “The man whom Christmas does not make cheerful/Easter will leave sad and tearful.”

Hogmanay was referred to as either ‘night of the candle’ or ‘night of blows’ given the popularity of one ritual which involved a man having a dry cow hide placed over his head before being beaten like a drum as he and his friends moved around their village.

Usually led by a bagpiper, the group would move around each house, turning anti-clockwise, striking the walls and reciting rhymes to raise the householders. As doors opened, the group would pile into each home to receive refreshments, such as oatmeal bread, cheese, flesh and of course, a wee dram of whisky.

The leader would then give the man of the house the ‘caisein uchd’ or a shinty stick wrapped in the breast stripe of a sheep or tail of a deer. This was then singed in the fire, put three times anti-clockwise around the family and then held to the noses of all in the room, Campbell said.

“In this style, the villages, men and boys, went from house to house – preceded in many cases by a piper, and drowning the animosities of the past year in hilarity and merriment,” according to Campbell.

Fancy dress and guising was a popular element of Hogmanay in Scotland through time. The rich would dress for fun, while the poor would dress up to entertain and collect food for their last feast of the year.

Holly and cheese were other elements of a traditional Hogmanay. Holly was hung in the belief it would keep the fairies away with boys whipped with a branch of the greenery.

A slice of cheese cut at this feast was considered to have a “special virtue” if the piece contained a hole. A person losing his way during the ensuing year, in a mist of otherwise, has only to look through the hole and he will see his way clearly,” according to Campbell’s account.

Sometimes the owner of the lucky cheese would place it under their pillow for good luck.

Hogmanay night was sometimes referred to as New Year’s Night with the fire in the home playing a central part in the superstitions during the countdown to midnight. It was feared that letting the fire go out would invite bad luck into the home with only householders – or a friend – allowed to tend it. Candles were usually lit as back-up to ensure a flame remained in the house with 31 December often referred to as Candle Night as a result. If the fire went out, no one was allowed to ask a neighbour for kindling to start another.

New Year’s Day, like the first of every quarter of the year, was a great ‘saining’ day across the Highlands and Islands when rituals were at their most intense to protect cattle and houses from evil.

Juniper was burnt in the byre, animals were marked with tar, the houses were decked with mountain ash and the door-posts and walls and even the cattle were sprinkled with wine.

Campbell said: “Nothing was allowed to be put out of the house this day, neither the ashes of the fire nor the sweepings of the house, nor dirty water, nor anything else, however useless or however much in the way.

“It was a very serious matter to give fire out of the house to a neighbour whose hearth had become cold, as the doing so gave power to the evil-minded to take away the produce from the cattle.

The morning of 1 January started with a dram poured by the head of the household with a spoon of half-boiled sowens given for luck. A young man entering with a armful of corn was considered a joyful omen but a “decrepit old woman asking for kindling of her fire was a most deplorable omen,” Campbell’s account said.

It was unlucky for a woman to enter the house, or anyone to come in empty handed, with a form of the superstition evolving into Scotland’s tradition of ‘first footing’.

Of course no post about the Auld Year ending and new one beginning would be complete without mentioning Auld Lang Syne.

Every year, the streets ring with the same lilting song. Sweet, nostalgic, hopeful; “Auld Lang Syne"  it has become an absolute tradition in New Year’s Eve celebrations.It is also the second most song, sung around the world, only Happy Birthday is sung more often.

Burns never intended his work to act as a farewell to the old year; it’s a piece which partially reproduces, partially originally pens an older folk tune.

He originally sent the piece to the Scots Musical Museum with a note: “The following song, an old song, of the olden times, and which has never been in print, nor even in manuscript until I took it down from an old man.”

Don't shoot the man for it, the same was true of many of James Hogg and Walter Scott's tales of folklore and verse.

The phrase “for auld lang syne” essentially boils down to “for (the sake of) old times”. It’s a work which essentially calls for the preservation of our oldest, dearest friendships; perhaps observed in the reflective quality of New Year’s Eve itself. A time when people come together to recall past joys and sorrows, specifically those spent in each other’s company.Now, there are several variations of what’s sung on New Year’s Eve; first off, I have posted Burns’ original Scots verse if you want to keep things authentic. Below that, a simplified English translation.

BURNS’ ORIGINAL SCOTS VERSEShould auld acquaintance be forgot,

and never brought to mind?

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,

and auld lang syne?CHORUS:

For auld lang syne, my jo,

for auld lang syne,

we’lltak‘ a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stoup!

and surely I’ll be mine!

And we’ll tak' a cup o’ kindness yet,

for auld lang syne.CHORUS

We twa hae run about the braes,

and pou’d the gowans fine;

But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,

sin' auld lang syne.

CHORUSWe twa hae paidl’d in the burn,

frae morning sun till dine;

But seas between us braid hae roar’d

sin' auld lang syne.

CHORUSAnd there’s a hand, my trusty fiere!

and gie's a hand o’ thine!

