Hyunjin Fic - Tumblr Posts

⸻ BLACK ROSE · H; HYUNJIN ˎˊ˗

summary ▸ what’s it like to know your soulmate is someone you hate? no one talks about those soulmates who despise each other and wish they could trade. this is that story.

pairing ▸hwang hyunjin x fem!reader

genre ▸ figure skater!au, college!au enemies-to-lovers!au, soulmate!au; figure skater!hyunjin, figure skater!reader, angst, fluff

other characters ▸ bang chan, shin yuna, park sunghoon, lee chaeryeong, jung jaehyun, lee mark, lee felix, brief mentions of lee jeno, hwang yeji, shin ryujin, han jisung

words ▸ 21.9k

WARNINGS ▸  explicit language, food, mentions of making out and sex but no smut written, alcohol consumption, minor alcohol abuse (mc gets pretty drunk at one point), injuries, brief mentions of blood, mc slaps hyunjin once, hyunjin can be a bit of a jerk I’m sorry hhhhh, there may be some inaccuracies with the figure skating terms and competitions

song rec ▸ cry for me - camilla cabello

a/n ▸ so after so long I finally finished this beauty~ it’s been in my drafts for a while now and it’s done! thanks to everyone who waited and for the ppl who asked to be tagged!! 😭😭 I hope you enjoy this and do let me know what you think of it by sending me an ask!! ✨💜 without further ado enjoy!

teaser | feedback

one.

You had to be the unluckiest person on this planet. 

You were the only girl in a family of loud guys; don’t get it twisted you loved your dad and your brother Felix, even your cousin Jeno, but they were so loud and boisterous all the time that it constantly made your social battery drain in an instant. You wish you weren’t the only mellow person, and you were just hoping the three loud men would maybe quiet down just a little when they all come together to watch sports and movies. 

Your part-time job at the college café wasn’t too bad, the pay was good for what it was, but your boss was so unhelpful and you’re convinced that they got their position—and kept it—through nepotism or something similar. It’s usually you helping new interns, or you locking up the store cause your boss went out drinking and never came back like they said they would. It was exhausting especially when you could use that time when your shift ends on the ice instead of dealing with rude customers or checking everything is in place before closing. That wasn’t your job, but in the end your boss praised you and even gave you more off days in return which was the only benefit of dealing with them.

More days for practice you suppose, which actually brought you to the reason you feel you’re so unlucky. 

You have an annoying rivalry with a fellow skater, his name is Hwang Hyunjin.

He was so snarky, constantly spewing small comments that had you pulling your hair out; he was arrogant, acting like he’s the best skater to ever walk into a rink, and no one could ever hope of reaching his level. True, he was considered a skating prodigy, doing jumps and spins and routines at age nine that were never considered possible at such a young age. Most of the coaches he’s been with, have constantly praised his expertise and skill, including your coach, but that didn’t give him a reason to act like he was so much better than you! 

Oh, and the worst part of it all? 

He was your soulmate.

Keep reading

illicit affairs.

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗁𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 × 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾. 𝖺𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍, 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾, 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝖿𝖿𝖺𝗂𝗋, 𝖾𝗑𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗎, 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍. 1,431 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌. 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗌𝗍𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗌

❝Make sure nobody sees you leave, hood over your head, keep your eyes down.❞

Hyunjin's touch was a gentle caress, lightly brushing on your skin. His grip on you, however, was strong. He holds on to you like it was your last day together, as if he'd never be able to hold you again. He held you as if you were truly his-- and for a moment everything felt perfect, with you in his arms, laying on his bare chest as he held you and played with your hair.

❝Tell your friends you're out for a run, you'll be flushed when you return.❞

The air between you two was serene, silent, intimate. It felt so calm and still, as if time had stopped, and yet, it made you feel so troubled, dreading the time this will have to come to an end.

But you know what you had signed up for-- you knew from the very start, from that night when you willingly jumped into his arms and not your boyfriend's. You knew that by the end of this, two hearts will break and yet you willingly participated in this affair. 

You also knew Hwang Hyunjin didn't do love-- he was notoriously known for breaking the hearts of many but his never had been broken, he had never ever fallen in love. Not even with you-- even though you were the only person who he had been with for more than 2 months. He had broken up with you in your ninth month together, simply because he couldn't find himself falling in love. You had accepted it though-- it was typical of him. You had seen it coming but that didn't stop your heart from breaking. 

❝Take the road less traveled by, tell yourself you can always stop.❞

❝What started in beautiful rooms, ends with meetings in parking lots.❞

But if Hyunjin didn't love you, why did he stick around even after the breakup? Helping you with everything, staying beside you when you were lonely and needed someone to keep you company, holding you when you needed to be held-- even if that was something your boyfriend should have been doing. 

Because those few minutes of holding each other, looking at each other, secretly, from a distance, looking away as your eyes meet, pouring your heart out to him in the dead of the night as he silently listened. All of this had led you to that night, his lips on yours, making his way to your neck, marking what he believes is his. His name falling from your lips, your grip on his shoulders tight, your eyes pulling him in. With you standing right there, in front of him, your shoulder exposed and covered with his marks. How could he resist you anymore?

❝And that's thing about illicit affairs, and clandestine meetings and longing stares.❞

So he didn't.

❝It's born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies and it dies,  a million little times.❞

And that was exactly how your secret liaison started. From him picking you up from school early so that no one would notice, and taking you to his apartment, to quietly sneaking into your room at midnight, to keep your father from finding out. He would take you away whenever he had the chance, just wanting to spend some time with you. And you went with him, because you wanted the same thing, to spend some alone time with him.

❝Leave your perfume on the shelf, that you picked out just for him.❞

Being with Hyunjin is like chasing something you can never have, but still doing it from the thrill. It's like the smell of cigarettes as you sat at the backseat of his car, making out. It's like breaking every single damn rule you had lived by all your life and enjoying the freedom. It's like drinking at the top of an abandoned building. It's like making reckless decisions and not caring about the consequences. It's like falling in love knowing full well that you're going to leave with a bruised and broken heart. 

It's a beautiful feeling but you shouldn't be feeling it.

❝So you leave no trace behind, like you don't even exist.❞

Yet you couldn't help it, you only found yourself falling deeper for Hyunjin. 

❝Take the words for what they are, a dwindling mercurial high.❞

He had shown you colors that you couldn't see with anyone else. He had taught you a love language that you could only use to speak to him, and no one else because no one else would understand. He had taken his feelings and turned them into colors, using them on you as if you were a blank canvas that needed to be smeared with paint.

When his lips attached to your neck again, you couldn't stop the feeling of guilt from creeping up to you. You knew how unfair this was for your boyfriend, how disgusting it was and how heartbroken he would be if he came to know but whenever you were with Hyunjin, you couldn't give a damn about it all even if you wanted to.

❝A drug that only worked, the first few hundred times.❞

❝And that's the thing about illicit affairs,

You could just lay there, as Hyunjin whispered sweet nothings in your ear, pulling you close, telling you how much he loves you and you believe it. You believe it all, despite knowing that half of them were just lies. Or maybe they were the truth, but a truth that fades over time and eventually becomes a lie. 

You know full well that one day your feelings will also eventually fade away, and there will be nothing left, except your memories. Hyunjin will also be a ghost, living deep in your heart, a significant memory stashed away as your biggest secret, eating dust. 

and clandestine meetings,

But right now, you didn't care. You didn't want-- no, need to think about that 'one day', the immense pleasure you felt at the moment drowned out your thoughts. Nothing made sense, other than the feeling of Hyunjin's lips all over your body and you wished it would stay that way. For as long as possible.

and stolen stares.❞

You could ignore the numerous calls and messages from your friends and boyfriend if it meant staying with him a little longer. They didn't matter as much, not as much as Hyunjin did. But all good things had to come to an end, right? 

❝They show their truth one single time but they lie and they lie and they lie, a million little times.❞

You could feel yourself getting irritated as Hyunjin looked down at you with a frown, silently telling you that it was time to go but you didn't want to leave just yet. You hugged him closer, his lips just above yours, as you looked up at him innocently, pleading him to not go with your eyes. And Hyunjin almost melted then and there but he caught himself from falling for your tricks, looking at you with an apologetic expression. 

❝And you wanna scream,❞

❝Don't call me kid, don't call me baby. Look at this Godforsaken mess that you made me.❞

"Baby, I have to go--"

❝You showed me colors you know I can't see with anyone else.❞

"Don't call me that." You cut him off, pouting like a child who was denied what they wanted. 

❝Don't call me kid, don't call me baby. Look at this idiotic fool that you made me.❞

Hyunjin sighed, pushing his hair back as he spoke again, "I need to go, Y/n."

❝You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else.❞

"No." You said stubbornly, the tears stinging at the corner of your eyes.

❝And you know damn well, for you, I would ruin myself.❞

"Yes." He replied, a sad smile forming on his face, "Yes, I do and you know that so don't make it harder than it has to be."

Through your blurry vision, you could see him putting on his clothes and making his way out of the room, not sparing you another glance in fear that he won't be able to make it out. And it shattered your heart, but you could only sit still on your bed and watch him leave. 

❝A million little times.❞

Cause at the end of day, Hwang Hyunjin wasn't yours to chase and you weren't his to keep.

I like it when you smile | h.hj

PAIRING || Hyunjin x female reader

GENRES || Angst, yandere

SUMMARY || He liked it when you smiled. And he’d do anything to keep that smile on your face…Anything.

WARNINGS|| Angst, major character death

WC || 0.5 K

A/N || Okay..so technically speaking, this is my first fic. Its definitely not the best…but I hope the readers enjoy it. Also I’d like to thank Sarah ( @taemin-jaemin​) for helping me out with all the errors. And any advice or criticisms are welcome. So please let me know if I went wrong anywhere…  ^^

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

“Why do you look so sad Y/n? Why don’t you smile?….what’s wrong?” Hyunjin asked you, with concerned eyes.

What was wrong? Everything.

“I can get you everything, just say the word Y/n…Do you need new clothes?”

“No…” You shake your head “…Jewellery?”

“No…that’s not it”

“Then what is it Y/nnie? Are the people here not treating you well?”

“No Hyunjin, they…they’re treating me well” Too well.

"Ahhh is it that you want to spend some time with me Y/n? Well I can clear off my schedule for today so…”

“No Hyunj-”

“Then what do you want?” Hyunjin cut you off. He sounded harsh now. Startled, you looked up to see, the eyes that were full of concern just a few moments ago were gone.They were cold. No, icy. And you realised, you’d done it again. You had vexed him.

“Then, I don’t see any reason for you to not smile if you don’t want any of these..”

“Hyunjin please…”

“SMILE Y/n” He didn’t yell at you. He ordered you.

“I..I-”

“I ASKED YOU TO SMILE DID I NOT?!!!” Hyunjin roared, slamming his hands onto the table.

“Ye-yes” you whispered and tried to force a smile on your face. But that didn’t last too long anyways…You were scared of him now. So scared, that you shuddered at the thought of what he might do, now that you had disobeyed him. And before you even realised, tears began rolling down your cheek.

“Y/n? Why are you crying… don’t cry…SMILE… What do you want? I’ll give you anything. Tell me Y/n!!!!??”

He grabbed your arms, forcing you to look at him. It hurt. But you couldn’t keep it in any longer. Please stop. You wanted to say that to him. You wanted to tell him that if he’d just stop acting so terrifying, everything would be okay.

“Hyunjin..I-I..I want you…I want my Hyunjin back. Hwang Hyunjin. That Hyunjin who was always happy, who was always kind. So kind..this world didn’t deserve him. That Hyunjin who loved to dance and who always sang, but only for me. That Hyunjin who loved me more than anything in this world…who was happy when I was.I need that Hyunjin…my… HYUNJIN.

But you-..you’ve changed.”

Hyunjin suddenly let go of your arms and began to laugh hysterically..

“Hah…ahahahaha…Y/n.my naive little Y/n…don’t you know that the Hwang Hyunjin you’re looking for has already left this world?“

Left this world? What was Hyunjin saying? Wasn’t he standing right in front of you?

"What-” You were cut off by a loud bang.

“So… let me send you to him as well.” Hyunjin whispered into your ears.

Ah…that’s what it was…you had understood now…the day your world fell apart was the day you had abandoned him.

As you took your last breath you heard him say, “You will smile now won’t you? After all, I like it when you smile.”

You should’ve known…the sin you had committed was far from being forgiven or forgotten.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

↬ TAGLIST || @taemin-jaemin @lazycursedchild @moonsclover @moonchilddfics @wonjaems @xbbleuex @miroticized @cxmillee @freckledwinterfalls @liza-empress-of-emojis @wooyoungsbae @enhafika @rae-blogging @simp-for-sunghoons-hair-tied-up @stray-kiss @stray-kids-world-domination @jaefmin @joyfools @jimeanour @hannyjeong @jenossslut​ @gay-for-gaon​

 Please lmk (DM) if you wish to be added or removed from the taglist.

Solace

Chapter 1: Savior Hyunjin Apocalypse AU. Pairing: Hyunjin x OC (Sarah)

Trigger Warning: Talks of suicide.

I used to love solitude. The quiet. The peace it brings. I could sit alone in silence forever. That's how I used to feel. But when the option to be surrounded by people and sound is completely removed, I now resent the solitude I once craved.

I can’t choose to find some fake excuse as to why I don’t want to go out for a drink with friends. No pretending I have better things to do, when in reality we all knew I didn’t.

I’ve never wished for company before. Not even to talk, just someone else's presence. Someone alive at least, someone conscious and understanding. I spent my whole life wishing to be alone, and now that I am, company doesn’t sound so bad at the end of the world.

The view on the bridge is beautiful, the sun low. It should be setting soon. I’ve been coming here everyday that I could for the last 8 months, after everything fell and the world went to shit. 

But I think I’m finally ready.

I slowly climb up on top of the railing, hugging the cold metal pillar as the wind blows lightly through my mousy brown hair, pushing it into my face. Looking down, the water used to be mostly clear, but has now turned this muddy brownish green color. I used to love this bridge, what a fitting place for me to go.

“So you’re just going to jump?” 

A voice. Not a grunt or a groan or growl from the creatures that have taken my loved ones and many others away from them. I don’t turn around. This can’t be real.

“I know the world has gone to shit but you shouldn’t do this.” The voice says. Gentle, understanding in his tone. I must really be losing it for my subconscious to make me hear things to go back on this decision.

I sway a bit with the wind, my grip lightening on the pillar. I hear a shuffle behind me on the pavement. I should do this before it’s too late.

“Please!” it’s breathy almost like a loud whisper. Like my subconscious knows not to yell, to refrain from grabbing the attention of anything that could be lurking on this bridge with me.

“Don’t do this.” He sounds as desperate as I feel. Might as well indulge myself.

“Why? What else is there to stick around for? A cure? Someone to come save me? No one is coming. So I’m gonna do myself a favor and take myself out of the equation before I get taken out by something else. I wanna still be me when I go.” I say it harshly, still not turning around. If there were people around I would worry about looking crazy. But there aren’t.

Then I feel it. Warmth. This is real. He climbs up onto the railing next to me, his arm behind me to grab onto the pillar I'm wrapped around, to steady himself. I finally look up.

He’s tall. Black hair, and brown eyes that shine like honey in the setting sun. and beauty mark under his left eye. 

“Well then I’m not letting you do this alone.” he shocks me to my core. He’s a stranger, and he’s gonna throw away his life on a whim? 

“No. You need to go, the sun is setting. Take my bag, there's food, water and other supplies.” if he was smart he’d leave, save himself. Once it’s dark out there's no telling how chaotic they’ll be tonight.

He shakes his head, black hair shaking with the movement, falling lightly into his eyes.

“You think I want to go through this either? This world? And alone at that?” He’s been alone too? I mean why am I surprised. If I've been alone all this time I’m sure others would be, I just kind of convinced myself there was no one left.

He continues to talk, “No thank you. So, if you insist on jumping, be my guest, but you’re gonna have some company. Or we can walk off this bridge and find some shelter for the night.” 

He startles me, his hand on my cheek wiping tears I didn’t know I had been shedding. His touch is gentle and warm, alive. I take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. I haven’t seen eyes like his in so long, eyes with life and fear and affection.

I nod and we carefully come down off of the railing. I pick up my bag, I had thrown it next to an abandoned car, and we start walking. It’s silent for a moment.

“Why?” I finally ask. He doesn’t turn to look at me.

“Why not?” He says it like he’s trying to make me laugh. Then sighs.

“I’ve been alone too. Maybe I did it because I’m selfish… Maybe I also did it because we can be alone together.”

We continue to walk in silence. It’s comfortable, like all this weight on my chest has been lifted off and I can breathe.

“I’m Hyunjin, by the way.”

This is my first time writing on here and I hope you guys like it. I am going to start a tag list because I was asked to so just let me know if you'd like to be added to that. Hope you enjoy :) ~ Cecilia 🧡

Tag list: @intrikatie

Solace Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Peace Hyunjin Apocalypse AU. Paring: Hyunjin x OC (Sarah) Trigger warnings: Talks of Suicide, spooky descriptions(?)

It’s dark here. Only the silvery light of the moon lets us see faintly.

It takes me a bit before my eyes adjust. The floor is covered in a layer of dirt and mud. Others must have come in here when everything first went bad. 3 rows of shelves behind us with small white paper bags on them, the bags slumped over, deflated, as though waiting to be claimed, that won’t be happening. Cans of baby formula have fallen off the shelves and popped open, covering the floor. Pill bottles strewn about, no telling if they’d been thrown or just dropped in a hurry.

I should remember to grab some supplies before heading out. You never know when you’ll need cold medicine, pain meds, or a tampon. It would suck to have to have to bleed through the only clothes I own now.

We already did our rounds to make sure we are alone in here. We know where the exits are, only two, the one we came in and one through the back that leads to an alley between the two buildings.

Hyunjin, he says his name is, looking ethereal in the dim light. Crouched over his bag, hair falling forward to curtain his face as he looks through it. His bag looks light, must not be much in it. I can see him shift some clothes around and I hear the soft rattle of a bottle, medication maybe? He runs his bony fingers through his dark locks to see better, and pulls out two cans. He reaches out and offers one to me, the blue fabric bracelet that’s too big for his wrist sways with the motion. When was the last time he ate?

I shake my head and put my hand up to refuse, what if this is the only food he’s had in awhile? I can’t take that from him. He grabs my hand and places the can into it. Gentle, that's how his touch is. It’s quick brief, like second nature, as if he’s so used to touching me.

“You need to eat. Even if it’s only a little. Please. Eat.” He sounds so… concerned? I can’t understand why he cares so much about my well being. He doesn’t even know me, we only met 2 hours ago. Then again if I saw someone after all of this time being alone, I would also want to make sure they were okay and living.

It’s nice to be taken care of for once. I can’t believe he’s been here this whole time and we didn’t find each other. Wait. Has he been here this whole time? I guess I don’t really know, I know nothing about him, other than his name… and the fact that he’s made it this long. Who knows what things he’s been through or had to witness.

“Thank you.” I say lightly my voice barely above a whisper.

I look down at the can, peaches. I can’t even remember the last time I had peaches, I used to have them all the time. I pull the tab and open the can as quietly as I can, Hyunjin mimicking the motion. You never know what will set off the things that lurk. We sit diagonal to each other, slightly facing each other, but always able to see the entrance. I sit on one leg with the other bent in front of me, ready to be up and moving at a moment's notice. I look over at him and he looks as nervous as I feel eyebrows knit together looking at the door. It’s nice to know it’s not just all on me to be alert. At least not for tonight.

I sigh in contentment, I feel like I can breathe, even if it’s just for this moment. I slide my leg, which was bent, under me to sit cross legged. My bag in my lap as I rest my elbows on top of it and take a bite of the peaches. They’re as good as I remember them being.

Weird how in the back of this pharmacy, behind the counter for shelter from the completely windowed front of the shop, sitting on the floor with a stranger on a day in which I almost lost my life, eating a can of probably expired peaches, this is the happiest I've been in awhile.

I look up at Hyunjin to see him taking a spoon full of peaches in his mouth, frows burrowing and cheeks puffing slightly. I can’t help but smile, he’s so… cute?

He looks up, catching me staring. I avert my eyes back to my peaches. “What?” he asks, I can hear the smile in his voice.

I haven’t used my voice in so long, I don’t even recognise it. Talking to someone felt like something that would never happen again. I have had encounters, small ones, with insignificant people who always parted ways at the end of the day. But it has been so long since even my last conversation with a thinking person, since the last time I had company through the night. Not that we are spending the night doing more than talking. It has been… a while.

“Peaches are my favorite, you know?” I look up at him again, our eyes meeting. He smiles, and my breath catches lightly. He’s beautiful, I could watch him smile all day. I shake my head lightly and pass it off as though I’m moving hair out of my face. I need to calm my thoughts about the man in front of me, no matter how gorgeous he may be.

“I found them this morning, maybe I was supposed to find you too.” He says, eyes softening. And even though I’m at peace at this moment, I just have to know.

“Have you been here the whole time? In the city?”

He looks down, jaw flexing and nods. “I grew up here. I was with my brothers, but we got separated trying to leave the city.” he pauses, taking a breath, this is painful for him. I instinctively reach for him but stop myself. That would be too much, he doesn’t need comfort from a stranger. We’ll probably go separate ways in the morning anyway. I would just slow him down after all, another mouth to feed. Someone to look after. I don’t want to be a burden.

“I like to think they got out, and that’s why I haven’t seen them since.” he shrugs, looking down and playing with his food. He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “I’m sorry…” he says, unable to hide the soft crack in his voice, as though he’s on the verge of tears. I had no intention of making him uncomfortable.

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.” I wrap my arms around myself lightly for warmth. “That’s your business, so I’m sorry for prying.” I pause debating whether or not to voice the insecurity that my brain feels. My feelings win in the end. “We’ll go separate ways in the morning. I won’t take advantage of your kindness.”

His head shoots up at that. Eyes glossy. “What?” genuine shock, his voice comes, with a crack that makes me wince, and he is a bit louder than previously. I look around in fear, and put my hand up to motion him to lower his voice.

“Listen, you saved me and I’m grateful. But why would you want to stick together? You don’t know me. I would just weigh you down anyway. I don’t want to be responsible for getting you killed.” I say matter of fact. Everyone around me either dies or leaves.I’m just going to get him killed, like I did mom. I can’t have someone else leave like Peter did. No one deserves to wake up to find that the only other survivor they have had contact with in 4 months, has abandoned them with no explanation and no goodbye.

I don’t want to watch this incredibly sweet person, who cared enough to save some stranger at the end of the world from ending it all. No one else would have done that.

“Do I get a say?” he asks voice quiet, reserved. His eyes searching mine. I look away.

“Why do you want one? What benefit do you get out of sticking around me?” A few seconds go by, completely silent, the only sound our faint breathing. “You literally know nothing about me, you don’t even know my name.” He hasn’t asked, I wonder if part of him is also scared of what getting emotionally attached means for him. It’s a mistake to care about people here.

“I won’t have to be alone anymore.” It's like all the air gets sucked out of the room. My chest is tight. I have been hoping that there are people still around, hoping to finally find my people to stick with, and every time something goes wrong. What if I get this man killed?

That’s when we hear it, the sound of broken glass being stepped on. Our eyes go wide. I put my can of peaches on the ground as softly as I can, as does Hyunjin. I slip my bag from my lap back onto my shoulders. I lean on the side of the counter that has been keeping us shielded from outside, from the floor to get some idea of what we are dealing with.

