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hwaightme · 8 days

Text

Dawn

THIS IS 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI, PRINCE'S ORDERS (nsfw tags under the cut)

(masterlist)

👑 pairing: exiled!prince!seonghwa x afab!reader 👑 genre: smut, fluff/angst, pwp but make it royaltycore 👑 summary: remember, remember this day, do remember, the treason and gunpowder plot. i see no reason why gunpowder treason should ever be forgot. as the preparations for a new era are complete, you find paradise and praise in the arms of the prince who had fallen, the prince who will be your king. 👑 wordcount: 6k 👑 warnings/tags: questionable editing, mention of 'sins', exile/royal family drama, revolution/uprising, muddled feelings, explicit mention of bombs, treason, park dynasty, royaltycore with modern elements, in love or in lust, lmk if anything else 👑 taglist: at the bottom of the fic 👑 a/n: it all started with a devious hwa smirk; @nebulousbrainsoup thank you for hyping over this with me <3 always, any reblogs appreciated. much love!

👑 nsfw tags: cunnilingus, overstim, teasing, pet names (love, darling...), begging, unprotected sex (wrap. it. up), creampie, nipple play (f receiving), implied aftercare

“It has been done,” you mumbled, fiddling with the edge of the heavy cloak that adorned your frame. Despite being in a secluded chamber, you did not have the heart, at least not yet, to reveal your surprise, instead keeping discussion and action to strictly business.

Seonghwa’s eyes widened, as though he was visualising the impact of your unspeakable actions. A pang of fear struck your heart as you cast a glance at the flickering orange flame of the torch – currently, the sole source of light in the chamber that he had made his quarters and headquarters, given the timidness of the moon as it hid behind thick clouds. The ornate window stood dormant, reflecting the light and the fiery man. Prior stoicism and cool resolve evaporated, and he turned towards you. In the blink of an eye he was setting the maps of the kingdom and of the locations that served as bases of operation of the new regime down on the desk, and he could not hold back on anxious praise.

“How did you- but that was a risk- you, my angel… my sweet, precious angel you are changing the world, light of my life-” stopping you from picking at your cloak, he took one of your hands in his, lips ghosting over the knuckles. He pressed your hand against his chest, as though in a miniature embrace.

It was easy to see the relief in his features. The hints of dark circles under his eyes, the misery being replaced with a shining hope and a boyish vivacity – this was why you had abandoned your own morals in favour of his, convincing yourself that what you had done was ‘the right’, and that there was an objective evil in the world that just so happened to align with your specific target. It could be the case; it could be that because Seonghwa was your personal ‘right’ and was the path you never wanted to stray from, you could not care less for any other misdeeds. When his grip on you weakened, you moved your arm back, and placed both hands on his shoulders, pretending to smooth out the fabric of his perfectly tailored black coat.

Not much had changed in his heart for as long as you knew him. Seonghwa was always there for you, and even in the midst of the crumbling of the Park dynasty, he was the one to tell you that it was going to be alright. Despite being publicly labelled a traitor and having a witch hunt launched to find and execute him, he was here, standing before you, with a gentle smile on his face. You wondered what was unfolding and being formulated in his beautiful mind. What tears was he suppressing, what curses was he refining for the day that he would look the revolutionaries in the face and deliver the final blow to reclaim the royal title and the kingdom. Perhaps his shoulders had gotten broader, perhaps his hair had gotten longer, gaze sharper and the sword that he would wield in his hand more lethal and merciless, but he was the same Seonghwa to you. The same boy who you had played in the royal gardens with, the same young man with whom you had danced in the quietude of empty halls. You did not know anyone except him, and that was how you wanted your life to stay. So, when Seonghwa offhandedly mentioned a ‘mission’ that he was due to complete – a critical step in the leadup to the uprising by him and his loyal army, you did not just volunteer, you swore to dedicate yourself wholly to his plan and did not experience a single droplet of regret.

Perhaps he was your sin. Like some suffered from Pride, or Lust, or Sloth, you were a devotee to His Royal Highness, until your very downfall. And this is why no other act, no matter how devious, meant anything to you – it was merely a step in the direction towards securing your one certain joy in what was otherwise a bleak, barren dystopia. His eyes contained a universe, and that was more than enough for you, even if your days were numbered. This was ringing particularly true after the act you had committed, and the cause for which you stood. You were frozen in time, regarding Seonghwa with the adoration of a person parting ways with the world. As though he was your last breath of air and last ray of sun before it set for eternity. It appeared that this dismissal of your internal turmoil did not go unnoticed, and the prince was quick to reach for your arms, pulling them down so that your fingers could intertwine.

“You mustn’t look back alone. It is a chasm,” he began, studying you. A bitter smile graced your lips as you bit back the long-chronic worries you possessed due to his unwavering kindness. Your precious little prince. You squeezed his hands, mumbling:

“What use is there in focusing on the past anyways, right?” when you sensed suspicion, you elaborated, “the future is bound to be brighter? Isn’t that right, sweet star of mine?”

An overwhelming pause. The question was meant to be rhetorical, potentially comedic, and yet it left a tinge of sourness. Nothing was for certain, even though you carried everything out to a tee and disappeared from the party-occupied castle unnoticed thanks to your knowledge of secret passages that ran between rooms and underground. Seonghwa’s voice accompanied you as you planted detonators, deafening devices and something one of the prince’s followers had kindly dubbed a ‘sleeping mist’ in predetermined locations. Turn, leave, you could do it, you were strong, there was reason behind your actions. Evidence of this was behind the elegantly dressed, albeit emotionally worn-down man. The maps – a myriad of scriptures, plans, strategies; some doomed to fail, others a brave but evaluated risk.

“Mm… that’s right,” you did not want to believe that it was a lie, so you settled on indulging in his deep timbre, tone so mellifluous that you wanted for it to be the only thing you could ever hear, “just you wait, the future is made for us. A world of ripest fruits for us to reap, for us alone…”

He moved once more, letting go of you. You could guess his musings almost word for word – a little planet. Starry night sky. Having the luxury of knowing what would happen when, so he would know when he could see you again, and you did not have to turn into a creature of darkness to creep inside the shadows to his hideout for a few hours, only to risk yourself all over again afterwards. Freedom and utopia were his forbidden fruit – an eternal temptation explicit in his gorgeous irises.

He was a dreamer with very consistent and persistent fantasies, as well as an eloquent way of feeding them into your soul with such finesse that with time you almost always considered any thought to be your own in its origins. Both the little prince and the serpent, Seonghwa was your definition of the world. He had given you a lens through which to see everything. Including him. To you, he was the definition of perfect. A fallen angel more than deserving to return to the heavens. He was outcast by evil, afterall.

Your body acted on its own accord, stepping back to give yourself at least some room to breathe, but you should have known better than to expect such a thing to happen in Seonghwa’s presence. He caught you - a long time ago. Unreadable expressions graced him as he hooked you back in with the slightest tug at the dark formless material hanging over your body.

“Did it take you long? Were you in danger?” he asked, spotting the absence of the pouch that had carried the discreet explosive animatronics for your distribution.

“N-no. Not at all. They did not suspect anything out of the ordinary. Besides, I did not try to improvise outside of your instruction.”

“Good. More than good,” it was as if he was talking to himself, undoubtedly reviewing the preparations, now accounting for the success of a major element of the operation. “I wonder if anyone would be able to spot the butterflies prematurely. Would the alarm be rung then? Would we-”

“Are you doubting my skills to hide the tech, Your Highness?” you jest, imitating frustration.

“Hm, no. I think I am merely excited for what is to come. We’ve been preparing night…” he sneaked a glance at your neck, trying to guess what you were hiding under black wool, “...and day. I want to see it all come to life, and have you with me.”

With him - that was all you could hear. You were not one for bloodshed, however given the possibility of redemption, it was appealing. You did your part for him, and he was proud. Now, you could close your eyes. Something in the way Seonghwa approached you was akin to the way a predator follows an unsuspecting beast in a grove. Eyes that were neither hostile nor forgiving, foresight so powerful that he was confident you would never leave. The two of you had too much history, too many memories from which detangling oneself would be virtually impossible. You tried, however your attempts had been in vain. When you had first caught the rumours of exile flying around the castle, and then the extensive discussions about familial rivalry and planned ‘changes of crown’ to fit a new ideology, you tried to get away deeming the path of ignorance safer. All it took was one whisper of your name to vow that if Seonghwa were to be sent to hell, you would loyally follow him there. Should he be executed, you would weep at his side and depart with him, heart already in a million pieces. You were irrevocably, foolishly in love with Park Seonghwa, the former prince of Aurora, willing to settle for being a favourite pawn, should he want you to be one. But even that title you would never be able to fish out of him. Forever enigmatic, you were never confident in assuming you were his only star despite the sweet nothings and the adoring gazes, but even if you were part of a big universe for this ambitious, high and mighty man, you did not mind. No one could fight against power. No one could fight against the greed for supremacy.

He was so close. An angel glowing in the torch light. The gold and red detail on his clothing turned to holy markings in his grace. You were stunned, a pliable doll in his arms, entranced by his slowed blinking as the ghost of a smirk appeared on his lips. There was always reason to reward you and your undying commitment to his cause. A token of appreciation, some could say. Seonghwa could also retain some form of humanity and call it for what it was - a long-standing obsession, but given who he wanted to become, he needed to contain himself and possess at least a sliver of civility before inevitably breaking apart for you, and only you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” music to your ears, the final straw before your internal chaos overwhelmed you and you had to hold on to Seonghwa’s voice for guidance. Your reaction was easy to detect, as the prince moved to have his fingers just barely touch your face.

”So… so beautiful, my love,” his hand traced your jawline, pausing when a shudder passed over your body. Seonghwa chuckled, admiring how responsive you were, how attuned you were to him despite remaining mostly unperturbed by the world that surrounded you.

There was something spectacular in how you carried yourself – feigned obliviousness, a façade of perfect innocence that had been the main reason for your survival under the new regime. Pretty precious little bird that knew how to keep quiet, and in turn were destined to sing the loudest when the time would come. Your eyes, widened as you devoured him, were enchanting pools that he would not hesitate to dive into and drown. Perhaps one could argue that no one liked a dead man, but Seonghwa was one of the lucky ones; your taboo rendezvous were evidence enough that you did not mind a character in your life who was as good as a ghost.

Your slightly parted lips, rosy, moistened by the darting of your delicate, delectable tongue were a sinful fruit that he desired to own. Running a thumb over your lower lip, the sparks of an uncontrollable lust burst in his chest, tainting his bloodstream like the most potent wine. He could see the edges of your dress under the black cloak that you used to move undetected in the night. To visit him, of all people. To risk your life for him and him alone. For him to be the only one who could even spot the royal crimson fabric underneath – a material tailors would fight over, material that he had gifted to you once upon a time despite barely having any network whilst in the chasm of being an outlaw, a traitor of the state. Enemy number one, who had made it a mission to dress you up. He did not regret a thing. Not when you gasped as he toyed with the clasp of the cloak. Not when he felt your hands land right above his heart, fingers toying with the leather harness and golden embroidery of his long military coat - another echo of the past that he would never be able to shed away. In addition, as the days approaching the uprising were being reduced to nil, he could not help but be drawn to the fine material as a form of mockery. He wanted those who have wronged him to see themselves in his form, to hear him have the final laugh.

Muscles tensing under your fluttering caresses, Seonghwa was giving into a domineering restlessness. Unhooking the clasp, he admired the way the black fabric pooled around you, as though the night sky was bowing before your grace. He tried to catch his breath, but it proved to be impossible as the dress occupied his vision. Nothing remained, only your impeccable handiwork, the perfection that was the fit of the garment on your body. You were supreme, the symbol of victory and glory. Clad in red, he saw the future in your form, both in spirit and in the battle cries that would accompany the painting of the lands in the colour of the wondrous silk.

You retracted your hands, and almost regretted it when you heard Seonghwa’s staggered inhale. He was looking you up and down, memorising every detail, undoubtedly thinking of anything and everything that he could do to you, or what you could do to him. Despite the urge to act, to step towards him and greedily steal away what he had left of precious oxygen, you did what you did best, and batted your eyelashes, pretending to be unaware. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, in trepidation to accept the guilt of inducing a small death. Serial murder, unforgivable, manic, addictive, reviving.

“I-“ he tried to form a sentence but it seemed as though every word he could think of wilted before escaping his throat.

Darkened irises darting back and forth, in awe of you – your favourite sight. You could not help but to reach out to him, moving to push an escaping tiny strand of inky hair from his stunning, timeless face. Fingers inadvertently ran further, carding through the slicked back locks and tempting Seonghwa to come closer. Biting his lower lip, he stepped closer to you, hands finding purchase on your hips and giving them a warning squeeze. You tugged lightly, making his previously lowered head rise to face you directly. You could see nothing in his eyes except what you yourself could reflect. The most beautiful and inextinguishable hellfire.

“You have good taste, Seonghwa,” you smiled softly, though the action was clouded over with a deeper intent.

“I am blessed to say I have a muse,” snaking over to your waist, you were suddenly being pulled into a yearning embrace. His racing heart reverberated and echoed in your body, the rising heat of his thighs and hips against yours grew ever more prominent. Seonghwa occupied your every sense, making you forget where you were, when, and what the consequences of your star-crossed union could be.

“Mm is that so?” you suppressed a giggle, brushing his wavy tresses back once more, while your other hand on the side of his face. You could feel him lean into the touch, eyes shutting for a moment before meeting yours once more.

It was in such moments that you found you knew Seonghwa best. Uninhibited and entirely himself, he bared his soul to you in every glance and longing grasp of cloth or exposed skin. Stars in his deep mahogany orbs, the exiled prince was silently asking you for permission. For what? You were about to find out; not once did you not trust him enough to let go of your inner voice and soar into pleasure – those who plotted uprisings together, were meant to be bound together, body and mind. It did not take long before Seonghwa’s lips were on yours, intoxicating, the pace of your elaborate dance so dizzyingly slow that a minute more and you would be the one clawing for more. Overwhelming, he pressed himself against you, and you could only hold on tight, thanking every deity who could unabashedly observe your physical confession for the existence of such moments in your life.

Fingers digging into his scalp, you evoked a muffled groan from your royal lover, who nipped at your lower lip and tentatively ran over it with his tongue, asking for access. Who were you to not oblige, especially when he asked so nicely? In no time, he dipped into a deeper kiss, exploring you, memorising you all over again as though you did not visit him both when he was awake and in his dreams. He was feverish, erratic, his plush reddened lips were leaving trails over your cheeks, the crook right before your shoulder and moved back to evoke a quiet moan out of you by paying special attention to the sensitive spots on your neck.

The red dress was a rose, a promise, divine dedication to him - the same material as that of his own clothes, the colour of the details on the coat which in a joint effort you and him were practically ripping away - the body harness already long gone, to reveal a flowing black shirt. Resting your arms on his strong shoulders you gave into every sensation, fingers instinctively finding their place carding through his locks, you followed his lead and stumbled backwards until an unexpected fabric hit the back of your head, making you gasp into another kiss. With a low growl and unprecedented annoyance, Seonghwa pushed the curtain that served as a divider between the office and meeting area of his chambers and the segment he used as his bedroom. Not quite the same as what his quarters used to be in the castle, but thanks to his military precision and tidiness, went above and beyond what one would expect from a rebel hellbent on chaos.

It was dizzying - his hands travelling across your body, his hot breath against your skin as he battled the same dress he had implored you to craft and wear, his simultaneously sultry and threatening glare that immediately subdued you as soon as you tried to remove yourself from him to help. No words, only a muted command, and in a matter of moments, you felt a coldness crawl up your spine as Seonghwa expertly undid the buttons on your dress. Goosebumps involuntarily appeared on your skin, erased by your lover’s quick hand.

“Is my darling cold?” he rubbed your back, the intensity and affection forming a combination excruciating for your heart. You shook your head, not wanting for him to worry, though the decision resulted in quite the opposite, “You know it is not good to lie, right?”

“I’m sorry-”

“I suppose it is a little… these damned stone walls. Sorry, love, this is far from welcoming.”

“No, please don’t worry…”

“Mm. Then stop me from worrying. Are you cold?”

You were burning up. The contrast between your flesh and the air was stark, and you bit your lower lip in an attempt to suppress another shudder. Seonghwa stepped forward, making your knees buckle as your lower legs hit the edge of the bed. He let you sit, though himself remained hovering above you, casting a shadow. You turned and studied anything and everything in your immediate surroundings, a wave of embarrassment washing over you despite having been with him so many times before. You stopped at the coat that was lying discarded on the floor. The brooches and badges, marking his titles - or at least past titles, in the Royal Military, glistened and induced a pang of anxiety. Were you living in an illusion by hoping for the past to return? A hand under your chin returned you to the present, and your misty eyes were forced to meet Seonghwa. What was a vexed, darkened expression melted away, revealing a tinge of concern uncharacteristic of his regal image.

“Talk to me,” crouching down to your level, you felt blush rising on your cheeks.

“...A bit…”

“There, see. Easy. Now, do you trust me?”

“Wholeheartedly.”

“So, burn with me, my love,” purposefully implying, he gave space. But if he was the flame, then you were the air, quickly disintegrating as the orange and red blaze consumed the vital essence. You had no chance, or choice, your only answer was his name, repeated over and over and over again until you knew nothing else.

Every single one of your senses was consumed by him and the near unbearable warmth shared between two bodies connected under heavy sheets. Brain turned to cotton, much like the blanket that was currently muffling your cries of pleasure, you were being kept from writhing only by Seonghwa’s iron grip. Thighs pinned to your upper body, he had you folded in half as he licked strips up your soaked folds, toying with your abused clit before sliding his tongue deeper, relishing in how your walls clenched around him, begging for more. Pathetic whines were music to his ears, prompting him to move until his nose was almost pressed against the overstimulated bundle of nerves and he could relentlessly fuck into you.

Addicted to the scent and taste of your arousal, he was not giving you any room to breathe, nor to recover from your first orgasm, and instead launched directly into building you up for another. You were a masterpiece, giving up to salacious ecstasy for him so easily, adoring words spilling out of you even though you were barely capable of constructing a proper sentence. The sheer notion of having such impressive power, and you giving up ownership of your personal euphoria to him made him want to stay in this position together.

“Mine-” he muttered, barely audible as he coated his tongue in your nectar and rolled it over your clit.

You yelped and threw your head back as a sensation resembling an electric shock hurried through you. Grasping at the bedsheets until your knuckles were turning white, the last image of your lover before he immersed you in artificial darkness was haunting you - his devilish smirk when you shyly nodded in agreement, his virtually lewd scrutiny as he studied your reactions to him ridding you of the dress, to him immediately disposing of your bra, and to him playing with your thin panties, occasionally dipping into your dripping heat to tease you. And then, when he deemed you ready enough, you were in a world where nothing and no one existed except Seonghwa.

The knot that was building in your core was ready to snap at any moment. You could not breathe. You were seeing stars and you were mewling for Seonghwa despite him being right there between your legs, taking you apart. Sensing your oncoming climax, your prince braved letting go of one of your quivering thighs in favour of pressing down on both with one arm, while the other landed directly on your bud, fingers masterfully flicking it while he curled into your hole, pulsating motion inciting wanton squelching from your heat, amplified by the confined space under the duvet.

“Hwa- I-” the nickname spilled out of your mouth by accident, though it seemed that the prince did not mind. Instead he hummed and sped up once more, only to send you over the edge.

Lapping up your release, he guided you through your high and greeted you on your way down, his hands acting as a stabilising force that kept your shaking limbs, and you safe. Seonghwa nipped at your inner thighs, exhaling sharply in amusement when upon teasingly dragging a finger across your pussy you gasped, thighs instinctively trying to bring themselves together. But your lover was quicker than that, lifting himself up until he was hovering over your fragile frame with a knee pressed against your heat. The sheets slid down his form, stopping just past the middle of his back - enough to reveal the glistening orgasm on his face, his half lidded eyes and parted, gorgeous lips. He flicked his tongue - a habit occasionally turned into intentional provocation. Pupils blown, expression animalistic, ravenous, he needed more. To bear the scalding hot oasis that you shared, he had torn off his clothing. Though now, he could no longer bear the aching of his erection that was rubbing against your stomach, rapidly coating it in pearly translucent beads of precum. Hips moving on their own accord, he started to rut against you to gain at least some form of friction.

“Still hmph- cold?” he asked, unfiltered mockery clear in his voice.

“Please, Seonghwa- need you in-”

“So fucked out you can’t even - ah, answer my question?” he cut you off, keeping the teasing demeanour all the while his dick was throbbing painfully against you, “I s-said, a-are you cold? Finally catching on, you agreed with him.

“Yes, I… need more. Please,”

“How do you need more, my greedy darling? Hm?” stopping his rocking, he took to rolling one of your hard nipples between his fingers, taking in your every breath, sigh, and the rolling of the eyes as you felt a tug shoot straight to your core.

“-want you to fuck me,”

“Mhm-”

“-want your cock inside me-”

“Yes-”

“-want you to fill me up ple-”

“Say that again,” in less than a second, his nose was against yours and you were peering straight into his soul, finding an inexhaustible danger. His breathing had gotten considerably shallower, and you swore you felt his cock twitch.

“Fill me up, Hwa, I- please-”

“Since you asked so nicely,” he pushed your legs further apart before tapping you on your hip to adjust your positioning. Eagerly, you followed his request hissing at the sensation of his tip teasing your burning heat before Seonghwa bottomed out, the mixture of slick and precum offering a delicious glide.

He leaned forwards, his bare chest against yours as he shared your state of enchantment awestruck as the torchlight gave up its final battle, only to be replaced by the beginnings of a full moon. You were a goddess in blue and silver that gleamed around the thick curtain, your glassy eyes so innocently sharing feelings he had never dared to express openly that he could not help but plant one peck after another over your cheeks, nose, eyelids, and finally, the lips. The scalding friction of skin against skin started to resemble a prolonged embrace, and when Seonghwa slowly dragged his length against your clenching walls, he mused if in another life, you could be connected like this for all of eternity.

You offered him the true meaning of ‘unconditional’. You trusted him without a second thought, and were ready to throw away the stability you had within the castle walls in favour of a probability. Your optimism intrigued Seonghwa, and he knew he was in danger of falling in love. In fact, he had been this way since long before finding out his enemies were all beside him at the dinner table every evening, and that only in the most critical moments could he discover his real allies. If he were any more free of the burdens permanently clinging onto his shoulders, the prince would have confessed to you. For now, however, he had the freedom how you fell apart beneath him, so deliciously gullible, drunk in lust.

With each languid thrust into your weeping cunt, he was silently singing your praises, thanking you for every day that you had shared with him, for every night that you had proved that you did not abandon him. As he picked up the rhythm, your melodic pants and whines accentuated the lewd squelching and at the same time sent his mind into overdrive. He loved the time he had with you, the time when nothing existed except instinct and what he could only call a union written in the stars. Seonghwa bit down on his lower lip as his pumping grew erratic and you tightened around him as you reached your high. He let out a whimper, vision impossibly blurry and growing darker as he could barely fight the weight of his eyelids. As he moaned your name, Seonghwa, accepted his violent addiction to your pleasure and your pain as you clambered for the remnants of your sanity in the midst of an overdriven climax. Thick ropes of cum coated your spongy walls and Seonghwa stilled his hips, unable to maintain even a frantic, stuttering pace any longer. Your arms collapsed to your sides, leaving behind marks where you had driven your nails into his perfectly tan skin. The fullness made you impossibly weak, and you fell back onto the pillows, taking Seonghwa with you. Having collapsed under the weight of ecstasy, your lover rested his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling the delectable scent of sex and desire.

The moon hung low in the night sky, casting a soft glow over the secluded chamber where Prince Seonghwa had found temporary solace and transformed it into the cradle of a new world to come. You, his loyal companion and confidante, or at least that was how you decisively wished to name yourself in the midst of uncertainty, nestled against him, your fingers intertwined. The weight of Seonghwa's destiny bore down on his shoulders, and the weight of you in his arms offered a fleeting respite.

Seonghwa's eyes traced the delicate features of your face, bathed in the gentle moonlight. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice carrying a mixture of longing and determination. "I can no longer bear the burden of this false exile,” he was returning to the present, the only remnants of the beautifully turbulent night being his slightly swollen lips, gravelly voice and dishevelled sweaty hair which had just begun to curl. “The time has come to reclaim what is rightfully mine. I just… I just hope it all comes together."

Your sleepy gaze met Seonghwa's, understanding and unwavering support evident even in the semi-darkness. "I'll stand by your side, Seonghwa, no matter the peril that awaits us. Together, we'll face the storm and emerge stronger.” It was easy to hope and easy to pass the tasks to the next person in the relay, so you wondered if your words held any meaning to your lover. When it was just the two of you, it was easy to worship the art of hedonism and forget impending doom. If only you could erase his own thoughts from his mind. Be selfish. With a soft shake of the head you dismiss the impending sourness, choosing instead to focus on the heavenly fatigue, like cotton, enveloping your and Seonghwa’s bodies.

As if drawn by an invisible force, Seonghwa pressed a tender kiss to your forehead. The warmth of your connection was a stark contrast to the cold reality awaiting you outside the chamber walls. For a moment, you existed in your own sanctuary, shielded. The room echoed with the soft rustle of fabric as Seonghwa shifted to hold you even closer. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, a silent reassurance that he cherished this stolen moment of peace. In the midst of the impending uprising, Seonghwa found a panacea in your arms, a haven that anchored him and convinced him that what he was doing was a necessary evil. You nestled into Seonghwa's chest, feeling the steady cadence of his heartbeat.

"Promise me we'll make it through this," You whispered, fingers tracing absentminded patterns on Seonghwa's chest. You knew that no matter how he would answer, it would be hollow, for only fate could be aware and decide the outcome.

Seonghwa pressed his lips to the crown of your head. "I promise, my love. We'll face the challenges together, and when the dust settles, we'll build a kingdom. How does that sound?”

“Good.”

“My queen.”

“Don’t say that…”

“Today, these are words. Tomorrow, the world can be ours,” you succumbed to his cruel hypnosis, not daring to ask for his methods, nor for his confessions. The less questions you asked Seonghwa, the happier you could pretend to be, and the grander was the castle in your sky.

The weight of your shared destiny hung heavily in the air, yet in the quiet cocoon of your embrace, the two of you had found your own religion. As the first light of dawn approached, you remained entwined, drawing strength from each other to face the tumultuous path that awaited you - a path that would lead you to a ferocious battle, deciding centuries to come in the timespan of the flutter of a butterfly’s wings.

“Will I ever be forgiven?”

“Who is there to forgive you?” After some deliberation, you dared to query. In one reckless sweep, you ignited every shadow of hesitation, leaving you only with unconditional, pure love that would carry you through any hardship. The one thing you had left, unfortunately unbreakable.

In the faint light of the rising sun, crawling into the room and coating it in magnificent gold, the man who you so adored and was devoted to was in every form a soul condemned to eternal hellfire; you were fully aware of that. A tarnished being marked as dead before he could even begin to spread his wings. Feathers strewn across what used to be a kingdom meant for him to rule being the only remnant of the brutal betrayal. The devilishly handsome traitor or trailblazer sharing his bed with you was not supposed to exist. And yet, it was his voice, his touch, his scent that occupied your every pore and thought, the owner’s name being carved into you over and over again until you forgot the bigger picture, focusing only on what Seonghwa could envision and how you could achieve that priceless peaceful kingdom.

“Now that is a question I would be interested in figuring out the answer to…”

“Both of us are unforgivable. Cannot repent, cannot start again,” you turned to face him, captivated by the way the sun highlighted his features, “but we can go forward. Until the hands of time stop us.”

As the two of you drifted into a dreamless slumber - a luxury serving as a calm before the storm, you comforted yourself with the fact that in some sense, nothing was going to change just like the darkness that came with your dozing. One fallen leaf, or soldier, would replace another, one snowflake would twirl in pursuit of its partner, one Park would return his crown from the other. In the grand scheme of things, it was still the neverending winter, a late dawn, and the same dynasty, the embodiment of which you prayed was in your adoring and calculating embrace.

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sluttywoozi · 1 year

Text

Every Day, Every Night | Daydreaming Pt. 2

Rating: M (18+) | WC: ~5.7k | Pairing: psh x f!reader

Summary: Seonghwa wasn't as slick with his daydreaming as he thought.

Direct Continuation of Daydreaming

Warnings: soft dom seonghwa, praise kink, grinding, petnames (inc. good girl), nipple play, oral f rec., big dick seonghwa, lowkey brat/sizequeen/wap reader, communication during sex, first time as a couple, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex, creampie

“What… are you doing?” Seonghwa asks slowly as you settle in his lap.

You shrug, your breasts rising under your t-shirt with the movement and drawing his eyes downward. He tries not to let his gaze linger on the peak of your nipples and looks further down, the spread of your bare thighs over his putting him in even more danger.

“You know,” you begin, your fingers trailing along the collar of his shirt and dipping beneath to trace his collarbones, “I looked over before I said I was done.”

Seonghwa takes in a deep breath, fearful of what exactly you’d seen. He looks up at you apprehensively, unsure of whether you’ll scold him or tease him, and further unsure of which he’d like more.

You start talking again before he figures it out, sending him a sly little grin and continuing, “You looked like you were thinking really… hard… about something. Care to share?”

Your devilish eyes send a shiver down his spine, the gleam in them holding a weight he’s unused to, a weight that translates to the hips that grind into his own. It’s startling almost, going from just thoughts of you to actual contact, but Seonghwa is nothing if not adaptable.

His hands rise to grasp your hips firmly, stopping their motion but bringing you down harder against him, his cock starting to throb under the pressure and heat of you.

“I was watching your thighs bounce and thinking about burying my head between them, if you really want to know,” Seonghwa responds in a low voice as he locks his eyes with yours and pulls you closer.

You gasp, your hips dipping into his and your hands flying to his shoulders, your grip tight and your nails sharp even through his shirt.

“Mmmm, not so bold now, are we, pretty girl?” Seonghwa murmurs with a grin that could easily be mistaken for a predator baring its teeth.

You lower your lashes, hiding your eyes from him in a familiar show of shyness before he catches your chin between two fingers and levels your face with his.

“Are we still going slow?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips and Seonghwa’s eyes follow it, the heat in his stomach pooling as your teeth sink into your bottom lip.

“No, Seonghwa, I don’t think we are,” you shake your head and sigh as you lean forward and crush your lips to his, your arms slinging around his neck to draw your chest closer to his.

His arms move instinctively to wrap around you, one hand falling to the small of your back and the other rising to hold the nape of your neck, tilting your head so he can kiss you at the angle he likes best.

You sag against him, breathing out a whine as he uses the grip he has on your waist to pull you down onto his cock. You might as well be naked with how thin your little pajama shorts are, the fabric dampening more and more the longer he grinds up into you, the friction stoking the flames in his gut until he starts to worry you’ll make him cum like this.

That fear is enough to make Seonghwa pull away and gently push you off his lap, his heated eyes meeting your confused gaze as he stands and takes hold of your hand, pulling you up and toward his bedroom. He can feel you behind him, following close on his heels and gripping his hand tight, your footsteps light compared to his.

The door bangs against the wall when he throws it open but Seonghwa barely notices, all of his attention focused on you and the way you’re nearly panting from the speed at which he dragged you to his bedroom. He turns around, his gaze zeroing in on your dilated pupils and parted lips, and it only makes sense to back you into the door as he closes it, huddling up close and taking your face between his palms to pull you into another kiss.

You sigh into his mouth and he swallows it with a groan, his tongue pushing between your lips to glide against yours and brush over your hard palate. His knee parts your legs and presses up against you, one hand dropping to your hip to encourage you to grind on his thigh. He can feel your chest stutter against his, the air stalling in your lungs when your clothed heat comes into contact with his sweats, and his own breath stops in response.

This is already so much better than Seonghwa’s dreams and he hasn’t even touched you yet, hasn’t felt the heat of you on his fingertips or tasted you on his tongue and with how hard he is, he’s starting to think you’re the one who will have to be patient tonight. He knows it’ll be over for him as soon as he feels you wrapped around his cock, so he’ll just have to take his time with everything that comes before that.

Starting with detaching himself from you and sliding his hands beneath your (his) t-shirt. His palms rest on your warm, soft stomach and slowly glide upwards, his thumbs tracing your skin and brushing against the underside of your breasts, making you let out a gentle sigh as you stare at him.

“Still good?” Seonghwa confirms in a muted voice, his fingertips pressing into your skin.

You nod at him but he needs a bit more than that.

“I need you to tell me, baby. Can you do that for me?”

“I’m still good, Seonghwa, I promise,” you whisper, your lips parted and your eyes hazy.

“You are good, aren’t you, baby? You’re my good girl?” He asks with a sharp smile, already anticipating the shiver that will wrack your frame.

And there it is, Seonghwa thinks as your body shudders under his hands, heat settling deep in his gut when his eyes catch on the way your nipples pebble beneath the fabric of your shirt. His thumbs shift higher up to swipe over them, swirling circles around your areola until your back arches, a small gasp escaping you when he pinches them between his thumbs and pointer fingers and tugs lightly.

His gaze stays on your face the whole time, no matter how much he wants to let his focus fall to the give of your flesh. He eagerly drinks in every expression that flickers over your features as he touches you, from your bitten lip to your half-lidded eyes to the furrow of your brows. This is the farthest he’s ever gone with you before and in the back of his mind, he’s expecting you to stop him soon.

He won’t mind when you do; just the memory of you strolling over and straddling him will be enough jerk off material for the next month and all he cares about in the end is your comfort, it’s not like it’s difficult for him to hop in the shower and take care of himself. He already does that nearly every time you come over now, often enough he’s sure you know exactly what he’s doing in there, often enough you anticipate it every time you pull away.

Except you’re not pulling away, you’re moaning and pushing your tits into his hands, covering them with your own and curling your fingers over his so he squeezes tighter, watching as your head drops back against the door and your eyes flutter shut.

“You’re so pretty like this, so cute, and I haven’t even gotten you naked yet,” Seonghwa breathes lowly, gathering up the fabric of your shirt and starting to lift it over your tummy.

Your eyes blink back open as you raise your arms, your willingness to follow his unspoken instructions sending a flash of burning want down his throat. He slowly brings it over your head, his eyes not straying from your face even when the fabric interrupts his gaze. He won’t look until he knows you’re comfortable like this, even though he almost feels like he’s literally dying to see you bare.