And we’ll tak' a right gude-willie waught,

for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

ENGLISH TRANSLATION.Nah dinnae bother wae it, if ye cannae sing the Scottish version ye don't desrve tae ken the English yin. ;)

Happy New Year when it comes to all my followers here on Tumblr. 

John Gregorson Campbell was a Scottish folklorist and Free Church minister at the Tiree and Coll parishes in Argyll, Scotland. An avid collector of traditional stories, in he became Secretary to the Ossianic Society of Glasgow University in the mid-1850s.

[bildungssroma]

Strange Meeting

war!au set roughly during The Great War. Inspired by Wilfred Owen’s poem titled “Strange Meeting”. Featuring Mark and Renjun

It seemed that out of the battle I escaped... through granites which Titanic wars had groined.

Mark stumbled down the ladder into a dark and dusty tunnel. Vaguely the lights of the lantern placed between the bodies of the soldiers on the floor illuminated the hall. Soldiers laid still on the edges of the tunnel, lost in thought or no longer breathing. Unnoticed to him, the different colored uniforms that the soldiers wore.

Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared with piteous recognition in fixed eyes

Mark shook the soldiers, hoping to ask where he was and where the others were. Shaking one or two, a different soldier sprang up and stared at him. The unknown soldier stared into Mark's eyes, to which he stared back. The soldier's eyes frantically gazed at Mark, examining him from top to bottom. Misconstruing the unknown soldier's gaze, Mark gently holds the young man and tells him there is nothing to fear in the dark and desolate tunnel. The soldier smiles at Mark.

"Strange, friend," I said, "here is no cause to mourn"

He shakes his head, "of course, there is nothing to be afraid of here," he says, "the battle is long behind us, and whatever had been between us is no longer here," he finished. At this remark, Mark realizes what had been strange of all the men in the tunnel. Their different uniforms, to which Mark initially thought was due to their different platoons, was instead due to their different countries. With a start, Mark only began to inch away from the soldier in front of him before he is held back.

"None," said the other, "save the undone years, the hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours, was my life also;

"Why are you so afraid? Didn't I say whatever has happened is to be left in that world?" The soldier says again. "What do you mean? I don't understand, how are we able to meet here?" Mark comes on to the soldier with a barrage of questions. Around them, the soldiers are unstirred, all restless in their inability to sleep. The soldier stares deep into Mark's eyes. "You still don't understand. How about we sit first?" he offers. When Mark makes no moves to sit, the soldier offers his hand as an introduction. "My name is Renjun," he says, offering his hand. Taking it, Mark is immediately brought back to his days on the surface.

I went hunting wild After the wildest beauty in the world.... For by my glee might many men have laughed, And of my weeping something has been left,

Mark is 17, just two years below serving age when he lies to the recruitment office and enlists in the military. They smile and take his lie, and in Mark's glory-blinded eyes he does not see the way their smiles do not match his eyes. Mark's blinded eyes do not see the way his parents wish him well as he leaves the town he grew up in for the frontlines. How they know deep inside that they were sending their child to slaughter and to be slaughtered at the hands of other young men who are blinded all the same.

Mark is 18 and a half, just freshly into the military and he's already known of things his schoolmates would have never dreamed of. His teenage years seem way behind him, the weight of surviving on his soldiers. There was friendship in the war, accidental meetings on the battlefields- as well as goodbyes. Laughter had been shared and tears had been split, in the midst of battle where death was absurd and life absurder.

Which must die now.

Mark is freshly 19 when, in the trenches, he falls victim to the gas bomb. In the green mist, he loses himself, writhing in pain and anguish until which he falls down a hole. And then he meets the other soldiers.

"Am I..." Mark's lips tremble. It is not even a question, simply a statement that needs confirmation. Renjun nods, and Mark slumps down, finally seated next to him.

To miss the march of this retreating world

Renjun does nothing to silence nor stop Mark's sobs. He offers no sympathy or pity, only the presence of someone who has experienced everything Mark had. "I had so much to do... I can't even say goodbye," Mark mumbles through his sobs. "What will happen to me?" Mark asks Renjun, finally looking, truly looking, into Renjun's face. There is a flicker of recognition. The younger boy's honey brown hair and hazel eyes.

I am the enemy you killed, my friend. I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed

"Have you finally recognized me?" Renjun asks Mark. Mark nods silently, eyes strained to Renjun. "Yes, but why..." Mark begins to ask, unsure of how to question Renjun's treatment of Mark. Enemy soldiers met in death, one murdered by the other. "When you...killed...me," Renjun began, still not completely accepting his death, "I saw you frown and hesitate." He says, "for you, that may have been yesterday, but I've been here longer than you think, and I was able to make sense of our life of soldiers," Renjun says. Mark stares at him, inquiring to understand more. "We are but pawns to our respective governments. Told sweet lies that tell us of the glory and honor of war. Nothing but young children forced to slaughter and grow up beyond our years." It is quiet in the dimly lit tunnel, save for the groans and mutters of the men around the two. "What to do now?" Mark asks, his eyes beginning to droop. His head falls to the side, landing on Renjun's shoulder. Renjun's eyes began to droop as well, as not long after he begins to sink towards Mark.