There are two. Both of them face their backs to us. Their breathing is fast, it makes them bounce a little. Every breath they take comes out as a wheeze or grunt. The sound of the glass under their feet is keeping them distracted, their moves jerky trying to find the source of the sound that bothers them. The one on the right turns slightly. It’s female in appearance, maybe what was once a woman in her 30’s. Her dress is a burnt orange but seems darker in the light and with all the caked on dirt and blood. I know what her eyes probably look like, they all look almost the same. Bloodshot, veiny, glossed over, no signs of life. Yet they move, as though the blood in their bodies still runs warm.

I didn’t hear them enter, I must not have closed the door all the way because unless they learned how to pull open doors, there’s no reason for them to have gotten in. Of course it had to be me. Always the one to put those around me and myself in danger. I should have done another round before settling in.

The only way out now is through the back door. I turn to look at hyunjin who is crouched behind the counter, back pressed up against it, bag in hand. I point to the back door. Going outside is a huge risk, but we can’t stay here anymore. It was a poor choice to stay in a place that’s entire front is windows, now we're paying for it.

He leads the way, slowly moving to go behind the tall shelves that hold medication. There are 3 rows of them and we’re past two when I hear a pill bottle rattle. Oh no. I look down, of course, I kicked it. We don’t look back, I know we’ve alerted the two inside the store and they’re going to alert more. We sprint to the back entrance. Slamming the door closed behind us.

Now out on the street, in the back alley of the pharmacy we are vulnerable. We can’t risk going out onto the main road, but staying in this alley isn’t any better. I can hear them. The ones inside bang on the door, desperate to be set free. But there are more I can hear shuffling on the street. I look up, there are fire escapes.

In a panic I grab Hyunjin’s arm and pull him, “The roof.” I say no room for argument, and we start to climb.

When we get up to the top, we search the whole roof, it’s empty. I make sure the door that leads inside the building is locked down tight.

When we’ve done our rounds we come together in the middle of the roof. At least we don’t have to be as quiet up here.

“Okay.” I say to him, he looks at me confused.

“I don’t want to be alone anymore either.”

If you'd like to be added to the Tag list just DM me and let me know :) ~Cecilia 🧡

Tag list: @intrikatie @zennnnny

Solace Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Haven

Hyunjin Apocalypse AU.

Pairing: Hyunjin x OC (Sarah)

Content Warnings: Talks of Suicide

We take watch in shifts. When it’s my turn to lay down on the cold floor of the roof, I’m wide awake. The howl of the wind is loud in my ears.

My bag is under my head like a makeshift pillow, laying on my back looking up at the sky. The stars are bright, I can’t remember the last time I appreciated the stars and sky like this. I should take more time to do this, who knows the next time I’ll be able to. 

A shiver runs across my body with the wind as it blows through me like I’m not even there. I wrap my arms around myself, turn onto my side and curl up, seeking warmth. This will be the first winter I experience without the luxuries of a permanent home, heaters and even something as simple as the easy access of a coat.

I hear shuffling and look up, Hyunjin is crouched over his bag in front of me. He rummages through it for a second and pulls out a sweater. He unfolds it, it is a plain black zip up hoodie. It is unzipped and he lays it down flat over me, to cover me like a blanket. My eyes flare slightly, this man keeps taking care of me and after taking care of myself for so long, I don’t know that I’ll ever be used to it.

“What about you?” I ask him. He’s only in a long sleeve shirt, a few holes in it from wear and tear, he must be cold. Who knows the last time he changed. Then again when was the last time I changed?

“I’m okay. I run warm. Don’t worry about me, get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us.” His brow furrows, but his eyes stay soft, concerned. He’s right. We have no safe place to stay. We need to find somewhere to go that is semi safe. On top of that we are definitely going to have to find food and warm clothes. Who’d have thought you’d still have to go shopping during the apocalypse? Not nearly as fun as it used to be.

I nod my head and tuck my head into my chest, his sweater that's keeping me warm bunching up near my face. I take a deep breath and his scent fills my nose. He smells like citrus, pine and something unique I can’t place it. Something that makes this scent specifically his. It makes my head light, I could enjoy this smell for a long time. I hope I get to.

My eyes are closed but sleep won’t come to me. At least my body is resting. My mom always used to tell me, “Even if you can’t rest your mind, rest your body. You never know when you’ll need to be at your full strength.” How I miss her wisdom.

“Are you awake?” Hyunjin whispers. His voice is light, and emotional. Though I can’t place why.

“Mhm.” I hum and open my eyes slowly. He’s sitting in front of me, back towards me, staring up at the sky. The wind blows his dark shoulder length back and forth. From the angle I’m at, I can see the side of his face slightly, his cheeks red from the cold wind hitting his face.

I sit up, he’s so close. Close enough to grab me and run at a moment's notice. The way he’s sitting in front of me, I realize, is to block me from the wind. My protection.

“I’m sorry if I was rough with you earlier. When I gave you my sweater.” He’s rubbing his hands and he looks down as he says it.

“You’re okay, I truly didn’t even notice. Is something wrong?” I ask and immediately feel pretty stupid. A blush creeping onto my face. Of course something is wrong. The world is in shambles. We’re sleeping on a roof in the cold. There’s plenty wrong.

He turns to look at me, his eyes are watery and I can’t tell if it’s because of the sting of the cold breeze or another reason. His eyebrows are knit tightly and he’s biting the inside of his cheek.

“Thank you.” He says it softly. His voice fading out on the last word. “For staying. Thank you for saving me tonight.” I can see the quiver in his lips.

Before I can think about it I am on my knees to bring myself to his height and I have my arms wrapped around him in a hug. He is surprisingly warm. His body stiffens briefly but then his head rests in the crook of my neck and his arms wrap around my waist. He holds me firm yet gentle. And my eyes start to water. I hadn’t realized the value of human touch, connection.

Who was the last person I embraced? Was it an emotional moment like this? Was it quick, like a second thought? As though we’d do it whenever we wanted so there was no need to linger.

As I am now, I’m slightly taller than him, so I rest my cheek on the side of his head, his hair blowing in my face lightly. But I don’t even care.

I speak softly, “You’re thanking me for saving you? You literally pulled me off of a bridge. Nothing I can do will repay that debt.” I release him from my hold and lighten my tone. “Plus, I almost got us killed in the first place, it was the least I could do to make sure we made it out of there.” I kicked that stupid pill bottle, I knew it was there too. I had clocked it when we first settled in. I should have paid more attention, I should have relaxed and not panicked as much. I -

My thoughts get cut off, “You don’t owe me anything.” He says it sternly, not rough, there's still a softness in his tone but I know he’s serious when he says it.

“I didn’t ‘Save you’. You made a choice to stay. Did I do some convincing? Sure. But if you jumped I would have too.” He reaches his hand up and brushes my wind blown hair out of my face. I didn’t realize how close we still were.

“Then we saved each other.” I say and look him in the eyes. His eyes are dark in the minimal light on the roof. We sit there staring at each other for a moment before his head falls back, eyes looking up at the sky as he lets out a deep sigh.

“The stars are beautiful. I can’t remember the last time I had time to admire them.” He looks beautiful as he stares up at the stars and the moon that fills the night sky. He lays down tugging on my arm slightly.

“Come, watch the stars with me.” He smiles at me lightly and I don’t know that I’ve seen him smile yet. But it takes my breath away, the way his lips curl at the corners and you can see his teeth peek through just a little bit.

“Sarah.” I say to him.

“What?” He turns his head and looks at me, his hair that was splayed around him on the ground of the roof, shifting with the movement. His brows furrow.

“You haven’t asked and I haven’t told you. But my name, it’s Sarah.”

The smile that faded from his face returns in full force, brighter than it was a moment ago, but still soft and not overly excited.

“Come watch the stars with me Sarah.”

~

I jolt awake. The sun blinding me as I rise to my feet quickly. Hyunjin next to where I was laying, his arm out straight in front of him. His hair flat under his head with some strands falling gently onto his face, cheeks puffy with sleep, and his lips slightly open as he snores so softly it sounds more like a sigh. Was I laying on his arm? Were we cuddling? Not the concern right now. He grumbles softly, now that I’ve moved from laying in front of him, the sun is right in his eyes. He rolls over and curls up into himself.

We must have fallen asleep looking at the stars. I haven’t slept so peacefully in months. I need to check the roof. If both of us fell asleep, who knows what we could have missed in the night. What kind of threats lurk, be it on the roof or nearby.

It’s cold in the early morning, with the sun slowly rising, it’s heat not at full beam yet. I pick up the sweater Hyunjin lent me as a blanket and slip it on, putting my bag on after. Time for a perimeter check.

I walk around the entire roof, checking corners, rechecking the locks on the door leading into the building, and the side of the building to the fire escape ladder we came up on. Aside from some creatures lurking in the alleyway, alerted when we came up last night, the roof is still secure.

“Sarah?” I hear Hyunjin call out softly, slightly panicked. A pillar on the roof blocks me, I walk around and come back into his view. His eyes wide with fear, sleep still evident on his face. As soon as he lays eyes on me his face softens and he lets out a soft breath that he must have been holding. I worried him.

“I’m sorry, I was just checking to make sure we were still safe. We both fell asleep last night.” I say walking over to him. I crouch down in front of him, we're face to face now.

“I thought you’d left. Or worse…” His head falls slightly. He takes a breath that seems to center him and looks back up at me. “That’s the best I’ve slept in a long time.” He chuckles, a nervousness in his voice, and he rubs the back of his neck shyly.

“Sorry we slept so close, you were really warm..”

I smile at him, genuinely. He doesn’t even know how adorable he is.

“Was the best sleep I’ve had in a long while too.” I sigh and look around us. “Now how do we get off this roof?”

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Master List

Tag List

Tag List: @intrikatie @zennnnny @hannamoon143 @crustless-toast

V A M P I R E H Y U N J I N!

♡When he first tried to drink from you felt super bad

♡Didn't like how you were trembling and shaking

♡Sat on the couch and made you straddle his lap

♡Felt amused at how hard you were blushing big wide doe eyes looking down at him in shock

♡"Sweetheart if this makes you feel embarrassed then what will you do when I do this"

♡Wraps one arm tightly around your waist both of your fronts flushed together, cradling your face with the other

♡Lands soft feather like kisses on your neck

♡Smiles even more when he hears you whimper and moan

♡Gives your neck one last kiss before bitting the skin

♡Makes sure he doesn't drink too much but God your blood is addictive

♡Licks the wound before looking up at you

♡Thinks his heart might have been revived with how beautiful you looked

♡Face flushed, eyes teary and unfocused, mouth open

♡You looked like an angle in his eyes

♡Gets super happy when you get tired and put your head on his chest

♡Acts annoyed but don't dare try and stand up

♡Notices you get tired more than the other humans he used to drink from

♡Probably because you weren't eating well

♡Feeds you so much

♡Every two hours he’ll be at your side with food

♡”I’m not hungry”

♡”Eat”

♡”I said i’m not hungry”

♡”Humans should eat every two hours. open your mouth”

♡He will force feed you don’t test him

♡Any weight you gain is noticed

♡And gushed over

♡”That’s a sign that I'm taking good care of my little Darling~”

♡Speaking of weight gain

♡When he first tried to feed you he gave you raw fish

♡He didn't know what Humans eat it's been centuries since he transformed

♡You thought he was testing you

♡Which made you even more terrified than before

♡He picked up on it

♡"Do you not like fish?"

♡"M-my lord Humans don't eat raw fish.."

♡"Oh"

♡For the first time sees you smile

♡You even give a small giggle

♡Happiest Vampire right here

♡After living together for a few months forbids you from calling him "Lord"

♡Gives you cute nicknames and sees which ones makes you blush more

♡"Sweetheart" "darling" "baby" "my love"

♡Favorite time of the day for him is feeding time!

♡Not because he gets to drink your sweet Blood

♡No, because you get so tired and sleepy and just cuddle into him

♡It's also the only time he doesn't smell fear from you

♡Thinks he will die again when you unconsciously nuzzle your face in his neck

♡Pets your head and might give you a light kiss on your forehead

♡Can you just please stay in his arms forever    

[How you met Vampire Hyunjin]

✦ Masterlist ✦

ceilings

Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x reader

Genre: Fluffy angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Author's Note: This just hurts but is also so sweet. Song of the day is ceilings by Lizzy McAlpine...so you've been warned!

----------------------------------------------

“Want to go to a bookstore? I’ve been wanting to get a new book about Impressionism to try and improve my watercolor technique…”

You smile at the blond boy sitting across from you over your honey vanilla latte.

“Sure, I’d love to. I could use a new book,” you respond.

“One of those spicy ones?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you with laughter spilling out of his lips.

“Jinnie, please…don’t pretend you’re not a gigantic romantic. I’ve seen you swoon over my ‘spicy books’, don’t think I haven’t noticed you reading over my shoulder,” you laugh, swatting your hand towards his chest.

He grabs your hand unexpectedly and drags you up from the table. You look up into his eyes that are sparkling with mischief. 

“Let’s go!” He pulls you towards the door as you fight to balance your coffee in your hand without spilling it. Glancing out the window, you notice that while you’ve been sitting inside, it’s begun to rain…quite hard.

“Hyunjin, it’s pouring!” He merely throws a grin over his shoulder towards you, relentless in his tugging you out the door.

You’re immediately met with puddles that soak through your Converse and socks.

“We’re going to get sick!” you exclaim over the din of the downpour.

Hyunjin merely grabs your coffee cup out of your hand, and replaces it with his own hand.

“Dance with me.”

Your eyes grow wide as raindrops start to run down your face.

“What?!”

“You heard me, let’s dance!” 

Looking up at his face, you can’t find it in yourself to say no. He looks too excited, too endearing. You place your empty hand on his shoulder and a giggle escapes you.

Hyunjin puts his free hand on your waist, and you start doing an awkward waltz in the middle of the sidewalk, passersby throwing you odd looks as they sidestep the two of you. You remain oblivious, focusing on the boy in front of you-his infectious smile, long blond hair sticking to the sides of his face, and the way his eyes are locked on yours. Despite the chill in the air from the rain, you can feel a warmth blooming throughout your body as you spin into Hyunjin’s chest, where he catches you and brings you into a hug.

—---------------------------------------------

One damp bookstore trip later, Hyunjin is driving you back to your apartment. It had conveniently stopped raining as soon as you had stepped out of the store, and the heater is blasting, leaving you toasty as he pulls into a parking space just outside of the entrance to your building.

“I had fun,” you smile, unbuckling your seatbelt.

“I always have fun with you,” he returns. Your cheeks color at this, not wanting to leave-both because of the heat of the car, but also because of how Hyunjin makes you feel. Cozy, comfortable, and safe.

“...I have to go.” You’re not sure what else to say without pouring out every single emotion that’s threatening to spill out of you.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” The question is tentative, soft.

You nod. At this, Hyunjin leans across the middle console, pausing just shy of your face, an unspoken ask. You bridge the gap between the two of you, his plush lips connecting with yours. An immediate sigh leaves your mouth and you can feel him smile into the kiss.

As you come up for air, he moves to brush his lips over your forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

—---------------------------------------------

“You’re lovely.”

“Hmm?” You slowly open your eyes to see Hyunjin laying beside you, a dreamy look on his face.

“You’re lovely,” he repeats, a soft smile overtaking his features. He reaches out a hand and traces his long fingers over your bare shoulders and collarbone. Though his touch is warm, it gives you goosebumps.

You feel shy under his gaze, though this is not the first time you’d been in the same bed together. No matter how long you've been seeing each other, you don’t think you’ll ever get fully used to the way he somehow manages to both smolder and look so soft at the same time…it’s infuriating.

A smile lifts the corner of his mouth as you try to pull the covers up toward your face, and he reaches for your hand to stop you.

“Don’t hide, I want to see you. Always.”

Everything in you wants to shout how much you love the man in front of you, but you’re not sure if that would scare him away. You hadn’t said that to each other yet-and you weren’t sure if you ever would. You weren’t exactly a couple…you weren’t sure what you were. The two of you never bothered to define anything, and you were scared to ruin everything by saying the wrong thing. 

You settle for resting your hands on each side of his face, drawing him into a deep kiss, hoping that all of the emotion you’re feeling can be conveyed through your actions.

You hope he understands.

—-------------------------------------------------

A few hours later, Hyunjin is driving you home again. As much as you wanted to stay, you had work the next morning, and Hyunjin’s place is too far to commute from.

The drive feels short as you sit thinking through your emotions, debating whether you needed to share how you felt with him. He seems to sense that you’re thinking about something, keeping quiet until he pulls up in front of your apartment.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he offers finally as you start to gather your bag from the floorboard.

You look over at him, concern lining his features. The streetlight is illuminating his face from behind, almost making it seem like there’s a halo surrounding him. Before you can think too hard, your mouth outpaces your brain.

“Hyunjin, I love you,” you blurt, palm immediately flying up to your mouth as if it can take the words back.

His face is inscrutable for a moment, and the silence feels as though it might swallow you whole. You scramble for the door handle, but you feel a hand on your wrist as you start to open the door. Turning back, Hyunjin’s lips are crashing against yours with fervor, with so many emotions buried in his kiss that it brings tears to your eyes.

As he backs away, you can see that his eyes are glassy. “I love you too. So much.” 

At this admission, the tears roll down your cheeks.

“Why are you crying, lovely?” He swipes gently across your cheeks with his thumb, and you give a hiccuping laugh.

“...I could ask you the same thing.” You bring your hand up to his cheek, mirroring his actions. He smiles.

“I’m so lucky to love you, that’s why.”

—--------------------------------------------

“Earth to weirdo…what’s so interesting out there? I don’t even know how you can see anything.”

Hyunjin’s words bring you crashing back down to reality, and you glance down at your watch. You’d been staring out of his car window for the past hour or so, watching rain move in rivulets across the glass. 

You blink rapidly as you realize that you have tears in your eyes, trying to get rid of them. Once you feel like you look normal, you turn to look at your best friend in the driver’s seat. He looks over at you, grinning, and you can feel your heart squeeze in your chest. You’re so hopelessly in love with him and have been since you can remember-apparently it’s gotten so bad that you’ve just imagined a whole entire relationship with him in the time it’s taken you to drive across the city.

“We’re almost there!” he enthuses. “I know you haven’t dated anyone in a while, but I really think you’ll like this guy. We used to fight a lot when we first met-he’s just a lot different than me. A little chaotic, but funny and he’s actually a musician. I think you’ll get along great!”

You manage a small smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“What’s his name again?”

“Jisung,” he replies, looking over at you. His face falls when he takes in your expression. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you say hastily. “It’s like you said, I haven’t dated in a while and meeting new guys makes me nervous.”

“Well, like I said, I think he’s a good fit for you. And no pressure, it’s a group hangout, not a date. So if you don’t like him, that’s fine too,” Hyunjin reassures you.

You want to scream at him to stop, to turn around and take you home. Instead you nod almost imperceptibly, and he focuses back on the road. You feel bad for Jisung-you’re sure he must be a nice guy if he’s friends with Hyunjin. He might even be cute. 

The only problem is…he’s not Hyunjin. 

He never will be.

—----------------------------------------

Taglist: @hyungieyoongi @alpacaparkaseok @derinxfam

Find more of my work here!

♡. genre: fluff, hurt to comfort

♡. a/n: i've been going through it lately so have this little drabble I wrote at like 2 am. writing this helped me so i hope it also can help someone else feel even a tiny bit better. if someone reads this, know that i'm always proud of you <3

Hyunjin doesn't say anything, just engulfs your frame in a hug, holding tight as you begin to cry harder. His strong arms around your body feel right, keeping you grounded and away from succumbing to the negative thoughts that keep running around in your head. Somehow, he always knows what to do to make you feel better. When to talk or wipe your tears, or when to just be present and hold you, giving you time to cry it out before anything else. You always joke around, calling him an angel and whatnot but maybe he actually was one - an angel on earth that was sent down just to be by your side. It was cheesy but, as all of your pain slowly went away, you were beginning to actually believe it.

"It's okay," he finally speaks, voice low and comforting as one of his hands was running up and down your back, "let it all out, angel, I’m right here."

Usually, these words would cause you to sob, soaking his shirt to the skin but now, they help in such a strange way that you actually begin to calm down. Or maybe, you're finally getting tired. Either way, Hyunjin's words make you feel seen and not like a ghost that's roaming around the earth without a purpose in life.

You're still standing in the middle of your bedroom but he's holding you just as tightly as before, not once complaining.

A few minutes later, he pulls away slightly to wipe your tear-stained face, his heart breaking at the sight of you.

"My baby," he coos, trying to smile for the both of you, "I hope you know a stupid thing like that doesn't define you. Far from it actually."

You don't respond but tears well up in your eyes again so, you hide your face in his chest without a word. Hyunjin lets out a shaky breath, clearly affected by your mood and that breaks your fragile heart even more.

Pressing his lips to the crown of your head, he leaves a few lingering kisses before mumbling against your hair.

"Opportunities come and go but your light will shine forever." Your hold on the back of his shirt gets tighter and in response, Hyunjin starts swinging your bodies from side to side slowly. "No matter what, I’m always proud of you and the hard work you put in. Always."

Shyly looking up into his eyes, Hyunjin smiles and suddenly, all of your problems feel so much smaller. "Really?"

He nods, leaning down to kiss both of your cheeks. "Of course! You’re the most amazing person I know, how could I not?"

You look away, heart squeezing painfully in your chest. "Well, you’re the only one that thinks – "

"The only one that sees how strong, intelligent and perseverant you are?" Hyunjin cuts you off, shaking his head. With one hand wrapped around your waist, the other reaches up to squeeze your cheeks together and he has to hold himself back from kissing your puckered lips. You look adorable like that.

"That’s fine with me," he continues his point from before, voice so tender and soft it almost brings back the tears in your eyes, "I’ll continue to remind you these things until you realise how beautiful of a heart you have."

His words render you speechless and as he lets go of your face, you throw your arms around his neck and start crying again only this time, for a different reason. A reason that isn’t painful, that doesn’t break your heart and makes it hard to breathe. As always, Hyunjin knows exactly what to say to make you feel better every time. Your ray of sunshine and speck of colour in an otherwise gloomy, sad and colourless world.

When he finishes mending your broken heart back together, you’ll make sure to tell him all of those things. To make him aware of exactly how wonderful he is, always.

"I’ll keep telling you these things until you see yourself the way I see you." He whispers against your hair, holding you tight. "Until you love yourself the way I love you. Unconditionally."

i’m almost late for work and reading this instead. absolute gold. this is a perfect example of why i love you platonically 🫶🏻

crybaby | hwang hyunjin

oh, your baby was such a good boy. and so, so pretty when he cried for you. // 18+, minors dni

words: 1.23 k// warnings: sub!hyunjin, nipple play, praise, premature ejaculation, dacryphilia, dance teacher!hyunjin x local dj!reader, brief piv at the beginning, porn with plot

a/n: based on this request by anon!! i hope i did it justice ♡

it was enlightening, really, to see how hyunjin reacted to praise. to see how he flushed red when people complimented him, to see how he hid his face in your shoulder when people told you what a cute couple you were. he had always been sensitive to praise, but you wondered how far that shyness went - and how much you could indulge him in it.

that was how you discovered how shy and submissive he really was. it was an accident, in all honesty. you wanted to test your luck by calling him a good boy while he was balls deep in your cunt, whining and whimpering as he dragged his cock along your walls. you truly weren’t expecting him to let out a high-pitched cry at your words, before cumming so hard inside you that you swore you could feel it in your throat.

the embarrassment that flooded his features was enough to have you dripping again, the realization of how much power you really held over him churning your stomach in a truly satisfying way. he really would do anything for you to praise him, huh? now, you could definitely get on board with that.