Seonghwa can wait a bit longer, long enough to catch your gaze and match the shy smile that stretches your lips, long enough to frame your face between his hands and pull you into a gentle kiss, long enough to remind you all he’ll ever want to do is love you, in whatever way, shape, or form you’ll accept.

He is hoping you’ll accept his love in the form of his mouth on your tits and his fingers buried in your pussy, though.

He pulls away to rip his shirt off and push down his sweats, placing one last peck on your lips before he breaks away from you all together, backing up to sit heavily on the bed. His knees spread as you follow him, finding your place between his legs while he brings his hands up to set them on your waist.

“You can look, Seonghwa. And touch. I want you to,” you whisper as you inch closer.

His hands slide up to cover your breasts, your flesh warm and your nipples brushing against his palms. He stares up at you in what feels like awe, wholly unprepared for the turn this night has taken. He can’t believe that just a little bit ago he was struggling to assemble his legos, daydreaming about everything he wants with you, and now it’s actually happening.

Dropping one hand down to smooth along the outside of your thigh, Seonghwa lets his eyes fall to your uncovered skin. You’re so beautiful, so soft and sweet and luscious, and he knows instantly that his imagination could never hope to top this.

He tugs you closer with the hand on your leg, sighing out, “Come here, baby,” and helping you settle into his lap, dragging you closer until your body is flush with his. Seonghwa nearly shudders at the feeling of your tits pressed against his chest, taking a steadying breath before beginning to speak.

“Do you know what you want tonight? How far you want to take this?”

His voice is deep with desire, his eyelids heavy as he peers up at you and lets you gather your wits. You always look so cute when you’re thinking, your brows furrowed and your pout scrunched to the side. Seonghwa could wait forever just as long as he gets to look at you.

“I want whatever you’ll give me. I want you to do what you want,” you breathe shakily, shyly peering at him and settling your hands on his shoulders.

His cock pulses under you, throbbing in his boxers and leaking precum as he considers your words.

“You sure, pretty baby? I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I have lots of ideas.”

You practically shiver in his arms, mewling at the sudden depth of his voice and letting your hips grind into his, pouting when his hands shift to your waist to hold you still.

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ve been thinking about it too, Hwa, and I want you. I’m ready,” you promise him, your voice steadier.

“Oh, you’ve been thinking about it, huh, sweetheart? When? Do you think about it when you’re alone in your bed, after we’ve said goodnight? Think about me touching you, kissing you, marking you up before sliding my hand under your pajamas? How wet do you get, honey?” Seonghwa asks, not even waiting for you to answer before continuing.

“How wet do you get when you think about my mouth on you, my fingers inside you? Hm?”

He watches the shudder roll through you, loving the way your thighs squeeze his hips, and slips a hand into your shorts to dig his fingers into the plush flesh of your ass, pulling you down harder on his cock.

“Can you tell me, baby?”

Your eyes clench shut, your face scrunching before smoothing out as your eyes open, a look he’s never seen before filling them.

“S-so wet, I get so wet, Seonghwa,” you mumble, hiding your face in his neck and puffing out sweet little breaths over his skin. You feel so fucking good on top of him, the weight of you pressing him down into the bed and the heat between your legs warming his neglected cock, but he needs you on your back if he wants to get started.

“Stand up, honey,” Seonghwa requests, his voice rough but his tone gentle.

You scooch back far enough to get one leg under you, holding onto his shoulders for stability as you leave his lap. He feels the chill immediately, already missing having you on top of him but looking forward to all he plans to do with you, to you.

“Now lay on the bed, on your back,” he waits for you to follow his directions before breathing, “Good, sweetheart. Can I take these off?”

He rubs the fabric of your shorts between two fingers, waiting for the green light, tugging them down when you sigh, “Yes,” and lift your hips. Your shorts are small, only long enough to barely cover your ass, so it’s not like he’s seeing your legs for the first time but fuck, does he feel like he is. The sight of you, nearly naked and spread out on his bed, your breasts shifting with your excited breaths and your thighs clenched together in anticipation, has him ready to spill in his boxers already.

“You’re so pretty, baby, so perfect for me. You like when I tell you what to do?” Seonghwa grins down at you with narrowed eyes, his hands smoothing up and down your thighs and his thumbs slipping under the edges of your panties.

You nod, your lips parted and slick in the low light, the sheets bunched up in your fingers as he starts slowly pushing your legs apart. They spread easily, your body pliant under his hands, your eagerness to please him obvious.

Seonghwa loves it, loves the wet patch on your panties and the way your hips wiggle, loves the strain in your thighs as he holds them down to the bed, just like he daydreamed about. Loves the way you stare up at him, your eyes shining and your lashes fluttering, loves how your soft skin feels under his hands, loves seeing all of the places he could sink his teeth into. He loves you.

So he’s gotta make this as good as he possibly can for you, make you feel happy and safe and loved and desired. He can save his more outlandish ideas for another time, daydream about pushing your face into the bed and pounding into you until you scream for just a bit longer.

“I’m gonna touch you, okay?” Seonghwa asks as he meets your gaze, your blown pupils and kiss-swollen lips enticing, nearly distracting him from your nod.

He pops up to give you one last kiss before trailing his tongue down your neck, nibbling and sucking along the way until he reaches your breasts and lets his face rest in the valley between them, pushing them up with his hands so they press against his cheeks. Your skin is so warm and soft and you smell so fucking good that he can’t resist turning his head to suck a nipple into his mouth. Your fingers delve into his hair, pulling the strands and pulling him closer, a whine escaping you when he drags his teeth across the bud and opens his mouth wider so he can fit more of you in his mouth.

His fingers roll your other nipple, tugging and flicking and twisting, pinching until it’s hard and swollen just like it’s twin. He could stay here all day, just keep his head buried in your tits and listen to your little gasps and whimpers, but he’s got too many things he wants to do to linger too long.

Letting his nails dig into your skin a bit, Seonghwa runs his hands down your stomach and hooks his fingers into your panties, pulling the waistband away from your hips and watching it snap back, the sudden sting making your hips buck up. He pushes them back down, his gaze slowly traveling up your body to meet yours as he plucks at the elastic again. You keep still this time, just pressing your shoulders into the bed and sucking your bottom lip into your mouth to muffle whatever sound wants to escape you.

“Nuh-uh,” he tuts, reaching up to set his thumb on your chin and pull your lips apart, “I wanna hear you, baby.”

He’s always thought about how you would sound, what noises you would make, how loud you would get when he got his hands on you. And his tongue on you. And his cock in you.

Seonghwa’s thought about it a lot, and the last thing he wants is for you to get shy on him now. There’s no need for you to be shy, especially not when you’ve got him wrapped around your little finger like this. No matter how in control he may have seemed, some nights he was a thread away from calling you up and begging you to let him touch you, begging you to let him put his dick inside you for even a minute, just so he could know what you feel like.

He honestly can’t believe he’s about to find out, lets his stern persona go to beam at you bright enough to replace the sun, shoot up to hover over you and smack a kiss to your lips, sighing out, “I love you so much, baby,” before sliding back down and starting to inch your panties off.

Your hips lift again as you respond, “I love you, Seonghwa.”

You’ve said it to each other before but hearing the words from you still makes his heart feel four times bigger than his ribs can contain, still makes his dick jump in his boxers because as much as he loves you, he wants you, too.

Needs you, really, and now Seonghwa’s got you naked on his bed, wet and waiting for him to touch you, ready for him to do whatever he wants to you, and fuck, he almost doesn’t know where to start.

He supposes looking at you would be a good first step, so he lets his eyes drift over your form, his gaze so heavy it almost feels like he’s already touching you.

You look like you belong here in his bed, your velvet skin glowing against his sheets and your luscious body nearly squirming underneath him. He can see all of you like this, every curve and angle, and the groan he lets out when his eyes finally settle on your dripping pussy is near inhuman, unholy almost.

“You’re so beautiful, so perfect, my pretty baby,” Seonghwa exhales absentmindedly, his brain frantically taking pictures and shuffling them over to his long term memory, filing them away for nights he can’t be with you.

He’s hoping those will be far and few between, and even less so after he asks you to move in with him like he’s planning, but it’s always good to have backups just in case.

Your thighs twitch, the muscles likely tired from how you’ve held them open for him all this time, so he slides onto his stomach and hauls your legs over his shoulders, gripping tightly and not bothering to hide the deep breath he takes in through his nose.

“Fuck, you smell so fucking good,” Seonghwa mumbles into your pussy, his lips brushing against your folds.

You whine and wiggle above him and he drapes his arm over your hips to anchor you, wetness smearing across his chin in the process. He tries to lick at it but even with his long tongue, he can’t quite get a good enough taste and as much as he wants to just spread you open and smother his face in you, he knows he can’t.

You’ve had oral before but you told him it wasn’t good, mainly just meandering licks from people who don’t even know what a clit is, so Seonghwa knows he should go slow, get you used to the feeling before fucking you with his mouth like he wants to.

It’s difficult though, reining himself in once he feels you on his lips. You’re searing hot and soaking wet, your entrance clenching around nothing, practically begging for something to squeeze. He places wet, sucking kisses all over, bringing his other hand up to spread you open so he can tentatively lick at your swollen little clit.

Your reaction is immediate, your hand shooting down your body and sinking into his hair as your yelp melts into a whimper. Your other hand finds its way next to his on your hip and he taps his fingers until you intertwine them with yours, your combined grasp resting on your soft stomach.

You’re still a bit tense under him, your hips jerking every time he passes his tongue over you, so Seonghwa decides to take his time and settles in for the long haul. He eats you out slowly but thoroughly, his tongue lapping over your clit in between nibbles and kisses to your folds, delving into your entrance every so often to taste you better and get you ready for his fingers.

Seonghwa isn’t sure he can make you cum with just his tongue but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try, groaning deeply into you and doubling his efforts as soon as you relax. He’s never tasted anything like you before, knows already that nothing could be better than this, better than the taste of your cunt in his mouth, better than the ringing of your moans in his ears, better than the feeling of your fingers tangled with his as he builds you up.

He thinks you’re ready for him to start really going for it, figures by your whimpers that you’re accustomed enough to the sensation of his tongue for him to start actually fucking you with it, so he does. He lavs over your clit one last time before sliding down and plunging inside of you, your walls hugging the muscle and your arousal flooding his taste buds.

You’re so much wetter than you were when he started, wet enough that it drips down his chin and onto his neck, wet enough that the sounds you and his mouth make are nearly obscene. There’s a squelch every time his tongue pushes inside, a squeal every time he sucks your clit into his mouth, a squeak every time he groans a swear into your pussy, and suddenly, you’re cumming.

Your muscles freeze below him, your cries reaching a fever pitch and your thighs attempting to close around his head as you gush into his mouth. Seonghwa shifts his thumb to your clit, swiping quick circles around it and shoving his tongue back inside you so he can feel your walls pulsing, catching as much of the wetness leaking out of you as he can. He whines into you, his dick twitching, precum seeping into his boxers as he grows impossibly harder, all of his senses filled with you, you, you.

Seonghwa wants to push you straight into another but he’s not sure where your limits are so he pulls away, petting softly at your throbbing pussy and pressing kisses to your inner thighs as you come down.

You’re still catching your breath and staring down at him with stars in your eyes when he asks, “Had enough, sweetheart?”

“No, Seonghwa, I want you to fuck me,” you pant, sifting your fingers through his hair and resting your gaze on his swollen, glistening lips.

He shakes his head with a grin, wipes his mouth off with the back of his hand and licks the slickness off his skin before rising to hover above you, caging you in with his forearms on either side of your head.

“Gotta take my fingers if you want my cock, honey.”

You pout, wrapping your legs around him and dragging his hips down into yours, your wetness permeating his boxers as soon as he comes into contact with you. It’s almost enough to break him, feeling the outline of your pussy pressing into his weeping cock, the heat of you scorching even with a layer in between.

But Seonghwa’s been strong this long, he can hold out a bit longer.

His face smooths out as he reaches behind and wraps a hand around one of your ankles, prying it away from his hip and pushing it up until your leg rests on his shoulder, your pelvis tilted and your thigh taut under his fingers.

“What did I say?” Seonghwa asks cooly, locking his eyes with yours and waiting for you to answer.

You don’t, pursing your lips resolutely and bucking up into him with a challenging gleam in your eye. It feels fucking amazing but he won’t be swayed, knows he’s just too big to fuck you without opening you up on his fingers first, so he gives your other leg the same treatment, folding you nearly in half beneath him.

“Only good girls get fucked. Are you being a good girl right now?”

You suck in a breath, your eyes watering and your lip quivering, “But I like it.”

Your voice is weak with tears, your lashes wet, and Seonghwa knows that if you actually do start crying there’s no way he won’t give you what you want.

“You like what, baby? Talk to me.”

“I like having a… a big cock stretch me out, especially without any prep. I like feeling it split me open,” you plead, not a hint of deceit in your eyes.

Seonghwa hums as he considers your words. You said you were inexperienced, so this knowledge must come from you touching yourself and just the thought of you flat on your back with a fat dildo peeking out of your pussy is enough to convince him.

“Okay, sweetheart, thank you for telling me. If you really think you can take my cock right now,” he speaks as he shoves down his damp boxers, letting his dick bob free to hang heavily between his legs, “You can have it.”

Your eyes widen, sparkling with filthy delight as you see him for the first time. Seonghwa can’t blame you for being a bit surprised, his pants cover it well and he does his best to flee whenever he gets hard around you so how would you know his dick is fucking massive?

That’s not even him being cocky, it’s just a fact. The sky is blue, grass is green, and Seonghwa has a huge cock. It is what it is.

It doesn’t seem to deter you though, not like it has his previous partners. No, if anything you get more excited, a near constant stream of “please please please” leaving your sweet lips as you watch his hand wrap around his cock and bring it to your pussy.

He shuffles back, sitting on his knees and heaving you into his lap, his hands smoothing up and down your thighs as he inches closer. You’re spread out in front of him, your tits rising and falling with your breaths, your glossy cunt fully on display and just waiting for his cock to fill it.

“You have the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, baby,” Seonghwa groans, sliding his dick through your wetness, letting the head glide over your clit and notch in your entrance. His praise makes you squirm, a sharp smile curving his lips as he watches your back arch and your lashes flutter.

He catches your eye, waiting for your nod before starting to push inside as soon as you’re ready. Your cunt swallows around his cock, bringing him in deeper and deeper just like he dreamed it would, the head of his dick spreading your walls as he sinks into you. It’s a tight fit but your pussy clings to his dick like you were made for this, like you were made for him.

There’s a bit of resistance once he’s about halfway inside you and he pauses, suddenly grateful he’s sitting up like he is because there’s no way he would have been able to hold himself up through this, his muscles feeling weak and his brain feeling scrambled as you adjust to him.

“You’re so fucking tight, honey, are you sure you don’t want me to stretch you open first? It’s not too late,” Seonghwa pants, his eyelids fighting to stay open through the onslaught of pleasure.

“Sure, I’m sure. I love it, Hwa, keep going, please,” you gasp, locking your teary gaze with his and deliberately clenching around him, the pressure and heat around his cock nearly bowling him over.

Seonghwa hasn’t even actually started fucking you yet and this is already the best he’s ever felt in his life, a bliss so deep he can feel it in his bones, in his bloodstream, in every last nerve ending.

You open up more and he sinks deeper inside you, pulling his hips away and pushing back in, little by little until his balls are flush against your ass. Seonghwa could cum literally right now, the scorching pulse of your walls around him almost too much to endure, but he forces his eyes open to check in on you, frightened at the way you’ve gone silent.

“Baby?” He starts, his voice raspy and low, all of his muscles tensed to contain the involuntary thrusts of his hips.

“Good, I’m good,” you keen, making him think back to just an hour ago when he didn’t know what the squeeze of your pussy around his cock felt like.

“You are, you’re so good, sweetheart, my good fucking girl,” Seonghwa groans as he draws back and fucks into you slowly, the way your cunt just sucks him right in sending shivers down his spine. He thinks this might be the best thing that’s ever happened to him (not including your relationship) and it’s nearly enough to make him tear up, nearly enough to make him weep in gratitude that you’re letting him feel this, letting him stretch you open and carve a path inside you that’s just for him.

Seonghwa already knew he wouldn’t last but it’s becoming more and more evident, his balls tightening up almost painfully and his head growing fuzzy. If he doesn’t make you cum soon, he’ll break first and that’s simply unacceptable to him, so he drops a hand to your stomach and stretches his thumb down to your clit, pressing hard, small circles over the bundle of frayed nerves.

You clench around him so fucking tightly he’s not sure he can pull out, but he tries anyway, dragging his cock from your pulsating walls and luxuriating in the moan that fills his ears, fucking into you with sharp, quick thrusts and voicing the ramblings that have been trying to claw their way out of his mouth.

“My perfect pretty baby, my baby, you are, right? You’re mine?” He can barely hear your yes yes yes Seonghwa yes over the roaring in his ears as he lets his mouth run.

“My pretty little girlfriend, can’t believe you used to be too shy to change in front of me and now you’re crying on my cock. I bet you’ll want me to fuck you all the time now, huh? Fuck you awake and fuck you to sleep, every day, every night, and I will, I’ll give it to you whenever you want, split you open on this cock whenever you ask, because you’re my baby. You’re my pretty baby, and I’ll take care of you, however and whenever you need.”

Too breathless to answer with the way he’s pounding into you, you nod and cum with a wail, your walls quivering around his cock as your wetness soaks him. The feeling is more than enough to push him over the edge, your knees meeting your shoulders as his body bows over yours. His face lands in your neck, thank God, because the sounds escaping him are almost embarrassing, whimpers and whines and keening gasps of your name breathed into your throat while his dick jumps and shoots white hot cum inside of you, the sheer amount of it sending licks of heat into his cheeks and up the back of his neck.

By the time Seonghwa comes back to earth, you’re tapping his head with gentle fingers. He rises from his place in your shoulder groggily, propping himself up on locked arms and passing a hand over your hair.

“You okay, baby?”

“Great, wonderful, fantastic! Can you unfold me now, please?” you ask lovingly, your teary eyes squinted with how big you’re smiling, the slight strain in them a cold balm to his heated, buzzing brain.

Seonghwa starts pulling away as soon as you finish talking, slowly withdrawing his softening cock from your still-pulsing walls and doing his absolute best to ignore the way your pussy looks with his cum spilling out of it. He can’t keep his eyes from you for too long though, his gaze flickering between your face and your messy cunt as he carefully lifts your legs off his shoulders.

He rubs up and down your thighs as he arranges you, massaging at the spot where your femur meets your pelvis in an attempt to prevent soreness.

It likely won’t be successful, so Seonghwa will just have to wait on you hand and foot tomorrow, bring you breakfast in bed and watch your favorite movies with you snuggled into his chest and probably also eat you out again in penance before ordering your usual takeout and singing you to sleep.

However will he live through this? Seonghwa thinks with a grin as he helps you stumble to the bathroom, already picking out in his head the sheet mask he’ll smooth onto your face after the shower.

AN: this is dedicated to the anon who figuratively begged me on their knees to continue daydreaming! your messages make me smile and i love you forever! and a special thanks to @petrichor-mingi for beta reading this for me! it's a big boy (like hwa) and it was absolutely luxurious to not have to read it back myself 🫶💖

also @whatudowhennooneseesyou because they requested the first part of this!! thank you!!

Part 3

Taglist: @8tinytings @heavenly-mobo @baldi-2 @smalliechelle @shuabby1994 @snowgirlfallen @noraehey @swinterr @fr0g-filez @taybabylovesyou-blog @dejavernon @highkey-fangirling @jaycheoluwu @tinkerbell460 @aurumness @hwhjsthetic @monamonay @itsteiiteii @multi-kpop-fanfics @kodzukein @itbtoblikethatsometimes @dani41 @niktwazny303 @crookedwolfruins @outrologist @yoonguurt @choijvns @vern0nsworld @luvdokja @luvthatleader-nim @wonusworldd @guavagyu @just-here-to-read-01 @starlight-night0 @asyamonet22 @brattybunfornct @laylasbunbunny @crazywittysassy @ariachavez168 @lenireads @confusedbanshee @junhui-recs @burningupp-replies @favehoshiposts @gyvswhore @1004luvangel @bangchanbabygirlx @gaebestie

#seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa x y/n #ateez smut #seonghwa smut #atz smut #kpop smut #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #seonghwa imagines #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa fanfic #seonghwa au #ateez au #ateez fanfic #✨emily writes✨

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ad0rechuu · 5 months

Text

HONEST (BUT HAPPY) ACCIDENT. ━━ PSW

prompts / plot. ━━━━━ first kiss, kissing each other breathless, nose kisses & holding hands while running through the rain

requested by @mundayoonimnida. ━━━━━ gn! foreigner! reader x university student! park seonghwa , fluff/slice of life , staring: yn & seonghwa (+ unnamed friends) , tw: rain, slight anxiety, kissing, mentions of both star wars and legos, the reader wears lip make up, overuse of the word pretty because the author loves that word , wc: 685 , notes: i know the request is technically female reader but i ended up not using any pronouns so it’s gn! thanks for requesting lovely im sorry that it took so long! the request was wonderful

[ listening to . . . ] CAndY EyEs doLLS by Tommy February6

masterlist | credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

SEONGHWA COULD NOT BELIEVE HIS OWN ACTIONS.

It was truly unlike him to do something like this. He knew it, and even you— who was now staring with wide eyes at him— knew it.

Your thumbs had stopped caressing his wet hands like they previously did as you two stood underneath the bus shelter. You didn’t let go however, not even once. That little fact gave him hope that he hadn't ruined everything, despite still feeling like letting the earth swallow him.

He hadn't meant to kiss you. It was an honest accident.

It was just.. The way you had shown up as he walked back to his dorm after class, grabbed his hands, and pulled him out of the rain only a couple moments before. The way you gently scolded him about the mere possibility of getting sick made him feel so cared for— so loved that his body moved before he even knew what he was doing.

Truthfully, he hadn’t know you for that long. Only 343 days to be exact. Back then, you were just the pretty foreign exchange student, but something about you made him fall head over heels. He was a fool for you since the day you first exchanged words when you were assigned to work on a class project together in one of your shared classes.

He was so happy to find out you two had mutual friends, giving him an excuse to keep hanging around you after the project ended.

Seonghwa could never not melt in your presence. Especially not when he found out you two had similar interests like Star Wars (he couldn't even be bothered when you'd said that Star Trek was just as good to you) and building Legos.

After he happened to buy one of the sets you were interested, you two spent the whole night building it together. It had eventually become a weekly occurrence where you would build Legos or rewatch the movies and theory videos. All the while, Seonghwa stole glances of your pretty lips, wondering if they’d feel as soft as they looked.

Well.. Now he knew!

It was definitely not the way he had planned to confess. You were so beautiful inside and out. You always took care of him and protected him out of the kindness of your heart and made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside. You honestly deserved a better confession.

But that was not how it went, and now you were looking at him with those pretty eyes. He watched your expression with a nervous, awaiting look on his face.

“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me, you just—! It was uh… an accident! Yeah, an accident! I’m really sorry, Yn.” He stuttered as he moved a step away.

With the distance he created in between you and him, he tried to let go of your hands, only for you to tighten your grip on them, pulling him closer instead.

“An accident?” You asked, the mere thought creating a slight tremor in your words.

“Yeah, I didn’t mean to confess like this—”

Seonghwa continued to stumble over his own words, but those few were enough for the corners of your mouth to lift up in a wholehearted smile. You wrapped your hands around his neck, staring into his brown eyes, and placed a kiss on his nose, effectively silencing his self-deprecating confession.

Finally, Seonghwa looked back at you, the hearts nearly jumping out of his eyes as they met your own.

He wrapped his arms around your waist and you slowly leaned in, lips coming together in a entirely new sensation, moving clumsily but in-sync, full of emotion until the both of ran out of oxygen.

Slightly panting, you looked at each other once again as you parted, with a knowing but loving smile, as well as your cosmetic lip color apparent on both of your lips. You breathlessly exchanged your feelings before reuniting in the third kiss of many to come.

Sure, he didn’t mean to kiss you right there and then. It was simply an honest but happy accident.

networks. @cromernet

notes. PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK THIS IS MY FIRST WORK BACK AND IM VERY NERVOUS ‼️i love writing seonghwa its probably one of the easiest members to write for me but still it was v fun <33

taglist. @yuyusuyu @seonghwaddict @tocupid @leo-seonghwa @aestheticsluut @mrowwww @i-luvsang @yourfatherlucifer @cybrsan @kodzumo @gyumibear | send me an ask to be added to the general obey me or kpop taglist (or both ofc)

#ad0rechuu — works #ad0rechuu — requests #cromernet #ateez #ateez seonghwa #ateez park seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez x reader #ateez x black reader #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x black reader #seonghwa fluff #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #seonghwa scenarios #ateez au #seonghwa au

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hwa-whiskers · 1 year

Text

A Dirty Little Secret Pt. 2

Summary: Having a crush on your roommate who was the fuckboy of your university was bad enough, but what gets worse is when he brings other women home and you secretly masturbated upon hearing them that night, wishing it were you instead. But how will it unfold when Seonghwa finds out?

Warnings/Genre: smut. Fuckboy!seonghwa. Dom!seonghwa. Submissive reader. Dirty talk. Inexperienced reader. Masturbation. Fingering. Angst. Praising.

Word Count: 5K

Pt.1

PLEASE STOP READING IF YOU DON’T LIKE THESE TYPE OF FAN-FICTIONS! (SMUT AHEAD! MINORS DNI)

She then starts crawling towards Seonghwa as the group grows silent.

Your chest grew heavier because what she said was indeed the truth. You weren’t experienced, you literally laid back there while Seonghwa barely touched you and you were already wanting more from him.

Not even knowing if he actually enjoyed it at all. Your face turns gloomy as the thumping in your chest doesn’t go away.

“Why don’t we have Seonghwa rate Sola’s kiss vs. her?”

One of the other girls spoke out and you felt so called out, you hated how you couldn’t say anything back, but deep down you knew you weren’t good enough

You wanted to get out of here, and that’s what you did.

“I have to go.” You quickly stood up, not sparing anyone a glance and grabbed your bag. You ran as fast as you could, not looking back at all.

“Y/n!” You hear Jongho’s voice call out to you, but you were too embarrassed to turn back now.

The group starts getting chaotic as the other boys were confused and the girls start talking over one another.

“Kiss! Kiss!” It is all that can be heard as you slam the door shut, running away as quick as you can.

*10 minutes later*

You took a deep breath once you were away from Jongho’s house, already reaching your shared apartment.

“Y/N!” Jongho catches up to you and your tears begin falling from your eyes again. “I want to be alone for now…” You tell him, slowly walking away and he lets you go, knowing he can’t stop you.

It was probably around 2am when you woke up, feeling thirsty after crying your eyes out. You squint your eyes, trying to make sense of the dark room and slowly made your way to open the door.

Your bedroom is directly faced to the livingroom and the moment you opened it, you made eye contact with the devil himself.

Seonghwa was silently flipping through the channels while he laid on the sofa looking tirelessly.

Fuck! You can’t just shut the door anymore and so you acted like nothing happened, you had to be quick.

You played off the small eye contact and walked into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator and looking for a bottle of water.

You bent over to look inside the refrigerator to really confirm that there was no more water. You then sighed in frustration as Seonghwa mumbled something.

“Huh?” You looked up to see him waving a waterbottle. “Last one.”

You gulped and almost choked on your barely existent saliva. “Give it to me.” You shut the refrigerator door and was on a mission to get that water.

You tried snatching it away from his hands, but he moved it towards a different direction. “I drank it already.” He explains, but your throat didn’t give a shit about that.

“Okay and?” You swiftly got a hold of the waterbottle and succeeded in retrieving it. You downed that bottle like it was your last and finally exhaled after the last drop.

You wiped your lips and looked down at Seonghwa who seems to be very quiet now.

You looked down and then realized that you were only wearing a t-shirt and panties, not even knowing how long Seonghwa must’ve stared at you.

Your eyes widened as your cheeks started to get warmer from blushing so hard. “Are you trying to tease me?” Seonghwa’s fingers run through his messy hair as he keeps strict eye contact with your lower body, sending chills down your spine.

The memories of what you guys did in that room starts coming back to you, unfortunately also bringing back the humiliation you felt after the girls asked Seonghwa to rate your kiss with that girl. You dropped the waterbottle down to your side as an obvious pout forms on your lips.

You then looked up at him and notice a hickey on his collarbone, further confirming that they made out once you were gone from Jongho’s house. You glared at the bruise on his neck and Seonghwa could sense your withdrawal.

“Did you guys make out?” Your mouth is saying shit before you can even let it process in your brain first. You internally slap yourself, feeling stupid for asking in the first place.

“What are you talking about?” Seonghwa seems to be taking an interest in your question and looks like he’s even enjoying it?

“Seonghwa, you know who.” Your words slurred a little as you started playing with your fingers to distract yourself from his intense gaze.

“Are you talking about when we were at Jongho’s house?” Seonghwa tilts his head and makes sure to do it in a way so that he would catch your attention. His whole existence makes you nervous goddamnit.

Silence prevailed as he waited for a response, pressuring you to nod at him helplessly.

Seonghwa lays back on the couch casually as he started chuckling and you were beginning to get impatient.

“What?” You responded with a little bit of attitude, because you don’t appreciate the way he’s handling this conversation.

“Kitten…” It’s that nickname again. You clearly know that he’s just saying that to lure you in, but the way it slips off his tongue so easily makes your body freeze in submission.

“If you stayed long enough you would’ve known that...” Seonghwa stands up from the couch and starts walking towards you, leaning downward so he could whisper in your ears, “...we didn’t kiss.” He leans away and you’re only a few inches away from kissing those lips once again.

You gulped at the sight of him, licking your lips discreetly, but Seonghwa’s watching you like a hawk so that scene makes him chuckle. However, you weren’t done with the conversation just yet.

“Then what’s that.” You point to the hickey and Seonghwa looks down to see the mark on his collarbone.

Like okay, Seonghwa is a fuckboy, but you never saw him with any marks from any of the girls he had slept with. You have heard others say that he doesn’t allow hickeys because he didn’t belong to anyone. He wanted that message to be out and clear, but why would he suddenly have marks on his body? It didn’t make sense.

Seonghwa gracefully touched the mark with his fingertips before grabbing onto your hand that was still pointing towards him.

“This?” He makes you touch the mark while locking eyes with you, never looking away once and you felt this urge of jealousy that was burning in your body.

How could he make you touch a mark that was made by another woman’s lips? You felt so disgusted and grossed out so you immediately broke away from him. “I don’t want to touch something so dirty.”

“Oh…dirty?” Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow, staring at you in disbelief. He then breaks into a dry and dark chuckle that made your heart drop.

“These hands…” He once again grabbed onto your fingers, ever so gently, however you knew it was far from that.

“They should be considered dirty too then.” Seonghwa had a mischievous smile on his lips that you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

“Why are you bringing my fingers into this? It has nothing to do with you.” You frowned and made sure to look at him confidently, not knowing where he was getting at.

“Really?” He asks once again and you’re starting to feel nervous, blinking multiple times so you can avoid his eye contact.

“You played with yourself with these little fingers of yours, no?” The smile on his face completely disappears as his eyes narrowed down on you, making you feel so vulnerable under his threatening stares as he put you on the spot.

You gasped, eye widening as sweat came dripping down your face. He’s not talking about THAT night, right? You breathed heavily as your eyes started shaking in fear. How would he know that? You remember correctly that you had left for your room already.

“I see you recalled your actions.” Seonghwa licked his lips as he stared at your fingers intently, and it made your body burn in embarrassment. You hated how easily he could read you.

However, your panties were getting soaked to every words that came out of this man’s lips every second. The control and power he had over your body was immense.

“Don’t turn this on me.” You defended with a wavering voice, but you knew he had already won.

“Oh kitten, you should’ve seen the huge mess you made in the bathroom that night.” Seonghwa runs his fingertips against your thighs, biting his lips sensually as he stared down on you.

“...how your cum was all over the toilet seat…” He then plays with the strands of your hair so gently, but you knew he could destroy you if he wanted to and the curiosity of it was slowly killing you.

“It was just inviting me to come….” Seonghwa’s fingers grabbed onto your chin as he stared down at your shaking eyes. “..and fuck you dumb.”

The only thing you can sense from him was lust and sexual desires as you tried to steady your breathing.

You only stayed silent under his gaze, not able to speak at all because it was the truth. You desperately needed him, you couldn't deny it.

“You must’ve slept with your cunt dripping wet…” Seonghwa’s harsh words only turned you on even more as he began to pat your head nicely.

“Lay down, kitten.” Seonghwa tucks your hair behind your ears as you obeyed his orders obediently, wanting him to destroy you already.

“Good girl.” He combs your hair with his fingers and swiftly takes off your underwear altogether as you hiss at the cold air hitting your heated core, shyly closing your legs.

Seonghwa massages your thighs before slowly spreading them apart while keeping eye contact with you, “Don’t hide from me….” He leaves a trail of kisses against your thighs while capturing the faces you make when you’re under his touch, it was driving him crazy and you didn’t even know it.

“Beautiful…” Seonghwa’s tongue gracefully landed on your inner thighs, sucking and biting the area…just abusing the skin as it turned into dark hickeys.

“Hmm..” Your brows knitted together as you opened your mouth with a light gasp. It felt amazing, but it clearly wasn’t the spot you needed him and he knows that too. He deviously continues to suck your inner thighs before placing wet kisses to finish off the fresh marks.

“Seonghwa, I can’t anymore…please.” Your hips squirmed as he lifts his head up, making you whine at the loss of contact. “Here?”

He teases as his thumb makes direct contact on your clit, sending an amazing shock of pleasure through your body.

You nodded at the feeling and Seonghwa continued to tease your throbbing entrance with light taps of his fingers only. “Hmmm!” Your thighs clenched, but he keeps his grip on you strong so you can’t close it entirely and it was driving you crazy.

“You’re coating my fingers so well, kitten.” Seonghwa whispered into your ears, further teasing you as you whined in response.

“Hwa…” Your hands flew to your throbbing cunt, trying to relieve yourself, making Seonghwa glare at your fingers. He quickly pins them over your head before pushing two fingers into your cunt unannounced.

You gasped with pleasure as you started moving your own hips to match his pace. “So dirty…”

Seonghwa licks his lips and continues to watch you wither in a state of euphoria. “Couldn’t even wait patiently.” His voice was so deep as it echoed into your ears, but the problem was that he didn’t move at all. His fingers were now inside you, where you needed him most, but you were not satisfied.