Let us sleep now...

This fic was inspired by a medley of Owen’s poems, Strange Meeting, Apologia Pro Promate Meo, and Dulce Et Decorum Est. Owen’s poems are raw and vulnerable, and his skillful use of visual imagery allows us, readers, to continue to imagine how the war remains in the minds of the who went through it. 

[frayedcobweb]

Find the Word Tag

Tagging myself courtesy of @inkspilledqueen​. Her excerpts were so exciting that I wanted to join in :)

I’m using any WIP I feel like haha! The words to find are  RUN, RED, CHILD, GRIN, ANGER, RIGHT & FEEL

RUN - Found in Thicker Than Blood (NaNo 2016).

Ever since leaving the last Witchkind village Ceyphar had noticed more and more that every one of Jec’s comments rubbed him the wrong way, the man coming across at best as gloomily pessimistic and at worst snarky and mean-spirited. Genuinely disliking the idea and feeling generally disagreeable towards anything Jec had to say Ceyphar replied quickly, ‘Surely you aren’t suggesting that we turn around and run right back into the arms of the enemy? And if we went back far enough to find an alternative track we’d have to go back down that cliff without falling off, are you keen for that? We should explore the most stable bit of the landslide we can find and try and make our way across.’

RED - Using my Kingdom Hearts fic Unexpected Aftermath. I totally forgot I put this poem into the story and I also forgot how much I love it.

My rage is screaming I just want to release The beast. I want to free the wild creature Locked deep within, Burning red as flame And black as sin.

The beast roars in my soul Bending me to its will Wanting to kill. The ones who have ripped out my heart Deserve death from within. From an angel red as blood And black as sin.

CHILD - Insurgence and Thrall (NaNo 2017)

With wonder written all over his face Shadyr listened to Finraeth’s stories of the Shrouded Forest and the wilds and in return he told the older boy tales of the court and the training he was to start now that he was formally the heir. Neither child noticed the indulgent looks exchanged between Farrion and King Bardan, rank forgotten by the two men in the pleasure of seeing a budding friendship forming.

GRIN - Insurgence and Thrall again (Oh dear, I overuse this word. But I liked this bit in this story because it’s a turning point.)

Apparently Finraeth’s enthusiasm was contagious, because the guard broke into an equally wide grin and replied, ‘Camriel, I’m Camriel. And I’m very pleased to meet you Finraeth. You better get inside now because she’s about to start. Finraeth… Listen to her. She knows things that will change the way you see the world.’

ANGER - Stillcity (The Undulating Lands - Book One)

Listening to the almost incoherent flood of words coming from Ciaran opened Edana’s eyes to a whole new side of the boy she had loved from the moment he was born. Over the years Edana had seen Ciaran in states of agitation, determination, anger, grief, elation, depression and everything in between, but she had never before heard the note of fragile desperation in the young man’s voice that she heard now. Pulled from the hurt she felt for herself, Edana couldn’t bear the ache she felt deep within her at the sight of Ciaran throwing himself at her to enfold her in a frantic hug.

RIGHT - Thicker Than Blood again

Everyone blanched and whipped around to stare at the mist covered battlefield except for Vandrian who startled her friends by punching the air and running forward with an incongruous grin on her face. Aware that the whole group was staring at her as if she had gone insane Vandrian flapped her hand behind her without turned around or slowing down and called over her shoulder, ‘I never got a chance to travel with a research group to study an honest to gods site of a magical happening of magnitude! Yes, I said magical happening of magnitude, that’s what the tutor called it, you can laugh at me later because right now I don’t caaaaare!’

FEEL - Stillcity again. (Gratuitous shirtlessness, so sue me.)

The immediate stinging of his cheek and the smarting of his reddened palm went a long way towards shaking Ciaran out of the downward spiral he was in and when he wormed his way back out into the sun he managed to put on a convincing façade of ‘man with no cares in the world except for worrying about Nentar warriors and demonspawn.’ Pausing for a moment to decide what to do next Ciaran looked around for inspiration, but in that moment his shirt rubbed against his skin and he grimaced at the feel of the unwashed fabric, stiff with blood and dirt. Deciding on a plan Ciaran whipped his top over his head, ever mindful of that bandage at his throat, and seconds later he was on his knees by the pond, washing his almost ruined undershirt with single-minded vigour.

I’ve been tagging lots of people lately, so I’ll leave this open to anyone who feels inspired to post some excerpts. Just tag me so I can read your writings of awesomeness.

[dfroza]

Today’s reading from the ancient book of Proverbs and book of Psalms

for September 3 of 2021 with Proverbs 3 and Psalm 3, accompanied by Psalm 76 for the 76th day of Astronomical Summer and Psalm 96 for day 246 of the year (now with the consummate book of 150 Psalms in its 2nd revolution this year)

[Proverbs 3]

[The Rewards of Wisdom]

My child, if you truly want a long and satisfying life,

never forget the things that I’ve taught you.