“its okay, baby. you did so good for me, don’t be upset.” you shushed him, lovingly, stroking his hair as he buried his face between your tits to hide his flustered expression. the last thing you wanted was for his embarrassment to cause an unpleasant sub-drop, and so you worked your hardest, giving him the best aftercare of his life and treating him like the delicate prince he was.

you pondered on his sensitivity for a few weeks after that, brainstorming a plan to have an evening that was all about him, and seeing how far his limits truly went. it started mostly innocently, playing with his gorgeous blonde hair in the bath together while he told you about his day.  work was harder than usual, he told you. he’d been dragged into teaching a dance class for newer students on top of his already packed schedule. he loved being a teaching assistant at the local music academy, but it was rough sometimes.

sometimes he claimed you were the only good thing to come out of the job - meeting you when you were just a part-time guitar teacher there, before the opportunity to become a radio dj at the local station, broadcasting worldwide, and also better pay for less hours. but you knew he didn’t mean it - the kids he got to teach, and watch grow, made him so immensely happy that you couldn’t picture him working anywhere else.

once you had moved back to the bedroom, things got… less innocent. you went from caressing his hair, and softly mumbling about how much you loved him, to grinding on his lap and messily making out - a concoction of drool and clashing teeth making him painfully hard from where you sat on him.

you worked quickly to rid him of his shirt, marveling at his body. you swore blind he must have been carved by greek gods, because there was no way anyone could be that pretty. his cock was painfully hard against the material of his sweatpants, precum staining the gray material darker in a patch where he needed you the most. but he would have to wait for that, you told him, wanting nothing more than to worship the piece of heaven before you in every way you could.

when hyunjin was exceptionally needy, he was extremely sensitive. anything, even the smallest touch, could have him keening into your touch, babbling and drooling all over for you. more often than not, you took advantage of that - and today was no different.

from soft kisses of his plush lips, you began mouthing down his jaw and throat, hands caressing every inch of skin you could reach. you shushed him everytime he whined, or tired to move your hips against him, telling him if he behaved that it would all be worth it. he instantly folded at that, taking your every word as sacred and doing whatever you asked of him.

once you were satisfied with the new batch of dark, splotchy marks you had attached to his neck and collarbones, you moved your attention to his chest. he was so, so beautiful, and you just couldn’t resist. with one hand playing with his nipple, you were quick to attach your lips around the other, teasing it with your tongue. his back arched at the motions, pushing his chest further into your face as he started to mumble out nonsense that you couldn’t begin to comprehend.

swapping your hand and mouth, you were keen to give both sides equal attention, oblivious to the wrecked state hyunjin was in. you were so wrapped up in how amazing he felt underneath you, you didn’t even realize the way he had tears springing from his eyes, and his fists balled in the sheets below.

“please, oh fuck, please please, (y/n)-- too much, too much-!”

you pulled away with a pop, caressing his cheek as you looked down in faux sympathy. he was an absolute state, and it was so unbelievably hot. tears falling down his flushed cheeks, lip wobbling from trying to contain his moans. his cock was throbbing beneath you and you couldn’t help the way you cooed at him. 

“too much, baby boy? does that mean you want me to stop?”

the shake of his head was so fast you nearly got whiplash.

“no, no, please. i’m your good boy, please.”

“yeah, you are,” you smiled, pinching one of nipples hard. “my perfect boy, aren’t you, jinnie? such a good boy, and all mine.”

with your words still ringing in his ears, you dipped you head back down, sucking on his nipple and tongue swirling around it like it was your last lifeline. with a final pinch and flick of his other nipple, you felt him tense beneath you, quickly pulling away in confusion to look at his face.

he let out a moan so loud that anyone else would think he was in pain, veins popping out of his neck and eyes rolling to the back of his head. you smirked as you felt a wet patch growing beneath you, and rocking your hips cautiously, overwhelmed with emotion when he whimpered and begged you to stop. it was too much, he said. too much, and not enough. give him a second to breathe, he asked, and you were more than willing to comply.

“that good, love?” you asked, teasingly, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to his lips when he nodded. he’d never come just from your abusing of his nipples before, and god knew you were going to be trying to more often.

he was breathless, chest heaving as his blush spread onto his ears and down his chest. but for once, he didn’t seem embarrassed. more delirious with pleasure, and so out of it your body craved to see more.

“think you can give me one more, baby?” you smirked, moving down the bed to rest between his legs, hands playing with the hem of his sweatpants. his overwhelmed nod was all you needed before you bit your lip with glee, already manhandling the offending clothing item down his legs.

yeah, you sure struck gold with such a good boy like hyunjin.

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Partners for the night 2

Swinger!Hyunjin x Swinger!reader

Summary: Your husband, Changbin, and you are presidents of a swinger club and organize the parties. Who will be the lucky one to get with the president’s wife tonight? Genre: Smut Warnings: swear words, swinging, toys (condom over it bc let’s be careful!), handcuffs, fingering, protected sex, edging, teasing, overstimulation Word count: 1.6k (1612 words) A/N: You can read every part individually, since it’s just different p.o.v.s of the same night. 

~~~~~~~~

“Welcome! Long time no see!” You greeted the couple in front of you. Mr and Mrs Bang, also known as the previous presidents of the swinger club. Both busy people, who needed an escape every now and then, but always liked to be the ones to organize stuff. After 3 years, they decided that they needed a break for their responsibilities. That’s where you and your husband, Changbin appeared and replaced them. The club seemed to be going well and even if they weren’t presidents anymore, Mr and Mrs Bang still offered to help when they could.

“That was the last couple on our list for today,” Your husband said, pointing to the printed list of couples who were interested in attending today’s party.

“Yes, finally, but I’m afraid most of our guests will have already partnered up by now.” You complained. It had only happened once in the past, the first time Changbin and you hosted a party and you were both pretty disappointed, but it was okay because you still had fun with each other.

“It’s not that late. There are many who are still in groups. See, over there? Mr and Mrs Hwang are talking to Mr Lee. I can’t find Mr and Mrs Bang though.” Changbin said and pointed at some more groups of people who hadn’t partnered up yet.

“Okay, I’ll close the doors and check if everything is okay. You can go talk to someone.” You said and your husband nodded.

“Thank you,” He said and kissed your cheek before wandering off. Right as you closed the doors, you felt a presence behind you.

“Hello, Mrs President.” A deep voice startled you, making you jump a little.

“Oh, you scared me Mr Hwang.” You turned to look at the man. “Oh, you’ve cut your hair,” You said shocked. He had let his hair grow for the past one year and he looked breathtaking, but now, with short hair he suddenly looked younger, but still as breathtaking as before.

“Yeah, recently too. How do you like it?” He asked, genuinely interested in your opinion.

“You look breathtaking as always.” You didn’t lie and decided to voice your exact thoughts instead.

“Oh really?” He teased with a small smirk, suddenly getting even closer to you.

“Yes,” You breathed out, suddenly at loss of words because of the proximity.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day, you know,” He whispered and you shivered. “I’d be so disappointed if you had found another partner tonight,” He confidently said and you decided to tease him back a little.

“Who said that you will be my partner for tonight?” Which made the man widen his eyes. You took the opportunity of his shocked state and pressed him against the door instead. The man sighed and threw his head back, as he chuckled darkly.

“Oh, I like your mood today. But that’s enough talking back, don’t you think, baby? I think I should punish you for this.” He said and you almost whined at how, even in a vulnerable position, he seemed to have the upper hand. “Let’s go somewhere private now, hmm?” He whispered in your ear, as his hands slid around your waist pulling you closer. You could only nod in defeat, hating but also loving how quickly he put you in your place.

He walked up the stairs, as if he knew that the best rooms were on the 1st floor of the ship themed building. He opened a door and gestured for you to go in. You had seen the rooms before renting the place with your husband, but Hyunjin hadn’t and was pretty surprised.

“You picked the best room,” You confirmed his thoughts and he smiled a devilish smile.

“Had a hunch,” He said. His eyes took in the place, mostly looking at the bed and then the little couch the room had opposite of the bed.

“Strip and lay on your back on the bed.” He ordered and you suddenly remembered the reason you were in this room for and shivered once more. You did as told, feeling a little awkward under his gaze, but his hungry eyes never stopped looking at you up and down. He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and your eyes widened.

“What is it, baby?” He teased and cuffed your hands to the headboard without much resistance from you. “And I’ve brought something else for you today. I think you’ll enjoy it a lot.” He said and you looked at him curiously. He suddenly pulled a small vibrator from his pocket and your eyes widened once again.

“I told you I need to punish you for teasing me,” He said and covered the vibrator with a condom, before turning it on. He walked closer towards the bed, still fully clothed. His lips brushed against yours, not actually kissing you, making you whine against his lips. He chuckled darkly and dragged the little vibrator down your body, until it reached the place you needed it the most, making you sigh at the contact.

You were already very wet, so it was easier for Hyunjin to glide the vibrator up and down to tease you. Finally, he positioned it to your entrance and slowly pushed it. You moaned, finally receiving some pleasure. You thought he’d start moving the vibrator inside you, but he surprised you by leaving it inside of you and pulling away from you. He slowly removed his clothes and you whined seeing his toned naked body.

He then moved on top of you, trailing one hand upwards, from your waist to your breast. He leaned down on your other breast, softly kissing your nipple, before tracing it with his tongue. You sighed once more and he wrapped his plump lips around it, sucking it into his mouth.

You whined at the stimulation of the vibrator still being on inside you and his beautiful lips abusing your nipple, but you needed more. “Please,” you whispered making him look up at you.

“You want more, princess? Do you think you deserve more?” He asked and you shut your eyes throwing your head back. “Please, just give me more,” You pleaded once more ignoring his other question.

He chuckled at your state and trailed one hand towards the vibrator. You looked at him, relieved when he started moving the vibrator a little. Unfortunately, he removed it from inside of you completely and pressed it against your clit, searching the correct angle that would make you tremble. Your juices flowed down, staining the sheets as you moaned loudly and spasmed underneath him.

He held the vibrator there with his thumb, as his pointer and middle finger spread your juices all over you, before he slowly pushed the two fingers inside.

“Ah, fuck,” You let out loudly, as he leaned down once again sucking on your nipple. He kept going, finally pleasuring you, making you think that your punishment was over. Sadly, he had other plans, because right when you notified him that you were close, he stopped his ministrations completely.

“Are you serious?” You whimpered making him laugh darkly. “Did you learn your lesson not to tease me, princess?” He asked and you nodded. “I did. I did. Please, just let me cum already.” You begged and he smiled satisfied. He turned the vibrator off and pulled out another condom from the pocket of his pants, rolling it over his hard and leaking dick. He positioned his tip to your entrance and slowly slipped in making your throw your head back, seeing starts already.

He was so long and thick that you felt full before he even bottomed out. He gave you time to adjust and then finally bottomed out, groaning.

“You’re so wet for me. You took me in so easily.” He breathed out, voice shaking, enjoying this as much as you did. He slowly started moving in and out of you, both of you letting out shaky breaths. He moved your right leg over his shoulder, and changed the angle of his thrusts, soon hitting your g-spot, making you let out a loud moan. “Found it,” he whispered and continued thrusting against it again and again.

“I’m so fucking close, please let me cum,” You pleaded. “Shit,” he cursed and you felt him spill into the condom, but he didn’t stop thrusting, determined to get you to cum. You felt his hand trailing down, his thumb now on your clit, your hands tightening in fists as you finally came, moaning out his name. His thrusts slowly stopped, until he pulled out of you, whimpering at the overstimulation, making you shiver at the beautiful sound, proud that you made such man feel this good.

He kissed your neck, careful not to leave any marks, before he got off of you, removing the handcuffs. You let your hands fall and rubbed at your wrists, as it had almost started hurting at how long they’ve been tied for.

“Did I hurt you?” Hyunjin asked with wide eyes, but you shook your head ‘no’ making him sigh out in relief.

He handed you your clothes, as he started getting dressed after throwing both of the condoms he used in the trash. He collected the handcuffs and the vibrator and they disappeared in his pocket. He let you go clean up as he put on his shoes, as slow as he could, not wanting to leave before you.

You smiled at him, seeing that he hadn’t left, and put on your shoes quickly, exiting the room with the man.

“Goodnight,” You said as you parted ways, both of you heading to find your significant others.

~~~~~~~~ Part 1 (Chan) | Part 3 (Lee know) | Part 4 (Changbin) 

pet names | hwang hyunjin x reader | 519 w.

"What did you just call me?" Hyunjin scowled. His hands once again placed on each hip. It was impossible to not laugh at the scene, and that made him even more enraged in all the endearing ways possible for you.

"Hyunjin," you whine as he walks out of the room. Following him to the kitchen, you quickly circle your hand on his torso, trying to put your chin on his shoulder, but fail miserably because he keeps shaking you off. You laugh at his antics. All this because you called him by his name and not the designated pet names you both had for each other.

"I don't know any Hyunjin," he said, running away from you once again to the couch.

"That's literally your name," you exclaimed, half laughing. You sat next to him, nudging his feet with your own, trying to annoy him. He quickly grabs a pillow to prevent you from trying to use the hug attack. "Hyune," you called again, this time with a more common nickname.

He didn't budge. Not even a twitch of an eye.

"Baby?" you tried another one with a softer one. That sure earned you a little sarcastic smile from the man himself. He looked down at you, still not impressed by your whole shenanigans. He pressed his body even further into the couch, leaving no space for you to slip your hand.

"No," he said, squinting at you.

"What do you mean no?" you jolt back in surprise. Mainly because that's what you always call him. Baby. Just like the pet names, he's the biggest pouty baby you've ever known.

Hyunjin looks as if he's thinking something before you notice the mischief in his eyes.

"I want new pet names," he said, smirking. You looked at him, gears starting to run in your head.

"Honey?" you offer softly. He placed a finger under his chin before tickling you, making you fall from the couch. He saw this coming and held on to your body before you could hit the floor. He sets you down on the floor gently before attacking you with tickles again.

"I'll stop when you give me one I like," he laughed maniacally.

"Sorry! Sorry!" you exclaimed, trying to escape from his grip. "Boobear! Boobear!" you shouted in between laughs. Hyunjin laughs along with you, refusing to stop.

"Love, my love," you offer another one, starting to run out of energy. Hyunjin seems to think for a few seconds before he stops tickling you.

"I like that," he said, pushing the hair on your face away so he could hold it.

"You know it was just a prank, right?" you ask, out of breath.

"I do," he smiles playfully before placing a kiss on the tip of your nose. "Now we're even." You roll your eyes in annoyance, smiling nevertheless.

"I'll get you some water, stay here," he said before standing up.

You saw another chance, propping yourself before you opened your mouth and shouted, "Thanks, bro." Immediately bolting away to the room with erupting laughter.

Hyunjin let out a deep sigh, speechless and definitely unamused.

a/n. my honeybun, pumpkin, choco pie, this is so cliche please don't attack me it's sounds better in my head

colors

PAIRING: hwang hyunjin x reader GENRE: fluff, established relationship WC: 558 WARNINGS: none

"There are only 3 primary colors, right?" you ask mindlessly as you watch Hyunjin's brush glide across the canvas. You heard a low hum from him before asking, "Who named the colors?"

he rolls his eyes, and a thin smile creeps on his face.

"What's on your mind pretty?" he asks softly, still focusing on the canvas in front of him. You had agreed to be his muse today. Though a very basic muse, you must say. He doesn't even let you hold any props, so you just sit there with a flower slipped in your ear.

"Well, orange comes from mixing red and yellow, so why not call it yed?" you propose.

Hyunjin stops to look at you with his confused face. "Yed?"

"Yes? well, you mix yellow and red? Yed? Or should it be redow?"

"You're absurd," he laughs, continuing his sweep of brush. You're cute, was what he was actually thinking. Since you sat on that chair, you hadn't stopped talking about everything, from the workplace stress you're currently experiencing, to stories of stray cats in your apartment complex. Your voice was a better substitute for the music he put on every time he started painting.

"Green should be called yellue," you push forward. Laughing when the words repeated itself in your head. "Isn't that cute, Hyune, yellue?" you ask.

"Sure, my love," he answered. "Tell me everything on that pretty head of yours."

"I think, you don't need me to sit here," you said softly. Hyunjin laughs again. If he's being honest, it's his first time drawing the muse directly. He could have snapped a picture of you and used it as a reference, that's what he always does. But who he is to say no when you're the one offering to be his muse for a day?

"Weren't you the one offering yourself?" He asks, not paying much attention to you who had started to stand. You stopped in your tracks, thinking to yourself.

"Right..." you shyly said. You walked behind him, leaning down to rest your chin on his left shoulder. You are the muse, but you're certain that the scene doesn't look anything like his painting. Not in a bad way, just in a very hyperbole way that the background colors seem to be muted while he gives you the spotlight with all the vibrant colors.

Hyunjin turned his head, pressing a kiss on your cheek. "What do you think?"

"I don't think there's any word that can describe the elegance of that painting, Hyune," you answered. "I think you're a great artist, I'm pretty sure I'm not as beautiful as the person in the canvas."

Hyunjin puts down his palette on the little table next to the canvas before standing up. He grabs your shoulder, just looking at you. No matter how many times he memorized your features, he can't stop admiring your angelic nature.

It's true that an artist's eyes see colors in a spectrum that's never existed before, but you're different. Hyunjin had always thought that he already saw all the colors of life, but your existence in his life gives him a taste of a new kind of rainbow. And he wished for nothing more than you to see yourself from his point of view.

"Believe me, my love, no colors can do justice to paint you."

a/n. Ramadhan Kareem everyone! We're well fed this month by the amount of skz record the kids released and some said we're getting cb announcement at fanmeeting😃 can't wait!!!!!!

Hyunjin sickfic when. *folds arms waiting patiently* 🤭

I love your writing sm I’m gonna cry

𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐠𝐨

pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader (afab)

genre: sick!fic. idol!hyunjin. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. hospital visit. this one's got angst in it. reader is sick (with a sprained ankle). hyunjin is worried af, as he should be lmao. reader has low self-esteem w/her dancing abilities, and has difficulty opening up about how she truly feels. pet names (affectionately). toothe-rotting fluff.

word count: 6.3k (yikes got carried away with this one wtf)

summary: it's been proving to be very difficult to keep the dance class that you take three times a week a secret from your boyfriend hyunjin. and the lies only become even harder to tell when you suddenly hurt your foot during class one night.

a/n: originally, i was planning on posting this yesterday as a kind of valentine's day gift for you guys, but then uni homework raw-dogged me like a total bitch and i got fucked over with a horrible migraine later in the night... i love my life!!! 😊 anyways, this was really fun to write- i FUCKING ADORE SOFT HYUNJIN!!! 😭 thanks for requesting, @hyungenie5... i hope this little piece of writing is to your liking, and thanks for your support~ 🤍

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The dance class was supposed to remain a secret. No one - not even your boyfriend Hyunjin - was supposed to know that you were taking it until it was long over in the summer. By the end of the class, you hoped that your skills would improve immensely and that you’d be able to join your boyfriend in the studio some time to dance with him. 

 But unfortunately, those grand plans all came to a halt late one Friday night. 

 When you were practicing a certain twirl that had been giving you a hard time for the past week. For some reason, one of the laces of your sneakers had come undone. And this prompted you to trip over it when you suddenly came out of the spin. 

 You landed on the ground in a heap of limbs, clenching down hard on your jaw at the feel of a sharp pain shooting through your left ankle. The ache was agonizing, and it took everything in you to not scream out in anguish at the feeling that had quickly exploded inside your ankle. 

 Soon, your classmates rushed over and helped you off of the floor and onto a nearby bench, where your teacher took a look at your foot.

 “It doesn’t look too bad, it’s just a bit swollen from the impact,” she said, peering up at you, a sheen of sweat glistening across her exposed forehead. It was sweltering in the practice room at the gym where you were taking the lessons, and everyone crowding around you was out of breath from the routine that the class had been practicing tirelessly for the last month or so. “I’d advise you to keep off of it as much as you can for the next few days and ice it every night. Don’t come into class Monday and instead give it a rest, and it should be better by the next session on Wednesday.” Your teacher instructed you, before giving your knee a gentle squeeze and going back to a group of students who needed her advice on a certain move. You had class every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday late in the night, but surprisingly, the sessions were always packed with wannabe dancers, even late into the night. It just proved how many people desperately wanted to become better dancers. And you were one of those ‘people.’ 

 “Can you make it to your car alone?” One of your classmates asked. You looked up at Yejun, offering her a smile that quickly turned into a grimace of pain. You had met her soon after you started the class, and the two of you had grown closer over the past few months. 

 But no one knew who you were dating - who your boyfriend of three years was. They couldn’t know, otherwise, that would jeopardize everything Hyunjin did for work and your entire livelihood. So, you mostly stayed silent about the intimate details of your personal life with everyone else and opted to talk about the surface-level things in your life.

 “Yeah, I don’t think I can do it,” you laughed in a humorless kind of way. Without another word, Yejun was picking up the large duffle bag that you always brought with you to practice. Then, she was slipping an arm around your waist and leading you out of class and through the spacious gym. It was still relatively busy even for it being so late in the night on a Friday.

 “You promise that you’re gonna rest?” She rose a black, perfectly-manicured eyebrow your way as you shuffled out of the main doors of the gym. 

 And even though you had only known her for a few months, she could get a pretty good read on you. How you didn’t like asking people for help and how you tended to bottle things up all of the time. You had done such a thing since you were a very little girl, and you supposed there was no changing the way your mind was built. Even still, this aspect of your personality drove Hyunjin insane. He’d pry and pry and pry for you to tell him what was truly wrong with you, and it’d take more than just a few kisses and gentle words to finally get you to talk. It didn’t matter who you were with - who you were talking to - you just… couldn’t talk about really personal stuff most of the time. 

 “Yeah, yeah- I’ll rest all this weekend.” You rolled your eyes at Yejun as you stopped just in front of your car. You pulled out your keys, unlocking the doors before throwing your duffle bag into the backseat. 

 “Okay, well… drive safe and take it easy, yeah?” She mumbled, pulling you into a gentle hug, and you gave her a quick pat on the back before pulling away. “See you on Wednesday?” 

 You flashed her a playful wink, “Sure thing!” You waved her off as you slipped into the driver’s seat of your car. Your friend returned the gesture before she turned around and jogged back into the gym. 

 As soon as she was out of sight, you let out the moan of misery that you had been holding in for the last few minutes. The pain seemed to shoot through your ankle in quick increments, traveling up the length of your leg and pooling in your knee. 

 Holding onto the steering wheel with a death-like grip, you took a few deep breaths. The ache wouldn’t be this bad forever. You just needed to ice it. Just follow what your teacher told you to do, and you’ll be fine. You said all of these things and more to yourself inside your head as you turned your key in the car's socket and the car’s ignition roared to light. 

 Just get home and get in bed, and then everything will be alright. 

 But everything was not alright. 

 This was made so apparent when you stood in front of your apartment door and the remembrance dawned on you that Hyunjin had the entire weekend off. So that meant that he would be home earlier than he usually would be on a Friday night. And since it was a quarter-past-eleven at night, he was sure to be home.

 Fuck. 

 It had already been an entire production getting out of your car and into your apartment’s elevator, what with your limping form and all. But now you had to face your very own boyfriend, who wasn’t even aware that you were taking a dance class in the first place. You wanted it to be a surprise for him. You had always been self-conscious about your dance skills ever since you were a little girl. 

  And then you went ahead and started dating one of the best dancers in all of the Kpop industry. As a consequence, your self-esteem in the dancing department tanked astonishingly low. You’d regularly join Hyunjin in the studio late at night at the company, and sometimes he’d try to teach you some of Stray Kids choreo. But most of the time, you made a complete fool of yourself, and instead opted to just watch him from the sidelines. Watch in silence, offering praise when you could, about how perfect his angles were, how amazing his technique was, and how his flow and rhythm were impeccable with the music. 