You whined at the lack of movement from his fingers and he loved how you squirmed so much for him.

“Hwa…I want you.” Your chest heaved up as a sigh of frustration and droplets of sweat fell down from your face.

“Yeah?” Out of nowhere, Seonghwa suddenly thrusts his fingers inside of you, making you moan but he doesn’t let that go on for too long because he quickly takes out his fingers from your entrance entirely within seconds, leaving you completely helpless…and empty once again.

“Hwa!” You're a hot mess, sweating and breathing harshly, at the mercy of Seonghwa’s godly fingers, but fuck! You want him so bad.

“Do you think you deserve it?” Seonghwa whispered slowly, sending chills down your thighs as your body shook at the sound of his voice.

His fingers then rub against your folds in a circular motion that’s driving you over the edge, you could hear the sound of your own slick that were dripping out of yourself.

You whined at the lack of touch despite you being so ready for him.

Watching you shudder in obedience was a sight Seonghwa could only dream of, but now here you were….at the mercy of his fingers.

“Can’t cum yet, kitten.” Seonghwa sucks his fingers one more time, making sure you watch him coat his slender fingers with his own saliva and inserting them inside you ever so gently.

“Ahh…” you moaned, hands grabbing onto the sheets of your bed as your head shook from side to side, trying your best to stop yourself from climaxing because you wanted to prove to Seonghwa that you could last longer.

His hands moved in a vibrated motion that made you tightened around his fingers, not able to hold on any longer.

“I-I’m going to cum!” You warned him before staring into his flaring eyes, full of passion and he gave you a nod.

“Cum for me.” He commanded and that was the last thing you remembered before letting yourself go and falling into your own state of bliss.

You breathed heavily, sweating all over your body as Seonghwa takes his fingers out of you, licking every drop of it, not wasting anything.

“Fuck…” You whimpered at the scene of him cleaning his fingers from the mess you made and now you couldn’t wait to be filled up properly by him.

If he could make you feel this good with his fingers, how would it be if you two went through the whole process? You crave for more and become needier every passing second.

“What’s with that look?” Seonghwa grabs one of your thighs and you couldn’t help but moan a little at the slight friction. You were determined to take him as you stared at him desperately, giving him the wide kitten eyes so he’d give in to you.

“Ready for me?” Hwa teases while rubbing his sticky fingers against your folds, causing you to roll your head back in pleasure.

Your hips start grinding towards his touch and it made him chuckle. “You want me to fuck you now?” You bit your lips and nodded at his dirty question, but of course Seong fucking Hwa was not satisfied.

He shakes his head as one of his fingers comes up to trace your lips. “I wanna hear you say it, kitten.”

Seonghwa cocked an eyebrow as your cunt continued to throb for him.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you pouted at him. “I…I want you Seonghwa…”

You barely managed those words when he grabs your jaw in one palm, pulling your face towards his as he tilted his head slowly.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” The only look he had on his face right now was stoic and expressionless. You wanted to satisfy him and so you could only gulp before making eye contact with him again. “I’m ready for you to fuck me now.”

“Good kitten.” Seonghwa’s once cold features relaxes into a sly smile as he praises you and it felt encouraging to be acknowledged by him.

He takes you by your hand and you tilt your head in confusion, as to where he was taking you.

“You want me to fuck you here?” Seonghwa says so casually that it brings a blush to your cheeks, making you look around the area to see that y’all were only on the couch.

Not wanting to have your first time on a beat up couch, you nodded and followed him innocently.

He guides you to his room as he gently intertwined his fingers with yours before laying you down completely on the bed. “Seonghwa…”

“Hmm?” He hovers over your body and leans close to you so he can listen to what you have to say, sending butterflies to your tummy,

“I really want you…” You couldn’t look him in the eye and he wanted to assure you so he placed kisses on your face gently.

“Ready?” Hwa makes sure to ask one more time before proceeding and you wrap your arms around his neck, nodding for confirmation.

You could feel his tip at your entrance as he was rubbing it against your folds, gathering your juices as your toes curled in anticipation.

Seonghwa pushes himself inside as your smaller hands grasped onto his, “Hmmm…” You moaned at the strange feeling, but it felt so right to finally be with him.

Hwa slowly pushed himself inside even further, catching you off guard as you thought he was fully inside already.

Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist as he waited for you to give him the signal.

Seonghwa was so used to doing it however he wanted, but with you, he made you his first priority.

“Seonghwa…it feels good…” You barely let out as his full length was fully inside, giving your throbbing walls something to clench on.

“Fuck!” Seonghwa’s cock twitches inside you, causing you to slide yourself closer towards him and wanting more.

“Kitten, you’re squeezing me so perfectly.” He praises and you melted at those pretty words of his.

“This is mine.” Hwa demanded as he brought your legs over his shoulders and thrusts inside you sensually, sending you over the edge.

“Hwa! I-I’m coming!” You mumbled and were surprised to know that Seonghwa understood you.

He continued to thrust inside you at a fast pace, bringing the two of you to your climaxes.

Your body shook in pleasure as the feeling of euphoria took over. Seonghwa grunts beside you, moaning in your ears as he spills his hot cum all over your stomach.

“Shit.” Hwa finally says after he realizes what he did. “I’m sorry I didn’t ask-“

You dipped your fingers in his cum and took a taste of it, out of curiosity.

You licked it and upon tasting it, you make eye contact with him. Your innocent eyes and pure curiosity was killing him inside. He wanted to ruin your innocence if you’d let him.

It was then that you see the switch in Hwa’s eyes as he starts crawling over to you, hovering over your naked body.

“Only I can fuck you like this, got that?” Seonghwa cups your jaw with one hand and you start hiccuping, intimidated but also aroused by his presence.

“Hwa…you know I only want you-“ Seonghwa doesn’t waste any time kissing your lips and turning it into a small make out sesh.

Fuck. You’re scared that you might regret this decision later, but right now…all of that doesn’t matter because Park Seonghwa was holding you in his arms.

His hold on you was warm and cozy as you slowly drifted off to sleep, feeling nothing but warmth and love.

*A Few Weeks Later*

You were at a cafe chilling with some friends you made after getting paired up on a past assignment.

“I’ve been so busy, I haven’t been able to check up on y’all!” Ari says after taking a seat beside you as the waiter came to take your orders.

“It’s fine! We’ve all been busy!” Runa responded, waving her hand in front of her chest as you nodded.

“The usual?” The waiter asked, making eye contact with Runa as he smiled charmingly.

Ari and you elbowed one another like little girls who were having fun teasing their friend who was talking to her crush, snickering quietly.

“Yes…t-the usual.” Runa plays with her hair and you knew she was highly interested in this guy by the way she fluttered her eyes shyly.

“I’ll get a mocha latte.” Ari says, making the two of them break eye contact. You smirked and cocked an eyebrow towards Runa and you can see her face turning into the color of a tomato.

“And I’ll get a _____. Thank you.” You finished your sentence as he grabbed the menu from you and walked away.

The three of you immediately start giggling as Ari starts pressing for Runa to spill the tea!

“Excuse me? The usual?! Miss girl, how long have you been coming here to the point where he can recognize you?” Ari shook her hands excitedly as you anticipated for Runa’s answer.

“I just came by a few times because it’s right next to where I work.” Runa looks away as the both of you start chuckling in disbelief

. “A few times…” You sarcastically repeated after her and Ari shook her head with a smile.

“We saw how y’all looked at each other.” You whispered to them both as the guy passed by to deliver the drinks for other customers sitting nearby.

“There’s literally nothing to explain guys. I just come here pretty often and he just…somehow remembers me.” Runa explains once more, shifting in her seat as Ari pats her head.

“And here we thought she was gonna be single forever.” You giggled at Ari’s comment as Runa starts to playfully act like she was gonna fight y’all.

“Here are your drinks.” The guy comes back as the three of y’all quiet down and thanked him.

You could see the lingering eyes he had for her. It made you wonder if Seonghwa could ever look at you like that too. Wishing how’d it be if Seonghwa only had eyes for you…..

“So what about you?” Ari takes a sip of her drink as the two of them shift their focus onto you, catching you off guard.

“H-huh?” You snapped out of it and looked at them confusingly.

“Do you have anyone you’re interested in?” Ari pressed on further as you can only blink blankly at her.

“Or anyone that you’re seeing?” Runa decides to join in on the fun now since it wasn’t focused on her anymore. Shit. How you wished you didn’t tease Runa about her and the guy.

You didn’t have the guts to say anything because you knew the relationship status of you and Seonghwa. You didn’t have the right to mention him because he isn’t yours….

“No one.” You shook your head quickly and took a sip of your drink, trying to look away to avoid any further questions.

“Y/n, you can’t lie to save your own life.” Ari jokes, leaning her body towards you.

“No, it’s just that you look much happier. Your eyes are glowing with a spark I’ve never seen before and you’re smiling a lot!” Runa adds, making you feel much more anxious because it made you realize that this relationship you have with Seonghwa would just be a phase.

You and Seonghwa never made it official. He never said anything and you didn’t want to press further because you were scared. You were scared that he’d drop you the moment you asked for confirmation.

Without this solid relationship, you didn’t have the confidence to say that Seonghwa was yours. You couldn’t….

“Seriously guys, there is no one.” You lied once again, knowing that if you told them the truth they’d tell you to get away from Seonghwa and that was the last thing you wanted to do.

A few hours went by and the two of them were about to go home, waving goodbye to the both of them as they got into Runa’s car.

“Are you sure you don’t want a lift?” Runa asked one last time, worried that you’d be alone at night but you nodded, making sure that you’re fine.

“Yeah! I’m actually heading somewhere with another friend. See ya next time.” You waved at them and Ari waved back as Runa started driving away.

You lowered your hand that was waving towards them down to your side, feeling guilty and the pressure slowly seep in.

After that night with Seonghwa, nothing has changed much…except that now it seems like the two of you were fuck buddies.

He’d come home and y’all would talk and cuddle, then fuck. It was like a cycle. Neverending.

After meeting with Ari and Runa, it really brought you back to reality.

In the end of the day, you didn’t want to be used by Seonghwa. Even thought you liked him very much, you couldn’t continue to lie to yourself anymore.

You stumbled upon a bar and your feet just took you right in as you sat by the bar, ordering whatever was on the special menu.

You don’t remember how much you’ve drank anymore, you just kept downing cups after cups.

“Y/n?” You hear someone say your name, but you didn’t give two shits at this point.

“Bottoms up!” You down the last cup on your hand and finished it all in one gulp.

“Yah! You’re gonna get drunk again!” The man takes away the alcohol from you, stopping you from drinking more.

“Who are you?” You looked at him and closely examined him, although the background looked hazy and blurry, you could make out who it was.

“YUNHO!” You clapped happily and hugged him, dragging his tall body towards you from the neck as Yunho started choking.

He somehow unwrapped himself from your grabby hands and cuffed them together with his own. “Why are you drinking alone? What if someone just took advantage of you?” He scolded and you shrugged, trying your best to squirm away from his grasp.

“But you’re here now right? Just take me home like last time.” You pretended to gasp, making Yunho look over his shoulders and you took the opportunity to down another drink, wanting to just drown yourself in alcohol as you stress over the thoughts of you and Seonghwa.

“Yah! You sneaky little!” Yunho shook his head as you stuck out your tongue at him, making him have to step away and calm himself down.

“Let’s go.” He grabbed you and you didn’t really have the power to fight back. Even your body gave up on you, you knew you were tired and needed sleep.

Yunho opened the passenger’s seat and you climbed in, resting your head on the window as you hear Yunho get in.

“What is she yapping about. I didn’t take her home last time.” Yunho states confusingly before starting the engine.

“Yes you did, stupid. During you party…”

“Why would I leave my own party to take you home, idiot.”

“Huh!? But that doesn’t add up to what Jongho told me…”

“Well, I was going to take you home but Seonghwa just took you away stating that you both were roommates anyways so I figured that’d be fine.”

“So….you’re telling me I wasn’t dreaming?”

*Flashback* Cue

“WHAT THE FUCK!” You were so shocked you almost became sober.

You literally confessed to Seonghwa, kissed him and….No wonder he was saying it wasn’t your first kiss at Jongho’s house. Everything was adding up.

You shook your head, covering your face out of embarrassment while Yunho tries to calm you down, but this only makes you think deeper. If you confessed to Seonghwa then how come he hasn’t made it official with you? Or said anything about it?

You mouth dropped as you tried to take your seatbelt off. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going back in-”

Yunho was tired of your shit so he sped up and didn’t let your ass leave till he reached your shared apartment.

The vision of the hazy road became blurry until it all faded to black and you were out.

A little while later, you felt a soft warm towel, gently scrubbing your neck as you slightly opened your eyes to see Seonghwa washing you off.

You gasp and immediately sat up, covering yourself as Seonghwa held onto your hand.

“Why didn’t you let me know that you’d be out so late?” His voice was so gentle, if you didn’t know him, you’d think he was the sweetest thing for asking this.

“I don’t have to.” You words were sharp and cold, emotionless because of your broken heart.

“Y/n, you had me so worried and you didn’t even answer your phone too.” Hwa holds onto your shoulders, making you face him but you could only look away.

“Don’t.” Your tears were threatening to all from your eyes as your breath became unsteady.

“Don’t say stuff like that when we both know that you don’t want me.” You pushed his hands away from you body and turned away from his gaze.

“What are you talking about? I do want you.” Seonghwa kisses your hands, giving you his big pouty eyes. However, you knew in your heart that he doesn’t mean it like the same way you do.

“I don’t want to only be used by you.” You break away from him, folding your arms in your chest.

“I want to call you mine and be yours only. I don’t want to have to share you or compete with others to get your attention.” You finally turned towards him, feeling the confidence to look up at him as you were stating what you needed.

“I want a relationship where I can confidently tell others about. I want us to be a conversation where we can see a future within. Not something that’s just in the moment.”

Seonghwa’s brows furrowed sadly as he gave you the most sorrowful look you could imagine. That breaks the wall to your heart as tears start falling down from your eyes.

Fuck. You knew it. He didn’t want to commit to this relationship. You covered your eyes as silence prevailed, nothing but only an embrace?

You looked up to see Seonghwa wrapping you in his arms, tightly holding you so close. “I’m sorry if I ever made you think that way.”

Seonghwa grabs you by your cheeks, kissing your tears away as he whispered sweet nothings into your ears. “It’s my fault you’re thinking that way. I should’ve told you I love you.”

You looked at him taken aback and unsure of it all. Seonghwa kisses your forehead before settling on holding your hands. “I thought you were already mine from that night.”

Seonghwa picks you up by wrapping his hands around legs, right under you butt cheeks, laying you back on the bed.

“I was already in love with you, Y/n…”

“The way you’d get up in the morning with only a shirt and panties. It always drove me so crazy….” Seonghwa kisses you, placing your hands beside you.

“The way you’d giggle over the stupidest thing I’d say…It was the cutest thing.” He plants kisses on your cheeks once more and you felt so showered in love and attention.

“But why didn’t you say anything….” You asked, a little bit bothered on why he kept your drunk confession a secret.

“It was cute seeing you get frustrated over a hickey you made.” Seonghwa laughed and your eyes widened.

So he’s telling you that YOU were the one to made that hickey on his neck? AND he let you?!

You squealed a little as the confirmation from the hickey made you realize that he had let you in his heart from that night you confessed to him already.

You finally took the initiative to peck his lips shyly, making him smile mischievously.

“That was barely a kiss….” Seonghwa teases and you knew that from now on you could rightfully call him yours.

“Mine.” You touched his luscious lips before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him more properly this time..knowing you had all the time in the world.

“Love you. Kitten.” Seonghwa places a kiss to your forehead, making you smile like it was the best day of your life. You’re so fucking glad Seonghwa found out what you did that night.

Although, it started out as an embarrassing secret…it led you two to be where y’all are right now. You couldn’t be more grateful.

“Now go to sleep. I’m taking you somewhere tomorrow!” Seonghwa puts you to sleep, but you got too excited upon hearing that.

“Where are we going!?” You sat up, eyes widening as you waited for his answer.

Seonghwa chuckled before patting your head gently, “It’s a secret, my love…..”

The End!!!!

A/N: Please re-blog or heart it for my motivation, they really help! I also appreciate reading your thoughts and reactions as well, so don’t be shy and message me or comment them down here! Love you lots!

Sorry if I forgot to tag you. >_<

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nczennie · 1 year

Text

royal library.

Pairing: Reader x Ateez's Seonghwa AU: Royalty Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut (18+ scene) Preview: You turn to look at Seonghwa, "Thank you for keeping my secret," You smile at him and he returns it, quickly standing to bow, "Of course, your highness. Your secret is safe with me". Words: 10.1k *Warnings under cut

Warnings: There is only one short smut scene (unprotected, penetrative sex), mentions of dying/being killed, infidelity? depends on your thoughts; it's an arranged marriage, pregnancy.

"Do you think his highness is handsome?"

You send a quick glare to your younger sister, where she sits on your bed, through the mirror of your vanity, looking past your lady in waiting who dotes on your hair. "I don't think that matters much, Rose," you speak out with an even tone. You're not one to share your emotions or thoughts with those who work around you, traumatized from the time one of your butlers heard you talk bad about a visiting elite family. He dimed you out to your nanny and advisor and you were punished for your thoughtlessness.

"So you're telling me you wouldn't care if you had to spend the rest of your life with someone you didn't find attractive? To have to," she pauses leaning in to speak closer to you, "Make babies with him?" Despite the work being done on your hair, you can't help but snap your head in her direction, completely in shock, "Rose!" you call out, feeling your face heating up with embarrassment. The younger girl can't help but laugh at you and you apologize to the woman behind you. Trying to keep your composure, you answer her, "All I'm saying is that there is no point to wish for him to look or act a certain way because what's settled is settled and there is nothing I can do about whom I am to marry".

Rose is the youngest of your parents three children, and even though she is but a couple years younger than you, you felt she still acted as a child. You blamed it on the fact she was coddled as the baby of the family. Your older sister was married some years ago and moved to her husband's kingdom, that left the throne of your own kingdom to you. Therefore leaving little Rose with no responsibility and no worries when it came to the politics of being a princess. Unfortunately, you couldn't say the same for yourself. Today would be the day that your future husband would move into your castle. You were betrothed to the Prince, a middle child himself, from a Kingdom just inland from yours. The engagement was arranged just months after he was born, being a year younger than you. And now all these years later, he was coming and you would meet for the first time.

"You look beautiful," your sister claims taking your full attire in now that you are the only two in the room. You give her a smile as you smooth down your dress, moving back in forth to take in your appearance in front of the large mirror. "Do you really not care about the man you are to marry?" She wonders, moving to straighten the tail of your dress. Letting out a sigh, you still your movements, "I think all I can do now Rose, is hope that he is a kind and understanding man".

You're thankful that the arrival of the Prince served as an event rather than a private dinner where you were certain you would've died from the awkwardness. The was ballroom filled with your family members as well as the other elite families that served important roles in the kingdom. The King and Queen wanted to throw a proper welcoming for the Prince; a welcoming to his new home.

Though the guests mingled about the room, sipping on drinks and snacking on hor d'oeuvres, the Prince and his company have yet to join. His ship had docked safely merely hours ago, you watching on your balcony with Rose, gulping loudly at the realization the man you were to spend the rest of your life with was aboard. The Prince and his small entourage politely asked for a couple hours of rest and time to prepare for the occasion, hence the delayment of their arrival here.

Making sure to stay in the corner of the room, you steered clear or any refreshments or food, the constant twirling of your stomach becoming uncomfortable as the anticipation grew. Finally, the butler closest to the door rang a bell, "May I present, his highness, Prince Wooyoung of Twilight".

The two large doors open as the crowd fall silent, moving to allow room for the new guests. You realize you're out of place when you notice your mother sending you a look, and you hurry and take your place next to her, your father and your sister. A few of the Prince's members enter first and you grip your dress tightly on your sides, in an attempt to ground you as well as dry the sweat forming on your palms.

You suck in a breath as you finally see the Prince enter the room, decked out in a deep red suit, the crown adorning his head sporting large rubies, the color of his Kingdom. He wears a happy smile, making sure to acknowledge everyone in the room as they make their way down the aisle people formed in order to meet you. You see Rose lean over your father in order to get your attention, "He's beautiful!" She whispers just loud enough to hear as your father sends her an unimpressed look. You merely look back to the Prince, his shiny black hair almost bouncing as he nods his head to those greeting him. With a gulp you straighten your posture as the small group approaches your family. You're thankful the music has started again along with small chatter making the atmosphere more comfortable. Prince Wooyoung stands front in center smiling brightly at your family, "It is a pleasure to finally meet you all, thank you for such a warm welcome". He gives his proper bow before standing up straight again. Your father begins to talk to him, introducing himself along with the rest of you as you let your eyes linger at the group of men in front of you. After taking in the Prince once again, you look at the men standing behind him, orbs gazing across them. However, once you see the man standing behind his right shoulder, you can't help but do a double take.

He stands slightly taller than the Prince, posture and gaze amazing as if he were royalty himself. You can't force your gaze away from him, studying his strong nose and full lips. He's beautiful, you think.

"And may I introduce my daughters," your attention is drawn back as your father introduces Rose and you to the Prince. Prince Wooyoung moves forward to take Rose's hand into his, giving it a small peck, you try to hide your smirk at how flustered she gets before the Prince moves to you. He does the same formality to you, warm hand taking in your own as he brings it up to his lips. His warm eyes stay on yours as he retreats, giving you a knowing look and small smile. This is it, his look says, this is the first moment of the rest of our lives.

You begin to feel slightly emotional and overwhelmed at the whole ordeal and you have to blink several times to contain any tears that try to surface, gluing your eyes to the floor to hide from anyone who may see. "May I introduce those who came with me from Twilight," the Prince says cheerfully. He introduces a few of his trusted guards, along with his personal butler before getting to the man you were captivated by earlier. "This is my advisor, Mr. Park Seonghwa". You find your gaze lifting once again to follow this Seonghwa as he steps forward to greet your family. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," he speaks with a polite smile, eyes roaming along the line of you all before his gaze stops on you before bowing. You wonder if anyone could tell your cheeks have turned pink as your eyes locked, his dark eyes sending butterflies to your stomach.

Once the introductions were done, your mother steps forward clasping her hands, "Well then, you all must be famished from your journey. Shall we head to the dining room?" The Prince smiles brightly, hand coming to rest on his stomach, "I couldn't think of a better idea myself". She smiles at him as well as those around him, "Welcome home".

The past week since Prince Wooyoung came has been extremely busy, nearly everyday filled with schedules with the newly arrivals from the kingdom of Twilight. Showing them around the castle, the kingdom, introducing them to many people. Though it was the middle of winter now, your wedding was not set to take place till autumn; near the harvest moon for luck. However, both royal families agreed it was best for the Prince to move into your castle prior to the wedding. He was going to be the next King of your kingdom and they wanted to make sure he was fit for the job before it was sprung on him. He seemed good to you, not stern or self absorbed. He easily got along to everyone he was introduced to. Even the people in the village adoring him as his came into town to introduce himself and learn more about the people he is to rule soon. Prince Wooyoung was attentive to what he was learning about your home, he asked questions and took in every detail he could. Both of your parents have already told you how pleased they were at what an amazing Prince and person he was.

Though the week was busy following the Prince around, you have still yet to be alone with him. Not that you minded too much, though you would like to get to know him better before you were eventually wed, you rather get to know him at your own pace. That way, you could at least control one thing about your relationship.

It was finally the weekend and you have already decided to stay up later than usual this Saturday night. You were exhausted from the prior week but there was one thing you missed; your alone time. The only time you got to yourself was when you were in bed so you missed your occasional outings to the library just across from your room.

This library was not the main one in the castle, it was just a small library on the floor you reside on, meant to only be used by those sleeping on this level. But that meant most of the time it was only you and your sister Rose. Not that you found it trivial, for you loved the nights most where you snuck out of bed at night, moving across the hallway to take solstice in the small library, lighting the fire and enjoying a book in the peace and quiet with only yourself. As a princess, it was not often that you could be alone. Ladies in waiting, guards, or advisors following your every move for your safety, so they said. So you made sure everyone thought you were asleep before you made your trip.

You pulled your robe tighter around your nightgown, sneakily checking the hallway before deciding it was clear. Carrying your candle, you scurry to the door across from your own, making sure to open and close it as quietly as possible. Releasing your breath once you figure your safe, you set the candle down, moving to the fireplace to light a bigger source of light. Finding the latest book you were reading last time you were in the library, you make yourself comfortable on the small couch in front of the flames. The fire to your left providing just enough brightness for you to read your book.

It couldn't have been longer than 10 minutes before you hear the handle of the library door start to turn. You freeze in your spot before standing abruptly, heart pounding as you will yourself to think of an excuse as to why were out of your room unannounced and hiding away in here. You gulp as the door finally opens, but rather than a guard or butler entering the room like you expected, your brows furrow as you take in Park Seonghwa, Prince Wooyoung's advisor. You're unsure if this should make you less or more worried than you were before. He shuts the door quietly as you had before, turning around and finally taking notice of you behind him. At the sight of you he lets out a small shout of surprise, stumbling the piles of papers in his arms.

You're more overcome by the need for him to be quiet than being embarrassed of him seeing you, "Shh!" You hush him loudly, dropping your book and moving forward to him, showing him your finger pressed against your lips. "Please," you talk quietly to him, "I'd prefer if no one knew I was in here". Seonghwa nods, taking a deep breath, seemingly trying to calm down. He swallows, taking you in before quickly averting his gaze to the floor, "I apologize, your highness". You look down and remember your only wearing your nightly attire, not exactly appropriate for anyone to see the princess in. You quickly tighten your robe even further and cross your arms to cover yourself even more as the man in front of you continues to talk. "The butler informed me I could work in this library rather than walking to the main one since my residence is on this floor. I had no idea you would also be in here, please excuse me".

You gather he intends to leave, but you see no need for that, worried if they see him leave so soon after entering they might figure someone else in in here and find you out. "Please, don't apologize. I like to come here some nights and read but I keep it a secret as I would enjoy some alone time once in a while. Please, make yourself comfortable for your work, I would just appreciate it if you didn't mention to anyone you saw me here". Seonghwa nods, hesitantly looking at you before he bows, "Thank you, your highness". You give him a smile as he moves to the desk in the room, situated across from the couch. Leaning down, you pick up the book you had dropped before, fingering through in an attempt to find your page. "I won't be long, I'll just finish this chapter and leave you to your work". You sit back on the couch, sitting up straight and proper unlike before.

From the table across from you, Seonghwa shakes his head, "No, please don't feel the need to rush. You were here first, I just needed a space to get these letters done". He organizes the papers on the table before sitting down himself in his chair. The atmosphere falls quiet, and even though it isn't awkward, you find yourself unable to concentrate on your book; eyes frequently moving to take in the concentrated look on the boy in front of you.

A sudden flash of lightning shone through the windows above, an echo of thunder following shortly after. Seonghwa looks up at you in surprise by the sudden weather change, the sound of heavy rain can be heard throughout the castle. You give him a small smile, "Winter is our rainy season here". He nods, seemingly coming to understand. He looks back down at his paper but continues the conversation, "Does it ever snow?". "Never," you speak, closing your book and setting it beside you, "There isn't much high elevation here, plus we're surrounded by water so the environment doesn't make for very cold temperatures". Seonghwa looks up at you once more, "Aurora must have beautiful summers then," he speaks of your kingdom. You smile proudly, "Summers are amazing, all because of all the beaches of course. It may get hot but the breeze from the sea makes it bearable and the water from the ocean is refreshing to swim in". He smiles back at you, "I can't wait to experience it then".

He starts writing once again, but you purse your lips, not wanting the conversation to end. You speak up once more, "I've never seen snow before". Seonghwa looks up in shock, "Never?". You shake your head, "I've only left Aurora once, for my sisters wedding. But it took place in spring". Seonghwa hums pausing as if contemplating if he should continue speaking or not. "I can't imagine only being in one place forever," he finally says.

This only intrigues you, "Do you like to travel?" He smiles, "I love it actually, well when I got to I did." You nod at him to continue, "I'm from a small town where my family owned a orchard. We would often travel to different towns and villages to sell our harvest. But I ended up studying at a university in Twilight and I got my job as Prince Wooyoung's advisor," he moves to gesture towards the paperwork in front of him. You smile gently at him, "I wish to travel one day too". "I'm sure Prince Wooyoung will take you one day, to see Twilight at the very least".

You find your smile falling, but look to the fire to try to hide it from the dark eyes looking at you. Seonghwa clears his throat at the silence, "Are we to expect you at brunch tomorrow". Sighing, you use it as a chance to take your leave, "Yes, I will be there. Speaking of the occasion, I should probably see myself to bed". You stand, careful of your robe placement, moving to grab your candle from before. You turn to look at Seonghwa, "Thank you for keeping my secret," You smile at him and he returns it, quickly standing to bow, "Of course, your highness. Your secret is safe with me".

It's but a week later where you found yourself in the same predicament. Although this time you found yourself more prepared. You made sure to throw on a sweater on top of your gown and robe to appear more modest; it was already unheard of for a princess to be alone with a man before marriage unsupervised, but to be alone and merely wearing your nightly attire? You imagine it wouldn't go well for you.

So although this Saturday night you weren't expecting anything, perhaps a bit hopeful, you dressed more modestly, even making sure to brush through your hair before you ventured across in secret. Just in case a certain advisor happened to appear again. When the door to the library opened, you stood once more but only slightly less nervous about who was to come. Seonghwa also seemed more prepared as when he entered he gave you a smile and a bow rather than shouting in surprise, "Correspondence," he explains gesturing to the papers in his hands.

You both fall into a comfortable silence, Seonghwa writing away while you continue reading your book. However, you found that once you finished the book in your lap you had no desire to leave quite yet. Pondering, you try your best of ways to spark up conversation with the man sitting at the desk. Not sure why you're feeling the desperate need to speak with him once again. "How is Prince Wooyoung's company?" You finally find yourself asking. Seonghwa looks up from his paperwork, "Your highness?" He asks, not understanding your question. You feel your cheeks growing red, "Sorry, I just mean," You pause looking to rephrase your question, "Is the Prince a kind man?" Seonghwa's eyes seem to light up with understanding, putting his pen down to answer you. "Of course he is, I can promise you that". He cracks a smile as he recalls a memory, choosing to tell you about all the great times he's had with the Prince since getting his job. You listen with an adoring smile on your face, it was clear he found a friend in Prince Wooyoung.

"But anyways," he catches his rambling, "If I could tell you one thing, I think if you were in a position where you were unable to choose who you were to marry, to be able to marry Prince Wooyoung is truly lucky. Wooyoung is hard not to love". He concludes, and although it was meant to reassure you, you suddenly feel blue. "I suppose," you speak, "But there is a difference between loving someone and being in love with someone".

Seonghwa's smile falls and your gut turns at your confession. Having just confessed to the Prince's advisor a reluctance to marry could've just been a detrimental mistake. What he will do with this information you're unsure but you know it could very well be bad for you. "I'm sorry," Seonghwa speaks in a quiet voice, his larges eyes looking somewhat sad as he takes you in. Unsure of what to do next, you give him a quick nod before announcing your leave.

"Princess," he calls just as you reach the door to the library, "Your secret's safe with me".

You're surprised when Wednesday after breakfast it was announced that Prince Wooyoung requested you to join him for a walk around the gardens. It was the first day in a while the sun was beaming in the sky rather than greyness and rain. Though feeling a bit nervous, you join the Prince at the entrance of the rose garden maze, several guards keeping an eye on you both just a few steps behind. "Thank you for joining me," He speaks with a charming smile, bowing once you make your way over to him. "It's my pleasure," You return the smile and proper greeting as you both step into the path.

"Despite being winter, the roses are still so vibrant" the Prince observes as you walk slowly along the stone path. Smiling you reply, "Our winters are rather warm compared to most places. Even still, once it becomes spring you will seen how truly beautiful the flowers will bloom". He turns to smile at you before gulping, "I apologize for not making more of an effort to spend time with you, Princess. I knew becoming King would make me a busy man but I had no idea it would start as soon as I stepped off the ship". He lets out a nervous chuckle and huffs out a laugh as well, "I understand, your highness. They have thrust a lot of responsibility on you right away. I can only hope you are still enjoying Aurora".

"Oh, I am. It's beautiful here and everyone has been so kind to me. But my advisor was right, Seonghwa mentioned to me I should make more time to spend with you. We are to be married and I want us to be comfortable". You try not to visibly stiffen at the mention of Seonghwa bringing the idea up. He clearly felt the need to tell the Prince after what you had confessed to him in the library. "We have plenty of time before the wedding, Prince Wooyoung. I have no worries about that, but either way I am glad we get to enjoy this sunny day together". You give him a smile, desperate to reassure him.

The next Saturday rolls around, and the next, and the next. Saturday nights reading and working turned into Saturday nights socializing and joking with the Prince's advisor. And before you know it, Saturday meetings with Seonghwa also become Friday and Sunday meetings as well. Spending the weekend with Seonghwa has become the highlight of your week and yet at the same time you find yourself getting worried.

Rather than being immersed in your books like before he came along, now you are often sharing long conversations with the boy across from you or merely staring at him as discreet as possible if he works. Over the past weeks, your conversations are no longer only pleasantry. You talk to Seonghwa, truly talk to him about real things that you think and feel, and he listens. He listens and he makes you feel heard and understood, as if you're not just a Princess but a person, a friend of his. You enjoy the nights most when he tells you of his travels with his family, speaking of all different villages and kingdoms for you to imagine. You're a fool if you didn't notice the lingering stares and bashful smiles you both exchange, but there wasn't much you could do. Instead, you have chosen to merely pick from the romance section when you do read, blushing when you imagine the leads as you and Seonghwa.

You know it's wrong to grow such feelings for him, especially when you have to be married in the autumn, but you can't help it. You've found a friend in Seonghwa, someone to confide in and trust. You enjoy his company more than you ever thought possible and every meeting you both have, even more romantic feelings bubble up despite yourself.

Spring has come to Aurora and although the rain has lessened, there are still storms that bring rain and thunder. Tonight was one of those storms, although your Kingdom has just celebrated the coming of Spring with a major festival all day, now the festivities were over the night sky is blanketed with grey clouds and lightning. You don't mind, in fact you probably prefer it as you listen to the sound of the storm from within the library as you read your book next to the fire. To say you're reading though may be misleading as you actually hold a book in your lap as you listen to Seonghwa excitedly tell you his experience at the Spring festival. As he has no work to be done tonight, rather than sitting as the desk as usual, he chose to sit next to you on the couch. Keeping a respectable distance of course, but closer than you had ever been nonetheless.