Follow closely every truth that I’ve given you.

Then you will have a full, rewarding life.

Hold on to loyal love and don’t let go,

and be faithful to all that you’ve been taught.

Let your life be shaped by integrity,

with truth written upon your heart.

That’s how you will find favor and understanding

with both God and men—

you will gain the reputation of living life well.

[Wisdom’s Guidance]

Trust in the Lord completely,

and do not rely on your own opinions.

With all your heart rely on him to guide you,

and he will lead you in every decision you make.

Become intimate with him in whatever you do,

and he will lead you wherever you go.

Don’t think for a moment that you know it all,

for wisdom comes when you adore him with undivided devotion

and avoid everything that’s wrong.

Then you will find the healing refreshment

your body and spirit long for.

Glorify God with all your wealth,

honoring him with your firstfruits,

with every increase that comes to you.

Then every dimension of your life will overflow with blessings

from an uncontainable source of inner joy!

[Wisdom’s Correction]

My child, when the Lord God speaks to you,

never take his words lightly,

and never be upset when he corrects you.

For the Father’s discipline comes only

from his passionate love and pleasure for you.

Even when it seems like his correction is harsh,

it’s still better than any father on earth gives to his child.

Blessings pour over the ones who find wisdom,

for they have obtained living-understanding.

As wisdom increases, a great treasure is imparted,

greater than many bars of refined gold.

It is a more valuable commodity than gold and gemstones,

for there is nothing you desire that could compare to her.

Wisdom extends to you long life in one hand

and wealth and promotion in the other.

Out of her mouth flows righteousness,

and her words release both law and mercy.

The ways of wisdom are sweet,

always drawing you into the place of wholeness.

Seeking for her brings the discovery of untold blessings,

for she is the healing tree of life to those who taste her fruits.

[Wisdom’s Blueprints]

The Lord laid the earth’s foundations with wisdom’s blueprints.

By his living-understanding all the universe came into being.

By his divine revelation he broke open

the hidden fountains of the deep,

bringing secret springs to the surface

as the mist of the night dripped down from heaven.

[Wisdom, Our Hiding Place]

My child, never drift off course from these two goals for your life:

to walk in wisdom and to discover your purpose.

Don’t ever forget how they empower you.

For they strengthen you inside and out

and inspire you to do what’s right;

you will be energized and refreshed by the healing they bring.

They give you living hope to guide you,

and not one of life’s tests will cause you to stumble.

You will sleep like a baby, safe and sound—

your rest will be sweet and secure.

You will not be subject to terror, for it will not terrify you.

Nor will the disrespectful be able to push you aside,

because God is your confidence in times of crisis,

keeping your heart at rest in every situation.

[Wisdom in Relationships]

Why would you withhold payment on your debt

when you have the ability to pay? Just do it!

When your friend comes to ask you for a favor,

why would you say, “Perhaps tomorrow,”

when you have the money right there in your pocket?

Help him today!

Why would you hold a grudge in your heart

toward your neighbor who lives right next door?

And why would you quarrel with those

who have done nothing wrong to you?

Is that a chip on your shoulder?

Don’t act like those bullies or learn their ways.

Every violent thug is despised by the Lord,

but every tender lover finds friendship with God

and will hear his intimate secrets.

The wicked walk under God’s constant curse,

but the righteous walk under a stream of his blessing,

for they seek to do what is right.

If you walk with the mockers you will learn to mock,

but God’s grace and favor flow to the meek.

Stubborn fools fill their lives with disgrace,

but glory and honor rest upon the wise.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 3 (The Passion Translation)

[Psalm 3]

A song of David composed while fleeing from his son Absalom.

Eternal One, my adversaries are many, too many to count.

Now they have taken a stand against me!

Right to my face they say,

“God will not save you!”

[pause]

But You, Eternal One, wrap around me like an impenetrable shield.

You give me glory and lift my eyes up to the heavens.

I lift my voice to You, Eternal One,

and You answer me from Your sacred heights.

[pause]

I lie down at night and fall asleep.

I awake in the morning—healthy, strong, vibrant—because the Eternal supports me.

No longer will I fear my tens of thousands of enemies

who have surrounded me!

Rise up, O Eternal One!

Rescue me, O God!

For You have dealt my enemies a strong blow to the jaw!

You have shattered their teeth! Do so again.

Liberation truly comes from the Eternal.

Let Your blessings shower down upon Your people.

[pause]

The Book of Psalms, Poem 3 (The Voice)

[Psalm 76]

For the worship leader. A song of Asaph accompanied by strings.

The One known in Judah is the True God;

in Israel, His name is great.

He has made Salem His home;

indeed, He rests in Zion.

There He destroyed the instruments of war:

flaming arrows, shields, and swords.

[pause]

You rise and shine like the dawn.

You are more majestic than the mountains where game runs wild.