 Meanwhile, deep inside your mind, you were playing the same thought over and over again; why can’t you just be a better dancer like him? Why can you just not suck at it, for once in your damn life? He probably thinks your horrible, and he’s right… no wonder why he stopped offering you teach you. 

 But in the new year, finally feeling fed up from always feeling shitty when your boyfriend would show you a video of his dance practices, or when you’d watch him in the studio, you decided to sign up for the beginner's contemporary dance class at your local gym. 

 It was daunting, at first, to go by yourself without knowing anyone there, but soon, you got used to the feeling and genuinely started to enjoy your time spend in the studio. It was hard work, that was for sure, but you liked the idea of finally finishing it in the early spring and then surprising your amazingly-talented dancer boyfriend with the choreo that you had learned and practiced tirelessly for the past few months, unbeknownst to him. 

 To keep the class a secret from Hyunjin, you had lied and told him that you were going to the local gym and lifting weights. And it wasn’t a complete lie, because technically, you were at the gym. You just weren’t lifting any weights. 

 Nevertheless, Hyunjin had been hesitant about the idea. Especially since you would be coming and going so late at night. At first, he had protested against it because of how many creeps could be hanging around the gym that late at night. He didn’t want you willingly putting yourself in any danger from being out so late alone. But, after much negotiation and pleading on your part, you had managed to convince him to be okay with it. And then, you were off… attending the class three times a week and absorbing the lessons like a little ocean sponge out in deep sea waters. 

 You gathered up all of the courage you still had inside of you as you shuffled across the apartment’s threshold. A couple of the lights were left on in the living room, and dim classical music was filtering out through the nearby room to the right of you. Hyunjin’s art studio. The two of you had chosen this specific apartment to rent out because it offered two bedrooms, and the space that he wanted to make his office had an amazing, large bay window that showcased a huge portion of Seoul's cityscape. The view in there was breathtaking and was the key inspiration for a lot of his recent art pieces. 

 A sigh of relief fled from your lips as you dropped your duffle bag down on the nearby dining room table and made to get some ice for your foot. Your entire body was sticky from your dried sweat, and you longed to hop into the shower for a nice cool-off. Just as soon as you ice your ankle. 

 Just as you were filling up a small plastic bag of ice, you heard a door open behind you. Then, in a few beats, you felt two long arms wrap around your waist from behind. If you weren’t in so much pain at that moment, you would’ve been happy to feel Hyunjin’s presence at your back. But mostly, you just felt exhausted and irritable. And these were two things that didn’t mix well together.

 “Welcome home, sweetheart,” he muttered, as he leaned down with his tall frame to pepper gentle kisses against your shoulder. “How was your workout?” 

 “Fine, I guess.” You said in a slightly-dismissive tone, as you finished filling up your baggie with ice. 

 “And why in the world are you filling up a plastic bag with ice?”

 Your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach at his question. Because in your state of discomfort and exhaustion, you hadn’t thought out the lie that you would have to tell him for why you could barely fucking walk. And you definitely couldn’t tell him to the extent that the pain was at. But there was no getting around the fact that you had hurt yourself, so better to tell a small white lie than ignore it entirely. 

 “I, uh- kinda hurt my foot when I was working out with weights tonight, but I’m okay.” You said, trying to keep your voice light and airy. 

 Immediately as the words fell from your lips, Hyunjin was turning you around. His eyes raked over your face, assessing your neutral expression before flitting down to the rest of your body. Like he’d be able to see any other injuries you hadn’t told him about if he looked hard enough. 

 “Are you sure you’re okay?” His brows were furrowed in worry, the concern blatantly shining in his dark brown eyes. His fingers brushed across your cheek, before tucking a few stray, sweaty strands of your hair behind your ear. 

 You gave him a soft smile, leaning up to ruffle his fluffy, peachy-pink hair a little bit. “Yes babe, I’m fine.” 

 “Then, you should rest and use the ice pack.” 

 You gave him a sardonic grin, “That’s what I was trying to do before you stopped my plans and started to grill me with questions.” 

 He slipped his arms from your hips and reluctantly stepped away from your frame to allow you space to continue your routine. But not before he leaned down into you with his towering form and pressed a gentle kiss against your lips. And if your foot didn’t currently hurt like a bitch, you probably would’ve melted into his embrace and let him hold and kiss you for a long time after that. Instead, you just felt like a sweaty ball of painful shit and wanted to hop into bed as soon as possible. 

 “I’ll be in my office if you need anything…” Hyunjin’s delicate voice stayed with you in the kitchen, as he trekked back to the door to his office. 

 You quickly grabbed a kitchen dish towel to use to wrap around your bag of ice. “Alright. I’m going to take a quick shower and then head to bed.” 

 “I’ll be there in a little while,” your boyfriend said, and when you looked up at him, he was giving you this sweet, pure look of devotion. But it was also mixed with a tad bit of unease. He never did like the idea of you being injured in any way. “Try to get some rest, yeah?” 

 “Sure, baby,” you flashed him a wink, “but only if you come to bed relatively early tonight.” It seemed like he was always slipping into bed late these days… curling up behind you well past three in the morning. He proclaimed that it was only because inspiration struck him the strongest late into the night, and while you weren’t one to stand between an artist and their craft, there had to be a better solution for inspiration than ruining his entire sleep schedule.

 “I'll sure try, sweetheart.” Hyunjin’s soft voice followed behind you, as you made your way to your shared bedroom. 

 At least you weren’t the only one who told lies in the relationship. 

 The next day, your foot hurt like a literal bitch all day long. The pain wasn’t too bad after you first woke up, and upon icing it for a little while, it felt somewhat better. But then you went about the apartment doing the chores that you usually did every Saturday, and the discomfort returned tenfold. 

 At one point, it was so bad that when you sat down on the living room couch for a few minutes to give it a rest, you could barely get up again. And when you untucked your sock after lunch, you noticed how your left foot was looking a little… discolored. Some parts of your ankle were grayed, and a tiny bit of swelling was present too. But you had hurt it in dance, so that was to be expected. 

 You tried to hide the agony that you were in from your boyfriend, but being the perceptive man that he was, he automatically picked up on it. After all, he had become attuned over the years to understanding when you were feeling shitty since it took you so long to admit to him how you were feeling. Throughout the day, he’d ask you if you were okay and force you to sit down for a few minutes to ice the hurting foot. 

 But it was after dinner that he finally decided to put his foot down about the whole thing. He had dragged you over to the living room couch, practically throwing you onto the plush cushions before plopping down beside you. 

 “And what gives you the right to think you can throw me around like your own personal rag doll?” You asked, playfulness dripping from your tone. You turned to him and rose a quizzical eyebrow his way as he turned on the tv and flipped through Netflix to find a movie to watch. The usual thing that you two liked to do every Saturday night; was curl up on the couch and get all cozy with each other. The movie nights either ended in one of two ways, cuddling until you both fell asleep right then and there, or making out and soon traveling into the bedroom for a long night of fun. 

 “I’m forcing you to take a break, that’s what I’m doing,” he leveled you with a serious face, a slight frown pulling his mouth downwards. 

 You folded your arms across your chest defensively, “I don’t need a break, babe. I’m fine.” 

 “Oh yeah? Well then, I guess I’ve just been imagining all of the pained faces that you’ve been making all day, or that perpetual furrow in your brow that you always get when you’re holding something in?” Hyunjin said, voice completely flat. Just then he reached out to you, wrapping a long arm around your waist and yanking you close to his side before tucking a fuzzy blanket around the two of you. 

 “I’m not furrowing my brows.” You said defensively, even though you had given up on fighting him any longer. Honestly, you were a little too tired from all of the hurt and activity of the day to care. So you snuggled deeper against him, slinging your arms around his waist and breathing in his scent of fresh linen and sweet roses. “And besides, the apartment needed cleaning. A bad foot wasn’t going to stop me from completing my mission.” You had taken some pain medication soon after lunch, but since it was late into the night, it had worn off. You’d have to take some before you went to bed, but it didn’t seem to help that much, since you had still been in pain even after taking it in the middle of the day.

 “Just shut up and relax, will ya?” Your boyfriend all but grumbled, as he finally selected some random thriller to watch. You hid your smile behind your blanket as you felt him lean down and press a few kisses atop the crown of your head. “Just want you to feel better, my love…” 

 You turned your head up on his shoulder so that you were staring right into his expressive dark-brown eyes. “And I already do feel better just with your kisses alone.” A smirk spread across your mouth, as you leaned into him and your mouths met again in a soft kiss. 

 Your boyfriend motioned with his head to the flashing tv screen in front of the two of you, “Now, let’s focus on the movie so that you can get your mind off of the discomfort.” 

 A few giggles escaped from deep inside of you at his serious tone. He truly did care a lot about you and your well-being. And so that’s why you didn’t want to tell him how bad the pain was. Because you knew that as soon as you told him, he’d get himself all worked up into a tizzy and obsess over your health until you were back to one-hundred-and-twenty percent. Would practically nurse you back to health, ignoring all of his other duties at the company until he could confirm with his own two eyes that his girlfriend was feeling much better than before. 

 So you stayed silent, refraining from revealing to him how much agony you truly were in from your foot alone. You turned your attention to the movie in front of you. 

 And the feel of his long, muscular arms wrapped around your waist and squeezing slightly, the comforting sense of his warm body just beside yours, did wonders to the pain. It worked better than any of the medicine in the entire world, and you soon found yourself completely ignoring and forgetting the ache that was shooting through your foot and up into your veins and instead was basking in the feel and smell of your very loving boyfriend. 

 “Sweetheart, do you want to stop and take a rest for a minute?” Hyunjin asked you in a gentle voice the next day. What with it being Sunday and since the two of you were still off from work, you had decided to spend the day out on the town - shopping around. 

 You two had already eaten a sweet breakfast of pastries and coffee at a local cafe and were currently walking the streets of Hongdae, in search of a matching set of hoodies that fit both of your styles perfectly. So far, you had had no luck at the boutiques that you had already searched. The fuzzy hoodies were either too frilly or too plain...

 You shook your head vehemently, “No, I’m fine… don’t worry about me.” But you knew you telling him that would only make him worry even more. Since your foot only hurt even worse when you woke up early that morning. The pain throbbed up your leg now, and it felt like somehow was grasping harshly at your left ankle bone every time you walked on it, rattling the thing bitterly. 

 You were practically limping pathetically at your boyfriend's side, desperate hands clutching at his arm to stop you from completely toppling over into a pile of weak limbs right there. Because that’s what you were feeling at that exact moment; weak. 

 Hyunjin ran a frustrated hand through his peachy-pink locks, an exasperated sigh flooding from his lips, “I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to us going out today-” He started to grumble beside you. 

 Just then, the two of you stepped over a particular area of sidewalk that was somewhat cracked in the middle. And of course, your left shoe - your bad foot - just had to get caught in the tiny space there. Immediately, your body hurled to the ground as you grasped for your boyfriend. Thankfully, he caught you just in time before you hit the asphalt, pulling you up onto your feet again. 

 And when you stood straight once more, the agony only intensified even more so. Feeling so overwhelmed by it, and so, so weary with sudden despair, a tiny cry escaped past your lips as your legs gave out from underneath you. Toppling onto the ground in a heap of exhaustion, the tears were freely flowing down your cheeks. 

 Hyunjin was already crouching at your side, one arm wrapped around your waist. “Darling, what’s wrong-” He began, the worry seeping from his tone. 

 “It’s hurts, Hyunjin… like, a lot…” You managed to get out in between your sobs. Your vision was blurry from your tears, cheeks warm to the touch at the embarrassment of feeling others' eyes on you as they passed by on the street. 

 But not another word needed to be spoken, as you were soon being lifted into your boyfriend’s arms. And a moment later, he was gently placing you down on a nearby bench. 

 He was then crouching in front of your feet, gently grasping at your left foot and holding it out to him slowly. “Can I take a look at it, sweetheart?” He asked you with all of the tenderness in the world. The look in his eyes then- one of pure apprehension and heartache did something funny to your heart and only made you cry even harder. You nodded your head in silent approval. 

 Heart beating wildly inside your chest, you waited, and watched in bated since, as your boyfriend gingerly slipped off your thin sneaker. With thin, nimble fingers, he slid your baby-blue sock down and off of your foot. 

 And the moment he saw what lay underneath, he gasped audibly. Your foot was steadily turning purple and blue and was swollen all around the ankle. Eyes completely focused on your foot, Hyunjin turned your foot from either side, inspecting it diligently. 

 Finally, after what felt like an eternity of looking at it, he stared up at you with wide eyes. The heartbreaking look in them told you all you needed to know- the way that his lips slightly fell open in his surprise, jaw clenching in anger. “B-Baby, has it looked like this since you got home from the gym on Friday?” His fingers gently swept over the bone that was slightly protruding out to the side near your ankle. 

 The tears had begun to slow down, leaving wet trails down either of your heated cheeks. Sniffling, you meekly nodded your head yes in answer. “Why? Is it that bad?” 

 A deep crease formed between his dark brows, and his blush-pink hair blew in the cool February breeze that suddenly swept across the streets at that moment. “Sweetheart, this looks really- really bad,” his eyes flitted down to your foot again, which he was still holding in one of his palms. “I’ve seen a lot of injuries, and I know the signs… honey, I think you’ve sprained it.” 

 Your heart plummeted into the pit of your stomach. “W-What? But… how could that be? It’s not like I-” Your voice took on an incredulous tone, but before you could say anything else, your boyfriend was moving your foot again, turning it slightly so that he could slip your sock back on. You hissed in discomfort, biting down hard on your bottom lip to quell the moan that wanted to bubble up and out of you just then. The pain was unbearable. 

 Your boyfriend stood up from the ground, fitting two hands around your waist and helping you rise from the bench. He slipped an arm around your hips, securing you to his side as you slowly began to shuffle down the street, going backward from the way you had just come from. “C’mon, we gotta get you to the hospital.” He said, leading you two away from the shops that you had been at for the last few hours. 

 “Hospital? No- that’s not necessary, I just need to… rest at home, that’s all…” Your voice trailed off as another wave of pain throbbed through your tender foot. 

 Hyunjin leveled you with a glare. “It’s either you come with me willingly, or I carry you in my arms bridal style. Either way, you’re fucking going to the hospital.” The way he said the last of his words in that deathly-low tone sent a chill down your spine. Because you knew it all too well since he’d only use it on you when you were being particularly stubborn. And almost always, it was during a time when you weren’t taking any regard for your health, and Hyunjin had to force you to do the things necessary to practically stay alive. 

 “O-Okay…” You whispered. You struggled along beside him, fingers holding on tight to his thick brown winter jacket. “Just… don’t let go?” You stared up at him with big eyes, lip quivering a little bit from the pain of having to walk and put pressure on your bruised foot. 

 “Never, sweetheart.” He brought you closer to him then, practically wrapping both arms around your waist and helping you along the sidewalk as you slowly made your way back to his car. 

 “Well, you have a sprained ankle,” the nurse told you a few hours later. She was a rather short, petite-looking woman, with long, black hair swept up into a tight braid at the back of her head. “You’ll need to diligently rest for the next… four to six weeks. The doctor suggested using an ice pack for twenty minutes a few times a day, to help with the swelling.” 

 After you and Hyunjin had left Hongdae, it was only a matter of time before he found the nearest hospital and checked you into the Emergency Room there. After waiting for a little over an hour, you were finally called back into one of the exam rooms. It merely took the nurse and doctor one look at your ankle to confirm that it was sprained. After the doctor’s assessment, the nurse filed back into the room to hand you some paperwork to fill out. 

 During the entire visit, Hyunjin was sitting beside your hospital bed in a small chair, clutching onto your hand as you awaited the news of your diagnosis. He let out a sigh of relief at the news of it only being a sprain since he had been worrying that it was broken instead. 

 “And don’t walk on it,” the nurse continued, as she handed you a bottle of prescribed high-dosage pain medications. “I understand that it will be difficult to assimilate to a less active lifestyle for some time, but please remember that if you walk on it, doing so can put you at risk for horrible complications in the future and hinder you from achieving a full recovery.” 

 “I understand, thank you so much,” you said, giving her a soft smile as you fit the bottle of pain meds into your nearby purse. Your boyfriend was still clutching onto your hand, fingers squeezing a little too tightly as you positioned yourself back on the bed. 

 "I’ll give you two a few minutes, and then come back to assist you in checking out at the front desk.” The nurse returned your smile and bowed slightly at you and Hyunjin before making her way out of the room, quietly shutting the door behind her. 

 Immediately, your boyfriend turned to you with a deep frown. “And you’ve been walking on a sprained ankle for the past… three days.” He shook his head in disapproval, running a frantic hand through your hair. “Honestly, Y/N, I don’t understand why you do this to yourself- why you do it to me…” 

 Training your focus down at your lap, your fingers absently played with a loose strand from your thick winter sweater. “It’s not like I mean to not tell you stuff. It just… happens.” 

 “And you said you got this from lifting weights at the gym?” 

 His question forced your head to shoot up without you even thinking about it, eyes locking with his as he sat just beside you in his tiny vinyl chair. “Y-Yeah… I must’ve used the barbell wrong or something.” You laughed a little anxiously, heart beating painfully against your ribcage. 

 Because he couldn’t find out. It was downright embarrassing to think about him knowing you had been taking dance classes. But you also wanted to keep it a surprise for him, when you eventually performed your routine for him - not like that would happen anytime soon though, since you would be on bed rest for the foreseeable future. 

 Hyunjin brought his hand away from yours then, folding his arms across his chest stubbornly, crossing his legs together and giving you a knowing look. “I call bullshit. You don’t get a strained ankle from lifting a few pounds.” 

 “And how do you know that, mister?” 

 “Because I’ve seen the guys get injured from lifting before, but it never has to do with their ankles.” 

 “Well, maybe I’m the exception.” 

 “Cut the crap, sweetheart,” his voice came out a little cold just then, eyes raking over your form, studying your face to gauge your emotions at that moment. “Tell me what happened on Friday night.” 

 The embarrassment overtook you again, and you ripped your eyes from his. Focusing once more on your hands, you twisted the end of your sweater around your fingers. There wasn’t any use in keeping the ruse up any longer. It’s not like you’d be dancing the routine any time soon. So, you finally gave in and confessed to your boyfriend in a quiet mumble. 

 He leaned forward, tilting his body close to yours so that he could hear you better. “I didn’t hear that, love. Speak up.” 

 Clenching your fists in sudden annoyance, you stared at him, already feeling the crimson pooling in your cheeks. “I said- I was taking a dance class, okay?! And I fell and hurt my ankle- the instructor said it would be fine, but obviously, she isn’t a doctor…” 

 Silence filled the entire room after that, and it was charged with equal amounts of confusion and hurt. “Why in the world are you taking a dance class?” 

 “Because- I want to be good at dancing…” You exclaimed, staring into Hyunjin's eyes with what you hoped was a fierce expression. “I fucking suck at it- and- and you’re just so amazing, and I… I wanted to surprise you with a routine that I had learned all on my own. But then, I hurt myself, so that’s never gonna happen now.” 

 “Don’t say that.” 

 “Say what?” You canted your head to the side, watching as the emotions erupted across your boyfriend's face. First, it was anger, that you had kept such a secret from him for so long, then it was sadness, that you had felt the need to prove yourself in any way to him. 

 “Say that you suck at dancing,” he began, as he moved forward and clasped either of your hands in his. He brought them close to his mouth, lips hovering near your skin and pressing a few soft kisses to your knuckles. “You’re great at it, baby, don’t doubt yourself. And I was never amazing right off the bat. It took me a long time and lots of hard work to get where I am today.”

 “Yeah, but some people are just naturally born with it, and I don’t think I am. So… that’s why I was trying to improve.” You shrugged slowly, a zap of energy coursing through your veins each time Hyunjin pressed a fervent kiss against your hands. 

 “Well, I always think that improvement is good. But, there has to be a balance. You can’t simply ignore your health just because you want to get better at something.” Your boyfriend said in a calm voice, the warmth of it vibrating on your flesh and softening some hard part inside of you. “And besides, even if you weren’t born with the gift of dance - which I don’t believe to be true - there are still other gifts that you have that are unique and wonderful to you, baby. You shouldn’t compare yourself to me, or anyone else, for that matter.” 

 You gave him a frown, eyes locked on his mouth that kept nearing your knuckles and pressing kisses there. “I know, but… it’s just hard sometimes, you know? To be dating such a… talented man.” 

 A tiny sound of pain - of heartbreak - fled from Hyunjin’s mouth then, and suddenly, he was pulling you towards him. Fitting his arms around your waist, he squeezed on tight. In an instant, you melted into the touch, burrowing yourself into the crook of his neck and inhaling his calming, sweet scent. 

 “I’m so sorry that you’ve felt like this, sweetheart. I had no idea.” He mumbled close to your ear, imprinting a soft kiss against the exposed skin there. “How can I make it up to you, darling? How can I change things, so that you don’t think so poorly of yourself anymore?” 

 You positioned yourself away from him a tiny bit, offering him a light smile, “Babe, you don’t have to do anything for me. My low self-esteem when it comes to dancing isn’t your fault, so don’t worry about it.” 

 He leaned in, kissing your lips gently. “Yes, but I don’t like the thought of you feeling so down about your abilities…” his voice trailed off into silence, as he contemplated what he could do for you. “I know- I’m going to nurse you back to health, and when your ankle is completely healed, I’ll help you continue learning that dance routine from your class. How does that sound, love?” 

 You kissed him back, hot breaths mingling slightly in the passion of the moment. “I’d like that very much, but… don’t you have your schedules?” 

 Hyunjin waved a nonchalant hand in the air like he didn’t have so many people expecting high standards from him every single day. “I can still help you and do my job, baby- it isn’t rocket science.” 

 You contemplated his idea over in your head. You hadn’t liked him trying to teach you different dances in the past, but perhaps that was because of your issues and not because of his teaching. And now that your struggles with the thing were out in the open, you got the feeling that your boyfriend would be extra careful when teaching you - treat you extra gently when explaining certain moves. 

 “Okay, I like the idea,” you decided, nodding your head slowly in approval. A wide smile cracked across your lips as you stared at his face that was alight with happiness and contentment, “When do we start?” 

 “How does eight weeks from now sound? To give your ankle plenty of time to heal.” 

 Gently carding a few fingers through his light, peachy-pink silky locks, you bent into him, the smile still plastered onto your face as you gave his mouth another kiss which felt like the hundredth one in the last hour. “Sounds perfect.” You said, and soon he was smirking against your lips, before tightening his grip around your hips, yanking you ever closer to his form, and smashing his mouth against yours in a fiery, loving kiss. 

 Fin. 

© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

I cannot put into words how deeply real and moving Mari's fics are. If you are someone who enjoys feeling raw unfiltered emotions I highly recommend reading this fic and every other fic written by this amazing author. Thank you for letting us into your world Mari. I can't wait for more. Take care my love <3

aloneness | by design chapter one

pairing: chan x reader ; hyunjin x reader | wc: 16.2k | genre: adult romance, angst | warnings: childhood best friends to lovers ; heavy angst ; death and grieving ; complicated feelings ; failed relationships ; explicit sexual content. the chapter contains heavy themes that could be upsetting to some. if you're concerned it might be an issue for you, please read the unabridged list of warnings, which also contains nsfw warnings. reader discretion is advised. this work is for adult audiences since it contains mature themes and explicit sexual content.

It had been such a long while, it seemed, since Chris had truly loved you. And you loved him in a desperate way, like trying to hold onto a knife not by its handle, but by its blade.

To be intimate with love, the true kind, also means being intimate with loss.