You stare at the boy as he tells you his stories, seeing him up close like his makes your heart pound and you decide he is the most beautiful person you've ever seen. Noticing he stops talking and is looking back at you, you become self conscious, "Sorry?" you ask. He lets out a nervous chuckle, "I just said I apologize for boring you with my stories". Your eyes widen, almost panicked, "No! Oh, gosh, of course you haven't bored me. Please forgive me for making you think that. I just,I-"

You start to stumble as you try to weigh the pros and cons of what could come out of your mouth, yet your judgement is clouded with Seonghwa beside you, "I was just a bit distracted because I've realized how beautiful you really are up close".

His eyes widen in shock before he looks down, and you stutter to think again, "Not that I didn't think you were beautiful before. I always did, now you're just close and-" You stop yourself with a sigh as you notice the redness making its way up his neck but yet can't seem to regret telling him, even if you did sound foolish. Finally he reaches your eyes once again, "You are very beautiful too, your highness". You let out a small laugh as you avert your eyes, can't help but feeling a bit of a sting at his comment as if he has to agree with you because you a Princess. A second passes before he moves beside you on the couch, but rather than get up and take his leave as you thought he would, he moves closer to you, close enough that his arm brushes flush against yours. You freeze as the warmth of him, "What are you reading?" You're unable to face him as you answer, briefly describing the romance book on your lap. "Perhaps you can read to me for a bit".

Slowly letting your eyes meet him, having to gaze up because of how close he is, he gives you a smile to reassure you. You clear your throat before moving to start reading near the beginning of the book where left off.

You read through a couple of pages before you feel Seonghwa start to move beside you. Your breath gets caught in your throat as he places one his hands gently on your chin, moving your head upwards to meet his gaze, eyes meeting his round ones. His hand is warm and soft as it lingers, moving from your chin to cup your jaw. "I apologize for what I'm about to do," he states whispering, "Please forgive me". You avert your gaze, head feeling slightly dizzy as you try your best to process what he is telling you. Before you get a chance to answer, he leans forward to gently press his lips against yours. The lips you were staring at so intently before were now pressed against your own. The softness of them makes your eyes flutter closed, hands dropping the book closed as they reach to hold Seonghwa instead, afraid he will slip away if you don't. You both become lost as you kiss, not recalling who are or what duties you have, merely enjoying the taste of each other, lulled by the sound of the storm outside.

The next night you become fearful that Seonghwa will not return to the library, especially because of what happened before. You sit nervously on the same couch, not even bothering to open your book as you look blankly at the empty desk across from you. You knew what had happened had been a mistake, yet you didn't regret it at all. But did he?

You could only guess he had as the night drew later and he had yet to make an appearance. Feeling defeated, you let out a sigh rising to put out the fire and return to your room. You knew it was risky from the start, even just being alone with him in the room doing nothing but reading and working would get you both in trouble. Now though, having crossed the line and made your romantic feelings known for each other was even worse. Perhaps this caught up with Seonghwa and he was too guilty or scared to meet you tonight. But as you move, you hear the door slowly open, you turn quickly, a smile rising on your lips as Seonghwa quietly moves through the door, "You came". As he moves closer to you, you can sense your excited sentiment in not returned. You look on confused as he gives you a quick bow, "I apologize, your highness. What happened last night was unacceptable. Please, I beg of you to excuse my behavior". Your eyebrows furrow as he refuses to meet your gaze. "Did you tell someone?" you whisper out, figuring it was the only explanation for his change of behavior. Seonghwa finally meets your eyes, looking panicked, "No! Of course I would never," knowing it wouldn't end well for either of you.

You take him in again, feeling confused as ever, "Do you regret it?" He gulps, eyes wandering over your face, "I wish I did".

At his reply you found yourself walking towards him, "Then why?" You don't phrase a real question but you know he understands when moves his gaze to the floor, "It's inappropriate, Princess. You are to be married, to Prince Wooyoung, he is my Prince, he is my dear friend". Irritation bubbles up in your chest, "The Prince is not my lover, Seonghwa. He is a kind man whom I am to marry at some point but I have no romantic feelings for him". "It is not fair for me to hide my true feelings for another because of a man I was chosen to marry before I could even talk! The Prince is not the one who I want to spend my time with, he is not the one I confide in, he is not the one I want to kiss."

Whereas Seonghwa was studying your face before, he now looks down painfully at your confession, "Please don't do this to me". You feel your lips wobble as you try your best to resist the tears in your eyes, "If you decide to leave now and never come to meet me again, that is fine. But please, don't do it because who I am or my obligations. However, if you do not share the same sentiments as me, and wish to leave, I will not object". You manage to get out despite your shaky voice.

The library is silent except for the crackling of the fire as you wait for Seonghwa's decision. You nearly cry of relief when he takes steps towards you, moving forward to grasp your face in his hands, thumb moving to swipe at a tear that had fallen. He doesn't speak, merely moving forward to connect your lips much like they were the prior night. He finally separates, but keeps your foreheads connected. "It can be a secret," you finally whisper out, causing him to let out a huffed laughed. He smiles at the ground before moving to kiss you once more, "Your secret is safe with me".

You've decided time moves much too fast for your liking when it's already the beginning of summer. Weekend nights with Seonghwa don't feel like nearly enough and you have both resorted to meeting on some week nights as well. Much like tonight, a Thursday night, but you both grew inpatient having not seen each other all week due to the whole castle being busy with preparations for the summer festival.

You lay on your back now, Seonghwa hovering over you as you're both on the floor next to the fire. The blankets you both lay on are not particularly thick but they provide enough comfort for you both to revel in your kisses. Nearly every one of your meetings somehow ended like this, passionate kisses and roaming hands next to the fireplace. Perhaps it was the growing amount of scenes in the romance novels you've been reading, but lately you have been feeling as though these kisses and groping were not enough.

That's why you break away from the kiss, taking a breath before speaking out to Seonghwa, "I want you". He pushes off of you even more, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, "Pardon?" You sigh, moving to sit up, forcing him to do the same as he rests on his heels. Your robe has fallen off your shoulders but you don't attempt to fix it. "I want you, Seonghwa". You tell him again more firmly.

He gulps, tongue peeking out to wet his lips before he runs his hand through his black hair. "If you're insinuating what I think you are, Princess, then you know we can't". You can't help but frown, "I told you not to call me that". You both decided months ago you were much more comfortable with him merely referring to you by your actual name. "And why not? We're already doing this, are we not? What is having sex going to do at this point?" You continue as Seonghwa groans, closing his eyes. In reality you know it's a bad idea, Princess' are expected to remain untouched until the night of the wedding. If anyone were to find out you weren't a virgin, you would suffer greatly. But now, in the heat of the moment with Seonghwa, you found any risk worth taking.

Seonghwa sighs out your name, "You know that's a extremely bad idea, no matter how bad we might want it. There are too many things that can go wrong". He reaches to run his hand up your arm, attempting to comfort you. "Have you had sex before". You blurt out, he seems alarmed, eyes widened as his hand freezes on you. "Well, I-" he clears his throat, "Yes, I have". You nod at him, "With multiple people?" your question makes his eyebrows furrow, not being able to tell if he was walking into a trap. "There's been a couple of people, I don't really know why-" But you cut him off before he can finish. "I'm expected to marry a man and only ever sleep with him for the rest of my life. I'm expected to do this with a man who has been chosen for me because of our status. I'm not ever expected to share myself with someone I love? Why is that fair for me?" You realize you sound desperate but you feel overwhelmed with your feelings for Seonghwa and the realization what you have now won't be forever.

"It's not fair," He agrees, moving to adjust your robe over your shoulder. You look at him sadly, "I want to make love with someone I love, Seonghwa. I don't want the only sex in my life to be used just to make an hier. I want to feel wanted as a lover, not just as a wife". You sigh as you recall the passion in all of your novels, afraid you may never get to experience it. How was that fair when the man you love was right in front of you, sitting there so prettily and being the one you truly wanted to experience everything with. "I just want this one thing, even if it's just once". Your voice is a whisper at this point. "I love you, and I want to experience this love with you. I know it's not right, but there is nothing I want more in my life than to experience this with you".

"I love you too," Seonghwa states, "More than anything". At his confession you fear he will reject you, but you are pleasantly surprised when he moves forward once more to kiss you.

He lays you on your back once again, but this time you can tell he has a motive. You spend hours and hours that night by the fire, feeling loved by Seonghwa in ways no one has done before, in ways you're sure no one will ever be able to do again.

You sit next to your sister, Rose the next morning at breakfast. Prince Wooyoung is across from you and a couple of performers also joining you for breakfast. The Prince invited them as they have traveled far for the summer festival tomorrow. Seonghwa stands near the window, speaking intently with your own advisor but you find yourself smiling at the company at your table. Prince Wooyoung is loud and his laugh is contagious as the entertainers tell a story of their travels. You and Rose share a smile and you can't help but giggle at the Prince.

Ever since his arrival in winter, you have yet to spend but a handful of times alone with him, but it's times like this where you see that Seonghwa was right. Prince Wooyoung is hard not to love. But as you cast a glance at Seonghwa behind him, you knew you would never be in love with him.

You should've known from that fateful night that once would never be enough. Telling Seonghwa that you had just needed him once had ended up being a lie. It's been weeks since then and yet still every secret meeting you had with him ended with you underneath him, or him underneath you; you weren't very picky.

Just like now, it was well past midnight on a Friday night and despite everyone in the castle thinking you were asleep, you were in the library, next to the fireplace as you rode Seonghwa who lay under you. The first night you shared with Seonghwa, he had been so careful and gentle, making you feel protected and loved. But since that night, he has taught you many things. What it's like to be on cloud 9, making you feel pleasure you never thought possible in unthinkable ways. He taught you how to give pleasure too, how to make one that you love fall apart so beautifully it makes you feel powerful.

That's how you feel tonight; powerful. You braced yourself with your hands on your lover's bare chest, watching the black haired boy intently as his mouth falls open at the new found pleasure. You have been working diligently, attempting to find the right hip movement as you rode his cock to make him feel that best he could. Especially when he had made you come twice beforehand merely using his tongue. A deep whine escapes his lips as you ground your hips down in a circular manner. You stare at his lips unable to resist them, particularly when such pretty noises are falling off of them. Not stopping your movements, you lean down to capture them with your own. You kiss him deeply and quite sloppily as you are both focused on the pleasure, tongues clashing leisurely. "You sound so pretty for me," you murmur against his mouth. Whereas you had at first been shy when it came to things like these, Seonghwa's sweet and dirty words that fell off his tongue had started to rub off on you. If he could compliment you so prettily while you fell apart for him, it only made sense for you to do the same when the tables were turned.

Seonghwa's hands move up your thighs, rounding to grasp your ass firmly, using it as a grip to help you move along him in a manner he pleased. You could tell he was close when he broke from your kiss, head tossing backwards and his eyes closed tightly, ultimately consumed with pleasure. You feel motivated to bring him to an end, as it was your favorite thing to see. You move your hips quicker, hands roaming up and down his damp chest and abdomen, but always keeping your eyes on his face. He comes with a moan of your name and his body tenses, hands moving to grip your hips tightly and eventually stop you from moving any further on his stimulated cock. "Fuck," he mumbles out and moves his hands up your back to bring you down to his chest. You move to press kisses along his neck as you lay flush against him, his chest moving heavily in an attempt to catch his breath. You playfully bite his neck, "Are you okay?". He chuckles, hand running down your hair, "I'm perfect, my love. How about you? Do you need my help again?" He's considerate as always but you feel fulfilled from earlier and just watching him, "No, I'm quite perfect as well". He hums arms coming around to tighten you in a hug.

You eventually move off of him and cuddle into his side, the blankets and fire providing warmth despite the lack of clothing you both had. You keep your eyes closed, but you often find yourself close to tears after intimate moments with Seonghwa. As if the reality of it all sets in and drags you down. As summer wore on you knew your time with Seonghwa would be coming to an end. You would have to fulfill your duty as Princess of Aurora and marry the Prince they deemed fit to be the next King. You would have to live a life in a loveless marriage and forever knowing your true love was just out of reach.

Sometimes in quiet moments like these, pressed up against Seonghwa and he hold you against him, you find yourself praying. Praying for time to stop, for it to be summer forever, where you could be with Seonghwa forever in this library without a care in the world. For your secret to stay a secret.

Your sister Rose as fallen ill the past couple of days and has, despite her protests, been made to rest. There were a few castle workers who experienced the same symptoms as well. It wasn't uncommon, especially during this time where the change from summer to fall would be coming soon and now the mornings and nights were much cooler than the warm days. The drastic change in weather throughout one day can cause anyone to catch a cold, just like Rose. After seeing Rose, the family physician made his way to check on your parents, and then you. While he was here, he would now try to prevent any sickness, prescribing warms soups and teas and avoiding early morning walks without a coat.

You sit in silence as he finishes up your examination. He was usually a pleasant and talkative man, using jokes to distract from any uncomfortableness, but he had fallen silent as you told him about your symptoms. Letting him know it didn't sound like the same cold Rose had, but you still felt quite ill some days. He examined you longer than usual and it made you uneasy with the feeling you were much more ill than the others in the castle.

He finally finishes with a sigh, moving to remove his gloves and wash his hands in the basin. You sit up, fixing your dress as you wait for any type of explanation. "Well, your highness, since the wedding is only about a month away, I feel no reason to let anyone else know".

The physician turns to you with a kind smile, drying his hands. "I'm sorry?" you ask, confused as to what he was talking about. He comes closer, talking in a quiet voice as to not let anyone else hear, "You're with child, your highness. Congratulations". At his words you're almost certain you misheard him, but you were too frightened to ask him to repeat it. Your mind runs crazy and your ears start to rings. The physician must've been able to tell your panic as he moves to steady you where you sit. "There is no need to worry, I certainly won't tell anyone. The wedding will be soon and from my examination you're not too far along so you won't be showing in the dress. After the ceremony I will check you again and it will be like finding out for the first time".

You know he's trying to reassure you, but he doesn't know your true situation. He doesn't know what you risked to be with the man you love and now it has come back to bite you. You start to cry at the realization of what you've done, the consequences were to be extreme and you weren't even sure what to do at this point. The kind physician moves to grab a clean handkerchief to dry your tears, "There, there. I know it's not ideal but with the Prince moving into the castle some time ago something like this is just natural".

You wait in the library the next night after not leaving your bed since finding out the news. It was easy to say you were feeling unwell from a cold just like Rose and the others, when in reality you were so overcome with stress you didn't know what to do. It felt obvious that your first step should be telling Seonghwa the mess you were in, but being honest even doing that made you anxious. You've dragged him into this and at this point everything seemed like your fault.

Seonghwa enters the room quietly and sees you sitting on the sofa facing the fire, he finds himself smiling. "Hello, love," he says to draw your attention. "I heard you caught a cold, are you feeling alright?"

He moves to join you on the couch and rubs over your hair as if to comfort you. But when he hears you sniffle he grows worried, gently moving your head to face him. His eyes widen as he takes in your state, eyes red and still leaking tears, nose running, and everything on your face feels swollen from the nonstop crying you've been doing. "What is it?", he states, swallowing in an attempt to hide his panic, "Are you feeling unwell?" Having him here next to you feels as though reality has actually set in and you find yourself letting out a sob before you can even tell what what's going on. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Seonghwa". Your words only worry him more and he takes you face in his hands, eyes roaming you as if he were to find the answer there. "Please, my love, you have to talk to me. What's wrong? What are you sorry for?"

You try your best to calm your breathing, hiccuping in an attempt to stop your tears but you finally are able to get your words out as Seonghwa waits patiently. "I saw the physician yesterday, it was supposed to be a normal checkup, for the colds going around". You get out, breath still occasionally getting caught in your throat. He gulps at the mention of this, automatically fearing the worst, you must be extremely unwell. "He told me," you continue, letting out another soft cry and averting your eyes, "He told me I was with child. I'm pregnant Seonghwa".

You can't see him, as you've closed your eyes, too afraid to see his reaction, but you can tell he's tensed from the way his hands froze on you. You're crying hard again to the point you feel nauseous and you're seconds away from moving to find a bin to empty your stomach into. But Seonghwa move to hold you, arms circling around you like they have so many times before. So many times have you felt protected by his warm embrace, but you doubt anything could protect you now. "It's going to be okay," He whispers out as he tucks you into him, but the comment only makes you angry. "No, it's not," you argue back but don't have the strength to move from his arms. "How can anything be okay, I'm to get married in a month and I'm pregnant. They're going to find out and they're going to kill us. All of us, me, you, the baby." You're rambling now but this is the first time you were able to voice your worried aloud. Seonghwa closes his eyes and rests his head against yours. He wants nothing more than to comfort you in your state but he doesn't know what to say. He knew from the start this situation was dangerous but he didn't ever think it would come to this point.

"It's all my fault, we should've never done this. You tried to warn me but I didn't listen to you. I was so selfish and now look what's happened". Your voice is weaker now, so exhausted from the endless crying and your head is pounding. Seonghwa's voice is shaky but you don't even notice in your state, "Don't say that. You know we both had a part in this, if anything, I was the selfish one. Thinking I would be able to love a Princess". You quickly turn your head up to look at him, noticing now tears brimmed in his own eyes as well. "Don't," you say, "You are more than worthy to love anyone you want. I'm just lucky that I was the one to receive your love". He gives you a small smile, hand moving your hair so he could properly see your face. "It'll always be you," he says your name, "Who will recieve my love". It's small, but the comment makes you feel a hint of happiness in what seems like a dark and hopeless situation.

You move to place a soft kiss on his lips before falling into his arms again. You both lay there for hours in silence, merely listening to the fire and trying not to think of the reality you're in just for a minute. "I'll figure something out," Seonghwa finally voices, "Just rest until you feel better and trust me".

It's a week later when Seonghwa asked to meet you in the library again. You've mostly rested all week, still acting as though the cold as weakened you and no one suspected a thing. You longue on the couch, hands fidgeting with your dress as you await your lover. Some time later the door finally opens and you smile as you face the opening. However, once you see who enters, it immediately drops and you rise quickly to your feet.

You gulp as he makes his way into the room taking a few steps forward. Finally you move to bow, "Your highness," you get out trying your best not to sound nervous. What he is doing here you're unsure of but your stomach twists with the thought that Seonghwa could also enter at any second. Had he found you two out? Had someone finally noticed you both meeting in the library?

Prince Wooyoung returns your greeting with a small smile. He walks past you to stand in front of the fire, moving his hands out to feel the warmth. You still haven't moved from where you stood, too stunned to comprehend what was happening. "You know," he finally speaks, but keeps his back towards you, "I'd like to think of myself as a kind and understanding man". "So when the physician finished my check up by congratulating me because my hier was already conceived, I merely thanked him and made him swore to not tell a soul".

Your breath hitches and you move to steady yourself against the desk. So Prince Wooyoung had found out, you're not sure you could blame the physician as he probably assumed you had already told the Prince. Your heart pounds as you watching Wooyoung who stares into the fire, moving to place his hands in his pockets. This was it, you thought, the Prince now knew the truth and your fate was in his hands, but perhaps there was still a chance you could save Seonghwa.

"I was so shocked when he told me, a little sad too I must confess," he lets out a small chuckle. "So when Seonghwa and I met afterwards I couldn't help but confide in him". Your eyes closed in defeat at the news. "I told him how sorry I was that you must have a lover. Not that I can blame you, we barely know each other and are expected to marry. Trust me, I know how rough it is. I felt bad for you, truly." He looks almost dazed as he continues to gaze into the flames with an unreadable expression. "I told him, Seonghwa, that there was no need to worry anyone though. I would keep a secret. I wouldn't mind raising the baby as if it was my own. I don't know if that would make everyone happy, but I figured that's what would keep everyone safe". You can't help the tears that come to your eyes as he continues his story, you have never felt guilt once in all the time you spent with Seonghwa. But as Wooyoung speaks to you know, you can't help but think how you both have hurt him. The Prince was never unkind, in fact you quite enjoyed his company when you did have it. But nevertheless, you knew Wooyoung would never truly be your lover.

"It was at this point that Seonghwa started crying. I was so shocked, never in all the years I've known him have I seen him cry. I was confused, I kept telling him it was okay, you didn't mean to hurt me. That's why I thought he was crying of course". Watching him with tearful eyes, you curse that you can't tell what he's really thinking. "But then he starts to apologize, and I'm even more confused! I have to get him to calm down before he could actually tell me what was wrong," he chuckles a bit. "I'm in love with her," he sighs, "That's what he says. I don't believe him at first of course. But when I stay silent he continues on and on. Explaining how much he loves you and how sorry he was so betraying me".

He finally moves to sit on the couch, running a hand over his face. "I was angry at first, naturally I think. I couldn't understand my Seonghwa falling for my bride to be. But I took a second and really thought. I know Seonghwa, he's my best friend." Your eyes roam over his face and you notice how tired he looks. "He would never do anything to intentionally hurt me, I know that. If you both fell in love then it was not spiteful. I suppose you both feel guilty about the whole thing. Not that we were ever lovers ourselves, we probably never would be, right?" His mouth quirks as he finally looks to meet your gaze. You stay silent and still, not knowing what to do. The Prince sighs once again, "Seonghwa would to anything for me, I know that. He offered to leave, to allow him to say goodbye to you and leave Aurora for good in order to sort this out". A tear makes its way down your cheek at the idea. Is that where he had gone? Had the Prince made him leave without a goodbye? "But one thing you might not know about me, is that I would also do anything for Seonghwa". You try your best to look into his eyes despite being blocked by tears. "So that's why I came here to tell you to leave".

There's a moment of silence as you try to comprehend what he says. "Excuse me?" you finally get out, your voice sounding hoarse. Wooyoung moves to stand, "Seonghwa is waiting for you, you will both go to the dock and take the passenger ship that leaves for inland in a couple of hours". Your eyebrows furrow and you feel dazed, "I can't, I can't leave my Kingdom. My sister, Rose what will she think?" You start to think of all you would leave behind. Wooyoung purses his lips, "Well I suppose you can stay, but I assume you know what that would entail." Marriage, you thought, marriage to the Prince and no Seonghwa. "But how can I leave? What will everyone think?" You couldn't quite comprehend the logistics of this so-called plan they thought out. "You've been sick, right?" He asks even though he knows the answer, you nod. "Well you've been sick enough so that the doctor suggested you move inland for sometime. Somewhere away from the sea, away from the humidity. We'll tell everyone the wedding is postponed, your health took a turn in the night and you had no choice but to board the ship". You look at him worried, could this really work? "Don't worry, the physician will be in on it too. Once you're settled you can write your family, Seonghwa will make sure of it. As for the future, we're unsure, but this is a plan to keep you both together for now".

You can't help but start to sob, hands coming up to cover your face. Wooyoung hesitates, but moves to embrace you. "I'm so sorry," you state, "You're doing so much for us despite what we did to you". He moves to hold you away from him, "Don't, don't apologize for falling in love. Just promise me you'll look after him, yeah?" He asks with a smile and you sniffle and nod, "Always. I'm so thankful for you, I wish there was a way I could repay you for your kindness". He chuckles moving away after give your shoulders a squeeze, "Well if you wanted to name your baby after me, I wouldn't complain". You let out a giggle as you wipe your tears. "Now go on and pack, not much though, you don't have much time before you need to leave and you both have to get there without being seen too much".

You nod, moving quickly to press a kiss to his cheek, "Seonghwa was right about you".

You look out over the ocean, the black abyss under the night sky. The stars acting as the only source of light as the ship moves quietly across the waves. Seonghwa comes up behind you, placing a blanket over your shoulders and a kiss to your cheek. "We should head to our quarters soon". You nod, turning to smile at him, "I just can't believe this is really happening". He smiles back at you, moving forward to give you a kiss and places a hand gently on your stomach, "I would do anything for you".

It was a whirlwind of a night, of a week, of a year that has led you to this moment but you don't think there could be a more perfect ending. What the future had in store for you all now you were unsure, but with Seonghwa by your side you were sure you would be able to risk everything and anything.

Ever wonder what happens to Wooyoung?

🌼 All feedback is appreciated and welcomed 🌼

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lettersfromaphrodite · 10 months

Text

[5.26]

―pairing :Seonghwa x fem!Reader ―genre : smut ―word count : 1.212 ― content warnings : vampire Seonghwa, master kink estabilished relationship, fingering, Seonghwa feeds from reader, medieval settings, fantasy au, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all)

Sometimes, you wondered what your friends would think about you. After all, you left your house, your hometown, your job, anything and everything that had ever been yours in order to move into a vampire’s luxurious mansion.

You met Seonghwa two years ago thanks to a mutual friend - Wooyoung, who worked at the hospital. Chemistry immediately clicked between you two, and three dates later, you were a panting and squirming mess under a sweaty Seonghwa, whimpering in bliss as he came inside you, hovering above you as you were sprawled on his expensive linen blankets. You knew he was a vampire - Wooyoung being the good friend he was had told you immediately, but you still decided to play dumb, even if you had to wait for a whole month for Seonghwa to confront you about the strange pain you felt in your neck, somewhere between all those hickeys he left. That day, Seonghwa regretfully admitted he had been feeding from you, in the same sentence where he also told you he was developing serious and deep feelings for you; you admitted you knew that already, and Seonghwa shyly invited you to move in with him.

That night had been a rollercoaster of emotions, but of course, you said yes.

Delicate, pale long fingers firmly wrapped themselves around your neck, the slight pressure making you snap your eyes open.

«Forgive me, angel.» Seonghwa’s velvet tone intruded your thoughts, his white shirt half-unbuttoned showing a glimpse of his pale and toned chest while he was comfortably sitting between your parted thighs, one hand around your throat and the other rubbing your clit with slow and teasing feather touches. «Did I allow you to get distracted?»

«N-no.» you answered back immediately, feeling light-headed by the sudden intrusion of his middle finger effortlessly sliding inside you.

«No?» Seonghwa raised his eyebrow at you, halting his movements and slightly tightening the hold around your neck with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

«No, Master.» you breathed, Seonghwa’s smug smirk and his crimson red eyes only providing to add fuel to the flame of your arousal. The grip around your throat loosened as Seonghwa’s index finger joined the other digit and you jolted, suffocating a whimper as Seonghwa effortlessly and intentionally brushed the magic spot inside you as he was scissoring his fingers.

«Always so good for me, angel.» Seonghwa’s approving hums caressed your bare skin as the vampire traced open-mouthed kisses from your neck to your hipbones, without stopping the movements of his fingers for a second. You could feel Seonghwa’s fangs occasionally scratching your skin, goosebumps erupting on your skin as you pictured the new red lines joining the fading ones that Seonghwa loved to draw on your body. Seonghwa’s thumb started rubbing your clit with abstract circular motions and you quickly covered your mouth, trying to suppress the loud moan escaping your lips due to the intense feeling.

«You’d better keep those beautiful hands of yours by your sides,» Seonghwa’s raspy voice warned you, «Unless, you want to be punished.» his thumb pressed harshly against your clit and you whined, quickly shaking your head as your hands returned on their previous ministrations of tightly gripping the soft blankets. You licked your lips, shutting your eyes close with a sigh.

Seonghwa’s punishments were rough; he was never physically too rough during sex, but he would simply draw you closer to your orgasm and then stop. Once, twice, he could go on all night if he was in the mood, until you were reduced to a panting, crying and whimpering mess, begging him to let you come.

However, Seonghwa’s behaviour on your daily life was the polar opposite of how he behaved during sex. The cold, dominant and ruthless Seonghwa was nowhere to be seen and instead, you would find yourself in the tight and secure hold of the sweetest and caring boyfriend you have ever had. Needless to say, you loved all of this.

Seonghwa’s fingers never stopped as his mouth kept leaving wet kisses all over your waist, teasingly kissing you above your clit just to move on your inner thigh, enjoying your dejected moans and whimpering begs. The more you squirmed, the more Seonghwa’s thirst increased, and eventually granted your wish, the tip of his tongue replacing his thumb’s movement. You realized that at this point, you were mumbling incoherent phrases due to the feeling of Seonghwa’s tongue and fingers working magic on you and leading you closer to your orgasm each passing second you felt kitten lips alternating to his flat tongue moving teasingly against your wetness, slowing down anytime your moans increased.

«Master,» you breathed, in the weak attempt not to come on the spot as his tongue added itself to his fingers moving inside you, «please.» you honestly didn’t know either why you were pleading him. You wanted to come? You needed more? You wanted him to bite you? Anything and everything of the options above would have been fine with you, since you only needed him to do more. Whatever he choose to do would have been fine; you just needed more of Seonghwa, if that even made any sense.

Seonghwa scoffed, detaching his tongue from your wetness and briefly meeting your gaze, crimson eyes blown with lust and lips wet and glistening with your arousal. He raised an eyebrow at you, as his lips kissed your inner thigh once again, grazing the soft skin with his fangs.

«Yes,» you breathed, «Please, please, ple-» your sentence was interrupted by the loud and sinful moan escaping your lips as soon as you felt Seonghwa’s fangs piercing your skin. You had to admit the sting was annoying at first, but the feeling of euphoria that immediately subdued as soon as you felt Seonghwa’s started sucking on your blood with his tongue and lips moving against your skin, was something incomparable and irreplaceable. Seonghwa’s fingers brushed more insistently the sweet spot inside you and the mixture of everything plus your boyfriend’s moans of approval as he fed from you triggered your orgasm, and you came around his fingers with the hint of a jolt, grateful that Seonghwa was keeping your thigh in place with his other hand.

As you relaxed while coming back from your high, you delicately and affectionately brushed Seonghwa’s hair with your fingers, feeling him licking your small wound clean. He looked back at you once again, his eyes still a deep crimson and blood faintly smeared around his lips – mixing with the remaining of your wetness, and you tapped your lips with a smile, which Seonghwa immediately returned, leaning down to capture your lips in a lingering kiss where you could taste yourself along with your own blood.

Seonghwa smirked against your lips, one arm next to your head to balance himself and the other caressing your waist as he pressed his body flush against yours so that you could feel his neglected hardness.

«Ready for the real fun, angel?» Seonghwa breathed against your neck, licking a long, wet stripe from your collarbone to your jaw.

«Yes, Master.» you mumbled back, your hands flying on the belt of his black jeans.

all works © lettersfromaphrodite

Do not modify, repost, translate or plagiarize my stories. I only publish my works on tumblr & AO3.

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#fanfics #seonghwa smut #ateez smut #seonghwa scenarios #ateez scenarios #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #seonghwa au #seonghwa fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #ateez fic #ateez au

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mazeinthemiroh · 2 years

Text

guardian angel

Pairing: Seonghwa x female! reader

Genre: romance, angst, fluff, slight crack, highschool! au, bad boy! au, happy ending

Word count: 3.8k

Requested?: yes

Warnings: cursing, a lot of cliche themes, mentions of smoking and drinking, elements of crack, potential sexual assault (doesn't actually happen), suggestive, wooyoung being his awesome self

Summary: Seonghwa is known for being a delinquent. Nothing phases, and no one messes with him. But there is someone who he is drawn to. Someone he can't quite keep off his mind.

Author's Notes: I had so much fun writing this you have no idea. It took way longer to write than I wanted but I need it to be perfect. This fic does have some mature theme so do be warned! Thank you so much anon for requesting this. I really hope you all enjoy. Let me know what you think!! <3

The whole concept of having a guardian angel was comforting. intriguing, almost. Having someone watching over, protecting you, perhaps without you even knowing. That was a comforting thought.

Or at least for you it was. But in this compulsory religious studies class, most kids were seconds away from falling asleep. The teacher droned on with her monotone voice, flicking through the PowerPoint presentation, which looked like a half-hearted effort, put together last night.

Not that it mattered. No one was paying attention anyway, all except the handful of teens who wanted to get the best out of their mediocre education system.

"Silence please" the teacher mumbled weakly at the class. Poor Miss had no presence, no impact. The hard-working students, such as yourself, usually sitting in the front row, could usually hear her feeble voice. But they weren't the ones who needed to hear it.

"She said shut up!"

A voice with authority. Everyone collectively gasped, quick to close their lips now as they turned to face the principal, who walked in not moments ago. She was the one to be feared.

And yet there were still some people who just didn't fear her enough.

"You boys at the back" she snarled as she pointed over to the back of the classroom.

Ahh, the boys at the back. There's such a thing to be said about a high school's social hierarchy. It followed the same, cliche, stereotypical pattern as every American high school rom-com movie does. It is the same each time, each year. At the bottom: nerds, geeks, unconventionally attractive pupils, or just simply people who strive to succeed academically which for some reason makes you a loser. And at the top? Hot, rich mean girl gangs who absorb their power by thriving off the fear of the 'low-lives' below them. And, of course, the boys at the back.

"Why are you still talking? Did you not hear me the first time?"

One of them mumbled and snickered but it was hard to tell who. Or at least, for the principle it was.

It was quite clearly Wooyoung. Known for never knowing when to shut up, Wooyoung was the one to not understand when things went too far, or when a situation was too serious. And he was the one to get away with everything.

"Who's still talking?"

Wooyoung decides, the clown that he is, to turn to Seonghwa in this instance, with the usual shit-eating grin on his face, making it seem like Seonghwa was the accomplice.

"Was it you, pretty boy? To the front of the class now!"

Seonghwa glared daggers into Wooyoung as he reluctantly grabbed his stuff and got up to walk right to the front.

Even just walking through the class, you could see how much power Seonghwa would hold. Girls would giggle and swoon over him, whispering to each other about how good he looked today. Boys would cough awkwardly as he walked passed them, pretending not to be even remotely attracted to him. And the nerds at the front wouldn't even dare look at him. Especially you.

Which was typical because the only desk that was free at the front for him to sit at was the one directly next to yours.

So, as you screamed internally at yourself for not choosing another seat at the start of the year, Seonghwa settled down next to you, throwing his stuff on the desk and sitting back leisurely on his seat. he let out a long, dramatic sigh.

"Good. Now the rest of you need to get on, you will be tested on this!" Everyone let out a low groan at this, and then the principal promptly left without another word.

The usual rumble of conversation started up again. You stared downwards at the work in front of you, trying to concentrate on something, anything that wasn't the hot guy next to you.

"Hey."

Your heart stopped. Breath hitched up in your throat as you strangled on a previous inhale. Is he talking to me? You thought to yourself. Eyes wide with fear, anticipation, and excitement, you decided to do the unthinkable.