The strong-hearted enemies were plundered;

they were buried in slumber.

Even the noble warriors

could not raise a hand to stop You.

O True God of Jacob, with just Your rebuke

both horse and rider fell into a deep sleep.

You are feared; yes, You.

And who can stand before You when Your anger flares?

You decreed judgment from the heavens.

The earth heard it and was petrified with fear, completely still,

When the True God arose for judgment

to deliver all the meek of the earth.

[pause]

For the wrath of man will end in praise of You,

and whatever wrath is left You will wrap around Yourself like a belt.

Make vows to the Eternal your God,

and do all you promised;

Let all the nations around you bring gifts

to the God who arouses fear and awe.

He squashes the arrogant spirit of the rulers

and inspires fear in the hearts of the kings of the earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 76 (The Voice)

[Psalm 96]

Sing a new song to the Eternal;

sing in one voice to the Eternal, all the earth.

Sing to the Eternal of all the good things He’s done.

Bless His name;

broadcast the good news of His salvation each and every day.

Enlighten the nations to His splendor;

describe His wondrous acts to all people.

For the Eternal is great indeed and praiseworthy;

feared and reverenced above all gods, the True God shall be.

For all human-made, lifeless gods are worthless idols,

but the Eternal plotted the vast heavens, shaped every last detail.

Honor and majesty precede Him;

strength and beauty infuse His holy sanctuary.

Give all credit to the Eternal, families of the world!

Credit Him with glory, honor, and strength!

Credit Him with the glory worthy of His magnificent name;

gather your sacrifice, and present it at His temple.

Bow down to the Eternal, adorned in holiness;

lay awestruck before Him, trembling, all people of the earth.

Shout out to the nations, “The Eternal reigns!

Yes, indeed, the world is anchored and will not shake loose.

He governs all people with a fair hand.”

And so, let the heavens resound in gladness!

Let joy be the earth’s rhythm as the sea and all its creatures roar.

Let the fields grow in triumph, a grand jubilee for all that live there.

Let all the trees of the forest dig in and reach high with songs of joy before the Eternal,

For the Eternal is on His way:

yes, He is coming to judge the earth.

He will set the world right by His standards,

and by His faithfulness, He will examine the people.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 96 (The Voice)

[immaterialgirls]

🏰 The Winter 2017 issue of Faerie Magazine arrived at my doorstep a couple of days ago, but I’ve only just peeked into it today.   The theme was the Mediaeval era, which I adored as I was growing up as a child, but fell out of love with - or out of touch with my love for - somewhere along the way.  

I enjoyed this issue as a whole more than I’ve enjoyed an issue from this magazine in a long time (there’s even an article in it about the mediaeval garden at the Cloisters in NYC!), but felt especially inspired by a short article by Rona Berg about mediaeval beautifying practices, and wanted to talk about the things in my life that put me a bit in touch with that old love for this historical period.

Roses everything In the article, Berg discusses the immense popularity of roses as a healing balm and a fragrance, and it’s certainly true that roses are, in addition to being a love I associate with most anything, an incredibly appropriate mediaeval scent.  In addition to rose-scented perfume, many skincare brands have rose-themed lines.  There are a number of rosewater toners and facial mists, but the Fresh deep hydration rosewater toner, and Rose face mask, are both full of real rose petals, for an extra luxurious, yet rustic feeling.

The Cloisters in NYC If you are ever in NYC and have the opportunity to visit, the Cloisters is a branch of the Metropolitan Museum of Art devoted solely to the Mediaeval era: they have tombs, glass windows, real castle architecture, the most beautiful garden, and of course, the Unicorn Tapestries, and in the springtime the scent of hyacinths wafts through the hallways as you near the garden.  This is really one of my favorite places in the world to be.

Ornate jewelry I don’t find the “clunky jewelry” trend flattering, but it’s hard to resist the details of a really beautiful piece of jewelry.  I can’t wear rings at work, but I wish I could wear them more often. My two favorite rings, and two of my favorite pieces of jewelry, are a silver-colored rose ring, and a silver-colored ring with a large yellow-orange gemstone - this is one of my favorite color combinations for jewelry, since I prefer silver over gold, and it’s impossible to find warm-colored stones that are set in something silver-colored.

Ornate packaging Rituel de Fille’s little magic-looking bottles of eye soot are for those moments when you want a fantasy version of the mediaeval era, to feel a bit like a witch in a painting.

Mementos from loved ones In keeping with several themes here, beloved friend and fellow mod Jamie sent me a little sachet of rose petals from her very beautiful (and fragrant, at the time - the scent is gone now, but the whole box she sent them in smelled like roses!) rosebush over the summer.  I cherish the gift as well as the memory, and recall it every time I look on the sachet, which I keep on my (crowded) dresser.