You grew up in a small enough town that most faces you saw, every day, were familiar ones. The employees at the grocery store saw you become a teenager and later, an adult. You were greeted by your first name if you stepped into the post office. You had become acquainted with specific trees, the twists of certain roads, or the lines of the mountains on the horizon. By no means did that make your life dull, not by your standards anyway. The town’s name is Stormhaven—named so by its founders because of the violent storm that raged the first night they established camp on this land. As grand and frightening as the storm was, it was equally beautiful. Something about the geolocation of the city or perhaps the fact that it’s located where the river melts into the sea makes it prone to storms, and they are, indeed, reputed to be gorgeous.

You did leave momentarily though,  to pursue some major you had no great interest in, but it felt right to try and do something. You were the first of your family to go to college. You thought, foolishly perhaps, that you could teach English—you had always been one to read books and enjoy the intricacies of the language in them. To you, words were no different than pigment, sentences were the oil that made the paint, and books were the finished product, the saturated canvas. Now, here’s the thing—you liked English and you liked art, too, thanks to a book you found at the age of 9 on your uncle’s bookshelf. It was your first introduction to the Italian masters and their masterpieces, and you were a little too young to fully comprehend it, but that did not stop you from appreciating it. 

You were the first of your family to go to college. Your parents owned a small general store on the north side of the city, where there’s more forest than city. It’s perfectly situated though—directly on the one road that leads to the good fishing spots. 

The river is at its narrowest there, narrow enough that if one spoke out loud, they could be heard on the other side when people stood on the shore. There was another camping ground there, and cabins, and if the river was gentle enough, it wasn’t uncommon for people to go across it to make new acquaintances. 

You grew up there, in this place loved by locals and tourists alike. Your family was friends with the family that owned the camping ground down the hill, and it helped make business good for everybody involved. 

It also made your summers a lot less boring—you were an only child, with aloneness often forced on you. And it could have been awful if the owners of the camping ground didn’t have a son who happened to be the same age as you.

Chris was always ‘the good guy’, which, at times, rendered being his friend difficult. Because you had to live up to the standard. You had to deserve it somehow. Chris himself never made you feel this way, of course not, it was only fueled by your own compulsion to compare yourself to him at all times. Chris was a good kid, smart, funny, and nice, and he looked good. It made him very popular with the girls on the camping ground. You weren’t particularly popular with the boys. Or with the girls.

Aloneness forced on you. Defining you, almost. 

Except Chris made sure you were never left out. He always introduced you as his best friend and brought you along even though his fangirls clearly didn’t appreciate you being around. Either Chris was oblivious to it or he just didn’t care—in any case, you spent all of your summers with him, from sunrise to sunset and sometimes after. Chris attended the private school in the next town over, so you didn’t see him a whole lot during the year. Still, your family visited his once in a while for dinner, and you and Chris would hang out in the basement to watch movies and eat potato chips. Life had been easy, once.

It would be a lie to say that everything went smoothly all the time with him. When both of you reached an age where hormones are raging, things got a little complicated. Chris got in a fight—a physical fight—with his best friend during a party. It was just before tourist season. Your parents had gone for a couple weeks for a long overdue vacation—they trusted you and Mrs. Bahng with the store, knowing you could handle it, especially since it wasn’t very busy yet. Of course, you threw a party—a low-key one, just a few people. Some guys from Chris’ school also came along. 

By then, Chris was a handsome young man, charming without trying to be, with a dorkish laugh and a good heart. If somebody had asked you if you had a crush on him then, you would have said no, but you would have been lying to them and to yourself. 

The party quickly took a turn when some of Chris’ friends pulled out the liquor they’d brought. It made you nervous. This was your house after all, and if something happened, your parents would never trust you again. You tasted vodka for the first time that night. First in a red plastic cup, mixed with some cheap lemonade, and after that, on the lips of Chris’ friend when he pulled you to a quiet corner to make out with you. His name was Liam. You saw him once in a while when he spent the night at Chris’ place or something. He wasn’t as popular with girls as Chris was and you suspected he was jealous of him, but then, who wouldn’t be? 

However, Liam turned out to be a little too insistent, touching you in places, and whispering things to your ear. You made up some excuse and fled to your backyard where most people had come to enjoy a small bonfire. You sat with them but your mind was elsewhere, wondering if you ought to let Liam do to you whatever it was he wanted. After all, you weren’t popular, and nobody wanted to date you. Liam was the first guy who kissed you for more than three seconds and who touched you. There might not be one after, so perhaps you shouldn’t pass on that opportunity. 

He did join you by the fire. Liam. He sat not next to you but behind you, his legs locking you in his embrace. It wasn’t even the worst PDA taking place in the group as one of your friends was heavily making out with one of the boys while the others talked. You participated in the conversation, not unaware of the glances Chris shot you a little too often. Maybe, after all, it wouldn’t be a good idea to have sex with his friend. Maybe that made him upset, and you could understand that—he had never pursued any of your friends and had always made it very clear he wasn’t interested in them. You figured he expected the same of you.

But Liam kissed the back of your neck. And then he touched you again and again—your waist, your back, your thighs. He held you in his arms and it birthed a distracting tingling sensation between your legs that you couldn’t blame on the vodka. “Come with me upstairs,” he said into your ear. And you did. You went. 

He kissed you even more in your bedroom, his hands underneath your shirt, his mouth sloppy and wet, too wet. It all happened very fast—you were on your bed and then he was on top of you and he was very hard. It happened so fast, too fast for you to fully process it. It only lasted a few seconds—two thrusts, no more. In between the first and the second, it occurred to you that you hadn't used a condom. And then Liam whimpered pathetically and it was over.

It made you want to throw up, or maybe it was the vodka. Or, maybe, it was just the smell of him—sweat and cheap cigarettes and his musk, which was rather unpleasant in your nose. 

You slid from underneath him, visibly dazed, and it made him upset. Years later, you realized he was mostly upset at himself and ashamed of his premature... conclusion. Still, it was at you he lashed out, maybe for not looking like you had just gotten the dick of the century.

“Don’t be like that,” he told you, shoving his small, softening cock back into his pants.

His sour tone, paired with the soreness between your legs, brought tears to your eyes. It made him more upset even. "What's EVEN the problem anyway?" He raised his voice at you, and whenever someone did that, it always made you cry.

Unfortunately for him, Chris had made his way upstairs, suspecting something wasn’t quite right. He tried to open the door but it was locked. “Let me in.” His voice was unrecognizable, to the point that it frightened you almost. You still felt weird between your legs, sore and empty and full all at once. And above all, unclean. Dirty. You wanted nothing more than showering and washing Liam off you.

“Fucking let me in.”

Liam was very drunk. Instead of post-nut clarity, he had been hit by a strong dose of dopamine that rendered him even less coherent than he had been before. “What is it, Bang? You upset I jumped your virgin friend before you could?”

It occurred to you at that moment that you had never seen Chris angry before, except for fun like when he was playing video games. But something in his voice let you know that the situation was very serious. 

And then he smashed the door open using his shoulder. What happened next would always remain a bit blurry in your memory, but it never left either. Chris grabbed Liam by the collar of his shirt and slammed him against the wall. And then they fought. It was nasty. Liam was taller and bigger than Chris, but he was also drunker—Chris, on the other hand, was quick and properly pissed off. Before you knew it, Liam was pinned to the ground under Chris’ weight, being punched repeatedly in the face. Years later, you would admit this to Christopher—that it felt good to see his fist sink into Liam’s face, to see his lip split open, to hear his whining. Still, you knew it was wrong. Something within you, that night, knew that Chris could seriously injure Liam if he didn’t stop, so you stopped him. 

You stopped Chris, too, when he threatened to reprise his attack as Liam was stirring up. You just wanted everyone gone so he made them leave. You heard more shouting from outside but paid it no mind and just went into the bathroom and turned the shower on.

You stood underneath the water, keeping it as hot as you could, scalding your skin, rubbing soap all over yourself as hard as you could using various tools—a washcloth didn’t really cut it, and neither did your loofah or even your nails. In the end, it was your exfoliating cloth that you used to cleanse your body, emptying your bottle of shower gel, steaming up the entire bathroom. But you washed and washed and washed and rinsed and rinsed and rinsed. You did so until you could no longer feel Liam between your legs, only your skin made sensitive from all the scrubbing. 

Chris was waiting for you, sitting on the floor in the hallway. You had wrapped a towel around your body but it was dark and you didn’t care. You could walk naked outside for all you cared. 

That night, Chris took your face in his bloody, shaking hands and asked you if you were okay. You felt strangely okay, like you should have been sobbing or afraid but you were neither of these things. He, on the other hand, didn’t look too good with bruises and cuts on his face and even more on his knuckles. “Your mom will kill you,” you pointed out. The Bahngs preached pacifism. They were some of the nicest people you had ever met.

That night, you put on some comfortable clothes and made Chris sit in the bathroom while you cleaned his wounds. He insisted he could do it and you knew he could but you wanted to. You needed to do something, something useful if at all possible, and he let you, apologizing the whole time for letting Liam come here, and for being his friend in the first place. “He wasn’t like that before,” he assured you.

People change. You didn’t know what to say. There was nothing to say.

That night, Chris tucked you in bed but you asked him to stay, so he stayed, holding you in his arms. 

You spent that summer working both at the general store and at the campground. You worked a lot and when it raised suspicions in your parents, you simply said you were saving up for college so they didn’t question it. Chris knew, however, that you just needed to keep your mind, and body, busy. So, when there was no work for you to do, he took you on hikes. Hours-long hikes where neither of you really spoke. You just walked side by side. The more summer advanced, the farther you went. 

You started talking again at one point, for no reason at all. It just happened. Chris told you about his upcoming school year and how he still wasn’t exactly sure what he should be doing with his life. That he felt bad he wanted to leave Stormhaven, that he knew his father expected him to take over the business. You felt the same way. You were scared of the future because you didn’t know what you were supposed to do with your life. When you mentioned it, Chris assured you he thought you’d be a great teacher. You returned the compliment, telling him he would be at home in business school, and that it didn’t mean he had to take over the camping ground. He could do something else. 

It’d be great if we went to the same college, he said, and you agreed. It would, indeed, be great. By now, Chris had become something to you that couldn’t quite be defined by words—a best friend? Yes, perhaps. But it was more than that. He took care of you in a way that was so beautiful and so deep, you knew you could never repay him, that you would always be in his debt.

You loved him. And maybe you knew he loved you, too. 

You worked a lot that summer, even picking up shifts at a gardening center in town, owned by one of your friends’ dad. You didn’t think your absolute need to remain busy had anything to do with Liam. You were over it in the sense that few girls get to experience a wonderful and romantic ‘first time’ and that it hadn’t lasted very long anyway. You were over it, too, because Chris was there for you. 

You were over it because both you and Liam were drunk and stupid and young. 

It wasn’t what troubled you really. The problem was that it felt good to be desired for once. You had wanted Liam to touch you, and you had been flattered to feel him through his pants when you sat between his legs. It had even aroused you. The problem was that you didn’t really want to fuck Liam but you let him do it even though you knew deep down that it was a stupid thing to do. Because it was still better than being unwanted, than having aloneness forced on you.

And you felt disgusting for thinking that way. 

You worked so much it made you ill—one day, when you were helping Mr. Bahng and Chris clean up a few campsites, you had a dizzy spell so intense you momentarily passed out, waking up a few seconds later, laying on your back on the soft soil. It was particularly hot that day, especially considering the summer was ending and you were returning to school the week after. Mr. Bahng made you drink water while Chris cooled you down, pouring water into his hands and pressing them on your neck and face. When you regained some color, he was instructed by his dad to take you home—not on foot, of course, on the company’s ATV. It was almost like a walk of shame when Chris dropped you at your place. You kept telling him you were fine but it didn’t exactly feel like it. You just didn’t want him to go out of his way for you. 

Your mother was home and she already knew everything because Christopher’s dad called her. She made you go to bed, saying she would make you a good meal with broth. But you couldn’t stomach the sandwich she made. Or the broth. 

There was a storm that night, quite strong. Chris stayed with you even though you asked him not to. He said he liked you even though he saw you throw up, and tried to make jokes about it. He made you laugh that night, and it was your most heartfelt laugh in a while. You weren’t scared when the power went out because he was there. 

By then, you knew that you loved him in a special way. It made you feel a lot of things when he held you in his arms or when he kissed the top of your head. 

You kept a small battery-powered light in your bathroom, especially for nights like these. You reached for it in the drawer it had always been, and instead of the light, your fingers wrapped themselves around something else, something innocuous, an everyday item. An unopened box of tampons. 

Your whole world collapsed around you, except it was you who fell to your knees, suddenly completely unable to carry your own weight. Your heart ran marathons in your chest and you froze. It was how Chris found you. He looked at you, then at the tampons, and at you again. 

Then he was on his knees too, wrapping his arms around you. The storm outside matched the one in your heart. You had never been as scared as this in your whole life. You didn’t even cry—you just sat in bed, all night, watching the lightning over the river, staring at the stormy sky, thinking, thinking, thinking. You went through every possible scenario you could think of, and in none of them did it make sense to remain pregnant. 

Chris, once again, was there the whole time, not leaving your side that night and taking responsibility for you the next morning. With his brand new driver’s license—not his learner’s—he took his dad’s car and drove both of you two towns away so you could purchase a pregnancy test. He was the one to go into a store and buy three of three different brands. “To make sure,” he told you. You did the first test and it came out positive. 

The second also. You didn’t need to do the third, so you discarded it. You did cry then, in the not-so-clean bathroom stall of a mall you weren’t familiar with. Just a few tears. What went through your mind was this—that just because you had been greedy, just because you wanted to feel desired for one night, you were going to destroy something beautiful.  

Chris was there for you. He held your hands while you made appointments. He drove you two hours away from home just to make sure nobody would know where you went, telling his parents he was taking you to some event you had never heard of. A two-day event, so it would require the trip to be an overnight one. They bought it. They didn’t even care that you would share a hotel room. Your parents trusted Chris. On the first day, you had a lot of tests done. On the morning of the second day, they proceeded to the abortion. It took about five minutes, then it was over. You stared at the ceiling as the doctor was ridding your body of the consequence of your impure greed. During those five minutes, you reflected on how selfish you were. 

Chris stayed with you while you rested at the clinic. You shared some juice with him. Sometimes the cramps hurt you so bad you couldn’t talk, but it only lasted a few seconds. He held your hand. When you were free to go, he drove you two back to the hotel and you took a nap after having a small dose of the painkillers they gave you. It was over but it had never truly begun, and it felt strange. You felt empty. While you were sleeping, Chris went to the nearest drug store and bought just about every type of maxi pad he found. You bled a lot, and it hurt a lot, too.

Chris ordered pizza but you weren’t hungry. You made yourself eat a few bites and showered in very hot water. That night, he tucked you into bed but you asked him to stay, which meant you wanted him by your side and not on the other bed. He looked at you like he was hoping you would say that.

Christopher kissed you on the lips. Just a kiss, lips on lips, almost chaste, and you knew then that you would marry him someday. He kissed you again on your forehead and you buried your face into his neck. 

“I never thought I wanted children before,” you admitted to him. “What if it was wrong to get the abortion?”

“There’s still time,” he promised you. There was a long silence after that, but he added, “You made the right decision for your future. We’ll have a baby someday, okay? You and I.”

You believed him. And you were happy that year, when you realized, finally, that you had let Liam do this to you because you wanted Chris to do it, and you did not think he could ever feel the same way. 

You weren’t accepted into the very renowned university Chris was going to, but your college was just an hour-long drive away so it wasn’t too bad. You saw each other as often as you could during the first semester, but things got complicated as time went on. He was more and more busy and you were less and less enthusiastic about your studies. It turned out, English and teaching English were two very different worlds, and you did not belong in the latter. You couldn’t believe you were being tested on some supposed ‘ways’ to teach certain things to students. There was no such thing for you—every person is different, so how could one even explain another’s learning process? 

You dropped out on your second semester, leaving in the middle of a particularly boring and arduous English Grammar class, heading directly to the parking lot where you had left your car. You drove all the way to Chris’ apartment, which he shared with two other students. He wasn’t home, but one of his roommates, Changbin, informed you he should be back soon and let you in. 

Chris was there for you. It made you feel inadequate. You were always somehow in need of him or of something, but him most often. You were constantly in his debt.

He soothed your tears and promised you that your parents wouldn’t hate you if you dropped out, but he suggested thinking about another major. “There’s still time,” he said. He often said that.

You got a job at a coffee shop and worked there the rest of the year while weighing your options. You visited a lot of places—parks, various attractions, art museums. The museums were your favorites—there was no museum in Stormhaven, obviously, so to have several options to choose from now was quite the upgrade. You spent countless hours wandering in galleries, observing, learning, feeding your soul, after which you went to the library and gathered some books related to whatever you had just seen. Chris joined you sometimes, but it was really just to be with you and you knew it. He didn’t hate art, it just wasn’t for him. It didn't reach his soul like it did yours. You went to concerts with him too, which he liked a lot more. 

He suggested you try applying into art history for next year, and of course you would love that. Only, you were the first of your family to go to college, and you knew that your very practical parents, aunts and uncles would find an art history major rather pointless. An absolute waste of time. Chris insisted though—he went as far as mentioning it during winter break when both of your families sat to share a generous Christmas dinner. As expected, the response was underwhelming.

But what are you gonna do after? There can’t be enough jobs. 

Can’t you read and learn all that stuff in books or on the internet? What’s the point?

Are you sure? Or are you going to drop out again because it turned out it wasn’t for you?

You couldn’t hold it against them. Your family. They weren’t even wrong. 

You took more shifts at the coffee shop, and in the summer you returned home to work at your parents’ general shop. Chris came to spend some time home too, and it was good to be back there together. He was doing great in business school and you were going nowhere though, so as days passed, your mood darkened. He didn’t let you close yourself off, making you tell him the things that were on your mind just to prove you wrong.

“What do you mean, not enough? I loved you before you went to university, so I’ll love you regardless. So don’t say that. I forbid you.”

You stopped saying it, you just didn’t stop thinking it.

The year after, you moved in with Chris and his two roommates. The plan was to find a place for you two but to be together in the meantime. You didn’t mind, really—Jisung and Changbin were good guys, and Jisung told you about a job opening at the bookstore he worked at. You liked this job a lot. You visited all the museums in this new city, too. 

For your birthday, Ji and Changbin even got you an art book. It was a long essay on one painting in particular, an oil painting titled Loss. The painting depicts a lone woman sitting on a wooden chair in a neutral-colored room, almost reminiscent of a Vermeer, but with bolder colors. The room appears empty except for the corner of a bed on the right, and a window on the wall near which the woman sits. She is looking at the ground, but others say she is looking at her hands which are intertwined, holding nothing. The true direction of her gaze is disputed, but her expression is intricate, complex, unreadable. Depending on the viewer’s mood, she sometimes looks simply pensive. Most of the time she appears deeply sorrowful, almost desperate. To some, she shows no emotion. Thing is—art historians cannot agree. Everyone is right. Everyone is wrong.

The true magic of the painting resides in the sunset filtering through the window—it illuminates the room intricately, the shadows created by it adding to the mystery around the woman's expression. The light is accurate in a way that makes it look so real, yet more beautiful than reality. Its painter produced less than fifteen paintings and is yet considered a pioneer solely based on Loss. 

One of the most fascinating things about Loss is that it is… lost. It was stolen in the 90s while it was transported to a museum in New York, where it was meant to be temporarily exposed for a special exhibition. Nobody knows who did it or where it went, or if it still exists even. 

The book mentioned this and so much more, like how the descendants of the painter had been the primary suspects in the case, based on the fact that they had requested a few times that the painting be given back to them. There had been lawful contracts signed though, yielding it to an art society, binding Loss to museum collections for yet another hundred years at least. Since it was an ongoing case, however, details couldn’t be made public. 

You had never seen it in person—and you never would, obviously—but Loss had become your favorite painting. You didn’t need to describe with words the emotions inhabiting her, the woman on it, you just knew you shared them. What you didn’t know, however, was that you would share them even more someday.

Seeing how interested in it you were, Chris took you on a trip for your two-year anniversary—a museum in Seoul was in possession of three paintings by the same artist and one in Japan had two. You visited both locations and he stayed with you as you stood before the canvases, all of them saturated with light. One of them was a lake, as still as a mirror, on which the sunrise reflected so beautifully you shed a few tears. 

At the very end of the trip, Chris took you on an evening walk around a vast park. That’s when he got on one knee and asked you to marry him. He did it in a way that was so proper, so cliché, that it made you laugh and cry at once. You said yes, of course you said yes. It made sense, didn’t it? Growing up together, growing closer. Falling in love and not even feeling it, just waking up one morning and realizing it’s always been there.

You and Chris made love all night in your hotel room, your bodies close and warm and beautiful. He fucked you hard, desperately, confessing how he had been in love with you since childhood. You had long conversations between rounds as you recovered. “Do you ever regret hurting Liam like that?” you asked him, your head resting on his stomach. Many years had gone by since the event, yet neither of you had forgotten it. 

Chris pulled you up so he could look into your eyes. “No,” he said. “I only regret not going after you earlier. I guess I was hurt that you wanted to be with him and not with me. In retrospect, it was stupid. I should have confessed my feelings as soon as I became aware of them. I should have followed you upstairs.”

You kissed him then, deeply, slowly, your heart feeling like it might burst. You found something rather poetic about all of it, and also fair. It was your hidden love that had pushed you in Liam’s arms, and Chris’ repressed feelings also had played their part. You wanted to forget that night and yet you could not, as though something deeply important had happened, important enough that it was still on your mind tonight, merely a few hours after your boyfriend proposed to you, as you climbed onto him to straddle him, never breaking the kiss, his cock growing hard under you, for you. 

It was as though that night had sealed something, putting both Chris and you on a path, and neither of you knew what the destination was. You didn’t mind going in blindly, not if he was by your side. He had always been by your side anyway, and you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

It felt easy. 

Too easy. 

The wedding took place the summer after Chris graduated. Half of the campground had been reserved for it. Friends and family alike came together to celebrate this union that apparently more than half the town had seen coming anyway. It was a beautiful wedding, underneath a blue sky and then the stars. The air smelled like the freshly grown leafage and the soft breeze carried the scent of the ocean, too. You danced and laughed all night, catching up with former high school friends, people you hadn’t seen in so long, introducing them to your and Chris’ new friends. Jisung’s speech was particularly popular—both very funny and moving, it was clear he had spent a lot of time writing it.

Some time between very late and early morning, you made your way with Chris to the small but cozy cabin you had rented for the occasion. Both of you sat in silence at the kitchen table in your wedding attire to drink some water and eat a few snacks. Chris glanced at you with a knowing smile, reaching for your hand over the table. You smiled at him, too. 

You showered together after slowly undressing each other, and you knew that you would never forget your wedding night. You sucked his cock in the shower and he gently played with your clit, kissing and nibbling at your neck, calling you sweet things. You started fucking on the bathroom counter then moved onto the bed where Chris ate your pussy until you came, and then he fucked you. And when he came, you kept fucking him until he got hard again. You would never forget this and you knew it. That night, you felt loved and desired. You knew it was much like a drug—those were feelings one gets easily addicted to. But you didn’t care. You felt more beautiful, more important then than you ever had. 

When both of you collapsed, spent, satiated, panting, Chris held you in his arms as he so often did, and yet you never grew tired of it. He kissed the top of your head. “Let’s stay here,” he told you.

“Good news then, we rented it for a week, you pointed out with a chuckle.

“No, I mean Stormhaven.” He shook his head. “We don’t have to if you’d rather go back to the city, but it feels at home here, with you.”

You felt the same. So you stayed.