You turned towards him.

Never had it occurred to you that, not only was he talking to you, but he was looking at you too. So as you mustered up the courage to turn your head towards him, you were faced with two, large, deadly brown orbs staring at you, eating you alive by the intensity of his gaze. This was the closest he had been to you. And the bravest you had ever been to dare to take his features in this close. You couldn't help yourself. Eyes trailing along his smooth, tanned skin, jawline so sharp you were convinced you could cut yourself on it if you touch it. Jet black hair styled to frame his face so expertly; so precise was the wisps of his fringe, and although he kept brushing his hair back with his long fingers, the stubborn stray hairs would remain rested neatly on his forward. Perfect. Strong cheekbones, magnificently angled nose, luscious lips that hid a devious tongue.

And all this time you were staring at him. But by God did he stare back. Reality only hit you once you were done drinking in his features, savouring the human painting before you as if he was the last painting left on earth. You only blinked your eyes downwards once you were conscious and very much aware that your wide eyes and agape mouth had made his eyes sparkle with curiosity.

"Hi" was all you could muster. A feeble, pathetic excuse of a word that he could barely hear. He felt the corner of his lips pull up at your response.

"What are we actually supposed to be learning?"

You were surprised at his question. Did he actually wanna do the work? Or did he just want to talk to you? Or.. or... what was happening?? You blinked in response before clearing your throat.

"Well, today's lesson is about angels. You know, the different types of angels, and different religious interpretations of what they are like. Miss just finished talking about Guardian angels and-"

"Oh, I don't actually care sweetie," he chuckled lowly as you blushed ferociously at the sudden pet name. You suspected he was mocking you, but all the while his eyes held a warm curiosity as he continued to gaze at you. "I don't believe in angels or anything like that, tsk."

Perhaps he was passing the time. Making the lesson go faster for himself by making conversation. That's how you viewed it anyway.

"Why did you ask then?"

Your sudden boldness shocked you both, but you hid it well. His eyebrow quirked up with interest.

"I just wanted to that pretty voice of yours," he hummed, his tone a mixture of playful banter and flirtatious intent. It made your cheeks feel warm.

"Do you believe in any of this crap then?" He queried, suddenly looking away and taking a much more serious interest in his broken pencil, which he played with masterfully and with great skill between the fingers of his right hand.

You tried not to get defensive about his ignorant and outright rude attitude. Part felt that that's what he wanted. He wanted to lure you into a trap, an argument, and all just for his amusement.

"I like the idea of guardian angels," you paused to look away from him, your gaze sinking to your desk again, "having someone to watch over you like that... I don't know... the whole idea makes me feel less... less lonely."

That was your truth. This wasn't the first conversation you envisioned having with him. It felt a bit strange, a bit peculiar. Too deep too quick, especially with someone like him.

You expected him to scoff at this considering his previous remark. But you felt him gaze at you once more. He didn't tut, he didn't hum in response. He just turned away without another word.

That was the first time you interacted with Seonghwa. And you had a feeling, deep down, that it would be your last.

I mean, who were you kidding? You both guys ran in different circles. Had different lives, different friends, different... everything.

You knew this, and you knew this well. So why were you still thinking about him?

You felt he was undoubtedly out-of-your-league in all aspects. Looks, attitude, social status. Stuff that meant absolutely nothing to you but supposedly meant everything to everybody else. It was infuriating to tolerate these mindsets on a daily basis and yet you find yourself enduring and getting swallowed but the same expectations these mindsets create.

As you wallow in a stream of these thoughts you do not think for a second that the boy you now had eyes for - the delinquent who took a shine to you for reasons you could not explain - would be thinking about you in the same way.

But he was. And he hated it.

He wasn't a ladies' man like Wooyoung was. Wooyoung thrived when given attention from a pretty girl and he would do anything to impress them. Seonghwa was just not like that.

Rather, he preferred to flirt around, subtly. Throw a few winks here and there, biting his lip for too long as he made fleeting eye contact with as many girls as he could. He was quiet in his flirtatious endeavours, but he never really meant anything.

So he doesn't know why he starts feeling this way about you.

"What's the matter with you then?" Wooyoung nudged his friend, who seemed quieter than usual. The usual gang of boys met on the rooftop of the art building in their school. They would usually stay back well after hours, long until it gets dark. No one knew they were there, and jumping the gates was easy when they need to exit.

So that's where they were, vaping sloppily and drinking uncontrollably. The bottles of beers accumulated around the overflowing rubbish bin. It was surprising that no one caught on to their activities considering they were shamelessly loud, with zero fear of getting found out, perhaps because they got away with everything.

"Nothing, I'm fine," Seonghwa shrugged his friend off, staring down at the glass bottle in his hand.

Wooyoung isn't stupid. He knows when something isn't quite right. Better yet, he is persistent. Stubborn, even. Annoyingly determined to chip away at you until you crack. He gets what he wants.

"Must be some lucky girl for you to be thinking about her so much," Wooyoung teased as the rest joined in to chuckle. Seonghwa scowled at the boy, glaring at him in a way that would send chills to someone's heart. It was a shame that he was glaring at Wooyoung, who was simply brimming with audacity. Seonghwa knew better than to get into an argument with him, so he just kept quiet.

What Wooyoung said made him think though. Why was he thinking about you? Why you, specifically? His calculating eyes shifted from one object to another as he tried to pattern in his mind some sound reasoning.

Perhaps it was the way you looked at him. Well, other people stared at his face on a daily. He just looked so perfect. So absolutely stunning. As Seonghwa looked back he realised you had the same gaze and yet something different. It was obvious you admired his appearance, perhaps even shocked when seeing him up close. However, he recalled a certain trace of curiosity. Of excitement. And as you stared at his face like this, he didn't realise was studying yours.

Yet, there was something in the way you interacted with him; the spike of boldness that shot out of you was something he didn't quite expect. Most girls either stammer like idiots when trying to talk to him, or they screech and giggle and touch him playfully when he doesn't want them to. There's no in-between. So admittedly, he was caught a bit off guard by how you responded to him.

And he liked being caught off guard.

It had been a long ass day and you were, quite frankly, fed up. With your last lesson just finished you were so, so ready to go. Shoving your notebooks into your already heavy bag, you were stopped by the teacher.

"Y/N, I was just wondering if you wanted to join some extracurricular activities? It would really boost up your grades and would make your CV look excellent-"

Ah yes, of course. Here comes the lecture all the bright pupils get which guilt trip them into joining some weird club that no one goes to. You've heard this all before, and you weren't considering it now. It's a shame your teacher caught you at the wrong time because you were barely able to keep your eyes open from pure exhaustion as she spoke to you.

"Thanks Miss, but I've been really busy lately.."

You could see the disappointment in her face but you were so done with the day that you didn't even care.

"Just think about it, okay?"

Heaving a sigh, you slung your bag over your shoulder while the teacher left the classroom.

You knew one of the boys was still there, lurking at the back somewhere. The same group of boys always stayed back and you couldn't possibly think why. And you didn't dare to ask.

"Hey, Princess~"

You couldn't pin that voice on a face. It sounded familiar, but all the boys' voices sounded the same. Only Wooyoung's voice stood out the most since he talked so damn much. And, of course, Seonghwa's...

"You joining a stupid little club for your favourite teacher, eh?"

It was so petty you could've laughed. You turned around to face whoever this boy was, and his name escaped you. His name didn't matter to you regardless.

It unnerved you that he was by himself. Sure, having a whole group of them sneer at you wasn't ideal, but being alone with this guy after school hours made you want to run. But you didn't.

Your unamused face made the boy chuckle as you stared directly into his eyes. You wish you hadn't looked there, because surely you must have looked terrified by now; how he stalked up to you with confidence and intensity of a crow attacking a fresh piece of roadkill.

You stood your ground.

"No, I decided not to."

End of conversation. Done. Dusted. Swept under the rug.

Surely?

He was at an uncomfortable distance now, too close for someone you don't know. And even closer for someone you didn't want to know.

"Good girl."

You shivered. The dread built up in the pit of your stomach.

"Still," he mused, "a strip club doesn't sound so bad."

He had you pressed up against the table as his hands started for the strap of your vest top, a finger curling around it as he slowly started to pull it down. You were paralysed. Eyes wide with fear and disbelief and confusion. You should've run, you told yourself. You should've run you stupid girl.

"Get your fucking hands off her!"

There was a voice, familiar in its depth, but not so familiar in its intensity and rage. Both of you snapped your head over to find Seonghwa, his eyes emoting the most indescribable anger someone could ever feel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you man, let us have our fu-"

It was too late. A fist thrown to the face was enough to send the boy flying. He was weak as he crashed down dramatically into one of the desks. Seonghwa moved to him and kept going. Punch, kick, slam. The boy would be bruised for weeks.

But he ran off anyway, stumbling out of the class. The heavy footfall of his feet echoed down the hall.

You and Seonghwa stared at each other in silence.

His eyes were full of regret. Regret that he didn't stay behind with his 'friend.' Regret that he let you see this violent side of him. Regret that he wasn't there for you. If he hadn't come in at the right time-

Your eyes were filled with sorrow, vision clouded by the beads of tears that formed at the bottom of your eyes. You had felt so alone, so out of your depth and in danger.

"Thank you so much," you burst into tears. You grabbed him and sunk your head into his chest and sobbed into the fabric of his t-shirt. Holding him close into a feeble, yet certain, hug. It was not something you intended to do, but in the overwhelming situation you found yourself in, you felt you owed him the world.

So a hug will do for now.

"Of course he's out of the group, what are you even saying? It's no problem! He was a twat anyway."

Wooyoung sucked on his lollipop with such passion and vigour that Seonghwa thought he was going to inhale and choke on it, which admittedly would've been quite funny.

They sat by themselves on the rooftop, dangling their feet over the edge. They could see the sunset very clearly. It was beautiful. Wooyoung teased that it was almost... romantic! Of course this caused to threaten to push him over the edge for.

"You really pummelled him in though. He's got a black eye and everything. I never thought you were the type," Wooyoung said through slurps, talking with his lollipop still in his mouth.

Seonghwa stared at the sun ahead, its rays giving his face an ethereal glow.

"I don't care."

There was a moment of silence. Seonghwa's eyes stared ahead.

"I can't let anything happen to her."

"Why though?"

"I don't know. I don't even know!"

"I do."

"Huh?"

"You L word her."

Wooyoung chose this moment to flutter his eyelashes mockingly at Seonghwa.

"Shut up."

"You do!"

"That doesn't make any sense I don't even know her."

Seonghwa may have said this but, in his heart, he knew he was wrong. Deep down he knew you. He had watched over you, observed the way you talk, what your interests are, what classes you liked the most that make your eyes light up, and what classes you hated and never put your hand up in. All from the back of the class, he would peak every now and then just to make sure you were okay. Like a guardian angel-

"Maybe you want to know her."

Seonghwa looked at his friend with an eyebrow quirked.

"How does your eyebrow not hurt from you doing that so much I will never know..."

"You're a pain in my ass, Wooyoung."

Seonghwa chuckled and gazed at Wooyoung fondly. It was nice having a friend like him to talk to about anything. Wooyoung can be crazy at times but he always has his back, that's for sure.

"Don't worry, I got this for you."

Seonghwa scrunched up his face in confusion.

"Wait wha-"

"Shhh, don't worry. I have an idea~"

"Not another one of your crazy-ass ideas."

"Don't worry. You're gonna love this one!"

The end of the day on the last day of term felt like such a rush. Nothing exciting happened but you didn't expect much to begin with.

"Bye, I'll see you after summer," you hugged one of your friends goodbye, giving them a squeeze. It would be lonely without them for all this time, as they were going on holiday. There was a certain emptiness you felt at the bottom of your heart when you watched them walk away. You felt there was nothing to look forward to until they returned. It was a shame.

The hallway was starting to lull down with its usual chaos and students fled the school as soon as the bell rang. One by one, students disappeared until only a few remained around you.

As you fiddled with the keys to your locker, on opening it a piece of paper slipped out of it.

Your eyes sparkle with curiosity as you leaned down to pick the paper up. It was small and folded. Your fingers worked at opening it up, revealing slanted handwriting in black biro pen:

'Meet me on the art room roof.

~ Your Guardian Angel'

Your eyes glossed over now, staring at the paper. It was hard for you to examine what you had felt. It wasn't disbelief or shock or confusion. It was certainty. Relief. Comfort.

Smiling to yourself, you did as you were instructed. There was a quickness in your step, a skip of hope and anticipation as you marched to the other side of the school.

Up the stairs to the art classroom, opening the fire exit door and up some more stone stairs, cold and loud with each footstep. And up you were, on the roof, the sky now open to you with open arms as you were embraced by a warm breeze.

There stood Seonghwa, his slicked back hair shining in the sun. His shirt was untucked and hanging over his black trousers, and he wore his usual white bomber jacket on his back, which you thought, at this moment, looked like two angel wings. Perhaps you were romanticising, but it was his fault.

His back was to you as he stood near the edge of the roof. It was like he was posing, like he was in a movie and this was his action shot. As the drone camera circulates around him, getting a 360 cinematic shot of him, his face would be revealed as daring, determined eyes shining in his passion. That's what you had imagined.

"Is this my guardian angel?"

There was no movement when he heard your voice. You expected him to turn around but maybe he had other plans. Maybe he wanted you to come to him. On debating about it in your mind, you decided to give in, shuffling closer until you were right beside him, staring out into the distance just like he did.

"I don't believe in that crap, you know that."

This statement didn't hurt you. His voice was soft, playful, almost melodic. There was a purposeful gentleness about his words in which no man had ever spoken to you before.

A silence was shared between you both, and you couldn't discern whether it was awkward or just simply... was.

"But I like the idea of it," he continued. "The whole idea makes me feel less... lonely."

You recognised your own words that you had said to him before, and suddenly the bubbling sensation of hope erupted in your heart.

He turned to you with a fond smile, and at that moment your eyes connected. You had never felt so at ease when gazing into someone's eyes before. Seonghwa had a warm reassurance that no one could quite match.

Pulling you close to him, he embraced you gently, head atop yours as you both gazed out at the view together. It felt so intimate, like you had both shared a secret, that could never be told to another soul. It felt safe, comfortable. It just felt right.

Secure in his arms, shielded, protected: that's where Seonghwa wanted you to be, always.

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twilightzoneletters · 1 year

Text

[2:38 pm]

seonghwa's heart flutters as he looks at you. his palm face up in one of your own, you trace the lines in his palm with your fingers.

he looks at you, eyes sparkling, soft smile on his lips as he studies your features.

he can't believe you're actually his.

#soft hwa hours #this man im so soft for hes so 🥹🫶🏻#seonghwa imagine #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa drabble #seonghwa blurb #seonghwa au #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa angst #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #ateez reactions #ateez drabbles #ateez blurbs #ateez au #ateez x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst

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hwaightme · 20 days

Text

Panacea

(masterlist)

🌊pairing: poet!seonghwa x doctor!gn!reader 🌊genre: fluff, slice of life, slow burn, healing, strangers to lovers, comfort 🌊summary: what do a poet who lost his inspiration and a cosmetic surgeon who lost their empathy have in common? when you make an escape from the city to a memory-filled cottage on the edge of the world, you meet park seonghwa, a poet who, after growing fatigued of shallow critique and unwanted attention, is on a search for true beauty. you, a surgeon who cannot bear to hear nor assess another patient , abhor its twisted definitions. as the seasons change, storms abate and your paths entangle, you discover a new, unparalleled kind of beauty. 🌊wordcount: 32.8k 🌊warnings/tags: semi-edited, attempts at sijo (forgive me), discussion of beauty standards, mention of surgery/clinics, weather imagery, nightmares, discussion of life and death (jokes relating to death), talk of oc death, urban/rural comparisons, isolation, burnout, philosophy, judgement of media, seaside, cliffs, dialogue + inner thoughts, perspective switching, falling in love, loving another's mind, talk of what is 'real' beauty, food (incl. meat), eating, cooking, implied anxiety, implied impulsive thoughts, sneak into home, lmk if anything else 🌊author's note: happy birthday, seonghwa, wishing for you and for atiny alike to have a cherished panacea and a love brighter than the stars <3 hope you enjoy, all reblogs and notes appreciated~

🌊playlist: 'unreal unearth' and 'unheard' by hozier, 'dark corners and alchemy' + reason to live by mehro, love letter from the sea to the shore by delaney bailey, okinawa by 92914, yeti + village song by paris paloma, exhale inhale by aurora, butterflies by tom odell, house song by searows, cornflower blue by flower face, icarus and apollo by ripto, the view between villages by noah kahan, my love mine all mine + i'm your man by mitski, when i c u by pomme

⋆✧. seonghwa .✧⋆

Art. Expression, embodiment, eternity. The world was art. From how the leaves trembled in the wind to how the water rippled, from a heartwarming smile to an earth-shattering glare, everything could be immortalised with an inspired, skilled transition. A perception of the eyes or the heart or the mind could be turned into anything from what might have been virtually nothing. Internal palaces, interpretation, innovation all were crafted and translated through art, onto canvases - trillions of brushstrokes, onto countless pages - trillions of priceless words, onto generations - wisdom and creation passed from one to another, all throughout history, leaving no stone unturned. To study and perceive art was to learn of the beauties of the universe, with beauty being a reflection of both aesthetics and terror. Such was life, and it breathed through the arts. From the beginning of time all the way to the modern era, art was a human’s true loyal companion. And even after the human would pass, art remained, loyal, vigilant, forever telling the tale that was cast onto a medium. One does not create art, one breathes it.

This is exactly why when an artist cannot create, it feels as though air has been knocked out of the lungs, a boulder weighed down on the chest, and the priceless essence of inspiration’s air could not be further away - a lost soul sinking into the hopeless abyss. The world grew darker and darker, until it fell silent. The artist, the art - a relationship of worship and boundless adoration, but also that of treachery and misery. Such was the fate of the one who stepped onto the thorned path of creation. One such humble human who, unlike a myriad of others, stumbled into the realm by accidental interest and longstanding innate passion, and due to the spontaneity and retained connection with the self had achieved relatively impressive success, was none other than Park Seonghwa. The poet. The visionary. The artist. Blessed with the spoken and written word, craftsmanship in rhythm and rhyme, grace in prose, he was a promising rising star in a progressively shallow world. As the consciousness melted into brevity and emotionlessness, he fearlessly dived into what made the soul, picking it apart, analysing it, and pouring the golden threads onto paper. An observer, he loved the colours of nature with all his heart. Every season, every day retained a magnificence for him which he tried to depict and incorporate in his work. Both experimental and traditionally sound, his “studies of daily life miniature wonders”, as he called his poetry, resonated.

But, as known far and wide, resonance brings expectation, and Seonghwa could not escape it either. Invitation after invitation, interviews and talk shows, signings if he was lucky to find a group of those truly interested in his craft; events all came clawing at him, tearing at his energy and soundness of mind until there was barely anything left, and even then, the droplets remaining were only thanks to his suddenly rediscovered harshness, followed by a series of declinations and digital disappearances. He made people feel, and in turn, the people felt like he owed them. The so-called success, or, in other words a nightmarish scrutiny that he could never foresee in the midst of his art, did not come without unrelated commentary either. From his attire to his physique to his facial expressions during public events - and on the occasion someone would recognise him on the street: his neutral, perfectly relaxed face, were all now considered to be public property. He could not breathe. Seonghwa’s hand shuddered whenever he would lift it in an attempt to write, aching, a nervous tremor turning into an earthquake the more he strained himself.

It was an impossible venture. Everywhere Seonghwa looked, everywhere he went, there were eyes and opinions, louder than his mind could ever be. The wind was no longer whistling a melody, returning to an indecipherable cacophony. The strawberries that the poet had purchased in the super store on the way to the edge of nothingness, where he was staying, were no longer sweet, crimson warnings left to rot in a bowl on the windowsill as he scurried from room to room out of fear of being spotted from the outside. There should be no one where he escaped to - an ancient cottage that belonged to a relative whom he had never known, but had spontaneously gotten close to out of necessity - was it a cousin?… leading to a spot where nothing ran, life was but a stillness, obedient to the sun and rain, lifting sorrows with the fog, falling into a slumber with the blanket of the pitch black night. In an effort to avoid the crowds and the rashness of his own potential future actions, Seonghwa had made an escape to what he would call ‘the void’. Forest, barely a hamlet to house civilization in the distance, sea. Infinite expanse of grassland, cliffsides, seagulls ceaselessly patrolling the skies. Within the first few days he had already forgotten where he was, and where he had come from. Such was existence without inspiration and purpose.

Rise and pretend to follow rhythm. One word on a page, floating towards abandonment. Ink drying. Lukewarm tea descending into the mouth of the sink. Swaying tulle, the only reminder that there was movement. Seonghwa collapsed onto the cream-coloured sofa, his dark tresses which had gotten considerably longer over his period of hiding after the astonishing battles with too many opinionated ignoramuses spilling over a throw pillow. He shut his eyes, a dull pressure behind them and of his temples becoming more pronounced. When was the last time he had a truly restful handful of hours of sleep? It would be bold to assume that he could answer that question. He could hear the creaking of the fence gate outside - the construction had a mind of its own, having sagged under its age and the salty air. Now, one of its corners sometimes dragged along the gravel path leading from the cottage out, and to the vistas of a tumultuous seaside. No one in sight except himself, and even then, Seonghwa avoided mirrors, terrified that he, too, would begin to repeat the utterings voiced to him again, and again. Black tar that stuck itself to his brain. He rubbed his temples, pinched the bridge of his nose, massaged his forehead, knowing full well that whatever he was planning to do was futile. There was no cure to this kind of sorrow. Only time. Fatigued from deliberation and heavy dread that plagued him, reducing function to nil, Seonghwa drifted, only the echoes of a suppressed catharsis haunting him.

It was a lulling ripple. Susurration of the shimmering waves, languidly guiding the timid moonlight. As the wind picked up, so did the infinite blanket of deep midnight blue, decorated with threads of pure silver. The whispers soon transformed into a harmony of echoes, filling the air with a chilling premonition. The quietude – the chosen one, to be sacrificed to the orchestration of natural disorder, a cyclical necessity. There was no rule, no need. Only the endless expanse of the living, breathing, turbulent waters. A storm. A roar engulfed the atmosphere, and all that dared oppose the metamorphosis. Imminent destruction of aquatic grace, devolving into a nightmarish, ghoulish madness. Reminiscent of a clamour, the waves crashed against your consciousness, persistently, repeatedly, threatening to tear away at your cranium and pour over into your lungs, taking ownership of your paralysed form.

Seonghwa struggled to catch a single breath, heaving, and yet running on empty, a shallow, superficial hint of oxygen lumped in his oesophagus. An unforgettable burning – his eyes, his nose, his lips, all enslaved by the agonising salt that penetrated their protective membranes and made him shriek as it buried itself in his cooling bloodstream. Seonghwa was losing to the elements, succumbing to the fatigue that was seeping into his aching, overstrained limbs. On the verge of giving up and letting go of the spirit that had driven him to struggle in the first place, he tried to shut his eyes just as he had done to his art, praying he would be let down slowly.

In futility and a sudden moment of clarity, the world went silent once more, only with a soft bubbling to accompany as he descended further and further down into the dark abyss, bidding farewell to the omniscient, looming and cruel sky. He was unsure whether what he was experiencing was a hallucination or a reality, however he distinctly felt gentle arms wrap around him, and pull him close to the body of another being, cradling his drowning form. The young poet allowed himself to relish in the sensation, lest it be the last, ignoring the light that was approaching once more. It was impossible to assume for it to be anything except the path to divinity, and for the trusted guide of the currents to be a guardian angel, carrying him through the sea to his final judgement.

The foreign warmth unwound Seonghwa, and he was in a blissful state of somnolence. Nothing existed except him and the sea that embraced him, sheltered him from the squall above the surface. The state was reminiscent of an embryo, yet to experience the harsh realities, beatific and unaware of what was to come. A mysterious stranger, a figure of grace made of sea foam, erasing his terrors and returning him to the terrestrial realm where he belonged. The sea, bewildered and endeared with his feeble mortality had bestowed mercy upon him - a foreign act, and yet it turned into a saving grace from the treacherous domain. He was not a being of the prejudiced, ravenous ocean. As his back felt the wet sand beneath, and a pressure on his chest, expelling water that was ravaging his lungs grew stronger, he was more confident in his livelihood, despite having lost his breath, his sight, his hearing. Nothing existed except a storm somewhere far from him, and a brutal stinging of salt that consumed the arteries. The liquid trickled from his frozen lips and down his cheeks, absorbed by the grains that were already sneaking into his hair. The pressure was getting more intense, bordering on unbearable. His ribs, subdued by agony, were begging for relief. His mouth opened in a silent scream, a hand shot out into the darkness. A snap. A crashing of a wave.

Seonghwa jolted awake, feeling his chest and looking around. The window, which had previously been left open only a crack, had swung open fully, and the tulle had flown out with what had to be an oncoming gale. A drumming resonated from the inner walls of the house, one which he decisively ignored and let it be consumed by the chaos outside. Leaning over to take a cautious peek, the young man rapidly discovered a downpour that was soaking the thin, white material - a flag begging for forgiveness from nature. He hurried from the sofa, almost stumbling over his feet and the carpet, careful to not slip on the puddle that started to form below the sill, on the aged floorboards. Cursing under his breath, he fought against the creaking wood that was ruthless in wishing to hold the window in place, until, in a final fit of frustration, Seonghwa pulled wildly, nearly tumbling back as the frame slid into its rightful location with a stubborn shake. He hit the curved iron handle back into position, noting how even more of the white paint on the frame had chipped off, and the wood beneath was starting to show signs of potential rot. Since he was merely a guest, though it was nearly approaching half a year that he had been residing in the cottage, he would have to call someone in his family about this, wouldn’t he? A stray finger glided over the damage, and he pondered how long it had been since the wear and tear had started. Who was it that left this cottage to abandon, for people who were virtually strangers to occupy for a temporary retreat?

He placed a hand to his chest, feeling the beating of his erratic heart, not yet calm from the nightmare. Curious, how the sea had crept into his mind so strongly. The guardian and the destroyer of the surrounding grounds. A mirror of the skies with a presentation and strength of its own. Undoubtedly scornful of his hollow presence - an artist who ceased to create. What could be more tragic and distasteful? He pulled at the loosely woven white sweater that hung loosely on his body, pinching the white sleeveless tee underneath when he spotted a speck of dust, or was it a grain of sand? He raised an eyebrow, trying to contain the particle between his fingers but failing to do so as it rolled down until it disappeared against the floor. Right, he had cleaning to do. He shook his head and led himself to the kitchen, where he grabbed rags, a bucket, some supplies to aid him in fixing up the attacked corner of the living room.

With an anxious swiftness, Seonghwa took down the translucent curtain and wiped the floorboards, the wall, the window sill, sighing at the scenery outside. Steely grey skies and thunderous clouds the colour of smoke and ash, diagonal rain rendering it almost impossible to see the rocky cliffs and hills that otherwise highlighted his vista. Waves took on a hue that was reminiscent of a mixture of emerald and onyx, with thick streaks of foam the colour of melancholy. Rocks, eroded and reshaped by the waters, were splotches of black in the landscape, and the tall grass - golden and green from the tedium of perpetual beatdowns by the sun and the storms, brushstrokes that blended with the speeding droplets. He paused. How marvellous it was, to become one with the sky. A connection to the heavens as it weeped, mourning the mortal motion of the earth. He squeezed the rag feeling the clouds’ tears well up between the digits. Surely, if he had been saved in his dream, there was hope? Seonghwa tilted his head, still, ensnared by the scenery outside, not too dissimilar from what had been his unconscious battle. The sea saved him. His beloved nature, void of humanity, of quotidien illness innate to every being. Those graceful hands, sending him in a spinning dance through the grand depths, a soothing drowning. Blind to the temporary, he had the pleasure of consuming eternal presence. Perhaps this was a sign, and not a horror that he had lived through.

After wiping the last of the moisture and taking the items back to the kitchen, he ambled back to the room. There was nothing stopping the waves. Untouched - not by the fishermen who he would see from time to time, not by the adventurers tourists who wanted to take in the views of the rising sun, not by those who, at least on paper, owned the neighbouring lands. Everyone was subordinate to the sea. Including himself. The dream was a call. It had to have been. He put a palm over the centre of his ribcage, the bone whispering what had unfolded a mere few minutes ago. The intensity of what reminded Seonghwa of an exorcism was nothing short of a twisted blessing. A shy smile crept onto his lips as the cottage took the brunt of another gust of wind and spears of rain and a ghost of a plank somewhere in the house groaned. Or perhaps it was the cottage itself, mumbling a greeting to its waking occupant. Swaying of the history contained within the building, time in every chip of paint, in every brick.

There was not much to fear in the sea’s cradle. In the middle of nowhere, with only himself and the coming autumn to keep him company, Seonghwa sensed the ebbs and flows of his soul start up again. He raised his hand to eye level, stretching it out until the fingers were splayed apart and the palm was flat and facing the floor. Much to his unexpected delight, it remained steady, obedient, attuned to his present musings. His legs led the way, guiding him to a door that was located almost under the stairs. With a click of the handle, the room he had made his office and study was revealed. An antique lacquered mahogany table, much too large for the space available, had been a formidable foe for the last few months, and now, was shining a different colour. Seonghwa ran a hand over the intricate detailing of its edges as he pushed the matching chair back. Glanced up, took in the scenery on the other side of the window - much smaller than the one he had fought against, but allowing him to behold the memorable landscape nonetheless.

Gingerly, he pulled at the iron hook of the top drawer, revealing a black, leather bound notebook and a pen - his favourite, from the little shop down the street where he lived in the city. Glossy chrome silver, ergonomic, and made to be a medium for the arts. Seonghwa noted the dryness in his throat, and adjusted the collar of his sweater absent-mindedly. It was easy, right? Just pick up the pen, take out the book and open it, sit down and- and what next? He paused, hand hovering over his tools. What was next, indeed? Flutters of ideas like fragile butterflies suspended in the mind palace, wishing for transition into the world of the living. Could he do it? Upon asking himself the question, he swore he heard the sea roar louder, and the cottage creak in response. With a shake of the head, he decided. Enough was enough. He had to try - it was now or never. He fell into the seat, holding his breath as he clenched the pen, letting it dig into his skin - a lethal blade. A blank page scrutinised him. On instinct, he decorated it with ink, flowing into the barren landscape, introducing himself.

천둥과 회색 바다, 갈매기 울음소리 (the thunder and the grey sea, the crying of seagulls)

폭풍은 심장의 리듬을 만든다 (the storm makes the rhythm of the heart)

입술과 볼에 소금이 행복한 추억이다 (the salt on the lips and cheeks is a happy memory)

The rain was still pouring when Seonghwa woke up again, having resorted to resting his fatigued body on the same sofa rather than carrying it upstairs. It was quieter that way, without the tears pouring directly on the roof above. Having dipped his fingertips back into writing, and dabbling in a more liberal interpretation of sijo, he was spent, as though he had gone through a war, crawled under barbed wire to find his own reflection on the other side. The poet ran a hand through his locks, still messy from the tossing and turning that he had undoubtedly done while asleep - at least this time he had no dreams, even if it was exactly through such a manifestation that he had discovered the urge to try and revive his calling and skill. He checked the time, the antique clock on the other side of the room idly ticking away regardless of what happened around it. Early dawn, and yet the surroundings remained immersed in grey. He stretched, not caring for the wool throw that he had used as his blanket sliding down to pool on his lap. A strain in his neck - he tilted his head to stretch the sleepy, insubordinate muscle, wincing as he seemed to have struck a painful point of tension. It was time to rise with the rainclouds. Seonghwa shuffled into his slippers, the chill creeping across the floor discouraging him from forgoing the action, and grabbed the throw, folding it on reflex.

One foot in front of the other, eyes still half-shut, the walls served as guides towards the staircase, and the wooden handrail was a direct lead that let him doze as he felt for each new elevation. The rain pelted the skylight that shed some light on the stairs, the thrum an intense melody. And to think that it was sunny and warm - the epitome of summer, only a mere few days ago. Well, he said few days, but that was more a liberal interpretation than anything. Stuck on the edge of early spring, the seasons had passed by him at a menacing pace, summer, autumn, winter all blending into one monstrous creature. When he reached the second floor, something prompted him to pause. Seonghwa squinted, focusing on the door at the far end of the corridor, more specifically, the decorative woven carpet that was hanging off a neatly hammered nail right into its centre - ornate, depicting a lighthouse scene that had instantly made the young poet wonder if there was one in the vicinity of the cottage. But it was not the carpet itself that momentarily disturbed him, but rather the angle at which it was hanging. Over the time of Seonghwa being in this property so far, he had already done his fair share of cleaning and adjustments, as one would expect, but not a single time did he see the item move off the centre of the thread that was hooked onto the nail - perhaps only when the door itself was used. Since Seonghwa had selected a room that had windows that looked in the direction of the fence gate and main entrance, rather than to the side and towards the cliffs, he had no need to enter the darkness, only for general upkeep. What had made the item move? Raising an eyebrow, he approached the door, creaking of the floorboards accompanying him. No sound from behind the door. Only the heaving of the house that saw many storms in its day. A chuckle involuntarily escaped him as he adjusted the carpet - he must still be under the impression from the dream, that must be it. Everything was suspicious; but that was how he usually got when he was in the depths of ideation. Sensitive, responsive, one with the world. Patting the rough fabric, he turned, making his way to his quarters.

The decor was simple, minimalist, with echoes of nautical and rustic themes. A tiny model of a sailboat in a bottle, displayed on a slab of wood that must have been cut and taken from the forest nearby. A laundry basket made out of a rope so thick that Seonghwa assumed that it used to be on a ship before settling in the cottage for retirement. White sheets, with a line of pale baby blue chequered fabric running through the very top, marking its direction. Matching chequered pillows - large, soft clouds stuffed to the brim with feathers, perfectly made. The bed had been left untouched by him that night, and remained in suspense. He ran a hand over its edge, feeling the soft fabric. Carefully, he placed the throw at the end of the bed, and turned towards the double wardrobe - well, he was being rather kind to call it that. Not quite a single, not quite a double, the piece which looked to have been made by whoever had been the owner of the land a while back stood proud, without any particular definition. It served its purpose, and was happy to do so. From the carved patterns around the handles to how the doors easily swung open, this piece of furniture was nothing like what he would see in the city. It contained love, care. Was one of a kind. Perhaps that was another issue he would have to take care of, should he return to the metropolis soon - change his interior. There was enough standard decor for him to turn into an automaton. An apartment like everybody else’s. Enough space, but no room to breathe - existing only to live up to or fulfill expectations.