Skincare rituals Like the pairing of a rosewater toner and mask, the pairing of a good lip scrub with a thick lip balm is a beauty ritual that makes me indulge in a fantasy of feeling like a princess (instead of a modern day feudal peasant, as capitalism often makes me feel).  I love the brand Herbivore Botanicals and really want to get my hands on their lip conditioner, now that I’ve tried their lip scrub, a tiny little bottle of coconut-rose scented scrubby sugar granules.  (I know that you can make lip scrubs, and I’ve done so in the past, but I’ve found expensive purchased ones are truly better than my own homemade scrubs, so whatever.)  Until I commit to the Herbivore coco rose lip balm, though, I’m still in love with Osmia Organics lip repair with myrrh and honey. Doesn’t really smell like those things, but is so comfortable on the lips. 

Perfume Perfume can put me in mind of all and any things, and the mediaeval era was full of scents. To paraphrase Rona Berg, when she thinks about this period and place in history, smells are one of the first things that the imagination conjures.  For me, roses, herbs, resins, gardens and forests are the primary scents of my fantasy memory.  Some of the perfumes I’ve tried that have instantly put me in mind of the mediaeval era are: Sarawen Elf Princess (rose, lavender, sandalwood, lily and herbs): This truly is like the scent of a mediaeval garden, and one of the only scents with sandalwood in it that my skin can appreciate.  I wore this one to the Cloisters in March, where it was most fitting, so now I have an atmospheric memory with which to associate it! BPAL Elizabeth of Bohemia (the perfect rose oudh): This is an Elizabethan poem, but you will pry this scent from my cold, dead, rose and oudh scented fingers.  This is one of my favorite perfumes of literally all time.  I buy a lot of perfume every year, and have loads of infatuations, but this blend - which applies seamlessly to a mediaeval mindset and feels best in velvets and big rings - is a one true love. BPAL Parlement of Foules (white roses and resins, including frankincense): This Lupercalia (Valentine’s Day) limited edition scent, which has shown up a few years now, is meant to evoke “mediaeval romance and courtly love”, and for me, it very much does.  Wearing this one, I want to be lost in an labyrinthine garden in early springtime, when it has very recently rained.  The past feels very close to the present when I’m wearing it. CutieMonster Upon a Dream (lavender and roses, milk and honey): As sweet and dreamy as the animated film on which it’s based, I enjoy wearing this gentle and unobtrusive scent on days when I want to feel dreamy and uncomplicated. BPAL Bewitched (blackberry, sage, green tea, wild berries and musk):  Faintly witchy, extremely wearable, evocative of sweet berries and dried herbs and tea - a scent for beautiful peasant maids on the edge of a forest, mediaeval without limiting the archetype of elegance to princesses. BPAL Othello (Arabian musk, two roses, and spices): Another technically-Elizabethan contender, this is a surprising scent for Othello.  This is the sweet charm and warmth that won Desdemona’s heart, not the cold rage that stopped it. Alkemia Midnight Garden (tuberose, honeysuckle, gardenia and lily): As gorgeous and fresh a white floral as this is, I love to wear this one to bed and fantasize about what palace I am falling asleep in.  A versatile evocative blend that does not always involve a mediaeval castle in my mind, but works for it perfectly. BPAL Morgause (night-blooming flowers, violet, purple fruits and mediaeval incense): Sweet incense burning amidst the ancient tomes of a witch’s library, with a delicate window open, outside of which is... you guessed it! A mediaeval garden!  BPAL Bess (rosemary, orange blossom, five roses, grape, lemon peel and mint): And yes, another Elizabethan scent, but that note list. I get all of them on my skin, and the way they balance each other out is just beautiful.  Sweet fruity grape is balanced by mint and lemon on one end, the nearly spicy unmistakeable note of rosemary, and a hint of beautiful flowers. 

And everything else I’ve left out.... How can I do a mediaeval post and leave out Lipstick Queen’s Medieval lipstick?  It’s simple: I’ve, sadly, lost my tube. It was battered and squished and in general a mess, but I loved it, and now it is gone.  However, any fine wash of red pigment will do to look pinched in a pinch!  I would also be remiss to leave out the beautiful music of Hildegard von Bingen, who was an idol to me as a child and teenager, the much more recent music of the Mediaeval Baebes or Katharine Blake’s other, much more gothic project, Miranda Sex Garden, or any of the iterations of Victor Hugo’s Notre Dame de Paris I am wholly in love with.  I recommend both beautiful musicals highly - the Cocciante musical is, like the novel, especially concerned with dating the story to that particular vibrant, crumbling, awe-inducing era in history, while the adaptation of the Disney film is much closer to a character study of its intensely sympathetic cast of characters, and they are both two of my favorite things.  Last but not least: it is the perfect time of year for drinking mulled wine, which never fails to taste, or feel, especially when heated, like something out of a previous century.