You bought a house in the northern part of town, in the same neighborhood you two had been raised in. As the procedures took place, Chris and you also pondered over the careers you may or may not want. The city’s hardware store was for sale—you could take up a bigger loan and make it yours, you and him. Then Chris’ parents mentioned they were thinking about retiring, and now that their son was back in town, they would be more at peace to do so. 

So, instead, they gave the campground to both of you. That year, your parents decided to sell you the general store too, and for a very low price. They even sold their house and bought an RV with the objective of being on the road and seeing as many things as they could. 

Those years were good ones. Even though you feared things would slow down with Chris, they didn’t. Business was good, life was even better. One night, as you two were getting into bed, Chris watched you as you opened a new box of birth control pills. He took it out of your hands, looked at you, and asked, “Do you still want to have a baby with me someday?”

You thought about it for a few seconds. You had discussed this prior to the wedding, of course. The conclusion had been that you weren’t sure you could be a good mother, so you couldn’t be sure you wanted to be one. Chris understood, but couldn’t see how you would be a bad parent. He wanted kids, and this was something you knew before even dating him. 

Here’s one of the ugliest truths in life—sometimes, you want something. Other times, you want to want something. The two are very different concepts except the human mind, when driven by the heart, is completely unable to distinguish them. It is an excessively shameful thing to admit to it.

You didn’t know at the time. What you wanted and what you didn’t want. It sounded nice, idyllic even, the idea of it—raising a child with Chris, your high school sweetheart, in this house that you made your home in, in the town that saw both of you grow up. It felt right, like life coming full circle, except grander than before.

You didn’t know at the time. You only knew that you loved Christopher more than anything, and that if you were going to have a baby with somebody, it would be him. 

You didn’t take your birth control that night. 

A poet might say that one can only see light if there is darkness. And he would be right, but you would also tell him to fuck right off.

Your mother died when you were six months pregnant. A hidden heart condition. She died in her sleep—your father found her in the morning when he woke up. It traumatized him. 

One day many months prior to that, you found out you couldn’t stomach onions anymore. In fact, the scent of them gave you nausea. It was then that you realized you hadn’t had a proper period in a while. When you mentioned it to Chris, he took your hand and guided you toward the car. “Do you want to buy the test here or in Blue Harbor, like the good old times?” His smile was playful, but a little nervous. Truth be told, if you were indeed pregnant, you didn’t want anyone to know yet, so you made your way to Blue Harbor’s mall, just like you had years ago.

The mall had changed a little but you found a drug store, and Chris insisted he would go get the tests. But you needed other items so you went in anyway. 

You saw Liam as you were shopping for shampoo. He was wearing the store’s uniform. It looked like he was a manager of some sort, by the way he was talking to the girl behind the cash register. You froze, your breath and heartbeat coming to a halt. For some reason, you remembered him with a bloody face. He looked very normal that day. A little thicker than he used to be, just like the rest of you. 

He saw you, too, and color drained from his face. He seemed stuck between wanting to go see you and running away. 

You waited for the pain to hit. You waited for tears, even—you had cried so much after the abortion that you assumed you were scarred for life. But you felt nothing, which almost frightened you. You ought to feel something, right?

You took one step toward the cash register, then another. It wasn’t to go speak to Liam. It was to be there when Chris would go and pay for his purchases. 

Liam saw Chris and actually recoiled. Chris stopped in his tracks, speechless, getting visibly pissed off. But you didn’t want him to be angry. You didn’t want a scene to take place. You wanted the memory of Liam to have as little weight as possible in your life.

You took a deep breath. “Let’s hurry,” you said to Chris. “I’m getting tired.” It wasn’t even true.

Chris blinked, staring at you for a few seconds before putting three pregnancy tests on the counter. You added some toothpaste and shampoo, pretending Liam wasn’t there while the other employee rang your items. 

You made sure to flash your wedding ring and took Chris’ hand in yours. It felt good to make sure Liam saw it. So he would know you carried no parts of him with you. So he would know he didn’t really matter, not in your life, and not in Chris’. 

You spoke very little on the way home. You kept your gaze on the horizon, processing everything. You knew the tests would come out positive. You could feel it within you, this life that was growing. It had a weight to it, light for now, but still very much there. You just knew it. 

You peed on a stick. Then another, and both were positive. You discarded the third test, and Chris cried with you. Before that day, you thought you knew what unconditional love was, but you had been wrong. This—this beautiful burden, this miracle inside you, that was as unconditional as anything could be. 

The shock of losing your mother was so great that it sent you to the hospital, and you were scared to lose your baby, too. Your little girl, who you loved so much already, who already meant the world to you. Chris and you hadn’t been able to find a good enough name yet but that wasn’t important. She was healthy, the doctors assured you of it—it was you who was in distress, and you needed to get a grip before it affected your unborn child. 

None of it was easy. The funeral, then the burial. Supporting your father through it was the worst, though.

But Chris was there for you. He always was. 

He was the perfect husband, the perfect friend, and he would be the perfect father. You could feel it in your bones. There was no way in hell you deserved him and yet he remained by your side. He moved his home office to the basement and painted the upstairs room in pretty shades of green, applying a leaf-patterned wallpaper on one of the walls, turning the room into the loveliest of nurseries. Jisung and Changbin came to help with it, and having them in the house helped you a lot. Your father was there too. The house was too full but sometimes it’s how things have to be. Or else, aloneness would be forced upon you. 

You woke up in the middle of one night with your whole lower body feeling like it was being split in two—it was then that you realized you were just about to give birth. You panicked and yet Chris remained calm. He grabbed the bag he had packed for you and he drove you to the hospital, talking you through the few contractions that overtook you, not blinking an eye at your nails digging into his skin as you held onto him. When it got a little worse, he realized that none of what he was saying helped, so he made you talk. 

He asked you about art. 

You hadn’t been in a museum in entirely too long, but you kept your books and the memories of all of it in your heart. Chris asked if you picked up an interest in a particular art movement these days. He asked you if you had discovered a piece of art that you especially liked recently. You told him that while you hadn’t discovered anything, you had read an interesting article about Artemisia Gentileschi’s most iconic work—Judith Slaying Holofernes. Explaining to Chris the analysis of the art historian you had read helped you get through the worst of the contractions so far.

It also led both of you to agree that your baby’s name would be Judith. 

As you got into Blue Harbor, it felt, a little, like a fire was catching inside you and like it was trying to exit between your legs. 

You begged Chris to drive faster, but it was winter and he didn’t want to risk anything on the slippery road. 

So he asked you to talk to him about your favorite painting. 

Loss. 

Few things were known about this painting. It had been painted in Italy by a man who came from Asia to study Venetian art, but also visited France, the Netherlands, England, and more. He brought with him his wife—the woman in the painting, or so the stories said. They had a son, and soon after, a daughter. 

The daughter became ill, and she died. 

Maybe it was fate, or something much darker, but it was as you remembered the woman’s sorrowful gaze that you realized something was wrong. Chris assured you it was just the contractions but you knew it wasn’t. You could feel it in your bones.

You could feel it creep in, approaching, lurking—aloneness. 

They proceeded to an emergency C-section but it wasn’t enough to save Judith. She had been dead inside you already, they said. They said it wasn’t your fault. 

Forced upon you. Aloneness. 

Loss.

You never really get over it. Loss.

Some voids cannot be filled, they are meant to remain wastelands, barren, contaminated. 

Judith was that to you. And to Christopher. 

You’d swear he fell out of love for you the moment he saw his daughter’s tiny lifeless body being pulled from inside you. For the first time in your whole entire life, he couldn’t be there for you. You couldn’t even be there for him either. It was the beginning of the end, only, you didn’t want to let go.

You had dreams, terrible ones. In some, Judith was alive and well, in which case it made waking up the most difficult thing. In other nightmares, though, you were giving birth to her and she wasn’t much more than blood and flesh pouring from between your legs, yet you loved her nonetheless. 

One night, you dreamt that Liam came into the general store while you worked and stabbed your pregnant belly.

You went to therapy—separately, then together. It did nothing. Some voids cannot be filled. You both made efforts to appear happy, maybe in the hopes of faking it until you made it. Chris took you on dates, and you took him on dates. You hired a handful of employees for the store and the campground so that you’d have more time, but in the end, that also did nothing. All it did was give you more time to be sad at home instead of being sad at work.

Chris had it worse than you, or maybe he just couldn’t hide it as well as you. He ate very little and slept even less. He went on long hikes and usually came back after dusk smelling like sweat and like the forest. You’d ask where he went, if he had a good hike. He’d give you responses but nothing else. 

One day he didn’t come home at all, and his phone went straight to voicemail. You tried to rationalize it, to remind yourself that most trails didn’t have great coverage anyway, and that he knew his way around the forest. You didn’t sleep that night. You couldn’t sleep. When you heard the front door at four in the morning, you flipped your pillow so that he wouldn’t be able to feel how damp it was. You wiped the tears off your cheeks and buried your face under the covers. Chris didn’t stop by the bedroom—just a minute later, he was in the shower.

You missed him. And it felt wrong to miss someone whose scent permeated the bedsheets you lay on. You were losing him, too, and you knew it because aloneness was drowning you even when he was standing right next to you.

That night, you joined Chris in the bathroom. You sat on the counter, observing him. Condensation was gradually covering the glass of the shower but you saw him in a different light—skinnier, with bruises here and there, acquired on his long hikes, no doubt. He saw you but he didn’t acknowledge you.

There were thoughts weighing you down, and you knew that speaking them out loud wouldn’t help, but you had to anyway.

“Chris, I think it would be easier for you if you admitted to yourself, and maybe even to me, that you hate me.”

He turned to you then, water rolling down his shoulders. “I don’t hate you. I’m just sad. My baby is dead. Can’t I be sad?”

“You can be sad, of course.”  You stood, making your way toward the shower, sliding the door open. You would never not be moved by him, his naked body. You felt a tumble in your belly. “But you also resent me.” 

He had the grace not to deny it this time. He averted his gaze. “I don’t want to. I know it’s not your fault. I’m sick in the head.” 

You thought it must feel somewhat the same to be stabbed in the chest. Not even in the heart, no—immediate death would be merciful compared to this. Instead, Chris had pushed a serrated blade just two inches away from the organ, sparing you, hurting you more. 

“Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe it is.” Some truths are meant to remain unspoken, but you loved Chris enough to believe he deserved to know it anyway. “I wasn’t sure at first. That I wanted a baby. Up until the moment I saw the little + sign on the first pregnancy test, I wasn't really sure I wanted to be a mother. I just wanted to be with you.” You gulped, swallowing your tears. “All these years, I felt like I should have kept that first baby. I don’t know why, it just felt like it. Mind you, I didn’t feel that before the abortion, only sometime after. Almost like I knew it would come back and haunt me somehow. Well, it did. Life punished me.”

Chris took a step toward you, cupping your face in his warm, damp hand. Water rolled down your neck and onto the t-shirt you slept in. “That’s not how it works. You didn’t manifest Judith into a stillborn.” He lowered his face close to yours, kissing you, kissing you like he meant it. 

He pulled you into the shower, kissing you deeper, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I love you,” Chris said, pulling your shirt off you. And you knew he did. But he also resented you. The two weren’t mutually exclusive. 

He pinned you to the wall and kissed you, guiding himself at your entrance. You felt him grow hard inside your cunt as he fucked his despair into you. “Fuck me like you hate me,” you begged him. “I deserve it.” 

He pulled away at that, only to wrap your legs around his waist, picking you up. He carried you to your bed, leaving a trail of soapy water behind. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, burying himself inside you again. 

He fucked you hard, harder than he ever had, holding you by your throat or sometimes by a fist in your hair. He fucked you from behind, then flipped you over to look into your eyes as he pounded into your soaked pussy. You hadn’t known a life without Christopher and without his love and his comfort. You wondered how you would keep existing without it. You wondered if you would be able to live without managing to pay off your debt to him. Even as he spilled himself into you, filling you with his sorrow, you wondered how you would cope. 

Even with Chris toppling over you, his weight on your body, his cock softening in your cunt, you felt alone.

Jisung turned to the rest of the room. “Does anyone want more cake?” 

A few hands shot upright, accompanied by enthusiastic statements. The ghost of a smile appeared on your lips as Jisung began his distribution of dessert. This was how you liked your house best—when it was crowded with people you loved. On other days, it felt empty, bleak, too quiet. 

Next to you, Chris shifted his weight on his seat, glancing at you. You stared back at your husband as he forced a smile on his lips. 

You leaned toward him, a frown on your brow. “Are you tired?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, almost out of habit, and pulled you closer. “I’m just drunk,” he whispered into your ear, eliciting a faint chuckle from you. “Are you tired?”

You were tired, but then you had been tired for years, it felt like. You simply shook your head, knowing it was good for Chris to see people—you didn’t want him to put an end to the festivities on your behalf. Besides, they were celebrating your birthday, so you would feel bad to throw people out.

You watched as Jisung went around the room with the cheesecake leftovers. Chris kept his arm around your shoulders and you let it comfort you a little, even though he didn’t really mean it. It was muscle memory. 

Those who didn’t grab cheesecake were now pouring more wine into their glasses—you handed yours to Arina—Jisung’s fiancée—and she filled it again, and Chris’ too. 

“I heard on the radio that they forecast a particularly sunny summer,” Felix said, speaking to you and Chris specifically, although most guests were also paying attention. “I reckon business will be good for you guys this year.”

“I hope so,” Chris responded, squeezing your shoulder as a public testimony that he still gave somewhat of a shit about you. Maybe this was why you liked your house best when your friends were here—because your husband had to pretend he still loved you when people were around. “We’re thinking of hiring a couple more people, actually.”

“That’s awesome!” Felix flashed a bright smile at you. “I’ll have to try and make time to come visit. It’s been so long since I actually walked around the campground.” 

You knew he meant well, and you knew Felix wasn’t even lying—he had been friends with Chris in high school and he knew the area well despite having moved away a while ago. You knew that at this moment, Felix genuinely wanted to come again later, during the peak of summer season, to see the area at its most beautiful and lively, but you also knew he wouldn’t. Because that’s just how life was. Difficult. He would be busy somehow. And when he wouldn’t be busy, he would want to relax. Or go on a date. Or watch a movie. And you didn’t hold it against him. It had been at least a year since you went over to his place anyway.

“Man, you really should!” Chris nodded, raising his glass at Felix. We expanded a little, to accommodate for trout season. It was too crowded last year.” 

You were about to comment how it was a good problem to have, only you saw at the other end of the table Changbin and his girlfriend, Naomi, exchange a long, quiet stare, then turning to Arina and looking at her wine glass, which was still full. 

Something stirred within you. You knew what was about to happen, and you knew it was probably within your power to stop it. Only, you lacked the strength to do so, and words eluded you anyway. Or will, perhaps.

“Say, Ari,” Naomi told her friend with a mischievous smile on her face. She spoke at low volume, not trying to overpower the main conversation, in which Chris was telling Felix about the sudden and unexpected rise in trout population in the area. “I don’t think I saw you take a single sip of that wine.”

You knew for sure then, by the way color drained from Arina’s face before she turned crimson in half a second, and from the way Jisung almost dropped the cake as he went to put it back on the countertop. 

You couldn’t tell what hurt most—the way Arina’s gaze looked for you but how she dared not look you in the eyes in your own home, or the fact that she was pregnant at all.

Naomi reached over her boyfriend to give Arina the gentlest nudge. “Girl!” 

Changbin took Naomi’s hand in his, pulling it under the table quickly, pushing his own plate of cheesecake in front of her. “Want some? I don’t think I can eat all of it after all.” 

Not saying it was worse. Jisung stared at Arina, then at Changbin, avoiding your eyes at all costs. Meanwhile, the discussion between Chris and Felix was coming to an end as they realized that something was happening around the table. 

You couldn’t hold it against Naomi—she was the latest addition to your friend group, after all, and she didn’t know. Or didn’t know a lot about it all anyway. And even if she did know... You still couldn’t hold it against her. There was no reason for the rest of the world to remain stuck in the past the way you and Chris were. There was no reason for the rest of the world not to be happy at such a joyful prospect. 

Chris let his arm fall back, freeing your shoulders. You felt very alone then.

You knew it had to be you. It had to be you who said something or else the situation would get even more embarrassing and awkward. There had been many moments like this in the past few years, so you knew your way around them by now, no matter how unpleasant. It had to be you. It always had to be you.

“Ari, is it true then?” The thing with sorrow is it often turns people into excellent liars. You didn’t like this about you, but you could be very convincing when you had to be. You looked very happy when you needed to. “Is it really true?”

A timid smile reappeared on your friend’s lips. After a quick glance at Jisung, she nodded gently. “Yes, it’s true.”

As the table erupted in congratulations and a full-on interrogation—How long have you known? How far along are you? Oh my god can it really be true?—you plastered a smile on your face and remained in your seat. There was something else about lying—you had to learn not to overdo it. Proper dosage was essential to how believable you were. You couldn’t jump in place and clap and sing because your friend was pregnant, then people would look at you weird. They would know you’re faking it. They might even deduce that you have been faking it for a long time.

The ghost of Chris on the chair next to you disappeared when he pulled away, as expected. You recognized your own rehearsed smile on his face. 

“I really didn’t want…” Arina began, then stopped mid-sentence as she was searching for her words. Or rather, as she was thinking of the least hurtful way to remind you that your baby had died inside you. “We really didn’t want to crash the party with the news. We wanted to wait.” This, she said to you. 

“It’s alright,” you lied. It was not alright. You hadn’t had a happy birthday in a long time but this one had just turned into a genuine nightmare, as you felt yourself fall into a pit of darkness. Or rather like you were becoming one. “I’m very, very happy for you.”

“It’s such great news,” Chris chimed in. “Let us know if there’s anything we can do, yeah?”

But of course, they wouldn’t want you to come near their beloved child, and you understood that. Because you were cursed. 

The news indeed put an end to the party, which you knew was justified by people feeling awkward. Or maybe they just didn’t want to see the color of your grief. Arina was the last to leave—she stood with you in the doorway while Jisung and the other guys were chatting by their cars. She spared you from another apology but she held you in her arms. “It’ll be your turn soon,” she assured. People said those things sometimes, and it was to alleviate their guilt.

Chris joined you in the kitchen as you were putting empty cups in a trash bag. He grabbed some plates and began rinsing them in the sink.

You knew you had to say something. You knew it had to be you, no matter how unpleasant. 

“The cake was really good,” you commented. 

“Right?” Chris put a little too much enthusiasm into his response. “Mrs. Allen makes the best cakes.” Mrs. Allen owned the only bakery in this part of the city, and everybody feared the day she would decide to retire. Most of her income came from locals purchasing her goods for special occasions or simply because they craved something sweet.

“She does,” you agreed. “Thank you for the birthday party, and for my gift.” He had offered you a hydroponic garden system, something you had mentioned being interested in but weren’t quite sure it would fit in your kitchen. 

“No problem.” He spoke at low volume, now loading the dishwasher. It seemed, for a few instants, as though he was about to say something meaningful. But he finished clearing the countertops. “How about I run you a bath?” 

You accepted his offer, half hoping for something that couldn’t be true, which was that he would join you. Except he wouldn’t and you were well aware of that fact. Most nights, he pretended to fall asleep on the couch so he wouldn’t join you in the bed.

Last week, he saw the notification on your phone. According to your calendar, your peak fertility window begins now and will end in twenty-four hours. You still kept the fertility app. Maybe out of habit, but certainly not out of hope—Christopher had never truly said he wanted another child. Maybe it didn’t really matter either. You hadn’t gone back on birth control and there had been absolutely no pregnancy scares. Not that you had been particularly active… Except that now, you were certain Chris wouldn’t touch you for a long time. Because last week, after seeing the notification, Chris kissed you like he hadn’t kissed you in a while. He lay you in bed and undressed you and touched you and you touched him, too. But he couldn’t make love to you. He tried.

He really tried. Until tears were staining his cheeks. You took him in your mouth. You got on top, hoping he would grow hard inside you. But he didn’t. He apologized profusely but he didn’t need to. You had learned to discern the hints life left behind. Some things were meant to be and some weren’t. 

How unfair though. How unfair was it that you and Chris weren’t actually meant to be if you loved him this much? If you had loved him all of your life?

He did run you a bath, with all of your favorite things in it—jasmine oil, candles all around, piano music playing from a small speaker. It didn’t stop you from hearing him locking himself in what had been the nursery. In what still was the nursery—absolutely nothing had changed. Not one thing had been moved. The door just remained closed. Always. 

Could you have been wrong all this time? What if it wasn’t Chris who was meant for you, but aloneness? What if the withering of your heart was your own fault? After all, Judith had been inside you when her heart stopped beating. It had nothing to do with Chris, or with anybody else. Still, it was all he saw in you—the place in which his daughter died.

He was right. It was all that you were. A coffin, a graveyard, a tomb. All at once. And it was all that you would ever be, for as long as you would live.

A crackling sound coming from the walkie-talkie on the counter made you jump. You inhaled sharply, looking away from the laptop screen to offer an apologetic smile to the two clients who were checking into the campground. 

You weren’t supposed to be here today—usually, on Fridays, you operated the general shop, and Chris the campground. Mostly because even though they were now under the same business, you were both more used to those specific establishments, having been raised into them. Only, it was the campground’s big summer opening and Chris was overseeing the event. There would be a concert tonight, by a local band who played covers, and games and other activities were offered during the day. 

Since food was involved, it was less likely for people to stop by the general shop tonight—so you left it in your most trusted employee’s hands, knowing Jeongin would be more than able to handle himself there. He was probably going to sell sunscreen and hats all day—it was stunningly sunny. 

You grabbed the walkie-talkie, walking a few footsteps away to listen carefully. It was Jeongin’s voice that came in.

“Boss,” he said, and you still didn’t know who he was talking to because he called both Chris and you like that. “There’s someone here asking if we sell paint, and I’ve just been looking everywhere and…” 

A faint click followed Jeongin’s question, indicating that Chris had joined the conversation. “Paint?” he repeated. He could barely be heard over the music playing over there. “Paint?” 

You returned to the clients who had finished filling out their security forms while the other two chatted over the radio. You handed them their keycards to unlock the gate and various other spots on the site. You didn’t need to go too in-depth with them—it was the third summer they came here. “Thank you for choosing us again,” you told them with a smile. “If you have issues or an emergency, do call the number at the bottom of the map and someone will come to you.” 

The couple—a man and a woman in their 70s—thanked you warmly and returned to their RV outside. They had rented a space for two weeks. They reminded you a little of your parents. Had they looked this happy when they were on their trips? 

The debate over the walkie-talkie distracted you before you could tear up, even though you missed your mother terribly. 

“Not spray paint, boss,” Jeongin insisted. “Like, just paint.” You heard a voice speaking inaudibly behind him, and then the young man added, “Not wall paint or spray paint. Paint for art. Watercolor?” He said the last word as though he was only repeating it while being wildly unsure about it. 

Everything clicked into place then as you finally understood what they wanted. You grabbed your radio and joined the discussion again. “I didn’t have enough time to stock up the kids’ section,” you explained. It was a mistake on your part, caused by your sleep troubles as of late. After all, it wasn’t uncommon at all for parents to grab a few toys for their children before entering the campground. “Most of the stuff is still in boxes in the back store. I know where it is, I can guide you.”

Jeongin’s line cut abruptly—he had let go of his Talk button. “Jeongin?” Chris asked.

He came back almost immediately. “He says no, boss. He’s asking if we sell real watercolor, not children's stuff.” 

You suppressed a laugh and heard your husband do the same. While nobody in the area understood the importance of art more than you, you couldn’t help but find it humorous that someone would stop at a very rustic-looking general store on the side of the road of a small city to ask for legitimate art supplies. 

You looked at the beautiful landscape out the window—the river, the shore, and behind it all, the mountains. As pretty as a painting. 