He changed into a pleasant neutrality - in fact, most of the clothing that Seonghwa had brought with him retained a quality of muted bliss. Beige and cream, black, white, shades of grey, a few patterned pieces containing navy, diluted pinks here and there, he wanted to blend into the scenery. Shake with the tall grass. Stretch his arms out and embrace the sky, floating towards it. But for now, a white shirt would have to do. He made a couple of small adjustments while looking at the mirror that hung above the cabinet directly at the end of the bed, flush against the wall, flicking the dangling silver earring that he had left in since yesterday, used to napping with the accessory. A couple of brushes with the comb he kept on said cabinet, and finally, the look was manageable. Knowing he would be careful, Seonghwa decided to wash up before continuing on with his day; more adventuring around the house, down the stairs and off to the side past the kitchen. He stared at his reflection, dismissing the hints of stubble that were beginning to show themselves - as if anyone would care if he scrapped shaving altogether. No one except himself. The rest of the steps he could not skip over, diligence and habit taking back the reins. Routine, but in the house so far removed from places where routine was king, it was reassuring.

Soon enough, there were scrambled eggs on a plate, fork lying to the side, and a steaming cup of black tea in his hand as he flicked through his midnight musings. Not too bad. Certainly not the best. At least not to him. His hand was rash, his thoughts unclear, his rhythm lacking. It had to be better than this; the voice of judgement returned to him and struck him like lightning, only this time, the current of the bubbling waves dampened the effect. Why was it that he began to sound like those he grew up and returned to listening to? So much running, and to return to the same vocalisations? Enough. He set the notebook down, and took a sip of the still hot tea. Clarity, that was what he had to practise. Since he was alone, he had no other opinion to fear, and could work on his reconnection with art to his heart’s content. Seonghwa was lucky enough to not be tied to anything nor anyone in particular, and the continuously rising popularity of the songs he had worked on as a poet and lyricist a little while ago ensured that if need be, he had financial cover.

A stray thought about the outside world passed him. Did he still matter, or was he gradually being forgotten? One wave after another, one artist was bound to surpass another. Such was the harsh reality. His breakfast was cooling as he stared at the pristine table cloth, mulling the notion over. Time ran differently here, that much was certain. Could that mean that out there in the city, centuries had already passed? What was he missing? A mild panic started to rise in his throat, and on instinct he stood up, foregoing the rest of his meal in favour of a stroll within the confines of the walls but not before grabbing the tiny black notebook.

One step, another, and soon he fell into a rhythm, traversing the territories of the kitchen, dining and living room area, ambling into the miniature office space, back out again until he was retracing the same patterns, writing characters on the floor with each footfall. He was ink, combatting resistance to absorption into the primordial canvas, towards artistic immortality. Seonghwa wanted to push himself at first opportunity. He had to write, had to provide the listening curtains and chairs with fresh prose or poetry, whatever came to mind and was reasonable first. He was Park Seonghwa, for goodness sake. It should come easy. The months were just a pause like that when one holds their breath. Each day a microsecond. The shake, starting from deep in his upper arm and trickling lethal poison down to his wrist and fingers, started to give signs of its awakening. No, it could not be! The poet stopped, not dissimilar to how a car would stop at the edge of a cliff. What was happening to him? The book found recluse from his spiritual agony above a fireplace, one of the elements of the house Seonghwa had had no reason to experiment with, not being bothered by the howling cold drafts. Toying with the edge of his sleeve, he succumbed to pensive disorder, eyes locked on the unassuming object.

"Not today then…" the utterance melted into the ambience, "fiendish creature."

Determined creaking of wood and its crash jolted him off the spot, and Seonghwa was almost pulling himself up the stairs. The house was old enough to need repairs, but this could be major, and all the more disastrous if the rain bled in. Heart jumping out of his chest he skipped steps, alarm bells ringing in his ears. He had been submerged in his philosophies for so long that he could have easily missed some more complex deteriorating hazard of the cottage, particularly since he never had to even consider such a thing back in the capital. Maintenance, checks, security… all automatic and managed by someone he would never see, while here, he was the one responsible. He, the pseudo-owner for the coming season, had to see the outcomes, and admonish himself in the mirror should anything go wrong, which was probably one of the reasons why he preferred to not use the object more than necessary. He turned his head side to side, to the skylight, behind him, all for nothing. Only the drizzle, and the decorative carpet, tilted. Like it had been pushed on purpose. He inched towards the door, looking for any shadows that may fall through the crack at the bottom and stretch outwards. Stopping right in front, he put an ear to it, while pretending to adjust the piece of fabric. Nothing, or the house was keeping secrets from him, too. Fed up with the mystery, he yanked the handle, and then gave it a violent twist and push, all to no avail, meeting a secure lock. Did he accidentally lock it the last time he had been in? Seonghwa could not remember, but the curious appearance of this issue was more than inspiring. The storm was playing tricks on the poet again, whispering devious tales in his ears. A late night fog, he descended to the ground floor in search of his weapons to carve the enigma, not hearing the sigh that carelessly escaped through the keyhole.

차가운 강철 바다가 겨울을 삼킨다 (the winter is swallowed by the cold steel sea)

모래는 신성한 행위의 비밀을 간직한다 (the sands hold the secret of the sacred act)

장난꾸러기 봄은 또 무엇을 가져올까 (what else will the mischievous spring bring?)

⋆✧. you .✧⋆

It wasn't that you were tired per se, it was just that if you were to spend another day doing what you had been doing, you would make it a personal goal to destroy the world. But you were smarter than acting on the manic rage that lapped at the shoreline of your consciousness, and so you did what any good citizen would do and removed yourself as cleanly as quietly as possible. On paper, there was nothing wrong, and a sabbatical did not seem to be out of order, especially considering the hours you had been putting in for the last few years. Some of your longer-term patients did have to be reshuffled of course, but you did not mind that one bit - they would not be haunting you anymore, at least not for the time period of professionally approved evaporation. There was no greater joy than shoving your identification badge into a drawer and ridding yourself of your scrubs for longer than a few hours.

Bare essentials in a rucksack and a train ticket was all you needed, and once you arrived at your safe haven, it would be piece of cake to hitch a ride from one of the farmers you had befriended - who knows, maybe this time around you could get on one of the fancy new tractors. When the prospect of returning to your favourite place was feeling more real, you could not help yourself but turn back to your tendencies of being a dreamer. It was always more delightful to live in the clouds to the rhythm of the sun’s rays rather than to a beeping of the heart monitor. You could almost imagine the journey, the beauty of it all.

But that turned out to be the farthest from the washed out reality that was possible. Somewhere around two thirds of the way to your sacred destination, right around the time when a toddler - evidently born and raised in the urbanscape, had finally stopped whining about going to some place where "there was nothing", and dozed off, huge storm clouds started to roll in from the direction of the coast. Just peachy, especially when your destination was a cottage that might as well have its address quoted as 'the sea'. But you were not made of sugar and could stand a couple of angry raindrops on your waterproof jacket, and besides these problems were ones you much preferred to deal with, unlike the constant barrage of everything at once back in the concrete cage. Less yammering, and the words that were exchanged in the country were compact, concise, meaningful. No beating around the bush or claiming ownership of other people's business, so long as you didn't interact too closely. But that was what the distance between the beloved cottage and any more major settlements was for - the most secure barrier of them all was time and energy, and very few would want to waste that on an extra trip that would be entirely fruitless.

A couple of droplets was an understatement as your soaked clothes were quick to tell you. Thanks to the unusually strong storm for this time of year there was no way for you to get to your asylum easily either. No one was out, and no good person would let even their work dogs out in such weather. You, however… you could not care less about it, or about anything except getting to the cottage for that matter.. Some sacrifices were worth it. And so after getting to the tiny village thanks to the same family with the toddler since it was on the way - the last remotely reliable collection of society before natural and non-human wilderness, through sludge and torrential downpour you tread, practically having to feel your way forward since the downpour painfully obscured your vision. Your feet knew the right path at least, and after you had donated the last of your social supplies to those metropolitan holidaymakers for your own benefit, with every metre you conquered you ended up striding faster and faster. Until you saw the lights. They could only mean two things. Either Old Man Yang came back to life and was perusing his grounds like Old Hamlet, or there was a guest. As much as you wanted the answer to be the former, it was obvious enough that the occupant was somebody else. Not that you were too bothered. You knew this house like the back of your hand, and were aware of how to get in and out pretty much unnoticed. Plus, it would not be the first time you would be doing so. Most people limited themselves to a couple of rooms, fearing that they would be overstepping should they actually ‘make themselves at home’ - a huge advantage for you when it came to climbing in. Little did they know that they would make Old Man cuss them out for their timidness if he were still around.

The first step was to avoid the front gate - a flimsy construction that had been installed without much skill nor effort, and so performed what you would generously call the bare minimum, only just holding itself together. Slanted and chipped, the fencing was in an abysmal state, off-putting, marking anyone who needed to stay at the cottage as truthfully desperate. You smiled bitterly - what a realisation. You continued on your way to the other side of the plot, barely guarded by a bush fence and the occasional appearance of proper stone fence pieces. This was mainly for show, to mark that the owner, or well, previous owner of the house was aware of what was ‘standard practice’ around these parts. Outward aesthetics was something that you had grown to despise over the years, hence why the tongue in cheek mockery of it in this construction spoke to your soul, and made the haven that much more homely. It was good to be back.

You navigated to the back of the house and ducked to squeeze through the hole on the wall. Much to your fortune, the room that was the speediest to access from a stealthy climb onto the shed located to the side of the building and a couple of shuffles of boxes was empty, though shockingly clean. It was obvious to the naked eye that the bedroom was visited quite regularly, at least to keep things neat and dustless. You nodded to yourself as you took off your shoes and clothes, shoving them in an oversized plastic bag that you had packed, originally for future laundry, now as a way to keep the items from bringing the rain indoors. The cold air hit you in one swoop, sending a series of shivers over your bare body. Hopping to the chest of drawers, you haphazardly went over the contents of each one until you found the towels, wrapping yourself in the largest one and throwing another onto the floorboards, roughly shoving it over to the puddle that still had formed under the bag. Once satisfied with the half-hearted drying, you changed into a fresh and remotely warmer set of clothes and hopped under the covers, drowsy and worn out from the impromptu hike and battering from the violent skies.

Just as your eyes started getting heavier and heavier, and you were losing yourself in the sound of the rain against the roof - a favourite of yours when it came to forgetting the nonsense you had to work towards back in the capital, the creaking of the footsteps jolted you from the somnolent fall and back to high alert. Was the guest brave enough to venture onto the second floor? Really? You concluded that they were comfortable using one of the other bedrooms, and that they were alone - the latter was a commonality among the guests of Old Man’s home, however, so that conclusion did not take much work. The steps ceased to resound across the corridor right behind the door, leaving shadows through the creak below. You froze and inadvertently held your breath, waiting for the guest’s next move. It was not that you were particularly scared of the potential interaction, but you did not want to deal with the terror that they might experience of having a random stranger appear in a house that was in the middle of nowhere. To a person ‘not in the know’, your presence would be more than horrifying. And so to do the other party, and your sleepiness, a favour, you stayed put.

More shuffling, a tug on the decor on the other side of the door - so sensitive that it probably shifted because of your jumping about, and in what must have been a quarter of an hour, maybe even less, the guest disappeared downstairs. The rain had gotten lighter since the time when you had just arrived. Rustling. Pots and pans clinking against one another. Opening of the fridge - so the stranger was making breakfast. You grinned into the bedsheets and snuggled into the warmth. How you missed this place. Its sounds, its welcoming nature, its beauty that defeated all definitions of the word. There were no standards that you needed to abide by while safely by the sea. No roadblocks, no arguments, no regrets or shame on people’s faces. Perhaps this was another reason why you did not want to interact with the guest - that would mean you having to stare at them, and goodness forbid you would be unable to turn off your work brain and end up micro analysing them. No, you needed to sleep that off. At some point while you were drifting in semi-consciousness the pacing that the stranger had commenced had stopped, and a concerning silence washed over the property. Eyebrows furrowed, you lifted your upper body. When no other sound came, you slid out of the bed, too curious to try falling asleep now. One step, another and you were already turning the door knob, cautious to push the door discreetly. You listened. Creak, sigh, so they were still-

That deep and smooth voice? So the guest was likely male, okay stay calm. You tried to reason, but the phrase kept replaying in your head, and you found yourself being ashamed to admit that, at least from this distance, the tone was more than pleasant. Perhaps you should try introducing yourself - at least to have a conversation. What were you thinking? This was someone who you did not know, someone who could be dangerous, who could attack you - no, not today, not ever. At least not until you were to run out of crackers, apples and water in your bag. Rapidly, you reversed into the living room and without a second thought, shut the door like you normally would. Clearly, you could not think straight after lateral human interaction as almost instantly you heard chaotic shuffling from downstairs. In one last strive to protect yourself you remembered the key to the door that was located on a tiny table set right by the wall to the right. One swipe, one twist, and you launched yourself into the bed in an effort to hide and minimise any movement for when the man arrived. And just in time, because just under quarter of a minute later, the stranger was back, and was attempting to enter the room while you were damning your curiosity. It was comical how the only thought that crossed your mind was the hope that if you were to cross paths with him eventually, that you would not have to cut your getaway short and go back to the heartbreaking world of expectations, regrets and erasure. Perhaps it was selfish to say, but here, in the cottage, you could live for yourself and think for yourself for once and not feel as though you were overstepping.

At some point between then and the moment you realised that the rain had stopped, you had fallen asleep, missing the entirety of the morning. You were gazing at the walls, the light from the window, the silhouette that your items strewn about on the floor, with different eyes. A revival. You were finally home. And that was when your own behaviour hit you; indeed, you were home! No matter who that other person was, you knew the ins and outs of this house better than anyone else, and just listening to the man walk around was enough to make the conclusion that he was definitely a newcomer. Probably was here for some weeks, maybe a month at most, but that was not enough to be aware of the creaks in the stairs or where all of the emergency supplies were located - the shed had been left untouched all this time, as you had spotted out of the corner of your eye. He was being cautious. Not quite living. Well, at least he was being respectful.

You patted the bed and slid out from under the covers with a stretch. The hints of sunshine were protruding through the clouds, transforming the views from your window into an infinite stretch of dewy, silvery green and a glistening and bashful blue, protected by the rolling behemoths of cloud up above. For once, you were looking forward to the coming day. You pushed yourself off the bed and stepped closer, now having the fence that you had recently infiltrated the cottage through in your sight and beyond it - the same gorgeous grassland that broke into a shallow, albeit fragile dockside. Technically, it was still part of a long series of cliffs, revealing limestone and chalk and iron from all ages, but that was a two or three hour walk down the coastline. Here, those titans were friendly pets that you could easily scale and hop down from. Nonetheless, they did a brilliant job in separating the marine from the earthly, reminiscent of the mythical division of the mortal and heavenly realms. Upon closer inspection, you noticed a certain someone treading that legendary midpoint, dressed in a simple shirt and wide, skirt-like trousers. You leaned onto the window sill, well aware that it was not going to do much in helping you discern the details that made up the enigmatic figure, but you were going to pretend like you were confident in your assumptions about the aesthetic appeal.

Dark hair, falling to somewhere close to the shoulders, tall in stature, of a thinner build, or at least that was what you guessed when the figure turned to step closer to the edge. They were holding something in either hand, and whatever it was appeared important, but the distance concealed such tiny details from you. You couldn't quite form a complete picture, but it was easy enough to put two and two together from the silence that currently reigned over the house and the stranger out for a stroll, that this was probably your impromptu housemate. Not too bad, a nice blob in the distance that you could appreciate through the horizon's blur. More importantly, this person with dark hair and a deep voice was giving you control over the ground floor for a short while, and you desperately needed to make use of the resources located there. You laid out a high speed itinerary for yourself and made a dash for the door, counting the seconds that each task took you. This behaviour was something you were unlikely to ever get rid of - your studies, and then your job both permitted you too little time to have the luxury of wasting it. How long could an inhale and exhale take?

It was astonishing just how neat the cottage was - you dared to say that it was the neatest that you had ever seen it - major refurbishment and repair requirements aside. So this guy was detail oriented, clean and homely, huh? You ran a hand over the kitchen counter while passing it to rush to the shower raising your eyebrows at the lack of dust. Damn, you might have underestimated what kind of guest this individual was. Your surprise was not limited to the main living area - the bathroom almost reminded you of the scrub room and theatre with how spotless it was. Not a single timescale stain on the glass or mirror, perfectly arranged decorations, laundry basket and towels. Even the bar of soap was turned to the smaller side so that it would be easier to use and not linger in moisture. Inadvertently, you shivered, almost slamming the bar down and moving to ruffle the towels just the slightest bit so there would be a breath of life in them. You kicked the bath mat slightly off centre, disturbed by its impeccable alignment with the tiles. Oh, this man might become your enemy. This was about to become a crisis.

One purposefully careless shower later, you had drawn a smiley face on the mirror and were now unceremoniously raiding the kitchen, claiming that you were famished and urgently needed to make the most chaos-inducing meal of all time, which given the available ingredients just so happened to be a monstrous apple pie. You were not sure what exactly provoked you and caused you to ignite the oven with a fire of rage, and channel a palette of negativity into beating butter and sugar, but this was most certainly the most ‘vigorously’ that you had ever made a pie. Whizzing through the stages of making the pastry and sending it away to cool, you took to making the filling, whispering each one of your actions out loud, narrating as though you were back in the operating room. You needed the knife, you needed the cinnamon, you-

Slamming the utensils onto the cutting board, nearly sending a small ceramic bowl flying in the process as your sleeve slipped over its rim, you groaned in disapproval. This was exactly what you were trying to escape from, and yet anything you did was simply returning you to your daily life. Why did your hands, your mind have to live in just one place, erasing the moments when your body as a whole experienced joy? Why was it so easy to retrace the steps back into personal nightmares? Damn your steady hands, your unbreakable focus. To hell with it all. On the verge of throwing the knife at the neighbouring wall, you toyed with the handle. You were tired. So unbelievably tired of the nonsense that had accumulated over your time back in the city. While anyone else would say that you had been lucky to receive what you had - an education in a prestigious university, renowned across the nation, residency in high ranking hospitals, settlement in a private clinic in an expensive district, a career in the medical field that was deemed ‘not too intense nor too gory’... you could not help but wish to burn it all in favour of the paradise that you ran to.

Your childhood. Carefree, in a small town by the sea. In fact, on a clear day you could see the outlines of it from here - on many occasions you had stood by the fence gate with Old Man, who had taught you how to read the clouds, the forests, spot things no one else could. How he, with his wrinkled, dry hand pointed in the direction of what were your roots. But not your home. You had hugged him tight that day, muttering that it was in the cottage that you were happy. Old Man never forced you to leave. In fact, the room that you were staying in had always been left ready for a guest - you. But of course, in the eyes of everybody else, this was not what was considered successful. Study, take exams, study, do extracurricular activities, fix your pronunciation, change your look, change yourself to be like someone else, for what? To appease others, as you had realised in the middle of your time at medical school. You were a talking piece, a conversation starter. Nothing more. And so, with every opportunity, you stepped farther away from those who had taken your clarity and safe haven.

Old Man died when you were about to graduate university. You found out only two months later. Since then, you were on your own. You clenched your hand into a fist until the knuckles turned white, while tears inadvertently pooled in your eyes before you dabbed at them with the corner of your sweater. Your childhood home did not exist anymore - you checked two summers ago. Deemed too rundown since no one had moved in after your parents made a mad dash for the metropolis, it was now just a bitter memory. At least in the act of honouring the past you were victorious. Your body began to move on its own accord, floating through the instructions, from one step to another, at ease since your thoughts were preoccupied by reminiscence. For a person whose livelihood majorly relied on their hands, you were terrifically remiss about what you subjected them to; some of your colleagues were known to wear gloves almost all hours of the day, others refrained from doing anything physical unless it was lifting a scalpel. To put it simply, this drove you mad. Every single one of them: self-important, unaware, isolated. Let this pie be baked in hellfire for all you-

Mid-spin, just as you were finished with making the filling and were in the process of lining a baking tin with some of the pastry, the front door creaked open, revealing the figure that you had spotted outside of your window, walking alongside the beginnings of what would be a cliff’s edge. You stood still, holding the pie tin, feeling the grooves of its edges, balancing the dough that was still wrapped in clingfilm right in the middle, as though if you were to not move this man would not see you. Heart quickening to a nauseating pace, the intense scrutiny that you were receiving made you want to collapse behind the counter. Before this moment, you had convinced yourself that you had fully adopted a devil may care attitude, and that you were ready for whoever you would encounter, having prepared the humble abode for a you-style reception and to assert who truly was deserving of ownership of this property. But something about this enigmatic persona who, just like you, remained unmoving, echoed the seastorms. A roaring of the waves was contained in his orbs, so dark due to the light being behind the man’s back that you could barely detect the transition from pupil to iris. A nose worthy of being depicted in renaissance paintings, in fact, if you had to pinpoint one way to describe the stranger, is that he reminded you of subjects that graced the walls of art galleries, selected by masters to be immortalised in the artists’ name. Nameless, much like he was to you in this present moment. His lips, ever so slightly parted as if he had been on the verge of saying something to you, only for the aim to fall short of execution, voice drowning in doubt or disgust. The corners of the man’s mouth were gently downturned - not unpleasantly so, but rather giving him an aura of intimidation that intrigued you. Shadows on his face suggested to you that he was unshaven, though, you had to admit that it was not too bad of a look. In fact, an interesting edge of ruggedness that balanced with his longer locks gave the man a new form of allure, and in turn, forced you to keep your eyes on him despite feeling inklings of terror. The scene reminded you of a faceoff between two territorial wolves - whose domain was this? Only time and a match of resolve would tell.

He was the first to break eye contact, sighing and moving to take off his shoes and trench coat. You remained still - a hostile animal that was expecting aggression at any moment. The man was silent, unphased by your ‘out of the blue’ appearance at least outwardly, and you were not certain whether his lack of reaction was something to be taken with gratitude or suspicion. As you inspected his motions, how he stretched out his arm to hang the trench coat on the rack that was hammered to the wall, with the right nail ever so slightly lower than the left, how he ran a hand through his hair, casting shadows over what hinted at months of fatigue. Not quite pallid, but definitely tired skin, holding times of discomfort, sleeplessness. Dark circles under those deep, pensive orbs, cheeks that were somewhere between sunken and youthful. The man stood before you in a white shirt, the colour a last cry to some form of purity and hope. You could guess why he was at the cottage, since it was not too challenging to see your own reflection in the corners of his soul, much like you could sense that he was reading you. He reminded you of an angel who was tired of praying, barely capable of carrying his body. Pressed down by the story that had been written for him, he was likely here for an escape, to drown out the sounds of whatever he was running from. Perhaps you should be friendly, and welcome this lost soul. After all, he could be unaware of where he is nor of what unspoken rules exist around here. The least you could do is make him feel at home-

“You made a mess,” and just like that, all desire to be amiable flew out of the window and into the sea. His curt comment was like a burning cold scalpel, words too familiar to be neutral and well-received.

Before you could respond, the man was well on his way to the bathroom, and judging by the slam of the door, he was not very pleased to see the rearrangements you had made. No comments followed, however, and instead, the pause was filled by the sound of running water, followed by a muffled mumbling when following a couple of rattles, the pressure inevitably dropped and there was barely a trickle. You shook your head, amused by how this man had been living in this property without the basic knowhow. Clearly, he was one of the many cityfolk who wanted to try his luck while on holiday. Exotic stay to talk about with his glamorous friends, you bet. For him to explain how ‘the bucolic was not even as appealing as literature made it out to be’. Standard. Faceless. You would forget him in no time, especially since he would probably leave before it got less fun and more mundane to stay out in the wilderness. That pretty face should not know harshness. With a huff, you set the tin down onto the counter and set the oven to preheat. With swift, irritated movements, you took to lining the metal with the dough, and in no time shifted to ladling the filling inside, halting to watch the last of the fruity cinnamon remnants dribble from the bowl down to join the rest of the sweet and sour promise.

The man returned when you were in the process of lacing strings of dough together to structure a coherent design. With an embarrassing surgical precision, you focused on the patterns - culinary sutures, almost horrified by the technique that you could not prevent from channelling itself through your body, to your very fingertips especially now that there was an audience. If he wanted to give you a stern talking to, it had quickly dissipated and mid-stride, the stranger was observing you as though you were carrying out a sacred ritual. The spotlight was on you as you demonstrated how to put the flesh back together. Piecing the skin bit by bit so as to ensure minimal scarring, careful now, people come to you to make themselves feel beautiful after all. String by string, the pie was looking more like itself, a recipe book photograph, something worthy of immortalising as the model step before baking. A beeping confirmed that the patient was relaxed, steady, with a perfect heart rate - good, all the readings were steady, now all you needed was to make the final - you felt for the tray finding empty space. Did someone misplace the tools? Panic shot into your nervous system and with a jolt you pushed yourself away from the table, only to find yourself gazing, startled, at someone who you had begun to assume was an intern. The guest, or cohabitant? An eyebrow raised, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he took in your state. You clicked your tongue, finally putting two and two together and grabbing the timer behind you, purposefully taking your time so that you would not have to look at your newfound personification of madness for longer than necessary. So much for an introduction; the figure who was still a mystery to you slinked back into the shadows, with only the click of the office door serving as a confirmation that he was real. You rubbed your temples, the distant thrumming of a headache resembling a thunder that crawled over the horizon. Demonstratively, you sprinkled some flour onto a previously clean spot on the wooden countertop, only to automatically reach for the towel and drop the action again. No, it was time to bake. You needed to bake. You needed to make this place feel like home for the next couple of months, even if this peculiar character was going to be sharing it.

When you finally slid the pie into the oven and shut the door, giving it one last look before setting the timer for forty-five minutes, a curiosity crawled from the crevices of your mind and poked at you. Were you really going to avoid that man for your entire stay, assuming he was leaving soon? You had already admitted to yourself that he was objectively… and subjectively attractive. That much you had to give to him. Attitude - you were not quite ready to make judgments about, considering that if it were you in his place, you would have been chasing yourself around the house with a frying pan. It was comical, really; a stranger in a house, baking like they own the place. In spirit you might, to a person not in the know you were the official owner, but to the family who inherited the place you likely were nothing but a pest or an echo of the past that they were trying to forget. At least they did not demolish the cottage yet.

With a side step, you headed in the direction of the couch, but moved on when you noticed more damage than you had been used to on the window off to its side. Running a hand over the edges, it was clear that a certain someone had not shut it properly when nature had played up outside. So you had your tasks being planned out for you; with a grin, you nodded at the prospect. Nothing like good old maintenance of a castle in the sky to do the trick of dissociating you from your own life and responsibilities. All you needed was the right tools, perhaps some wood, and some paint. And then the fence gate could do with some tender love and care… you listed off parts of the house that you wanted to renovate or check on, imagining something greater and better than yourself. You noted the gentle breeze outside, and even though a greyness prevailed, it was far more promising for a brighter day than the performance the clouds had put on yesternight; maybe this autumn would not be too rough, and would show you its beautiful colours.

You did not see the mysterious guest until it was approximately dinner time. The pie was being kept safe and warm in the oven, and you were idly leafing through an ancient magazine - the remnants of days that you had spent at the cottage back when Old Man was still around. Another thing frozen in time, to be forever beautiful until you were to forget it. The shadowy presence commanded your attention almost immediately, and you lifted your head only to peer into a solemn darkness in the shape of a scowl, etched out on exhausted elegance. The man sighed before crossing his arms, and leaned against one of the few segments of the wall that was not bowing under the weight of framed memories, pins and nails.

Just what was this person thinking? As the clock marked your shared awkwardness with every tick, you grew more self-conscious. Was there something so repulsive about your presence, that the guest, or rather… the present resident, could not bear to function without hostility? Letting the pages fall onto one another, forming a yellowed stack, you rose from your position, having been hunched over the combined kitchen and dinner table.

“Some pie?”

The words landed somewhere between your two forms, unusually shy, a request so timid and tentative that it might as well have been the wind outside. One tick of the clock, another, and another. It was easy to wonder if you appeared untrustworthy. It must be the way in which your brows were positioned, or how the corners of your mouth naturally curled ever so slightly downwards if you were not paying attention. Or maybe-

“Sure. Thanks.”

That same tone. Words, curt, unforgiving, but a step towards proper introduction. Who knew such coldness could evoke a wave of joy in anyone? As though on command, you hurried to the kitchen, a childish excitement overtaking you as you imagined the reaction he might have to your baking. It was one of the few things that was your safe haven - although you did not indulge in the activity too often, you had experienced the euphoria that came with it enough times to elevate it above the usual hobby. He had to enjoy the apple pie, surely.

As you grabbed the towel to use as makeshift heat protection, and prepared a mat onto which to set down the perfectly warm pie, you noticed the dark haired man match your movements. Narrowly missing your elbow, he navigated the space with calculated reach, and produced cutlery, plates, and a couple of mugs. Without any consultation, his selection of items was soon on the table, and next, the kettle was obediently bubbling up with excitement for another steaming cup of tea. You raised your eyebrows and huffed, balancing the pie in your hands as you walked around the counters and gently set it down. With a nod you confirmed your own satisfaction and gestured to your partner in table-setting to take a seat. He refused, instead remaining standing stock still by the lonely piece of furniture, pupils gliding along wherever you went.

Those deep eyes, a blended mahogany and sienna, depending on how downcast the lashes appeared to be, remained trained either on you, or were burning holes in the tablecloth as you picked at your respective slices. The wisps of flavour and freshness escaped the filling, an unfathomably lush aroma clinging desperately to the air in the search of a satiated appreciator. But to no avail. No lips uttered a single word of praise, nor did you dare ask for it. It was a habit that you had been forced to break away from come adulthood, not that it had ever given you much satisfaction before the fact. You tried to convince yourself that the culinary feat was as delicious as Old Man had told you it had been, but in the gloom of your company and circumstance, it tasted bland, colourless, miserable. As though you were eating your own forlornness. You rested your fork on the edge of the plate, no longer having the courage to take another bite.

Just when you were about to give into your impulses and storm out, only pausing to consider if you should permanently borrow the rain coat that was hanging by the front door, the man quietly raised a piece of the dessert to his mouth, not minding your not quite discreet gawking. Savouring every bit of texture, the harmony of ingredients that collaborated to produce the bucolic ideal in gastronomic form, he revelled in the taste of home. You noted the subtle changes in his appearance as he roughly sliced away another bitesize piece with his fork, then another, features relaxing into the experience as though finally after many days if not weeks he saw the sun. You melted into a close-mouthed smile, turning away to let your gaze aimlessly wander across the living room.

“It’s good.”

“Thank you.”

There it was. Your first exchange. The beginning of something. Or the end. Perhaps both. When you turned back, no longer did his face appear as dangerous, instead sustaining an almost amiable curiosity.

“Why aren’t you eating?” his question held genuine concern as he paused, darting down to your hands and back upwards.

“I- oh, sorry, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” settling in what you assumed to be the safest option, your trained clinical professionalism you responded and started to hack away at the pie before you. Your choice of words provoked a chuckle - an unexpected sound that echoed in your ears for a little longer than you would have liked.

“Not at all… I think the two of us are even,” ever so enigmatic, your interlocutor responded. You let a slice of apple melt on your tongue, fructose and syrup clouding your nerves over choosing the right way to respond.

“...In?”

“Two people caught adrift in the middle of a storm, unsure of whether to keep holding on, or to let go. Are we not alike?”

Peculiar expression, unsettling, piercing through you and laying you bear until the pie left a bitter aftertaste. But of course, you could not do anything except pass it off as nothing. It was only natural for your self-acknowledged and accepted self-denial. Moreover, how could you two be similar? Obviously from different places, with different visions, the only thing that brought you together was this little cottage by the sea. At the same time, the words planted a seed of curiosity in your mind. Old Man liked to say there existed no coincidences, only well-hidden strings of fate and twists of certainty. You peered at the man again, gaze inadvertently settling on the freckle that was positioned almost perfectly in the middle of his collarbone - even what some of your clients considered to be an imperfection contained balance and elegance. Like hell would anyone ever be able to replicate that. Out of habit, you measured angles, sized up the man sitting opposite- at least you were not giving him the doctor smile yet - staying at the cottage was already doing you some good.

“So…” you began, but the words died away faster than flowers in early spring before you could deliver them, joining the disappearing wisps of heat from the pie.

“What brings me here? I assume that is the question,” so the delivery was successful. You nodded, attempting to ignore the hint of smugness tugging at the stranger’s lips, “I needed a break. So… I looked for a place. Remembered some relatives, then… ended up here. Yourself?”

“Oh,” you revealed your surprise, the phrases playing back in your head. ‘Relatives’... so Old Man did have someone inherit the property after all?

“Oh?”

“Sorry. You just said, ‘relatives’?”

“Well, yes,” he set his cutlery aside, gracefully picking up the cup of tea to take a sip before continuing, “this cottage is under the name of one of my cousins, however, as you can see… they have no use for it. Hence why I was told I can stay here for as long as I like.”

“Luxurious.”

“Hardly.”

“Limitless time off? A rarity in this day and age,” you sighed, giving a bittersweet smile.

“Everything is measured by time, be it days or bills. Runs out eventually.”

“That-” you paused, “is true,” it was difficult to admit that the smile you received from your fellow dessert buddy was charming, but there was simply no other way to describe it. Except perhaps ‘dazzling’ would do, but you did not wish to get ahead of yourself and swoon over a man whose name you did not even know.

“So, dare I ask the same elaboration? What brings you to the edge of the world?”

The clock ticked loudly in your ears, and you swore you could sense the draft creeping across the floorboards and over your feet. The moment was surreal, and not in a million years you would think you would find yourself in a situation such as this. At least not when considering the gruelling cycle you had subscribed to since you were young enough to give up your dreams in favour of others’. You were here because you were re-tracing your steps back to a time when you still had air in your lungs and a fighting spirit that had not been charred by a bleak reality and troubling conventions that society hammered down on everyone without exception. In some sense, for a little while, you did not wish to be yourself, but a version that you kept hidden away.

“I suppose I needed a break too, so I came back to the one place that I know as a paradise.”

“Intriguing. Did you know great uncle Yang?” he followed, tilting his head just a little.

“Yeah. Quite well, actually,” you were curt. Unwilling to share too much, but the man pressed on.