[phynxrizng]

IMBOLC, A SOLITARY RITUAL

PAGAN Imbolc – A Solitary Ritual JANUARY 20, 2015 SOURCE, BY JOHN BECKETT Holidays and holy days are better with friends and family. But many Pagans maintain solitary practices. Even if you work with a group, sometimes you can’t be with them for one reason or another. And sometimes your group meets on a convenient day but you feel the need to celebrate on the exact day. Whatever the reason, many Pagans will be celebrating Imbolc by themselves. Imbolc is celebrated as Candlemas and Groundhog Day. It is the first of the Spring festivals, although since we in the Northern Hemisphere are still in the depths of Winter it is the promise of Spring we celebrate, not its appearance. February 1 is also St. Brigid’s Day in the Catholic Church. The extent to which the Christian St. Brigid has been conflated with the Irish Goddess Brighid is uncertain and need not concern us here. In modern Pagan circles this has become a time to honor Brighid – this solitary ritual is a communion with Her. If you aren’t familiar with Brighid, start with this overview by Jason Mankey. Then to get yourself in the proper frame of mind, listen to “Brighid” by Damh the Bard. Setup This ritual can be done anywhere or at any time, but its main working is a guided meditation – it is best done some place dark and quiet, where you won’t be disturbed. If background noise is a problem, play music just loud enough to cover it. I prefer classical music for this purpose, but any instrumental music will do. Set a main altar in the center of your space with three candles. You will need matches or a lighter, a bell, a wand or athame, bread, milk, and an offering bowl. Set candles in the four directions. Milk is a traditional drink for Imbolc. If you can’t drink cow’s milk, use whatever substitute you prefer. If you can’t drink any milk, use water. There are numerous wells named for Brighid – water is a perfectly acceptable offering. You’ll be sitting quietly for part of the ritual – if you can’t sit comfortably on the floor or ground, place a chair in front of and facing the altar. Preparation Imbolc is traditionally a time of purification, so consider taking a long ritual bath, washing your hands, or just changing your clothes. I rarely “robe up” for solitary ritual, but I do like to wear some of my Pagan jewelry. Do whatever puts you in a ritual frame of mind. Opening Approach the altar and pause for a moment of silent meditation. Ground and center using whatever method you find most effective. Then ring the bell three times. Say “I come to this place and this time to celebrate the holy day of Imbolc, and to commune with the Lady Brighid.” Pick up the wand or athame, or if you prefer, just use your index finger. Move to the East, pause, then slowly walk the circle clockwise, drawing the circle as you go. See the circle rising in deep blue light. Make a complete circle, and see the ends joining together. When you return to the East, set down the wand or athame and light the quarter candle. Say “Spirits of the East, Spirits of Air, I call to you. Come into this circle, I ask, and share your wisdom. On this sacred night of Imbolc, welcome Air!” Move clockwise to the South. Light the quarter candle and say “Spirits of the South, Spirits of Fire, I call to you. Come into this circle, I ask, and share your inspiration. On this sacred night of Imbolc, welcome Fire!” Move clockwise to the West. Light the quarter candle and say “Spirits of the West, Spirits of Water, I call to you. Come into this circle, I ask, and share your love. On this sacred night of Imbolc, welcome Water!” Move clockwise to the North. Light the quarter candle and say “Spirits of the North, Spirits of Earth, I call to you. Come into this circle, I ask, and share your stability. On this sacred night of Imbolc, welcome Earth!” Move clockwise back to the East, then return to the main altar. Invocations Light the first candle on the altar and say “Spirits of the land, spirits of this place, you who were here long before me, I invite you to join this celebration of Imbolc. Accept this offering of food and drink, I ask, given in hospitality and in love.” Raise the bread and milk in offering, then crumble the bread and pour the milk into the offering bowl. “Land spirits – hail and welcome!” Light the second candle on the altar and say “Ancestors of blood and ancestors of spirit, you whose child I am and on whose foundations I build, because of you I have life. You who marked this night as the promise of Spring and the renewal it brings, join me in this celebration of Imbolc. Accept this offering of food and drink, I ask, given in hospitality and in love.” Raise the bread and milk in offering, then crumble the bread and pour the milk into the offering bowl. “Blessed ancestors – hail and welcome!” Light the third candle on the altar and say “Brighid, Inspirer of Poets, I ask You to join this celebration and bless me with Your presence. Mistress of Smiths and of the Forge, be welcome here. As I look forward to the coming Spring, I would honor You and I would listen for Your holy wisdom. Lady of Healing, please join me in this celebration of Imbolc. Accept this offering of food and drink, I ask, given in hospitality and in love.” Raise the bread and milk in offering, then crumble the bread and pour the milk into the offering bowl. “Brighid – hail and welcome!” Main Working Much of the main working is a guided meditation. You can memorize it or read it if you prefer, but I have recorded it so you can simply listen. You can play the video below, or you can right click this link and download the audio file and play it on your device of choice. Get comfortable, close your eyes, and take a deep breath. Take a second. And a third. In your mind’s eye, see mists beginning to rise from the floor. See them rolling and growing, higher and higher, filling your circle. The mists are dense – you can’t see anything around you any more. But you can feel your surroundings, and the mists are warm and comforting. Now the mists