“Please apologize on our behalf,” you told Jeongin. “We don’t carry art supplies of the sort. Offer them a discount on their purchase.” 

“Thanks, boss.” And Jeongin tuned out for good, leaving you and Chris alone on the line.

You let a few seconds pass. “How are things over there?” you asked, either to make conversation or because you desperately wanted your husband to speak to you. About anything. Anything at all.

“Pretty good actually. They’re loving the lemonade.” You two had made many batches of it early this morning. Quietly. In your kitchen. Squeezing lemons and then weighing sugar and making raspberry syrup, for the pink lemonade. Alone. “How are you holding up in there?” 

“It’s fine. Every time I’m here, it reminds me of those mornings my mom would have your mom babysit me, and she’d drag me here and put me to work.” The Park Office had been renovated since then, but it smelled the same as it used to. Like cedar and pine, with faint salt undertones. “Should we start carrying art supplies?”

“Man, I don’t know.” Chris laughed and he sounded like he meant it. It made a burst of light appear in your chest, even if it was only temporarily. “Oh, I gotta go. We need ice.”

“Let me know if I can do anything.” But Chris was already gone. 

Your life had reached a point where you doubted that any ice was actually needed. You imagined Chris just wanted to find a good enough reason not to speak to you, just you. He fared well enough—and so did you—in the presence of others, as though they motivated him to pretend better. The first night he didn’t come back home, you thought he was cheating on you. In the end, the sound of his shower woke you up at six in the morning. When you asked him where he’d been, he said he worked on some repairs at the camping ground.

It happened more and more often. Then some of his clothes disappeared from inside his drawers. It happened over weeks, so it gave you time to prepare. To form some sort of shell to brace yourself from the impact of it. By then, he rarely slept in your bed anymore, preferring the guest room or the living room. But when he did, you barely recognized your husband. It did not feel like him, that person under the sheets. 

During your sleepless nights, you pondered over it a lot. You were well aware that Chris hadn’t brought up divorce because it would feel like a failure for him. Like he had failed this marriage and you. You knew there was also the whole issue of the Riverside Campground and Riverside General Store, now become one. The legal problems that would surface during the divorce would be awful, and you knew it. Neither of you had felt the need to get a prenup or anything of the sort. 

Honest to god, you had thought you would be with Chris for the rest of your life. And maybe he had felt the same, and it was why he was so reluctant to leave you. 

Sometimes, you wanted to tell him that it was okay. If he was seeing another woman. He wasn’t going to keep fucking you, was he? Not when you were a graveyard. You couldn’t force him to love you either. He had stopped loving you a long time ago—it just took him a while to come to the realization. You wanted to hate him. To resent him. But all that you could do about Chris was love him, no matter how broken, how misaligned that love had become.

There was this unspoken agreement that at work and around your friends, you made it look like everything was okay. You hadn’t told a soul about your marital problems and you assumed Chris probably hadn’t either. 

Every day you woke up with the clear intention to sit down with Chris and to talk. To make him say that this—all of this—made no fucking sense. That you had to get a divorce, no matter how cumbersome it would be. Nothing could be worse than this anyway. 

And as the coward that you were, every day, you found ways to avoid that conversation. 

A car coming down the road caught your attention, pulling you out of your deep thoughts. The darkness lingered within you, but you appreciated every occasion to be distracted from it. Even work.

The car—a black Jeep Patriot that looked like a rental—stopped at the designated parking space for check-ins. Noticing that, you made sure that none of the tears that had tickled your eyes had messed with your mascara. Unfortunately, it was a little smudged in one place, but you managed to mostly fix it just in time to welcome the customer.

A man that you supposed was in his mid-20s  entered the park office looking a little confused yet resolute. He had hiking attire—dark green cargo pants, a generic t-shirt, and a lightweight jacket. Holding his phone and often looking at it, he made his way to the counter slowly. 

“Hello,” you said before he had even reached you, prompting him to look up. He was, by all standards, pretty, with feline-like eyes and gentle traits. “Will you be checking in with us today, sir?” 

He responded to your smile with a polite one. “Yes. I made the reservation a while ago. Under Lee, Minho.” 

You typed his name into the laptop, quickly pulling up his reservation file. You raised your eyebrows as you looked at it—it was the first time you saw it really, Chris was the one who took care of this stuff usually.

“I have it here,” you told him, double-checking to make sure you had read everything right. “You made an extended stay reservation for two adults in one of our RVs?” 

The campground welcomed RVs on one side and tents on the other, also offering to rent either installation for those who needed them. Renting a fully equipped, luxury RV was by far the most expensive booking option you sold, and he had requested it until the end of the season. From the first day to the very last. 

“Yes, that’s me.” His smile became a little more comfortable, and a little warmer, too. “You seem surprised.”

“Oh, I’m just not used to it—usually, it’s the cabins on the other side of the rivers that get this sort of clientele.” 

You took the credit card—black—that he handed you without you having to ask. You actually had nothing against Pineview Cabins. People who wanted a cabin wanted a cabin, and those who wanted something else came to you. Besides, the owners were a mother and her son, and they were lovely.

“Cabins are for tourists,” Lee Minho said jokingly.

You finished entering his information in the system and gave the card back, finding it a bit easier to smile in his laid-back presence. No matter how long you had spent enduring it, you had never been very good at aloneness. 

“There is a form we require guests to fill—for security purposes,” you explained to him, sliding on the counter the form in question, secured on a clipboard. You shot a glance behind him, looking at his car through the front window, where you could see that there was someone in the passenger seat. “Both of you will have to fill one,” you added, pulling out a second clipboard. “I can go and hand this one to them while you fill yours if you’d like.”

The man shook his head, the corner of his lips curving up. “Nah. Let me call him. He can sulk about paint sometime later.” 

It clicked into place then—this man, and whoever was in his car, had been the ones who, just moments ago, were at the general shop asking for watercolors. 

“It was you!” You bit your lip. “I’m really sorry we couldn’t accommodate you better. I’ll—”

Minho, who had just finished typing a text on his phone, put the device back in his pocket and grabbed one of the pens to start filling out his form. “No need to apologize. I don’t know why he expected to find some legit watercolors here.” 

“Ah, artists.” You spoke in a tone that was clearly sarcastic but not offensive. 

“This one is something, for sure.”

As if on cue, the front door was opened by the man beckoned by Minho through a text and a little voice inside your head said, Yes, this one is something indeed. He was tall, holding himself straight with a perfect posture and yet in a totally nonchalant manner. Still, he was graceful. You saw it in the way he pulled the door open, in the way he took off his fancy designer sunglasses to put them on his head, in the way he adjusted his half ponytail right after. 

If Minho was dressed as though he was heading out for a three-day hike, this one, the artist, was the complete opposite. A loose white graphic tee hung on his broad shoulders. With it, he wore oversized jeans, and he even had another shirt tied around his waist, as though he had expected the weather to be cooler. A multitude of jewelry pieces adorned his body—a few silver necklaces around his dainty neck, many bracelets on his wrists, and rings, too. The ensemble screamed intentional chaos.

The more seconds passed, the closer he was to you and the counter, and you were utterly unable to take your eyes off him. Not just because he had just entered the room and it was a normal thing to look at someone who approached to check-in. But because you had never seen anybody like him before.

He was beautiful, and there was no other way to put it. His face was seemingly perfect—his big, dark eyes were scanning his surroundings as though to evaluate the potential dangers. The rounded tip of his nose complemented his cheekbones well. 

He had a pretty mouth—his lips were obscenely plush. Rosy red. Enticing. With a velvety quality to them. Skin like honey-coated satin. Hair like silk soaked in black ink. 

He was the kind of person who just oozed charisma. Effortlessly. The kind of person whose presence changes the whole vibe of the room. The kind of person everybody notices without them trying. Often, without them wishing for it at all. 

There was a point where you realized you should say something—he was just a few steps away now, close enough that Minho had turned to him. Close enough that you could smell him—he carried with him a strong yet not heavy scent reminiscent of amber and roses with woodsy and musky undertones. You took a deep breath but it wasn’t even to brace yourself to be in his presence. It was to inhale more and more of this alluring smell. It took everything in your power not to immediately ask him what his cologne was. 

“There you are. Here.” It was Minho who spoke first in the end, sliding the second clipboard and another pen toward his friend. Or brother. Or cousin.

Or boyfriend, maybe. 

You had to say something. “Hello.” Simple. Ordinary. A skeleton key of greetings. 

He briefly looked away from the clipboard to acknowledge your presence. “Hi.” 

He didn’t seem thrilled about having been called in here and you felt bad about it for some reason, even though you had been asking guests to fill out a security form for years now. 

“Sorry about this. It’s for security purposes,” you explained. 

“It’s no problem at all,” Minho assured. He was already halfway through his form. 

You gave him a quick nod. “And sorry about the watercolors, too,” you added.

At this, the handsome man reacted a bit more. He straightened up from the counter to face you. It felt, a little, like the air had been kicked out of your lungs. Being face to face, so close to him, felt like falling from a high place. 

He spoke to you softly, almost timidly, like he wasn’t sure he ought to speak at all. “The airline lost my art supplies bag and sent it to the wrong destination. I just wanted to have something while they manage to send it to me.” His voice was pleasant. Smokey and warm, it had a strangely comforting tone.

You barely understood the words he said, not because it was a difficult concept to comprehend, but because of the intonation in which he spoke as well as his pronunciation. It was so unique it demanded your whole attention. As if the placement of his lips at any given time, and the movements of his tongue as he spoke, came together as an orchestra that played an elegant symphony. 

“We actually put in the address of the campground,” Minho interrupted as if he had just remembered that detail. “I hope it’s okay? They should be sending the bag here sometime next week.”

“Or the week after,” the artist sighed, rolling his eyes before returning to his form. His handwriting was small and neat. 

“It’s not a problem at all.” It occurred to you then that you had things to get done to check them in, so you returned to your laptop to get to work. “We’ll let you know as soon as it gets here.” You bit your lip, torn over your curiosity and your pulse quickening so fast it frightened you. “Do you exclusively paint in aquarelle?” 

You reported your attention to your screen as soon as you asked the question, regretting it immediately. Like sending a risky text. Warmth spread at the back of your neck, reaching your cheeks and even your ears. Get a fucking grip.

He was handsome, yes. He was the kind of beautiful that nobody could ignore, yes. To blush a little when he looked into your eyes was one thing. But to be entranced by this stranger like this, to have your heart threatening to jump out of your chest, for your breathing to turn shallow in his presence… That was something else. 

At first, you blamed your many sleepless nights—you had a lot of accumulated fatigue, so it would be normal not to be in your right mind. Then you blamed your lingering heartache. The sorrow you carried with you anywhere you went. The wedding ring on your finger that felt like it weighed a ton while meaning so little anymore.

Then shame crept up from somewhere deep within you, tugging at your heart.

No matter how painful the state of your marriage was, you remained married. And there was nothing wrong with finding somebody else attractive, of course, but this felt different. It felt like you ought to take several steps back and internalize that no matter how hot and interesting this guy was, it wasn’t even for you to take notice of it. He painted. So what? He was insanely hot. So what? He wasn’t the first handsome dude you met during your marital life. He smelled good. Okay? He had pretty lips, but who cares?

GET A FUCKING GRIP!

You figured it was your brain trying to save you. You had known for a long time that your marriage was over and that nothing could save it. It had been such a long while, it seemed, since Chris had truly loved you. And you loved him in a desperate way, like trying to hold onto a knife not by its handle, but by its blade.

Your thought process only took about two seconds, but they felt like two very long seconds. In the end, none of this mattered—even if Chris divorced you, and even if this young god had any interest in you, which was impossible, you would still not do anything about it. If you hadn’t even been able to trust in your life-long conviction that you would grow old with Chris, then you were certainly not going to open your heart to anybody else. Ever. 

The man stared at you like he was thinking about his response before saying it. Minho was done with his form and handed it back to you. 

“He does a lot of things,” he said in the artist’s place. “I bought a painting from him. That’s how we met. It’s watercolor and oil, right?” He turned to the handsome man, who nodded.

“Yes, and encaustic paint,” he added, his voice suddenly a little smaller. “It’s made of—”

“Yes, wax. Hot wax.” You cut him off before he could finish his sentence, feeling a little bad that he felt compelled to explain everything, considering how he looked like he didn’t want to talk to you at all. He was most likely an introvert. It used to be difficult for you, too, to talk to strangers. But you became used to it through this place over the years. Or maybe in a desperate attempt not to be alone.

He stared at you with his eyebrows raised just slightly. “Do you paint, too?”

You couldn’t help a nervous laugh from escaping your lips. “God, no. I wish though. I just… appreciate.”

“Then I’ll have to show you his stuff. Brilliant.” Minho gave his companion a not-so-gentle slap on the back. 

“I’d love to,” you replied, taking the signed form from the artist. “We’ve actually been looking into buying a piece for the main lodge, where we hold some events, activities, shows, stuff like that. We did a few renovations last year, and there’s a wall that’s just so empty and bland. Maybe we—”

Two things happened at once then.

Out of habit—and because you had to as it was literally your job—you let your gaze trail down the form you were now holding. You also realized that you were overdoing it with the conversation, talking a little too quickly just to make up for the fact that you were a nervous wreck. The guy had checked in using a black card. There was about no chance for you to be able to afford anything this young god painted, right?

Then your brain processed the words it was reading.

Full name: Hwang, Hyunjin

Hwang, like Hwang Naro, the painter behind Loss, the artwork that had been fascinating you for years. And he just happened to be a painter, too. For some reason. Loss dated back to the 1850s after all, so there was no correlation to be made. Hwang Naro. Hwang Hyunjin.

Immediately, you reminded yourself that many people shared a last name in Korea after all, so it was only a minor coincidence. Painting was a common hobby, wasn’t it?

“Uh, is there a problem, Miss?” Hyunjin inquired, leaning in closer to also look at his form to double-check.

It wouldn’t have felt any different if you had been kicked in the solar plexus. His scent invaded your nostrils and then your lungs, and it was so violent that you had to hold onto the counter. When he looked up again, you noticed more details on his face. The mole under his eyes. The faint lines on his lips. The other mole on his jaw. The shape of his eyes, perfect, intricate, elegant. Their shade deep enough that you could drown in them. 

You remembered the book Jisung and Changbin had given you for your birthday once, the essay about the painting. One of the chapters contained various interviews and letters from people who had known Naro—he signed his paintings without his family name. One of the interviews had been conducted in the late 1880s, by an author who would later publish it in a journal in the early 1900s. He had spoken to Cornelia, a maid who had worked for the Hwangs during her youth while the family resided in Leiden, a small city in South Holland.

Everybody in town knew that Mr. Naro was handsome and kind. He liked to visit the botanical gardens to practice his colors and florals, and some visitors went there to watch him, too. He would sometimes carry with him small pieces of canvas and hand out sketches to children. Mr. Naro was fond of children, and he loved his only son very much, more than I have ever seen a father love anything before. The women envied his wife and the men envied him, for he was a proper gentleman and loved by all. He and his family lived modestly despite the money he made selling his paintings and giving art courses. 

He summoned me to the courtyard of the house one afternoon. He was painting the sky, which was blue and beautiful. Mr. Naro told me he freed me from my employment. When I panicked, he said, “Fret not, Cornelia, it has nothing to do with your abilities. I am most content having you under my roof.” Mr. Naro looked me in the eyes and said I should take some time to visit places and fall in love, either with the world or with a man, or a woman even. He assured me I would be welcome to return after my trip if I wished, and that if he happened to be gone by then, he would ensure the University hired me. 

He gave me money, more than I had ever seen in my life, and a bag for my travels. I refused yet he insisted, no matter how immense the gift, disproportionate to what I thought I deserved. He said my heart’s color was Alizarin Crimson, with a just drop of Naples Yellow and another of Ultramarine, all of those softened in Flemish White. As he spoke, he mixed the colors on his palette, right in front of my eyes. The final result was a gorgeous pink that reminded me of the carnations that used to grow in my grandmother’s garden. He used that pink to paint a stunning bird in the sky, shading it with black and blue, defining the feathers also with white. He gave me the painting and said, “This is your heart. Do you want to keep it caged up here?” 

I heard he had similar interactions with other maids and even students. I traveled to France where I met my husband and became a dancer. I never forgot Mr. Naro. I never forgot Mr. Naro’s eyes, so dark they were more black than brown, yet soft, gentle, and sad. I wanted to be a painter so I could accurately blend paints to recreate that color, just to see it one more time.

The painting, titled Cornelia’s Colors, was now at home at Musée d’Orsay, and you had been lucky enough to see it with your own two eyes a few years ago, during a short European trip with Christopher. It had been given to the museum by the maid-turned-dancer’s descendants. 

But it was not the intricacies of the painting that were on your mind at that moment, not even the expert blending of the colors on it. It was the shade of Hyunjin’s eyes. So dark they were more black than brown, yet soft, gentle, and sad. 

You shook your head faintly, as though chasing away the thoughts invading it.

“Did I miss something?” Hyunjin asked again, glancing at his sheet. 

“N—No, it’s all good.” And yet, by the way they were looking at you, you were very much aware that your reaction must have been noticed. For a split second, you wondered what would be weirder—if you mentioned something or if you just moved on. “It’s just, your name,” you said before you could even really think about it. “You have the same family name as the artist who painted my favorite painting. And you paint too. So I thought it was just a nice coincidence.” 

Something in Hyunjin’s already somber eyes shifted, worsening the darkness in them. His body language changed in a matter of seconds as he stood straight up again, keeping his shoulders straight. He removed the sunglasses from the top of his head, ready to put them on his nose again. 

Minho stared at him, and then at you again. “It’s not really a coincidence, is it?” he told Hyunjin.

Hyunjin rolled his eyes so faintly you almost didn’t catch it. He took a deep breath, the exhale ending with a sigh—in the dictionary, under Bored, a picture of him at that very moment could serve as a definition for the word. You felt so bad you wanted to hide under the counter like you used to when you were little. 

“Guess not,” Hyunjin said with a shrug. “He’s my great-great-grandfather.” 

Too many seconds passed before you reacted—before the information even made it to your brain. 

You were standing in the presence of Hwang Naro’s direct descendant. You were breathing the same air as him, you were looking upon his divinely sculpted face. You were hearing his voice, coated with amber and honey. 

“Oh my god,” was all you managed, whispering under your breath, a frown digging itself between your brows. “I’m so sorry, I—”

Hyunjin waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not important.” 

Not important. Except his great-great-grandfather had been the artist behind the painting that you had always favored. The painting that had turned out to be prophetic, for you at least. 

“What are the odds though?” Minho, contrary to Hyunjin or you, seemed very enthusiastic about all of this. “I knew it was a good idea to drag you here, Hwang.”

By the look on Hyunjin’s face, you could tell he felt very differently. It triggered your brain back into place though, as you became excessively self-conscious. Of yourself. Of your reaction. You could understand why your mind latched onto any good or interesting thing it saw, because your life had become bleak and empty. Yet it was stupid to care about any of that. To this man, the painting meant nothing, and it didn’t appear that his ancestry mattered much more either. He was clearly annoyed with you anyway. 

With trembling hands, you reached for the keycard printer, collecting the two cards you had just printed. You slid them into their protective sleeves, which were attached to lanyards with the campground’s name on them. 

“Here,” you managed, also trying your best to smile. “These will give you access to everything you need—the entry gate, your RV, the laundromat, and the showers. If you lose them, just call this number here.” With that, you handed them maps of the campground, as you did with any new guest. “We’re here. Your site is right there with the other RVs.” You showed them with your index finger, but you felt your insides disintegrating into nothingness. “Just get past the gate and follow Pinecone Lane, you can’t miss it. You have a parking space at your site.”

“This place is huge,” Hyunjin commented—not to you, but to Minho. 

“Bigger than I imagined,” Minho conceded, but he was speaking to you. 

You nodded. “Yes. This is the tent camping site,” you explained. “Here is the main lodge, with the pool. This is the RV site. There’s walkable beach land all around this part too, and you can rent a boat or kayaks here.” 

“Jesus Christ, that’ll be the best summer of my fucking life,” Minho said with a sigh. “I need this vacation. I’m here to fish, I got a permit for it.”

You couldn’t shake the feeling that Minho had picked up on your unease and was trying to distract you from it. It did manage to slow your heartbeat a little. 

“Ah, fishing!” This prompted the smile on your lips to become more genuine. “Of course. Lots of fishing to be done around the estuary. I love striped bass, I haven’t had any in too long.” 

Your father used to love fishing and he would often take you with him. He would cook the bass on a fire with ingredients he gathered in the forest. Those were some of your most precious memories. You’d usually fall asleep by the fire and wake up at the back of the car as he was driving you home. These days, your father’s arthritis was preventing him from enjoying his fishing trips, so he just stopped going. And every year, you told yourself you ought to go fish by yourself, catch a bass, and cook it for him. You never found the time. Or the courage. Or the courage to find the time.

“I’ll make sure to save some for you if I catch any,” Minho promised. 

“Please don’t. Really.” You pressed your lips together, wondering what to say next. Hyunjin’s sunglasses returned before his eyes and they grabbed their card and map. “I hope you have a wonderful stay. Don’t hesitate to call or visit here, the main lodge, or the general store if you need anything.”

“Except paint,” Minho remarked with a clearly sarcastic and humorous tone, sending both you and Hyunjin into a hysterical fit of laughter. 

You laughed so hard you had to lean against the wall behind you with a hand over your mouth while Hyunjin clapped and called Minho a fucking dumbass. You hadn’t laughed this much in a long time. In fact, you couldn’t remember at all when the last time was. You wiped the tears at the corner of your eyes, waving at the two men as they walked out. Minho exited first, and Hyunjin lingered in the door frame, hesitating.

He turned to you. You couldn’t read his expression, not with the sunglasses, but his posture was more relaxed than it had been. “Just curious,” he started. “What is it? Your favorite painting?” 

Your laugh came to a halt the same way a delicate crystal glass would shatter into pieces if someone closed their fist around it. 

“It’s Loss.” You wanted to say more, but your voice remained stuck in your throat. And what would you have said anyway?

He stared at you for a few seconds and nodded slowly before leaving. 

There were still tears on your cheeks, but they no longer tasted like laughter—instead, they had the bitter yet familiar taste of aloneness.

... to be continued.

Note: I feel like I say the same thing over and over—but thank you. I could say it a million times and it wouldn't be enough. Thank you to my readers who not only put up with me, but encourage me as well and motivate me to keep trying to improve and to find my voice.

This story was, once again, extracted from the depths of my heart. It is with the utmost humility that I present it to you—when I started writing it, I did so with the intention, specifically, of not releasing it to the public. It's too personal, I told myself. And then I realized that every story I released contain other parts of my soul, and that this one was no different.

So, here it is. The ramblings of a woman who feels like she graduated at the school of Alone and earned a PhD in Loneliness.

Thank you for your support, and for your love. You guys are the best readers. You know this, right? Love y'all.

Welcome to Stormhaven 🤍

** please note that I will soon be restarting my permanent taglist from scratch as I only wish to keep active readers on them in an effort to put my time in the right places, considering the effort and love i put into what i release. by active readers i mean readers who interact at least a little with my content. i do not expect you to read every single thing i put out or to comment all the time. it's really just that there are many fully inactive/silent readers on the list! if you wish to stay on the list or be added to it, please reach out to me. ask is ideal because I can then tag your ask & return to it, but you can DM me as well! thank you for your understanding. **

taglist:

@abiaswreck ; @accalus ; @aimeexx ; @anylady-fics ; @b4kuho3 ;

@binstitsweat ; @cb97percent ; @chans1aptop ; @chartrucewhore ; @hanjingin ;

@hwan-g ; @hyuneyeon ; @hyunfruits ; @hyunjinswifeee ; @hyunniethepooh

@hyuwunjinie ; @hyyuniverse ; @iam2out ; @imseungminsgf ; @k1ra4a

@leedunno ; @lotus-dly ; @miraworldsstuff ; @mmoonriseflowerr ; @naoristerling

@neosracha ; @palindrome969 ; @shywolfcherryblossom ; @skzfelixlove ; @starseekersworld

@straydhampir ; @suhomylife ; @sunlitwilderness ; @ven-fic-recs ; @yourmercibeaucoupsblog

Mineur de liser pas ça 18+

Minors don't interact 18+

❣️~Ennemi ou quelque chose d'autre ?~❣️

Toi et Hyunjin êtes ennemi jurés et colocataire, mais Hyunjin t'aime et il veut te faire l'amour.