“How?”

“Came ‘round quite often,” you poked at the remnants of your pie slice.

“I wish I could have,” caught off-guard, you lifted your head, perplexed, “I have only heard about how amazing of a man he was. Distance proved to be unconquerable for me, and excuses far too strong to rebuke. Am I correct in assuming that you were closer?”

“Closer… I guess. I… well. I’m from this area. Grandpa, he- him and Old Man Yang were friends so…”

“Is your grandfather from the village-”

“He was… he had resided in a neighbouring house before it got torn down.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for bringing the mood down.”

“The mood is how it is - like the weather, sometimes you need a little rain to appreciate the sunshine.”

“A poet, aren’t you?” you half-joked, trying to turn the situation around. The memories were flooding back at a fast pace, and you were struggling to keep up with them. The guest, however, was instead taken aback, as though your jesting was an accidental truth. You raised an eyebrow.

“How did you… do you know me?”

“I feel like we have been apologising back and forth but, really sorry am I supposed to-”

“Oh no! Not at all! It is just that you are right, I am a poet. Job-wise, I mean,” taking notice of the way in which he started to attack the edge of his shirt sleeve.

“It’s cool.”

“Hm?”

“Your job.”

“Ah, it’s just throwing words on a page and hoping they make sense-”

“If that’s what it is then you’re gifted. Hoping is already an art. Hardly anyone does that anymore,” yourself included. Finally, you were more at ease; whether it was with yourself or with the situation at hand, you could not be bothered to decide.

“Thank you… are you in the arts?”

“Maybe some people would consider what I do a sort of art, but at the end of the day it’s far, far from it. Surgeon. Cosmetic.”

“So the science side of beauty?”

“Science and human opinion collided. Thankfully, there’s plenty of nature here for me to rest my eyes,” you gestured around you, suggesting the quietude of the cottage, and absence of any community in the immediate vicinity. The man nodded in understanding, choosing not to comment further.

“I… I do not think I have introduced myself yet. Park Seonghwa. Though, Seonghwa is absolutely fine seeing as we are friends by circumstance.

“Well, fantastic to meet you, Seonghwa. L/N Y/N. I hope we have great times ahead of us.”

“This time is all ours.”

⋆✧. seonghwa .✧⋆

As Seonghwa watched you redo the fence gate, he could not help but wonder if you really were a surgeon or not. Perhaps he was being a little prejudiced, but the image he had held in his mind of doctors and nurses was vastly different to how you carried yourself. Starting from how lacking in enthusiasm your descriptions of what you did were - without an ounce of pride, you simply listed off a couple of facts about your workplace like address, services and your responsibilities, and then returned to pondering housework and searching for tools. Seonghwa had assumed that any cosmetic surgeon working in a private clinic that was located in one of the most coveted and famous neighbourhoods of the capital would have a lot more of a well-meaning snootiness, or at the very least an eagerness to share their experiences. After all, the years of study and training had to be a mark of lifelong dedication, no?

You were anything but delicate with your hands as they aligned wood against wood. However, these same hands were steady, each movement calculated, deliberate, precise. There was not a single bit of power wasted in how you realigned the gate to not sink at the hinges. Tools arranged on a miniature mat did remind Seonghwa of what he had seen in medical dramas - neat operating chambers, every piece of equipment counted and arranged in a very specific order. So far, your actions and habits had been the most telling, making him choose to believe you. It was highly probable that you were exactly like him, hiding from yourself, from your immediate responsibilities - the weight on your shoulders having gotten increasingly overwhelming. It was not as if he had been fully open, heart on sleeve, with you and you were not returning the honesty; both of you had chosen to remain observers, walking in a circle as though there was an unspoken showdown, suspense in which both of you were waiting for something to go wrong. He did not wish to reveal his weaknesses, and neither did you.

In no time at all, you were done with the gate, marking the success by standing up straight and wiping your hands with a towel you nicked from one of the closets that Seonghwa had never yet dared to open. Catching his eye, you smiled and gave a cheerful thumbs up, one which he instinctively returned from his viewing spot by the front door. You picked up the equipment, roughly shoved it into a bag, and upon a quick adjustment of your jeans swiftly made your way back into the house. As you were kicking off your shoes, using your feet to position them in a reasonable spot that was out of the direct way into the house, Seonghwa spotted a little stain on your sweater. It could have been easily avoided with a rolling of the sleeves, however given your determination, it felt intentional. He bit his lower lip, musing the meaning behind your numerous deliberate actions over the last few days.

It was easy enough to notice that out of the two of you, Seonghwa was far more neat and pedantic about maintaining said ‘clean’ environment, while you were all for a freer living situation, not bothering to readjust the bathroom towels, or straighten the chair after pushing it back. Without a shadow of a doubt, you were very much in control of what you were doing - it was obvious. Sometimes, the young poet was sure that you were reminding yourself to not be organised, and only at critical times, such as the maintenance works on the gate, did training and composure characteristic of a highly skilled medical professional shine through. Without any explicit mission or goal, you appeared to be running from order, an act previously unimaginable to Seonghwa, but one he could understand, having been doing what was essentially the opposite. He resisted further moving your shoes when you walked into the living room, and bit back a comment about how you set the tools off to the side on the floor, instead continuing to watch you float to the kitchen to wash your hands. You were refreshed, a little sun in the departure of the cold season, your pink cheeks and grin that was threatening to take over all of your features returning a bashful youthfulness to you - something that he could not spot in the slightest upon first meeting. He did not know you yet, but he could sense that this was much more like the real you than the exhausted shell of a human who was suspicious of everything and everyone.

Seonghwa ran a hand through his hair before crossing his arms and leaning against the arc that separated the kitchen and living room, studying your approach to the window that he had combatted some days ago. You were in your element, fluid, determined. As much as you probably would have hated to hear him say, you were very much a surgeon before an operation, plan in the eyes and stable hands raised in front of you as you assessed your metaphorical patient. Was this a cosmetic procedure? Or a lot more invasive? Terminology he had picked up from perusals of the news and media plagued Seonghwa’s mind as he watched you carefully unlock the window, click your tongue and get to picking at the rotten frame, a replacement sitting patiently under your feet. How and where from - you were not too inclined to reveal all secrets of the cottage, but he could gather that there was some underlying rhythm or internal network of miscellaneous tools and ‘thingamajigs’ that all harmonised to create the cosy domestic paradise he had come to enjoy in his undetermined stay.

It was enthralling how, out of the two of you, you seemed to be more in harmony with the place. Well, perhaps not so strange, considering you were the one who had practically grown up in these walls. And much like Seonghwa could only guess about the inner workings of the house, the same came to you. Without any particular desire to be welcoming or amiable, you were focused on tending to any impending ruin rather than entertaining a stranger. This, however, made the poet all the more intrigued. You had to be running from something, maybe something similar to his own demons. Maybe something much darker. The nature of your work was a double-edged sword, after all. What were you seeing, or decisively ignoring by making this grand escape to the end of the world?

“Right, this should last a while. Seems the winter was pretty harsh this year, so I’ll have to check the rest of the windows too. You know what, maybe the attic as well,” you explained as you stood up straight, wiping your hands with the cloth you had retrieved from the toolkit.

“There is an attic?”

“Uh, yeah. You can get to it from my room.”

“You mean the guest room that you raided?”

“Hardly a guest room when there are no guests here, don’t you think?” you raised an eyebrow, sauntering past him, clearly searching for a way to set your words in stone with a pointed physical gesture.

“Mm, you’re right,” the last thing Seonghwa wanted was trouble on an already stormy horizon.

“Ah… Seonghwa?” you tentatively uttered his name, as if still testing how it sounded.

“That’s right.”

“What were you planning on doing?”

“Huh?”

“Right now.”

“...Probably returning to the office-”

“-ah, so you are going to hole yourself up. Got you,” without giving as much as a second to process or retaliate, you continued, “could you figure out food? If you don’t mind, that is. When I was getting the kit I saw something I wanted to check out. Shouldn’t be long, though.”

“I’ll see what I can put together.”

For what had to be the first time, Seonghwa noted the hint of a genuine smile ghosting over your lips. As you responded with a quick ‘thank you’ and left the cottage once more, already on another mission, he could not help but pause and tilt his head in confusion.

“Well wasn’t that awfully domestic…” The terrifying part was that he was not entirely opposed to the gesture.

Newfound vigour spread over his body and ignited a gentle flame in his heart. With purpose, he moved across from the living room back to the kitchen, beginning his search and preparations. This could also be a chance to get to know you better - your likes and dislikes, any quirks and habits. In turn, he had an opportunity to tell you wordlessly about himself. Brushing loose hair out of his face as he leaned over to grab a cutting board, he exhaled, amused. Care. Expression of care. Soothing waves of comfort and affection in the form of acting to provide some form of relief for another. This was something he had entirely forgotten in the blur of his day to day, and abandoned the possibility of returning to the notion by making an unplanned escape, only to find the lost memory right here, in this cottage. Doing, without wanting something in return except harmless conversation.

Time went by swiftly when it passed with purpose. Mind left unoccupied by hauntings of rhyme and rhythm thanks to a pleasant sense of urgency, Seonghwa could concentrate on making something out of whatever he had found in the cupboards and fridge. Back in the city, particularly towards the last few months before his sudden departure, he rarely cooked, be it due to lack of time or of energy. Instead he relied on restaurants where he had to survive loud company, or takeaway orders which, eventually, had all come to taste the same. Solitude had woken him up, and your appearance was another jolt to the system. Curious, how the mind worked.

The afternoon crawled towards the evening with certainty, and as the horizon turned to a murky grey with the hints of sunset, you returned, tired, but triumphant. Quietly, as though you were old friends who had exhausted all conversation, you made final preparations and dined. The occasional compliment escaped you, much to Seonghwa’s joy, but other than that, he was left to spin stories about you and leave it all up to overly elaborate guesswork. Asking about the shed did not do much, either. Brushing everything off as though the fixes had been but a mere ‘walk in the park’ was your well-measured defence. They could be, compared to whatever you did back in the city. Eventually, Seonghwa mustered the courage to attempt to satiate his curiosity, and left a question hanging in the air.

“Could you… tell me more about yourself?”

“That’s quite broad. What do you want to know?”

“Mm… cutting straight to the chase, huh.”

“I’m not one to enjoy wasting time,” you emphasised, setting down your fork on a cleared plate and leaning back in your chair, clearly in anticipation of an unpleasant interrogation. Seonghwa had to tread with care, but could not help the stirring of his inquisitive nature.

“Right, I figured. Barely arrived and the cottage is already pristine,”

“Hardly. Much work still left to do.”

“Well, give yourself at least some credit-”

“-So, the question?” you interrupted, putting your elbows on the table and tilting your head. No optimism or kindness in your eyes as you regarded Seonghwa. Just what were you thinking he was going to say?

“Ah, yes. Uh… how do I say this… considering we are both in, hm-”

“In the middle of nowhere, you can say that. I won’t take it personally,” you nodded urging him to get to the point.

“Thanks. So, since we are here, I have been thinking if our reasons for being here are in any way similar. Or, if not, just how different,” when you did not respond, or even acknowledge his thoughts, he persisted, “that’s about it… I mean, if you want to talk about it, that is.”

“Not really-”

“Oh! Okay, I- sorry,”

“No, you’re fine. Just because I don’t really want to doesn’t mean I won’t. It’s all part of getting to know a person, isn’t it?” turning to the side, you stared at the freshly redone window. It was holding up well. Beautifully, even. Seonghwa hated to keep making the comparisons, but he could not rid himself of the image of how you could be like professionally. Perhaps this was because this was the only concrete thing he had found out about you, but you were, in his eyes, every bit a representation of the medical field. Just as he assumed you were going to bestow upon him more discoveries, you shot him a side glance, “besides, it’s not like you are an open book either. For all I know you might be on the run from the police.”

“What?” he exclaimed a little too loudly to consider calm.

“I’m just kidding. Or am I?” you quickly raised your eyebrows, clearly finding amusement in Seonghwa’s discomfort, “Anyways… what brings me here… well, I am on a break. I’d like to think it is a well-deserved one.”

“Annual leave?”

“I guess, though, in medicine… is there ever such a thing? We’re not exactly corporate are we.”

Seonghwa finished the last of his meal and took a quick sip of his tea. While you were not looking directly at him, he could feel your scrutiny nonetheless. Suddenly, he felt the need to redo his hair, check his face in the mirror, adjust his clothes - anything to feel more presentable, even though it would not make much of a difference. Cold, but not hostile. Thinking back to how he had greeted you, he cringed. Was this the impression he had inadvertently given? Maybe. Very likely, actually, considering that for the first while he wanted nothing to do with another individual in the house. And now what was he expecting, an immediate shift into being best friends or at least allies? Biting the inside of his cheek, he mumbled:

“Might be foolish on my part, but I suppose I thought clinics would work differently.”

“Oh they do, that’s correct. But since money has to be made, we have to do a bit more negotiation to have a nice, unbroken holiday.”

“Two weeks?”

“See, that’s what employers want. More like four to six. Paid. I did my time in that place and I would say me being away would benefit all of society.”

“You’re making it sound like torture,” with a bitter laugh, you accepted his joke.

“How much would you like me to tell you about what I do? Until you agree?” your tone was flat, unnerving.

The wind was, once again, picking up outside, and whatever patchy thin wisps of cloud had been hovering around the area already disappeared, to be replaced by thick storm bringers, looming, menacing. An all-consuming darkness was rolling across the horizon and right towards the cottage, and Seonghwa could only hope that you really did know what you were doing when it came to mending. Out of habit, he adjusted the shorter strands that fell over his face, and took another sneaky glance at your features. Drumming out some unknown rhythm on the table, your fingers danced across the tablecloth. You were daring him to agree. And who would he be if he did not accept the challenge? Most certainly not an artist.

“I… I suppose you can tell me anything.”

“Heart to heart with a stranger?”

“Sure. If you are okay with that.”

“Then tell me this, Seonghwa,” you turned towards him again, only this time, you did look angered, “are you here because you are an eccentric, or because celebrity life got too much?”

“So you do know me,”

“While I was outside I remembered seeing your face on top searches or something. You sure know how to build up a following.”

“I call that a fluke.”

“Collaborating with a famous singer to write songs for their album is a fluke?”

“We have a mutual friend. Mutual friend reached out to me, said ‘hey you write poetry, how about you help out’ and so I did- hey, wait, why am I defending something normal-”

“I don’t know, but something is making you antsy, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah, it’s probably the fact that you are attacking me out of the blue.”

“I am just asking a question.”

“Sounds like you are judging me,”

“Aren’t you judging me?”

“Aren’t we both judging each other?”

“True.”

With a huff, you crossed your arms and looked at your empty plate. Seonghwa followed suit, agitated. Neither of you had particularly good points, but nonetheless managed to bring to light issues that you and him were denying. Without a single word, both Seonghwa and yourself were going through the skeletons that were in the closets of your minds. He cleared his throat.

“It’s the latter. You hit the nail on the head.”

“I see.”

“People might pretend to know one thing or another about lyrics, but no one ever cares to read past that. I’ve had maybe one, two people ask me about my poetry, and none about my post graduate work.”

“Post graduate?”

“Yes.”

“Linguistics? Literature?”

“Something like that.”

A pause. The first few rain droplets hit the roof of the cottage and splattered against the windows facing the shore. It had to be another downpour coming. The clock continued its dedicated beat, and you were an immovable statue, as if you were storing away all he had told you about himself. Though he had not offered a resume to you, of course he wouldn’t, it was probably easy enough for you to put one experience with another, and paint his whole life.

“A scholar,” Seonghwa sharply exhaled, wondering how you had come to this conclusion.

“Trying to be. Probably more accurate to say that I am a poetry nerd who wants to become an academically accredited poetry nerd.”

“Hey, you’re passionate. That’s commendable,” your eyes softened, reminding Seonghwa of how people regarded something fragile. All because of hope? The same hope and inspiration which he had lost and was trying to discover again?

“I should be saying that to you. I mean medical school, and then launching into active practice right after is no easy feat.”

“That… is true.”

“But something’s off?”

“Bingo.”

“And you are running from it.”

“Hm… probably. Actually, you know what let’s call things like they are. That’s right.”

“And this thing is…?” he trailed off, encouraging you. You stared at the view outside the window, shapes now barely distinguishable as the droplets turned into bucketfuls and the streaks across the glass transformed into an unbroken blur. As your gaze settled back on the man sitting across from you, he saw a resemblance between the weather and your expression, and could not look away out of fear that he could miss the ever-changing emotions, musings, revelations that etched themselves on your face, only to disappear in a split second.

“You know…answer me this. I think you are the perfect person to ask.”

“Ask away.”

“What is ‘beauty’?”

“Beauty.”

“Yes. Beauty. What is it?”

“To me, or-”

“Whatever way you want to answer. What is it?”

“A feeling.”

You tilted your head and squinted in response to him. Truth be told, Seonghwa surprised even himself by the speed of his outburst. Feeling. He could not define beauty, and he did not believe that he was in a position to ever do so, but based on the callings of his heart, based on the changes of nature, of how words flowed from pen to paper or how they felt on the tongue and on the lips, he could sense beauty, and he was sure of it.

“Interesting. An artistic answer, I’ll give you that.”

“Were you looking for something else?”

“Something more clinical, potentially. But I like how you put it better. It’s more alive.”

“Are you running from beauty?”

“More like, I don’t know what it is anymore. And so my feet led me to the place where I think it existed. Or as you say, the feeling existed.”

“But… beauty is everywhere, no?” He knew he was being hypocritical, having cursed his own environment - both animate and inanimate, time and time again, but the mantra of any dreamer was the only thing that crossed his mind in this moment.

“Not in a cosmetic surgeon’s office, it’s not. Everyone either walks in there thinking it doesn’t exist, or walks out thinking that way. Aesthetic beauty, visual beauty is such a lie that I sometimes wonder if I see at all. Don’t get me wrong, I love nothing more than to make someone feel like they really are in their own skin, and countless times I have seen people gaining their happiness and their whole lives back after a visit to our clinic... but... beauty. Beauty itself is so, so strange.”

Your voice wavered. Any previously existing hard exterior was but an illusion, and Seonghwa could see the faint glow of a young spirit who wanted to do better for the world, but was beaten down, deciding that it had enough for a long time. In the effort to save it, you came here. To find your so-called muse, your safe space.

“I want to hear more… about this. If you don’t mind.”

“About people putting themselves down?” you sighed, ready to stand up and take your leave.

“No, no! Goodness, no. More about beauty. And what you think of it. And why do you think you ‘lost’ it, in a sense?”

“I’m starting to think we really are on the same boat in the same storm…” you mumbled, glancing at the time, and then rocking in the chair to finally lift yourself up, “... then I say we need more tea.”

“Consider it done.”

Some shuffling, dishwashing, and side glances later, both of you were settled on the edges of the sofa, preferring to find a reason to not stare at one another rather than adopt a position akin to that at a therapist’s office. Neither of you wanted to pretend you held answers to the mind’s mysteries, and neither of you wanted to come off as some complex character. Instead, you slowly but surely began to lay all your cards down on the table as the barley tea cooled in your cups. Seonghwa silently nodded as you elaborated on your frustration with the perfectly in line plates, the crisp and straightened towels, and the spotless counters. Unsettling, inexplicable, but the sensations you experienced when you stared at the lack of chaos were more than real.

“It’s the uniformity that puts me off.”

“So… things being in order, organised, in their places… annoys you?”

“Well… I cannot say it annoys me, because it doesn’t… this goes away after a while. But for the first little bit of time I will probably freak out whenever I see things that look a little too clean.”

“Got it. I shouldn’t clean up messes. See? You have something you find beautiful,” Seonghwa pointed out, a soft smile gracing his lips. As the conversation took on a more abstract, philosophical tone and your dispositions ceased to be so formal, he felt himself relaxing more and more by the second, and decisively taking the lead in conversation.

“Hm. A little chaos couldn’t hurt anyone. But I am sorry though, it must have been unnerving, considering that you are doing the opposite,” you responded, a genuinely apologetic look on your face. So you did notice. You were quick. Or simply very observant. Seonghwa shook his head to try and dismiss the little positive attention, but to no avail, “no really, it is nice to see you feeling at home here. I mean this.”

“This really is your place, isn’t it?” he narrowed his eyes, appearing rather feline as he tilted his head, hair flattening on the back of the sofa.

“It holds a lot of memories.”

“Tell me, did you come here to look for memories, or to change your present?”

“A bit of both. So, like I mentioned. Beauty. It’s sort of been a sore topic for me since I was a kid. Be it to fit a standard visually, or academically, or whatever else. Success was beauty, beauty was success. But there comes a time where, when you hear about beauty a few too many times, it starts to lose meaning,” you stopped for a moment to gather your thoughts and listen to the howling of the wind outside. With a click of the tongue, you continued, “You know how when you repeat a word again and again, it starts to sound and feel weird?”

“Yes.”

“Same with anything. If there is no variation, if there is no real value behind a given repetition, beauty is just some random ‘thing’ that cannot be achieved.”

“Value behind repetition?”

“Yeah. We breathe right?”

“Right.”

“Heart beats, right?”

“Right…” Seonghwa momentarily shut his eyes, focusing on the sensations you were describing, feeling a little more alive.

“Those are all valuable repetitions. And even then, we feel them so differently. But… what is something ‘beautiful’? It could be like you said, a sense. But saying ‘beauty’ this, or ‘beauty’ that… the concept ends up being void of meaning to me.”

“Hm… could it be that… in that context - the context of your job, the context of your day to day, how beauty is presented to you... is something you disagree with?”

“Ah! That, yes, exactly-” setting your cup down on the coffee table, you clapped your hands, happy with the encapsulation.

It felt easier than it should have been to establish something artists chase after and die for. A diagnosis uttered by a ruthless analyst marking the withering of beauty in another’s life. With the presence of a dulled, uninspired eye came the ability to see past mere feeling, and evaluate the essence of what had been plaguing you, and apparently, Seonghwa as well. He was in muted shock, both delighted and horrified by the conclusion. Loss of beauty because of the world in which he lived - how could a poet survive, if not by translating their works to terror? In the blink of an eye, the discourse was abandoned, and Seonghwa found himself floating in his own mind, the dark ocean waves crawling through his ear canals - a deafening roar marking the coming of his nightmares. Ever since he had become interested in poetry, he was fond of what he could experience with his five senses, and then added a sprinkle of inferences with a mystical sixth. Flowing from line to line he felt, and admired what surrounded him in syllables until the world began to darken, and his wrist and brain transformed to lead. In the absence of what he thought was beautiful, was he truly surrounded by something utterly vile? If extrapolating from your conclusions, it could very well be the case.

“...-hwa, Seonghwa-” startled, his eyes darted side to side and then settled on you. He did not realise he was clenching his cup with a white-fisted rage and, embarrassed, set it down beside yours on the table, “what had you so pensive?”

Your worry was charming, the young poet could not deny. How your lips, slightly parted, were waiting on what to say. How even though you were clearly fighting your own battles, you immediately pushed them away. No wonder you were tired. And no wonder Seonghwa felt a resemblance to you. Feeling. And feeling too much. Even when you were clearly burned out from doing so, you were ready to do it again, and again, until you were nothing but a trembling stalk of grass on the cliffside, swaying with current affairs and mundane happenings everyone had to abide by. Going with the flow was something neither of you could settle for, and that was what ended up bringing you together.

“When we think beauty is gone, does it mean there is not even a likeness to it, or does it mean we are not looking hard enough?”

“Mm… good question,” you traced abstract shapes on the pillow you took into your lap, maybe for comfort, maybe to have at least an illusion of a barrier between you and him. Seonghwa kept quiet, picking up the tea and masking his concern, “Since we both ran as soon as we’ve had enough, I think the former. An optimist would probably say the latter but based on what I have seen… I find it damn hard to believe in a happily ever after.”

“Did something happen?”

“Hm… did it?” you echoed, gaze fixed on the floorboards.

“Cleary. I am all ears.”

“You are doing too much.”

“This is the least I can do,” judging by the way you regarded him, being heard was a rare occasion for you, and sent a strange ache into Seonghwa’s heart. How many of your stories were left untold?

“Where do I even start… let’s just say this holiday was not fully on my own volition.”

“That rebellious, huh?”

“That’s what happens when you convince someone to leave the clinic, I fear.”

“You told someone to leave?” perplexed and fascinated, Seonghwa turned to fully face you.

“I mean… when you have a sixteen year old girl sitting there in front of you telling you she has one thing after another to fix and got a giftcard for eyelid surgery from her family… that’s the best option, in my opinion.”

“W-what?!”

“Happens more often than you’d think,” you dismissed his shock with a melancholic coldness, “we try our best to find compromises, best plans, bring happiness into a patient’s life, but when you can clearly see they are being pressured or are at risk of a plethora of other things both physical and mental… I draw the line.”

“You just have your morals set, and want what you feel is best.”

“And that is bad for business. Maybe I’m missing the plot. Maybe I should actually let people carve themselves up however they wish.”

Resigned, you stood up and walked towards the window, each step heavier than the previous one. Seonghwa observed your motions, seeing in you a tired sun that could barely lug itself across the heavens. Wrapped up in smoky grey, your shine slumbered, and you regarded the dull landscape with a matching passivity. For all you cared, at least in this moment in time, the stormy weather could last an eternity. An angered muse on the verge of giving up; an ancient legend on the verge of extinction; a sacrifice in the midst of the bloodbath that was the strive for perfection. A lost voice. You were not the first, and most certainly not the last to suffer this cruel fate and its many variations. In fact, if Seonghwa were to look in the mirror, he knew he would discover in his inky pupils the same resolution. If he were to look into a million faces, they too, would bear the traces of antithesis to childhood dreams. Disillusionment - the bane of existence, and the band to unite it.

He wished he could memorise this scene with every intricate detail remaining intact. The way the light flickered across your face as raindrops strengthened their barrage was downright haunting, and reminiscent of a television’s unsettling static that could make a room glow white. You delicately hugged yourself, lost in thought. Voice barely above a whisper escaped you, a string of apologies as you appeared to allow yourself to feel regret over being your true self around someone who was barely an acquaintance.

“I’m sorry… I… I talked a lot didn’t I? Complete nonsense too. I mean, what the hell is the point of taking something untouchable apart, as if we could ever understand it?” you bit your lower lip. Seonghwa imagined the sea foam decorating the shore, the ebb and flow of the erratic waves while he studied the patterns in your hair. The odd wave, the styling of stubborn locks all amounting to acceptance of its unruliness. Was that not beautiful?

A tender blossom in the earliest spring, wavering and inching its way upwards, filled with hope. A budding, pale green leaf, only just unfurling, tentatively feeling the first breeze, trembling with anxious delight. Seonghwa remained still as he let the progression of scenes dash past him while he gazed at you. Shyly smiling to himself, he greeted his own sleepy heart. It stirred, intrigued by the unpredictable series of events and serendipitous meeting, recalling words that had turned foreign to him not too long ago. While there were millions of characters, thousands of lines and an infinite number of ideas, the root remained a timid secret, one Seonghwa did not wish to explore quite yet. In the absence of beauty, or the stalling of its perception, remembering beauty was more than enough.

“You’re doing well.”

“Hm? You mean, uh, the window?” confused, you pointed at the frame, earning a chuckle from the wistful poet.

“That too, of course, but I meant in general. You are doing well,” before you could speak, he interrupted your doubt, “you are not failing, you are planning ahead. There is only so much we can do, and sometimes, pausing is the only right decision.”

Seonghwa hoped that by saying this out loud, to you, he could take his own advice. But it was never easy to listen to oneself, when he knew of all the noise that stuck to his brain, knew of the taunts and the mazes. It was more simple to wish that the verbal sword could cut through someone else’s worries, and in turn, shine a light on his own and let them evaporate. You grinned; you could have guessed that this was one of his mantras that he tried to learn how to believe in, or there was a sliver of a chance that you agreed. It was beautiful to wait.

구름을 은빛으로 물들이는 눈물 처럼 (like tears that colour the clouds silver)

바다와 하늘을 잇는 수많은 실이 있다 (there are many threads connecting the sea and the sky)

태양이 보이고 당신의 눈에 반사된다 (the sun is visible and reflects in your eyes)

⋆✧. you .✧⋆

An oversharer, a wildfire, taken and enchanted by a glimpse of the silver mystical lining. In every storm there was a fair share of this metaphorical metal - hints of hope that anyone stranded could hold onto. To your dismay and horror, you found solace in a stranger… or could you even call Seonghwa by that title anymore? Having poured more from your life’s cup than you had done at catch ups with your city friends, you were terrified of the amiability you possessed, and the open-armed rush of confidence you had experienced when engaged in deep conversation was quickly replaced by fear. What if you were digging your grave? What if you had signed yourself up for demise? It was so unlike you to share so much… and yet it felt so comfortable. You were alive for once, and the cottage was beginning to warm up to you again, voices of more than one echoing off its walls. But how could you know that Seonghwa had good intentions? You could not remember much of what you had seen online, except some tiny excerpts about the title track on which he had worked, but other than that - nothing. You had over-exaggerated your knowledge of his ways and his work as a silly flex of superiority, but… the more you thought about it, the more guilty you felt. You were a liar. A fiend. Seeking company, but writhing like a snake.

Ever since that first heart to heart, you remained distant, despite Seonghwa’s consistent efforts to get to know you better and better. He was not pushy, kept his jokes lighthearted, but you saw every attempt to learn more about you and your stories as a threat. You were in the same house, but it was as though the walls were closing in just on you. With a violent tug, you forced the towel off the hanger and let it pool on the floor, fleece resembling the perfect sands on faraway islands that you had seen advertised an astonishing number of times, but chose to believe in it being some business-crafted utopia. You could not bear picking the towel up from the ground. No matter how many times you would try to hang it, it would not look conventionally pretty. You tried, you really tried to arrange things how Seonghwa arranged them, be it out of respect or to conform, but your hands would produce something akin to a tremble, and at the last moment, the final product - destruction, was before your eyes. Slowly, you sank to the floor, feeling cold tile. Struggling slightly, you crammed yourself against the wall, and pushed the door a little to leave nothing more than a tiny creak. One last razor cut of light to be a guiding thread back to hollow function.

Leaning against the wall, you found yourself trying to escape your own thoughts, but the more you stared into the darkness, the more futile this race was. Inevitably, you were your own limit. At times, it was a good thing - you could go as far as you could. But other times… it meant falling and falling deep down until you were in the state you were currently in. Hands shaking just enough to send a wave of panic crashing into you, eyelids heavy from questionable and ever-changing sleep. It felt strange, having someone new know of your concerns and information somewhat beyond your day to day. Unlike regular ‘hello’ and ‘how are you’, you had inadvertently let Seonghwa see the root of your worries, and it was astonishingly hard to bear. In the dark looming corners of the bathroom, you could see your reflection. The crumpled towel taunted you, and in a spur of rage, you kicked it, immediately curling back up, arms hugging your legs. What was so hard about sharing your mind? Was it because he looked like he understood? Or was it because you were afraid that he actually did understand, and now you were at his mercy?

Vulnerability - a muse for artists, a disease for those favouring logic and wishing to move through life as an invincible figure. You were in a position where people trusted you, or rather, had to trust you if they wanted a job well done. True, you were not quite senior enough in your career to carry out the more complex procedures, but you had done your fair share of scalpel holding to curse the anxious tremor of your hands at this present moment. The fear was becoming unbearable, and it was all because of some silly conversation about what made things beautiful, and what beauty was. Ridiculous. The words blended with the heavy rainfall outside, and continued to return like the tide, higher and higher each time. It had been quite a number of days since the seemingly simple and friendly talk, and yet it gnawed at you. You wanted out, no, you needed out of this mess. Out of your own head. Old Man would have undoubtedly laughed at you, called you a feral wild and untamed beast, incapable of letting a little sunshine in your life - something of a nickname that you had acquired in the last years of his life, when you were already deep in the river of souls in the capital. But he was not here to reassure you, not here to crack a joke at the right time or to offer you protection. If there was any way you were going to survive your sabbatical, you had to hold tight and keep to yourself for the remainder of the weeks. You were going to pretend you knew his motives, and at any opportunity would tell yourself that you were staring at evil’s beautiful eyes-

Beautiful. No. You shook your head in disapproval. Eyes. Just. Regular. Eyes. In the dim evening lamplight, when you two would silently share the living room, both of you preoccupied with your own version of dawdling, they held little fireflies. Reflections of warm gold and a stunning white on a near onyx sky. Just eyes that you could not read, windows through which you did not want to look in search of a soul. Some part of you hoped that this entrancing vision would remain with you, and you would never have to see him under nauseating fluorescent lights; the scene was a professional instinct, but if there was something which you approached with more aggression than even your own paranoid self-preservation, it was to detach your present, and your continuous. Seonghwa was Seonghwa, and did not need some nobody like you to pretend to know how he should look. You exhaled, a shiver running over your form as the chill from the floor became more noticeable. A poem popped up in your mind, or rather, the few lines that Seonghwa had quoted to you the other night. Something or other about flowers, how they bloomed and wilted. While you could not grasp the exact words, your heart kept the poem safe and whole, with such diligence that it hurt. It was another one of his tries to get you to inch out of your shell. You shut your tired eyes, only to see how the shadows fell across his face as he had turned to you, lips remaining parted when he trailed off, glimmering orbs regarding you so sincerely and gently that you wanted to howl in agony. With a rub of your palm, stopping at your mouth, you wished to wipe the memory physically - your mind was too unwilling to do so. No, Seonghwa had to be some tragic, cruel joke the universe was playing on you. He simultaneously was indescribable and yet so, so simple, but if you were to be tasked to put him into words, you would sooner learn how to fly than to be capable of achieving such a feat. On the tip of your tongue were so many phrases and solutions to mysteries but none clear enough to be whispered into the early dawn. Seonghwa was who he was, and that was what scared you. You could not let him get to you like this.