begin to fade, and you find yourself at the edge of a large open meadow. It’s a February day, but the Sun is bright and warm, and it’s higher in the sky than it was a few weeks ago. Breathe the clean air, and feel the new life beginning to stir just below the surface. A path leads across the meadow, and you begin to move forward. Have you been here before? Look around – what do you see? Listen – what do you hear? Keep walking. The path leads up a hill, and at the top of the hill is a single evergreen tree, reaching high into the sky. Greet the tree. Smell its fragrance, touch its rough bark, feel its solidity. You notice movement, and you turn and see a woman walking up the other side of the hill. She has thick red hair, she’s dressed in a majestic green gown, and she carries a small harp, which she plays both effortlessly and beautifully. As you listen to the music, thoughts and feelings begin to swirl inside you. What is it you’re called to create? What song must you sing, what poem must you write, what thing of beauty must you make? What is your great art? Yes, that’s it! Thank the Lady Brighid for her inspiration. Now the mists begin to rise again. The woman and the tree fade from view, and the sound of the harp grows ever more faint. You feel yourself moving through space and time, and when the mists begin to fade, you find yourself in a small village. It is night, and the sky is dark. It is cold, and though the wind is low you feel it pulling the heat from your body. Winter is still very much with us. At the end of the street you see light flooding out from an open door. Begin walking toward this light. You walk through the door into brightness and warmth. A hot fire burns in the hearth, and the tools of metalworking are neatly arranged. This is the forge of Brighid. A woman stands in front of the fire, the same woman you saw on the hill. She is still dressed in green, but her fine gown has been traded for the rough clothes of a smith. Her thick red hair has been pulled back, and her sleeves are rolled up revealing strong arms. She swings a hammer, shaping a piece of bronze against a heavy iron anvil. The woman looks at you and smiles. You have a part to play here. Are you the hammer, the instrument of the will of this great Goddess? Are you the anvil, supporting the work of others? Or are you the metal, going into the forge to be refined and shaped and tested, transformed into something more?  Thank the Lady Brighid for her smithcraft. Now the mists begin to rise again. The woman and her work fade from view, and the heat of the forge is lost in the cool of the mists. Again you feel yourself moving through space and time, and when the mists begin to fade, you find yourself in a forest of mighty oaks. It is twilight, just before dawn. Through the trees you can see an orange glow on the horizon. Morning is coming, but the night has been long. A short ways into the forest is a well, and you realize you’re thirsty. Begin walking toward the well. As you approach, you see a woman standing beside the well. This is the sacred well of Brighid, one of many. Once again she wears green, but this time it is the simple robe of a healer. The soot and sweat of the forge are gone and she is spotlessly clean. The woman draws water from the well, then dips a cup into the bucket and hands it to you. You drink, and the water is cool and clear. The water does more than quench your thirst. It refreshes your body. It restores your will. It renews your soul. Thank the Lady Brighid for her healing. Yet again the mists begin to rise. The woman and the well fade from view, and again you feel yourself moving through space and time. The mists fade a final time, and you find yourself back in this place and this time. When you’re ready, open your eyes, and be here now. Now rise from your seat and stand in front of the altar. Pick up the milk and pour some in the offering bowl, then drink the rest. In making the offering you sacrifice – you make it sacred – and in consuming the remainder you take the sacred blessings of Brighid into you. As you pour, and as you drink, remember your visions. Take whatever time you need. Farewells Say “Brighid, Goddess of Healing, Goddess of Smithcraft, Goddess of Inspiration, I thank You for Your presence and Your blessings. May there be peace and honor between us now and forever. Hail and farewell.” Say “Ancestors of blood and ancestors of spirit, I thank you for your presence and your blessings. May there be peace and honor between us now and forever. Hail and farewell.” Say “Spirits of the land, spirits of this place, I thank you for your presence and your blessings. May there be peace and honor between us now and forever. Hail and farewell.” Closing Say “Spirits of the North, West, South, and East, Spirits of Earth, Water, Fire, and Air, I thank you for your presence and your blessings. May there be peace and honor between us now and forever. Hail and farewell.” Ring the bell three times. Say “This celebration of Imbolc is complete. Hail and farewell.” Afterward Take a breath. Turn on some music, or if you were playing background music, change to something lively and vocal. Drink some water. Turn on the lights. Do something to reorient yourself in the ordinary world. Extinguish the candles, then begin to pick up and put away. Dispose of the offerings in an appropriate manner. I prefer to deposit them outdoors in an inconspicuous place where they’ll be eaten by wild creatures. Depending on where you are, you may need to do something else. You may wish to write about your experience in your journal, particularly if your experience was strong. Focus on recording the experience, not on your interpretation of the experience. You have the rest of your life to figure out what it all means, but you have only a short time before your recollection of the events begins to fade. * * * * * * * * * May your Imbolc be warm and clean and may the blessings of Brighid be with you and yours as we draw nearer to Spring! SOURCE, PATHEOS PAGAN.COM REPOSTED BY, PHYNXRIZNG