Hyunjin est un garçons qui attire toutes les filles qu'il croise, il aime ça mais il n'a d'yeux pour toi.

Un soir alors que tu te dirige vers la cuisine pour prendre de l'eau, Hyunjin t'attrape le bras et te plaque contre le mur.

"T/N je sais que tu ressens la même chose, tu me veux et je te veux"

*Hyunjin prend tes lèvres et les embrasse sensuellement*

Tu pense "il embrasse tellement bien je vais pas mentir que je le trouve attirant, il m'excite"

Hyunjin te soulève et t'emmène dans son lit où il te pose délicatement, il enlève son t-shirt et révèlent son corps musclé puis il enlève son pantalon sans quitter son boxer mais tu peux voir sa bite durci

Il se place au dessus de toi

"j'ai rêvé de faire ça depuis longtemps ma belle" *chuchote-il dans ton oreille*

Il prend soin de te déshabiller entièrement

"wow T/N ton corps est tellement sexy"

Il commence à t'embrasser le cou puis descend à ta poitrine pour embrasser tes seins

"mmmh" *gemit-tu* Hyunjin en profite pour prendre un de tes tétons entre ses lèvres pour le suçoter "mmmh"

Hyunjin descend plus bas pour arriver à ton intimité, puis il commence à frotter ton clitoris "mon amour tu es toute mouillée.. prête pour moi"

"Ahhh" *tu réagis au contact de Hyunjin*

Puis Hyunjin écarte tes jambes et commence à embrasser ta chatte

"ah" "mmmmmhh"

Après avoir frotter ton clitoris Hyunjin rentre deux doigts en toi et commence à te doigter

"tu es tellement sensible, j'adore ça"

Il arrête de te doigter pour enlever son boxer quand tu vois sa bite dressé

"T/N suce moi avec ta bouche expert"

Sans réfléchir tu prends la bite de Hyunjin dans ta bouche et commence à la sucer

"oh oui! T/N ne t'arrête pas" "va plus vite"

Tu vas le plus vite que tu peux pour faire jouir Hyunjin

"s'il te plaît, s'il te plaît, s'il te plaît, bébé je vais... Je vais plus supporter"

"avale tout mon amour n'en laisse pas une goutte"

Hyunjin jouit laissant son sperme chaud et salé couler, comme Hyunjin t'as demandé tu avale jusqu'à la dernière goutte

Hyunjin te prend les hanches et t'allonge sur le lit (tu es allongé sur le dos) puis il prend sa bite en main

"J'espère que tu es prête car j'ai envie de te faire mourir de plaisir"

Il n'attend pas t'as réponse pour t'embrasser avec la langue

Hyunjin toujours avec sa bite en main il commence à taquiner ton entré avec le bout de sa bite qui est encore plus dur qu'avant

"je vais te faire crier mon nom"

Hyunjin entre en toi sans te prévenir puis commence des va et vient lent mais profond

"AH~"

"oui c'est ça gemit comme ça"

"Mmmmmh, plus vite!"

Hyunjin accélère plus vite

"mmmh T/N....tu es tellement bonne"

"mmmh Hyunjin je vais....je vais venir" *gemit-tu*

Hyunjin accélère de plus en plus sentant ton orgasme venir et son propre orgasme

"moi aussi je sens que je vais~" "jouissons ensemble"

Sans plus tardé Hyunjin et toi éjaculé

"HYUNJIN ! AHHH"

"MMMH ,T/N"

Puis Hyunjin viens t'embrasser et vous vous endormé

I need help finding a fic!!!

It was about a cursed sculptor mc and a painter hyunjin. I began reading earlier today and thought a saved it but for some reason I didn’t. I never got to finish it…😢. If anybody knows or has seen it please tag me or tell me who the author is!

Action and Reaction 🔥❤️

Part 2 ⬇️

The night ends with Hyunjin returning home thoughtful, Han taking an interest in Ágata and Y/N sleeping in the guest room of Cris's house, since she offered to help clean up the mess.

The girl wakes up to a message from Han: "Look, I don't know what happened last night, but I wanted to know if you're okay." She then replies with: "Good morning Hanji, I was fine, I just found it strange to see you "moving on", spending all this time with you made me think about our past." "I understand perfectly Y/Nnie, but I need to move on, I'm tired of running after you, it was making me feel bad, I'm happy for you and Hyunjin, he seems perfect for you," Han adds.

As the days went by, she really realized that every action has a reaction, that if she does something, something will react. Y/N liked Han but was in love with Hyunjin.

Or maybe not?

She felt confused.

Maybe she did see something in Hanji, he was so similar to her, so fun, funny and it seemed like they shared the same neurons.

She used to say that he was "my alarm clock" the one that makes her wake up every day, her "reason".

Hyunjin arrived so suddenly, it was good, energizing, but as the days went by that gave way.

"You seem sad" Cris said

"I'm not, just a little confused with myself, I feel like I lost Henri and I didn't want that." "Tell me what you want from him, do you want him? Or do you want to risk Hyunjin? I've known you since you were a child, Y/Nnie, and I know that in order for you to really like and want to be with someone, you have to know them for a long time. Do you know why you were sad about his kiss with Agata? Because you trust him, because you wanted him. Think again, maybe Hyunjin only showed up to show you who you really want, because the idea of being away from him scares you. - Cris She hugs Cris and cries "Hyunjin will think I'm an idiot." "No, you just have to talk to him, and if he does, that's his problem, you have to fix things with your best friend now." "Cris, you know that you're actually my best friend, right?" Cris kisses her head and smiles.

Hanji found himself thinking about the damned “truth or dare” kiss. He *wanted* to kiss the prettiest girl in his opinion. Y/N was the prettiest girl, but he simply kissed Ágata because she was the most desired among the boys and he was afraid of what Hyunjin would do. After all, this was before he knew that Ágata was dating a college student who picked her up every day on his motorcycle after school. He felt ridiculous for thinking that she would give him a chance. But what can we expect from a girl who shows up with a different boy every week?

°

Y/N spends recess with Han and he tells her about Ágata. Honestly, Y/N knew the girl’s nature and knew that she would be bad for anyone who got involved with her. Cris comes up to them and says:

“Y/N, baby, we need to talk.” He looks serious.

“What happened?”

“*Hyunjin,* it was all a bet.

“What?” Han answers.

“I was in the bathroom and I heard him talking to Seungmin at the door about whether Hyunjin would really be able to “get Y/N” and saying that it would be easy because you “fell for his trap.” To top it off, Seungmin said that he should try too because you seem to be acting like a saint, but behind his back you were hooking up with Hanji and trying to deceive Hyunjin, so one more wouldn’t make a difference.”

“They saw that I heard because when I left I threw some truths in both of their faces. Seungmin tried to punch me, but I was faster and punched him in the face, pushed them both away and left.”

“My God…I always had a bad feeling about Hyunjin…it’s a shame I was right.”

“I’m going to kill those idiots.” - Han

“Guys, you better calm down, it’s not worth wasting your time with them, I’ve already taken care of this.”

“I need to talk to Hyunjin” -Alanna

“Be careful, pretty” -Hanji

Y/N finds Hyunjin standing at the door of their classroom

“Hi, honey” -hyunjin

“Don’t call me that, idiot”

“Calm down, why are you like this? Are you nervous because of your friend Cris? Didn’t he fuck you today?”

“Fuck you!” Y/N ends up slapping Hyunjin hard in the face, who freezes there after realizing that everyone saw it. Including the girls he picks up. How could they trust him after that? They even *filmed* it.

Cris and Han get the girl out of there before the confusion gets worse and the three of them go to the cafeteria since the class was free.

“Y/N, I don’t want to see you get into this kind of trouble anymore, I know he deserved it but you could have gotten hurt, if you need anything call me and I’ll fix it” -Cris

“Honestly, you were amazing, princess” -Hanji

Cris gives Hanji a disappointed look

“What’s wrong? I’m trying to lighten the mood” -Han

“I’m sorry but I couldn’t let him talk to me like that, I know I don’t have many female friends but that doesn’t mean I’m a bitch who sits with every boy I see, especially because the only sluts here are Ágata and Hyunjin.”

“I agree, beautiful, but it’s true, when you need it, call one of us” -Han

°

Y/N goes home with Hannie and they decide to watch a movie, but the girl feels so overwhelmed.

They go to the kitchen to make a snack and she starts to cry

"Kitty, are you crying?"

He hugs her and she rests her head on his shoulder while he strokes her back

"And is this crying from happiness or sadness?"

"It’s just that…everything has been so “heavy” lately, there’s a lot going on and I didn’t expect this to happen so I felt horrible with each passing moment. I can’t explain it, I thought he could be a light but in fact he became the darkness that I run away from so much now, I’m sure he’ll try to destroy my image. I bet on a loser dog and realized that I was the loser" - Y/N

"Think about what makes you want to stay, not what makes you want to leave, everyone in that school knows what he did, everyone knows he lost and anyone who disagrees is a loser like him." -Han

"I discovered a new galaxy when I met you, I love you so much." -Y/N

"- I always loved you my love, I always knew it was you, I was always crazy about you" -Han

"- crazy?"

"- yes, crazy, completely crazy" -Han

He grabs her waist and lifts her chin delicately with his finger and kisses her slowly, passionately

She thought: “Hanji, how hypnotizing you were.”

-" Thank you for not give up on me." -Han

[3:22 AM]

“hyunjin..” your hand rests against his cheekbone, caressing his face lovingly. he leans his head further into your hand and sighs. “I think you should leave it for now. go rest, yeah?”

you know he’s about to argue that he’s ‘not even tired’ and ‘it’s almost finished anyway’, but he’s been saying that for the past two hours and you know he has to get up early tomorrow.

“jinnie, I promise you’ve done plenty in just this one night. you have a lot of time to get it done. don’t push yourself too far, baby.” you whisper in the darkness, but the silence seems to amplify it anyway. with the little bit of light from the windows casting shadows across his pretty face, you can see the small pout on his lips.

you kiss him once, just a little peck, but he finally smiles.

“okay. you’re probably right.” he responds. standing up from your spot together on the floor of the dance studio, he goes to collect his things as you patiently wait for him.

 “are you going back to the dorms or do you want to stay at mine again?” you ask him when he’s done.

he wraps you up in a big hug and lets out a long sigh of exhaustion. you know he would’ve kept dancing until sunrise if you had let him, but his eyes are closed like he’s falling asleep right here and now.

“mm...yours.” he mumbles against your hair.

you only smile and nod, but he doesn’t let go for a while.

you stand there together, bathed in moonlight and love, the most peaceful you’ve felt in weeks.

the big, bad wolf || hwang hyunjin oneshot

》》 pairing: hyunjin x female reader

》》 summary: every year, you and the boys celebrate halloween with a party at hyunjin's - who just so happens to be your mortal frenemy. every year, you all dress up. this year, however, you decide to make it a bit more interesting: everyone picks an outfit for their random secret santa partner. it seems like a bit of innocent fun, but felix has an idea...

》》 word count: 2.4k

》》 genre/tags: halloween au, not quite e2l but e2 like...sexy tension???, suggestive themes (mostly just implications), a little bit of crack lmao

》》 warnings: cliche cheesy dirty flirting (come on hyunjin you're better than this), thicc romantic and sexual tension, reader is a simp in denial, suggestive themes, implied smut at the end, talk of biting but no actual biting, reader has dom vibes, hyunjin is bold until someone else is bolder

》》 notes: my first oneshot on this blog! I already wrote a halloween drabble, but I felt like writing something bigger than that and my friend (I see u vi) inspired me by suggesting some spicy hyunjin content. n e ways, happy halloween everyone! and if u don’t celebrate halloween, I hope u have a lovely weekend <3

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Halloween is always fun with your friend group. I mean, it's fun anyway - lots of cheap candy, neighbourhood celebrations, an excuse to get way too drunk - it's just a lot more fun with eight other crackheads.

You guys have a sort of tradition going by now, even though each year is a bit different. Hyunjin throws the party, Minho brings the alcohol and hides it from Chan until it's too late to stop everyone from getting shitfaced, Jeongin and Felix bring ungodly amounts of candy, and Jisung is a skeleton (literally every single year - it started when you called Tate Langdon's skeleton makeup hot, and it never ended).

Everyone (except Jisung) keeps their costume a secret - unless they're Chan and Felix, in which case they do couple costumes and keep it a secret from everyone else. Sometimes you even decide on a theme, like the year before the last, where everyone was supposed to dress as their favourite Pokemon. This inevitably led to intense fighting roleplays to assert dominance as your respective type, and in order to spare your reputation in the neighbourhood, you decided the next theme would be a little less wild.

This year, the theme was 'secret Santa costumes', meaning you each picked a random name from a hat to decide who you would be buying a costume for and a few days before Halloween, you were given your own costume to wear to the party by whoever pulled your name from the hat of destiny.

Technically that's not how secret Santa works, but no one questions Chan when it comes to holiday business.

You just so happened to get Jisung, and while the temptation to keep the skeleton thing going just for the meme was definitely there, you ultimately decided he should be a classic bedsheet ghost - except with no eye or hand holes cut out. You know, to add a little sprinkle of chaos to his already very chaotic life.

The lovely boy who decided your spooky fate was Felix, who had coincidentally been in charge of buying Hyunjin’s costume too - when you asked why, he said it was because the number of people was uneven, so he had kindly volunteered to take on an extra. You had honestly expected him to pick something weird or wild for you, so you were quite surprised by the outfit he had settled on.

"Is this...little red riding hood?" you had asked, eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you stared at the dress and hood in your hands.

"Yep! I saw it the other day and I thought it would be nice to go for one of the classics, you know?" he had explained, smiling as if he was ever so proud about his decision. Something about the hint of mischief in his eyes made you suspicious, but you had let it slide. "You don't mind, right?"

No, you didn't mind. You had given Jisung a ghost costume, so you didn’t really have room to speak on the originality of Felix’s decision. Besides, the dress didn’t look too cheap, nor did it look especially short, and the hood-cape made you feel way too powerful for someone wearing a $20 Target costume.

So you really didn't mind at all, until it came to the day of the party. Now, as you stand in the doorway to Hyunjin’s apartment, you suddenly mind a lot more.

”Lee Felix, I’m going to decorate the lawn with your fucking intestines, oh my god!” you whisper-yell to the boy who conveniently manages to dart away with the excuse of needing to help Jeongin open all the candy bags. Your angry eyes follow his retreating blue form - Chan picked his outfit this year, and of course he decided Felix should be an Among Us character.

Everyone in the group knows about the slight tension (read: obvious beef) between you and Hyunjin. Technically speaking, you’re friends. He invites you to his parties, you hang out with him when he’s with the boys. It’s just that neither of you can stand each other, because you’re both very bold and even more stubborn.

Whenever the two of you are together, you bicker like children and it’s pretty much endless. You could probably throw insults (and the occasional murder threat) at each other all day if the other members didn’t interrupt, and on those days you’d be more than happy to teach Hyunjin a lesson with a nice, strong punch in the nose if the opportunity were ever to present itself.

So, with this in mind, it’s quite clear why you’re planning Felix’s murder when you see Hyunjin walking around as the big, bad wolf.

You’re genuinely considering sneaking out the front door before anyone else sees you and running back to your apartment (because Felix just so happens to be your ride home), but fate decides to mess with you and suddenly, Hyunjin locks eyes with you from across the living room.

The way a huge smile instantly graces his pretty face sends a rush of butterflies, followed by anger, through you as you stare back at him. His clip on wolf ears are admittedly quite cute, but the fake fangs he’s wearing send your thoughts in a very different direction. As he makes his way over, you suddenly wish you had followed Felix to the kitchen - at least they keep the alcohol in there. In his living room, you’ve got no choice but to deal with Hyunjin while sober.

”Well, would you look at that? Seems like I found my little red riding hood.” he teases with a wink, leaning against the wall beside the door.

When you scoff at him, he gives you another big grin and you can’t help but stare at the fangs again. The vibrant blue contact lenses he’s wearing make his gaze feel intense even when he’s smiling, and the way his long, blonde hair falls freely gives him a glow that’s both angelic and positively demonic. He looks so annoyingly handsome, as per usual; if only his personality wasn’t the personification of the words ‘cocky asshole’. You can’t help but think it’s a huge waste of beauty.

“Excuse me-” you begin, ready to start the first round of arguing, but he cuts you off like the annoying brat he is.

“You’re excused,” he says, thinking his comment was very smart, and if it wasn’t a night meant for fun and games, you might’ve killed him on the spot.

“Fine, excuse you. I’m not your little red riding hood. In fact, I’m not your anything, thank you very much,” you snap, brushing past his tall figure as you head to the table the boys have set up to the side. There’s an array of Halloween-themed food, prepared by Chan, and you settle for a red velvet cupcake decorated with black frosting and what you assume are meant to be cat ears poking out of it.

“Right, sure, but we’re still matching tonight. It’s kind of like-”

This time, you cut him off. “It’s not like Chan and Felix. It’s not. We’re not wearing couple costumes, so don’t say it.”

He shuts his mouth (finally) and you take it as your cue to leave before he says something else to piss you off. Unfortunately, he seems to have the desire to ruin your night further and chooses to follow you on your journey.

“So anyway, I guess this was Felix’s plan, right?” He gestures to your costumes. “Unless you had something to do with it, that is.”

You don’t bother to address the second part of what he said and instead just nod, scanning the room for the previously mentioned mastermind. As soon as you can get your hands on that boy, you swear you’ll slaughter him for subjecting you to Hyunjin’s torturous teasing all night.

“He was already on thin ice after trying to tell me Bulbasaur is a better starter than Charmander, but now he’s actually dead to me,” you growl out once you spot him sitting beside Minho, laughing happily with his classic red solo cup and a slice of chocolate cake. Jeongin sits beside them, tearing open bags of candy with no assistance from Felix, because of course he was lying about helping him earlier.

Hyunjin laughs softly and you curse your heart for skipping a beat at the sound. Sometimes it feels like your head hates Hyunjin while your body is stupid enough to like him, and it’s part of the reason why you hate talking to him so much. Every time you stop throwing insults and sass at him and instead sit back and listen to what he has to say, a part of you realises you don’t exactly have a proper reason for disliking him. He’s not all that bad, and sometimes you even find yourself laughing at his jokes and witty remarks.

But you’d really rather not go through the endless cycle of those thoughts right now, especially when the cause of your problems is standing beside you eating a chocolate bar.

“I have to say, though,” you comment as you turn to look him up and down, “the big, bad wolf concept suits you pretty well.”

Before he can accept the compliment, you continue. “You’re both big, hairy beasts who dress like grandmas.”

The obvious offence on his face is so satisfying you almost wanna snap a photo to reflect on this moment in the future, but you refrain from doing so. He would just pose anyway, and the photo would probably end up making your stupid heart flutter again.

“Well, at least you think I’m big. Besides, if dressing like a grandma gets me closer to eating you, then I suppose it’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make,” he whispers in a husky, seductive voice that kind of makes you want to choke-slam him, but you suspect he might enjoy that anyway.

It angers you when he makes flirty comments like that, because as annoying as they are and despite you knowing full well he only says it to get under your skin, it still makes your heart race every time. Maybe in another universe, Hyunjin is a sweet boy who innocently flirts with you and brings you roses instead of a big, bad bitch who’s just acting like a horny teenager. Annoyingly enough though, you think you’d fall for him either way.

You turn away with the intention of finally escaping to the kitchen to grab something to drink, hoping to settle the thoughts dancing around your head, but he reaches for your wrist. The feeling of his fingers pressing warmth into your skin just makes your head spin even more, and you’re so distracted you don’t pull away from him.

"Aw, don’t run away now. Are you scared of me, little red? There’s no need to be, I’m just joking. I won’t bite unless you beg me to."

You pull your arm back as soon as the words leave his mouth. Hyunjin has a lot of things (a severely irritating personality, a stupidly handsome face for such an asshole, a loud voice solely meant for pissing you off on a daily basis, the list goes on), but the thing he definitely has most is the fucking audacity.

However, the most annoying part by far is the way you feel your face heat up when you register the last thing he said. You’d rather die than let him make you flustered, so you shake your head slightly to clear those thoughts from your mind and look him in the eye again.

"Scared? Me?" you scoff, staring him down with a steady glare and if he was anyone else, he'd probably shiver in fear.

Unfortunately, he is not anyone else. He is Hwang Hyunjin, and Hwang Hyunjin does not shiver; he beams with a smug grin and makes your blood boil.

"Mhm. Look at you. You’re basically dressed as my prey tonight, babe." He purrs the pet name like the absolute fuckboy he is. "And sure, the real you is feisty, but you're all bark and no bite."

The overly confident, proud smirk on his face makes him look like a damn peacock flaunting its feathers, and you decide then and there that you'll do anything to get rid of it.

"All bark," you echo his words, walking towards him slowly, "and no bite, huh?"

You swear you see his eyes widen for a split second at your change in demeanor before the stupid smirk returns, and the little rush of victory you feel from catching him off guard is enough to keep you walking forward.

His gaze never leaves yours, especially when you're standing on the tips of your toes in front of him, noses just barely brushing against each other. Your hands grip his shoulder to balance you, and you run a finger over his collarbone up towards his cheek, where you gently cup his face. The small distance between the two of you means you can hear his slightly uneven breathing and see the curiosity swirling in his bright blue eyes as he waits for your next move.

You reach a hand up and thread your fingers through his long, bleach blonde hair, and his breath hitches when you gently tug at it. Even his wolf ears almost seem to droop submissively. He doesn't dare move, but his eyes keep flicking down to your lips and back up again.

"Now, that's just not true at all, is it?" you whisper, tilting your head as if waiting for an answer, but he can't find the words to form a witty response. It’s about time he learned some manners, really, even if he needed your guidance for that.

"I'm warning you now," you continue, "you might wanna watch your tone. I might look like your prey, but I promise I bite harder than you do, babe."

You make sure to emphasise the pet name, purring it in the same way he did minutes before. He bites down on his bottom lip, and the way his fangs press into them makes you lick your own lips nervously. It seems as though he can't take the tension anymore, because he goes to lean in and finally close the distance between the two of you as his hands find your hips.

Of course, you'd never let him have that control, especially after his bold attitude from earlier. Even though the temptation to lean in is certainly there, you step away from him and smile sweetly.

"Learned your lesson yet, puppy?"

He doesn’t respond for a moment, clearly still taking in what just happened. When he registers your question, he tilts his head to the side as if in thought - the way a dog might, funnily enough - before he hums quietly.

“I’m not sure. Maybe you should teach me once more, little red,” he suggests, voice low and slightly breathless, “but preferably a bit more in depth this time.”

- ᴇ ɴ ᴅ -

(A/N: AHHHHH I haven’t written a oneshot in SUCH a long time oh my god,,,,, it was a lot of fun tho even if I’m not super confident writing full things. this one was short anyway so I kinda feel like it doesn’t count, but I’m still v happy to finally post my first skz oneshot! I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading <3)

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