Reluctantly, only due to the cold starting to become unbearable, you pushed yourself off the floor, and were once again faced with the task of picking up the pitiful puddle of fabric. With an apparent scowl, you bent forward, lifting the item and throwing it over the hook, determining that this just had to do. No one was going to throw a fit over this - and if Seonghwa was, well, you would just be happy enough to have decided to try and maintain distance. The more evidence or actions to support your desires the better. Cautiously you slid out of the bathroom and made your way down the corridor, avoiding creaky floorboards. Seonghwa was probably still asleep, and you were supposed to be. The early dawn was creeping through the lazily drawn curtains, and painting the floor in a hazy blue and grey. Hints of sunshine, tentative, shy, could be spotted on the very edge of the horizon. Maybe, just maybe, the weather would start looking a little more like spring. One step, another, and you were nearly at the dining table, front door ahead of you. Technically, if you so wished, you could spend the day in solitude; a visit to the nearby village was long overdue and it would almost guarantee an entire day outside of the cottage and away from the man who had taken residence in your brain as if out of spite. In addition, you could run some errands, and that definitely needed an early start. Your mind began to craft an itinerary, happy to abandon worries one by one. The market, the bakery, an obligatory visit to the post office to greet Old Man's and grandpa's friend… much to do. So much to do, in fact, that you only narrowly missed a ghostly figure appearing and stopping right in front of you, and had to rely on its sleepy reflexes to prevent you from colliding head on. You yelped as hands grasped your upper arms, and in an effort to escape you stumbled back.

“Hey, careful-”

That honey-sweet, deep voice forced you to glance at the so-called ghost. Perplexed, you saw none other than Seonghwa, who had been on his way out of the cottage office, stopped by the crossing of your somnolent paths. Dressed in a black turtleneck and black slacks, it was evident that he had been awake for at least as long as you, if not more. Like a deer caught in the headlights, you could only stare.

“You… you alright? Sorry if I scared you… it’s just… you know…”

“Oh no, I’m fine just… didn’t think you were awake, is all…” you mumbled, eyes starting to dart in all directions.

“Yeah, I get that. I didn’t sleep too well so I decided to get an early start to the day… same for you?”

“Sort of,” you were anxious under his burning observation. The shapeless, oversized hoodie that hung over your figure was your only salvation. Subconsciously, one of your hands reached for the opposing upper arm, forming something akin to a barrier between you and Seonghwa. Your legs protested, and you remained rooted to the same spot, only capable of a barely audible mutter: “I was thinking of heading out today. To the village. Will be out for a while.”

“Village? I have not been there yet. May I come with you?” eager, Seonghwa asked, smiling softly.

“Then how did you keep everything stocked up?”

“I’m organised. And visited that one super store that is on the way.”

“That’s even farther than the village?”

“Like I said. On the way.”

“Resourceful,” you knew you were stalling giving an answer to his request, but Seonghwa persisted.

“So… may I come with you?”

With no rain or violent dancing of the ocean waves to save the awkward quietude, you were in a situation no different to the one you were in a mere few minutes ago. Bathed in darkness, wisps of thoughts about the young poet permeating through restless meditation. He styled his hair differently today, you noted - most of it was brushed back, with a few elegant strands remaining over his face, approximately reaching the length of his nose. No wonder the media had clinged onto him; Seonghwa had undeniable appeal, and that on top of what was a unique form of artistry in the world of popular and quick entertainment, he was a dream for any agent, should he have found the limelight exciting. But clearly, he did not wish to risk going blind, and here he was, the muse and the poet in one form, trying to find peace.

“If I will be a nuisance, then it is okay I can-”

“Why not?” your swift interjection pushed Seonghwa into a long pause.

“Yeah. Why not, indeed. Thank you. Then, hm… may I quickly grab a couple of things? You were planning on leaving now, right?” You nodded, and watched him rush upstairs, revived.

The response, a little boyish, rough and carefree, brought a hint of a grin to your face. Simple pleasures in life were hard to find, and you had persuaded yourself to not acknowledge them, but you could not deny just how endearing it was to see Seonghwa glowing from the inside because of a couple of words and a trip to do some chores as if it was to be an adventure. You spun on your heels and ambled towards the front door. After throwing the hood over your head, you tugged on a puffer coat which you had rediscovered in one of the wardrobes - it had been a hand-me-down from Old Man when you had none of your clothes which were more suitable for rural life left after a strong push from your parents to forget your days on the shoreline. The coat had been one of the many secrets you shared with Old Man, and had been a small but certain happiness. Smelling like rain storms and sea salt, it was comforting, and still much too big for you. But it felt like home.

“Right, so, what exactly are we doing?” Seonghwa’s voice rang out across the room as he approached, having added a wool trench coat and pale scarf of an indistinguishable colour to his ensemble. You chuckled, stepping into your boots and gesturing for him to do the same.

“I was thinking we could hit the shops. Get some fresh produce if it’s been brought in already. That’s essentially the main goal. Oh, if you have anything digital to do, I know a place.”

“Really?”

“You have your phone in your pocket, right?” you pointed at his right hand which was stuffed into the mass of his coat. Seonghwa nodded.

“A standard representative of our generation, aren’t I?”

“I’d do the same if I had something urgent going on,” a flash of pained regret did not go unnoticed by you. Biting his lower lip, he suppressed whatever association he had made.

“Thank you.”

“Shall we?”

Seonghwa shifted his footing to reach around you, and turned the door handle. The early morning yawned out a pleasant chill. Pale green leaves of the shrubbery surrounding the house trembled with excitement, and the gate stood proud, awaiting its next command. Your hand hovered above the wood for a couple of seconds. You turned your head towards the poet.

“It might take us an hour or more to get there, are you fine with that?”

“More than fine. I guessed it wouldn’t be a five minute convenience store trip.”

“Alright then.”

As you embarked on your trek to the village, you decided that the landscape had finally started to take on more springlike hues. Previously barren trees which were bent by years of gales and hurricanes were now dotted with adorable buds of white, pink and green, while the grass that survived the winter was giving way to thriving youth. The Earth was turning, waking up and stretching in its celestial bed, starting to peek out from under its star-patterned blanket. You tugged on the hood and stuffed your hands into the pockets of Old Man’s coat, content with your split-second plan-making. While it was not ideal to have Seonghwa as your quest buddy, you could not exactly see him with the hoodie blocking out your peripherals. Only the crunching of gravel under a second pair of shoes marked his presence.

The scene was faintly nostalgic, but you could not put a finger on the reason why. As you wordlessly followed the winding road and veered off onto a trail that cut to the village, you simply accepted the comfort. The cherry blossom season must be coming here soon, and then the sun would surely roll out of its bed and the seas would be tranquil. You made a mental note to try to walk past the more residential outskirts to see if the gardens of the brave few still had the fragile flowers - the only marking of this representation of spring in the near vicinity. Gravel gave way to a sparser smattering of pebbles, and soon enough only rocks pressed deep into dirt from years of steps and bicycles were left for you to scrutinise. Occasionally, you caught a glimpse of Seonghwa’s shoes when he took a slightly longer stride - expensive, without a doubt. But even in a landscape that served as the antithesis to cosmopolitan luxury, you had to admit that Seonghwa wore them well. Gingerly, you peeked out from the side of your hood, eyes darting to a random point up ahead as soon as your walking partner’s head began to turn. Your assumption was right - he was every bit the character of a dark and dramatic novel; dressed in all black, halo of pale light gracing his locks. You hated how easy it was to question your morals in his favour, or rather in favour of your wanting to be more carefree and open around him. What other stories would he tell? What soft prose would dance on his lips and tantalise you?

You gasped, hands clenched into fists, pockets tightening as you pressed against the fabric. A surprisingly cold gust of wind hit your face, and you were too slow to react. The hood flew back, allowing your hair to be tousled by the elements. You should stop getting so lost in your thoughts - you reprimanded yourself, and began to reach upwards. Seonghwa slowed down to match your pace, waited, and voicelessly pinched the edge of your hoodie, halting any further movement until you understood his intentions. Too confused by the sudden affection to care, you brushed your fingers through your hair and held it in place, allowing the hood to slide back on without further resistance.

“Thanks,” you huffed, stuck in an automatic bow.

“Don’t worry about it,” Seonghwa continued to walk, unperturbed, “it seems the wind is picking up again.”

“At least it’s not as cold anymore.”

“Good point. Refreshing. Let’s call it that.”

“Mm. Oh, Seonghwa-”

“Yes?” you paused to breathe, much too affected by the response speed Seonghwa had to his name. After telling yourself that this was his usual self rather than particular attention, you resumed.

“I have a beanie. If you want it.”

“Pardon?” you met the young man’s perplexed look, and patted the many pockets of the coat until you found the right one. After unclasping the metal button, you revealed the tip of a wool hat. His grin made the pang of embarrassment worthwhile - dazzling, sunny, so very Seonghwa that your heart hurt a little.

“Wind. Hair. All that. You know. Ahem. You get me,” you stumbled over your words, much to what appeared to be Seonghwa’s delight.

“I do. Thank you. I am okay for now,” he stopped you before you could close the pocket again, “but, if you don’t mind I’ll take the beanie. I have pockets too.”

“It’s supposed to stay in this coat.”

“Why?”

“Tradition.”

“Ah. Understood.”

You regretted your awkward gesture of friendliness, but you had to cancel out his approaches somehow. It would be strange to owe him. Was there such a thing when it came to emotion? Not wanting to dwell on the thought, you made yourself speed up, steps growing heavier against the uneven ground. Seonghwa followed suit, but you could only imagine his face at this moment, probably holding back a laugh, withholding some snarky comment out of sheer pity. That was normally how it was, so when what had to have been at least a couple of minutes passed, you were frustrated. Where was his voice? Could you simply not hear it over the wind? Was he intentionally being quiet?

“Seonghwa?”

“You are speeding along, Y/N, wow-”

“Sorry-”

“I’m just curious,” you slowed back down, allowing Seonghwa to catch up and join you on your side, “why that specific pocket?”

“That’s just how it has been all this time. This coat was passed down to me, and with it came a set of safekeeping and storage rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yep. From what pocket to keep what in, to where to hang it in what season. Couldn’t really do the latter properly but I think the coat held up well enough,” you inspected whatever part of the coat that you could spot from the safety of your hood, and peered to your right when you heard an approving hum.

“Looks like it could survive anything.”

“It probably could, if I’m honest. In my memory alone it survived being thrashed about on a clothing line in what had to have been some crazy strong cyclone and survived being abandoned on the cliffs.”

“How does this even happen?”

“Sometimes I do think Old Man did some things just for laughs, but he always had a fun story to tell and if he had to make some sacrifices for it… maybe it was worth it in the end,” you sighed and finished your philosophising.

“We all set our worths and prices, don’t we?” gradually, your stride turned into an amble, making Seonghwa get ahead. To your surprise, he halted almost immediately, and turned. When he spotted your unease, he furrowed his brows and stepped closer. He was searching for something in your stance, or in your expression - be it a change or a revelation, but clearly whatever you were doing was not enough. In the blink of an eye, he was a lot closer than arm’s reach. Inadvertently, you held your breath.

“What?” the question slipped from you as Seonghwa stretched out his hand, palm upright.

“I think I’ll have the beanie, if you don’t mind.”

“Sounds like you are doing me a favour.”

“I am just appreciating an act of kindness,” he gingerly picked the item from your grasp, “and besides, if you are going to be racing how you are now all the way to the village, my ears might freeze.”

You wanted to wipe the dorky smirk from his face, but even then you appreciated his undeniable charm. The ever-changing palette of expressions on his stunning face fascinated you, reminiscent of the metamorphosis of a flame or silver waters. You would hate to use the exact word which you were running from, so you settled to mutely acknowledge Seonghwa as ‘interesting’. Interesting, and all-consuming. You looked at the horizon, his silhouette still dancing in your vision. It was just because he did not question yet another of the many quirks of Old Man that you still honoured. Had to be. You were simply under the influence of a tiny sliver of positive emotion; nothing to worry about.

Soon enough, you were met with the main road - or what could be called a road in a rural no-name settlement, and the ghost-like buildings that marked remnants of local life. As more and more people left the place in the hopes of a better life in a bigger, more modern city, only memories and the past remained, sentenced to erode into the earth with every new season. You could recognise the buildings, of course. The colours faded, and the structures grew weary with time, but they were still standing, just like you. Waving with a tired, invisible hand. You trudged along, cursing under your breath when you saw Old Man’s friend’s house up for sale. In other words, eventually up for demolition. This village was surviving and existing until the countdown to its erasure would be completed, rather than hoping that one day, something or someone would breathe new life into it. Boarded up windows and dull grey fences; withering gardens and exhausted roofs that damned every new rainfall. There was no spring here, nor was there a winter.

“Pretty quiet…” Seonghwa commented, taking in the sorrowful and glum surroundings. You could not offer any counter-argument.

“Indeed it is… Maybe because it is an off season…” you caught your own words and exhaled, bemused, “but when is there ‘a season’ in this place?”

“May? October?”

“Could be the case. But then people prefer to go to the tourist town further south, don’t they?”

“More space for us,” with a shrug, Seonghwa responded. It looked almost as if he was reading the village’s history through the cracks and crumbling stone. Eyes travelling from side to side and sometimes stopping to scrutinise something of interest that you could never spot, he looked like he was trying to find and remember every detail, akin to a pre-op examination.

“The market is down the street.”

“Got it.”

“And then we can stop by the cafe.”

“Can do.”

“You don’t need to?”

“I could, but I don’t have to.”

“Whatever works for you. But I need a nice hot chocolate and the awareness that the world has not exploded yet.”

“Or maybe it did,” Seonghwa added, making you chuckle.

“Or maybe it did. This place certainly has a surreal other-worldly barrenness to it.”

“How appealing.”

“Home sweet home.”

A home you could barely recognise. The deterioration was abhorrent, and truth be told, when you had been on your way to the cottage and managed to catch a ride with a family, you were surprised they had any business in the village. They must have left already. No one in their right mind could survive more than a few days in a place like this, unless this was the lesser of a wide selection of evils.

Seonghwa remained quiet as you stepped into a tiny two-story building that was called ‘the market’, but was just a reminder of what had been in its place before. The stock was good enough, from fresh produce off by the windows to the refrigerated and frozen goods lined up by the walls, and the cashier who was hunched over a crossword puzzle finally showed that there was some life remaining in the village. You picked up a basket which still possessed the logo of the superstore nearby - a permanent souvenir, and with Seonghwa in toe, browsed the shelves. Occasionally Seonghwa would stop you to point at an item, or you would exchange a couple of words to debate the necessity of one thing or other, but progressed through the maze fast enough and ended up at the ancient table converted into a register.

With a vexed huff, the man behind the desk put down his pencil, and began to hammer out the prices on the old cash machine. The buttons creaked in protest, so worn that you could barely see the numbers on their faces. In one swift motion, you produced a canvas bag from another pocket, and signalled to Seonghwa to start packing while you held it open. You tried to avoid brushing your hands against his, and he politely ignored the awkwardness of your movements. Before you could ask for the total, he was already setting a couple of bills down on the counter, shaking his head at you to not argue. You narrowed your eyes, but continued to watch as the cashier counted the money, slammed another few buttons to unlock the register, and produced some change. The door of the shop shook from the wind outside, but he paid it no mind, only caring for the next word that he had to guess for his puzzle. The two of you swiftly departed, Seonghwa striding ahead to stop in front of you and try taking the bag out of your grasp.

“I could have paid, Seonghwa.”

“I could have, too. And I did. What of it?”

“How much do I owe you?”

“We are living together, aren’t we? Consider this to be my household contribution, and this-” using your moment of disorientation he yanked the handles and tightly grabbed the canvas bag, “is just me being nice.”

“You’re making it sound strange.”

“How?” he was jittery, you could tell. The reason was a mystery, but he was awfully chipper compared to even fifteen minutes ago.

“Tell me, are you nervous?” he licked his lips - a habit you had noticed within the first couple of days, and knitted his brows.

“What… what makes you think so?”

“I think I have seen enough of you to catch the gist of how you’re feeling,” you deadpanned, and turned to continue walking towards the cafe, “this village isn’t haunted if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s been ages and as you can see, I’m still alive and kicking.” The joke was not received too well judging by the forlorn tinge to Seonghwa’s disposition, but he did not put up a front or argue. Out of the blue, you heard him grumbling:

“I’m not scared of ghosts…”

“Sure.”

“Hey!”

“What? I believe you!”

“Okay! Fine! Not ghosts but… something like it,” weighing the phrase, Seonghwa wondered how to continue. When you reached the entrance to the cafe you halted, and stood fully facing your partner in existential misery.

“Which is?”

“...Emails.”

“Can’t blame you. Scary buggers. Right, shall we?” you pointed at the door and tried the handle. It gave in easily and, announced by the sound of wind chimes strung up above the door right by the frame, you entered.

If only there was someone to greet you. You tapped the counter a couple of times and reread the message left on a sheet of paper that had been roughly ripped out of a notebook.

“Stepped out, be back later, for internet leave fee in box. We are not getting any warm drinks today, unfortunately. Owner won’t be back in a while.”

“Didn’t they say they will be back later?”

“The definition of later is warped here. It means they’ll be back later to close up shop.”

“Odd.”

“Not when there are no customers for days on end. I mean, there probably are some, but they are more than likely after the internet and not the coffee.”

You dropped the paper and passed by the dozing barista machine towards the table pressed right against a barren, rusted orange or brown coloured wall - unappealing, but it had been this shade for a s long as your memory would allow you to think back, so at least it had the brand of continuity. The table itself was a little more experimental: instead of a traditional approach with legs, the piece of furniture was a thick converted shelf, positioned high enough to be like a bar. On the far end and somewhat masked by the lack of lighting stood a rickety old monitor from a bygone era, with equally ancient wires protruding out of it and escaping into amateurishly drilled holes in the wall. The keyboard: a black-coloured classic with keys thicker than a finger, was tucked under the monitor, along with a matching mouse. After pulling out the bar stool in front of the makeshift computer station but not sitting down, you lifted a foot to rest on one of the many horizontal metal bars that linked the legs together, and scanned the fees which were written with a shaking hand on a piece of paper, stuck on the wall probably while you were still a kid.

“Huh, the prices are higher than I remember.”

“Inflation,” Seonghwa offered. He had set down the groceries on the shelf-table, and stood beside you to watch the screen come to life after a couple of attempts to click the power button.

“Seems the economy reaches these parts of the country too. Is fifteen minutes going to be okay?”

“More than-” Seonghwa began to reach into his coat again, only to be stopped by you.

“Let me take this at least,” you stuffed a couple of bills into the small box that was right next to the computer and detracted your attention back to the almost-complete loading screen.

Finally, the machine went out of its slumber. You looked for a browser engine, chuckling when you saw an outdated logo marking no change from what had to be the last decade, and proceeded to search for the news. After a couple of minutes of navigating from page to page, you concluded that society had not done anything particularly remarkable, nor atrocious. A reassuring kind of ‘boring’, which was more than you could hope for. You stepped away from the stool, gesturing for Seonghwa to take a seat. He hesitated, unwilling to spare as much as a glance to the email login screen.

“Didn’t you say you-”

“Is it strange to say that I am scared?”

“Of?”

“I’m not even sure, to be honest,” he took off the beanie and ran a hand through his hair. Seonghwa was restless, and while he did defeat himself and sit in the chair, a daze took control of him before he could as much as click.

“Are there some things that you hope not to see?”

“Maybe… or… how do I even explain this?”

“How it is. Saying anything is already a start.”

“So you know how- well, of course you know- I appeared on television, and did some other interviews?”

“Uh-huh, and congratulations, by the way,” your earnest commendation was met with a nervous twitch of the lips - not quite reaching joy, but Seonghwa was nonetheless touched.

“Thank you. So, hah- just, after that there have been numerous emails, phone calls, even physical mail, asking the same things and trying to shove the same answers in my mouth. My agent was thrilled initially since it is publicity, and kept on forwarding one opportunity after another but… at some point it hit me that the press do not need me,” he finished typing in his details, but could not bear to click ‘log in’.

“Do not need you?”

“No. What they need is an image that they crafted based on their perception of me. It is true that a person forms their first impression in half a second or something like that, but when representatives of prestigious outlets do not know a single thing about my poetry which, mind you, is my main job, one does begin losing hope.”

“So you’re saying you don’t want to see the empty flattery and shallowness, right?”

“Sounds about right.”

You pondered his concern. Everyone deserved sincerity, especially when it came to things that quite literally formed a large part of one’s life. It would not be an overstepping of personal rules to empathise, would it? If there was a person in need, it was another’s duty to help them through difficulties. It was the least you could do. At the same time, you felt like you were falling, and fast, into the grasp of confusing emotions, and the more you studied Seonghwa and thought about his beau- -interesting mind, you wanted to delve into it more. You wished to understand his curves and edges, read the miraculous flame which even in times of difficulty was never extinguished in his dark irises. You stared, and Seonghwa did not mind it. In fact, if anything, he was enjoying your nearly overwhelming concentration on him. Compared to the last few days when you would actively isolate yourself, this was the most time you had spent in such proximity, and toeing the line of a heart to heart. You despised the fact that you understood Seonghwa a little too well, and that, beyond the surface, you two were much the same. For some strange reason, it hurt you to see him distraught or inconvenienced. In this place which bore the traces of both your stories, be it personal or through relatives, you wanted to maintain a safe haven, if not for yourself then for him. There were always bound to be disappointments, and when both of you would inevitably have to return to your humdrum routines and unfounded chaos, they would only amplify. So why not try to cultivate a little happiness here, in the middle of nowhere? You bit the inside of your cheek as a disturbing, but astonishingly serene resolution bloomed in your musings. To hell with your rules and boundaries. Either way your heart was going to ache, but at least like this you could make the cause of it be a little more… poetic.

“Let’s sort through your inbox together, and then we can have a nice and quiet rest of the day,” you leaned over, and clicked the mouse. The screen illuminated both your faces. You tried to ignore just how close yours was to Seonghwa’s.

He let you take the lead on scanning through the items, only sometimes providing whatever guidance he could offer. As the number decreased, so did his worry, and soon enough, you were exchanging jokes as you deleted or archived more and more emails. Neither of you commented on how your hand which you had set down on the table for a little more balance was pressed against his own, nor how you were practically shoulder to shoulder. Beyond an initial awareness both of you wanted to remain quiet in an effort to preserve this safe space. No rumination, no questions, nothing. Only what felt right. And it just so happened that in the moment when Seonghwa turned to gaze into your eyes, relieved and cheerful, it felt natural to put his hand over yours. And who were you to go against the universe?

“Thank you, Y/N. This was so silly, I really should be able to handle this but… I dare say you are my saviour.”

“Not at all. I just want to help as best as I can,” you felt him softly squeeze your hand. You couldn’t look away.

“It’s the little things. I am very grateful,” you wished you could say something grand or quote something in response, but you were afraid that a medical encyclopaedia would not fit the mood.

“No phone checking today, I think we’ve done enough.”

“Sure, Hwa.”

It was the little things. How his eyes caught the rays of light that slipped into the cafe. How he expressed himself so wholeheartedly and openly. How he wanted to be himself even when so many people were against him. In him you saw an inspiring strength; the spring after a freezing winter. Just like you had helped him with emails, he was unknowingly helping you clean up your struggles and doubts, prodding at neurons and metaphorical cobwebs until problems did not seem quite as monstrous as before. For the first time in a while, you wanted to be okay.

“Home?” The only word that fit the cottage, for you and for him. Seonghwa gleamed in response.

“Home.”

⋆✧. seonghwa .✧⋆

“Let’s go to the cliffs.”

“Sounds suspicious, what are you scheming?” you raised an eyebrow, but, nonetheless, closed the book that was neatly positioned on your lap - the aftermath of you two having grown more relaxed around one another, and you venturing into the office and asking for recommendations from Old Man’s library. Seonghwa was more than happy to offer a couple of titles which he could spot hidden on the shelves, and now could discreetly enjoy the sight of you being fully immersed in one of them.

“I just think we could use a good break,” he crossed his arms and nodded to himself. He did not want to reveal all his plans just yet, but it was hard to remain cryptic when anything to do with a location could raise questions.

“Again, suspicious. What are you on about?” Seonghwa watched you look for the old postcard which you had been using as a bookmark, smiling when you finally discovered it had fallen beside you on the sofa.

With each day, Seonghwa was getting a chance to see more and more sides of you, and he would not stop it for the world. He found himself grinning like a fool when you would be even the tiniest bit clumsy, endeared by vulnerability that you did not dare show him before. He lost himself in the sound of your voice as you formulated analogies between art and medicine, explaining concepts in such a way that it felt like poetry. His heart fluttered like a hummingbird’s wings when, after a day of chores, the two of you would settle down to simply be in each other’s company. As such, with the newfound lightness in his soul, Seonghwa wanted to help you feel at least a fraction similar.

“Mm… I do want to keep this a surprise, but I get how this sounds like a different type of pact, doesn't it?”

“You can say that again.”

“Okay… hm… if I say, with one hundred percent guarantee we will be getting home safe, in one piece and hopefully feel a lot better, will you agree to satisfy my spontaneous caprice?” You pretended to mull over his request, your pointer finger resting on your chin.

“Fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yes. Fine.”

His megawatt grin nearly blinded you as he approached you in a couple of steps and reached out his hands towards you. You glanced up and down, amused by his excitement. Seonghwa swore that all his organs flipped in his body as you clasped his hands, palm pressed to palm, and let him lift you off the sofa. When you nearly collided with his chest, he steadied you, shaking his head when a thank you fluttered from your lips. It was a shame that he had to let go. Patiently, he waited by the door as you changed into an outfit more appropriate for the weather; while the days have seen a pleasant rise in temperature to balmy spring, the occasional seaside gust was quick to remind of the earliness of the season. The cherry blossoms must have already bloomed further south, Seonghwa mused. But for once, he did not feel rushed to see them or take obligatory photographs, content with the beauty he was living on the coast of nowhere. He adjusted his cream coloured hat and matching sweater, reaching to flatten the under shirt that started to peek from under the knit collar.

Whether it was on purpose or not, he noticed how you had matched him with your outfit - flared jeans matching his jeans-skirt combination, and a determined selection of beige boots. Seonghwa was, by nature, something of a hopeless romantic, but it was moments such as this that made him both flustered and proud of his nature. As you stepped out of the cottage, bathed in a rejuvenating sunlight, he squinted and made a visor out of his hand to look more closely and try his best to remember the scene. Your head was held higher, your steps were more confident, and when you looked back to check if Seonghwa was following you, you had a mischievous glint in your eyes. He sped up, softly tapped your arm and beamed.

“Right, mystery boy, lead the way. Something tells me that you have a very particular location in mind.”

“That, I do. Spotted it some time ago. You probably know it, but I want to share it with you nonetheless.”

“Well, it would be my first time seeing it with you, wouldn't it?” Your mouth pressed into a fine line before you burst into a giggle after having considered your words for a fraction longer, “Goodness, sorry-”

“I like that,” Seonghwa smirked, enjoying the subtle flirtation.

“Pardon?”

“First time for everything. Quite the celebration, is it not?” When you did not answer, par a joking eye roll, he pointed to the right, elaborating his planned route, in the direction opposite to the village and right by the sea. After a couple of beats of silence, you turned to him.

“Celebration? Seems like you are thinking of something specific.”

“Mm… maybe.”

“Oh… is it your birthday? Oh no I have nothing to-” your face fell.

“No! No, I'm touched that you care this much though, darling,” half in jest, half testing the waters, Seonghwa let the pet name slip. Though it appeared to have been wasted nerves worrying about your reaction, as you did not bat an eye. He looked ahead, “it's in two days.”

“So you aren't much of a birthday enjoyer? Judging by how you are here… and not in the city.”

“There are different ways to celebrate. And, if you don't mind. This is how I would love to celebrate mine.”

You looked magical in the golden rays. With half the sky a hazy white, the other promising a gloomy grey storm, you were his good and evil, his battle.You came to him like nightfall, and made him learn of shimmering sunrises. The speckles of bright light in your irises were downright enchanting, and only grew more captivating as you tilted your head, inadvertently capturing more sunlight. His April wishes, muted prayers for one moment to turn to another, and another after that. He did not dare voice his true perception of you, knowing that the one word to come to his mind was one you did not favour, and as such, stuck to walking onwards, to the cliffs, in anticipation of what he had been hoping to do with you for a considerable amount of time. You did not answer him, instead choosing to study your shoes and continue to follow his footsteps closely. The wind caressed your hair like a loving relative greeting and doting on their favourite child. You hid your hands in your sleeves, fists closing over their edges, in an effort to protect them from getting cold. No attempts have been made to guess what Seonghwa wanted to do, much to his surprise; considering how hostile you two had acted towards each other in the very beginning, this level of trust was akin to the greatest of honours, and reminded him of the unfurling of a flower that had initially been guarded by thick grey leaves, only to reveal a tender yellow white and reddish heart along with a gorgeous adornment of pastel pink petals. Fragile, vulnerable, far from eternal, but because of how temporary their natural perfection was, they were all the more beautiful. Seonghwa looked in the opposite direction from you and scowled, scolding himself. He should not think of the future, at least not just yet. It was all too soon, all too fast, anything could happen and he should not get his hopes up even when his entire being was burning into an enamoured cloud of ash.

The sea glistened, waves showing off magnificent adornments of regal silver and gold, dolled up with white lush fur-like foam. Playfully, they lapped at the shore and urged the two of you to keep going. Rolling hills soon gave way to the cliffs which with every few minutes of your journey grew taller and taller, revealing stunning white chalk faces and decorations of limestone. A number of weeks ago Seonghwa had made it his mission to explore the expanse, thereby finding what had to be the real end of the world. A terrific, breathtaking drop together with violently shaking grassland and treacherous edges, by far the tallest point on the cliffside was nothing short of freeing. With everything he had lived through being forced to stare at his back, and only the sea in front of him, he need not be concerned, at least for a few breaths, with what battles he was yet to face. After a couple of ventures to the cliffs, he found a new perspective, one that had been solidified when he had destiny bring him to you, or you to him. Had there ever been a muse, or was it simply an excuse for him to not try even when he was certain he could not achieve anything? Now, he knew he could fly freely on the wings of his own inspiration and wanted nothing more than for you to feel the same.

As the two of you approached the peak, Seonghwa became a little agitated, concerned with how you were going to react to his proposition which he had planned to utter only once you had arrived. You were quiet, occasionally looking left and right to study the brightening landscape. The steely horizon engulfed the sea, infinite, invincible, and met two pairs of eyes. Two people, who, with time, came to be undefeated. You had not voiced your concerns often, but he had seen them weighing you down, serpents tightening around your throat until you had nothing left to do but to rush out of the cottage under the pretence of ‘needing to check something’, when in fact all you wanted was air. Time and time again he could see how this, and only this place was home to you and was the soothing balm that could heal all wounds. Now as you stood to his right, occupied by your own ponderings, he saw you combine with your surroundings, making one gorgeous painting. You belonged here. Thanks to you, he felt like he did, too. The beginnings of another plan started to take root in his mind as he recalled familial logistics and the cottage, but pushed the matter for a later time; this needed the city and iron resolve. Seonghwa rubbed his hands together and rocked back and forth a couple of times.

“So,” you began, still observing the waves.

“So,” he mirrored.

“What’s this grand scheme of yours for which we needed to hike up here?”

“Not liking the views?”

“Of course I do. I’m just trying to understand.”

“Okay. Then… how about this,” he took a deep breath, stifling a nervous laugh, and with all he had, yelled at the sea, trying to drown out the sound of the Earth. He screamed with his heart, expelling all its ache and giving it room to mend itself with golden thread. He stretched out his arms and shut his eyes, embracing a better tomorrow.

Taken aback but thrilled, you spontaneously began to laugh. Wholly, without any barriers; your genuine full-body laughter overtook you, and you were half-bent, ecstatic from Seonghwa’s sudden chaos. You cackled until tears started to well up in your eyes and you needed to remind yourself to breathe, and only laughed harder once Seonghwa joined you, him just barely retaining balance and not collapsing on the ground. His shout was still ringing in your ears as you lifted your head and through airy chuckling called out to him.

“Is- is this what- you were- thinking of all- all along?”

“Go on, show me what you’ve got-” he challenged, squeezing the words out between wheezing.

“W-what? Like… right now?”

“No better time than now! Go!” He encouraged you, prayed for you to let your darkness go.

There it was. As the wind picked up and the sea roared, you joined them with your own warrior cry, stretching your arms out much the same as Seonghwa had done. You stared at the sky, squinting only to stop your eyes watering from the laughter and the gusts. He gazed at you with adoration and pride. As soon as he heard your scream start to die down, he recovered and made a beeline towards you, repositioning to face the sea, and poked you.

“On the count of three. One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

Together you let joy into your lives, cursing all that had harmed you before, and bravely took on the challenge to exist. There was always going to be trouble, there were always going to be disagreements and so-called ugliness in the world around you, but in your vision, even if just for a flash, there was guaranteed to be beauty, if not in the representations of small but certain happiness, then in the self. As Seonghwa and you shouted again and again at the skies, you knew your next inhale would be the freshest.

Lightheaded, you searched for his arm, apologising when your own crashed into it. Rapidly, his hand found yours, and Seonghwa, in a moment of what could possibly be foolish courage, intertwined your fingers together. Your eyes widened, and initially he thought he had made a mistake. But doubt evaporated faster than rain on a scalding hot day; you held on tight, lowered your arms, and swung them back and forth, before launching into another cheerful scream. Your hand in his, the perfect match. He had hesitated the last time, back in the cafe, but now he was sure that it was worth the wait. This was his home. His healing.

돌풍과 절벽에 부딪히는 파도 소리 (Gusts of wind and the sound of waves crashing against cliffs)

새로운 시작을 의미하는 수많은 소리 (The many sounds of a new beginning)

당신의 웃음소리가 가장 크게 들린다 (Your laughter is the loudest)

⋆✧. you .✧⋆

You had shooed Seonghwa out of the kitchen as soon as you heard his sleepy, post afternoon nap descent down the stairs. Despite his protests after you had waited until midnight and wished him a happy birthday, which mainly consisted of him worrying over your potential lack of rest and whether anything was necessary, you wanted to try your best. It would have been most certainly easier to follow his advice and treat this day and evening like any other, but that would not have been a representation of you, nor of how you felt towards your friend. Countless times he had given you strength and support that prior to meeting him you could have only imagined. More than that, he never asked for anything in return except your company, and for you to allow yourself to feel happy; such behaviour and way of thinking was rare, so on many occasions you second-guessed or doubted him, but each time you had been proven wrong. Seonghwa was a warm person who left a deep impression on everyone, and most certainly left an everlasting one on you.

As you let meat and seaweed simmer in sesame oil, you laughed at yourself. Had you from a month ago been here with present you, present you would have definitely gotten an earful. Who were you, showing so much kindness to someone who you had not known for a long time? But then again, there were enough people who you had known for a long time who were far from deserving of kindness, and yet you forced yourself to tolerate them anyway. At least in this case, your affection was coming from the heart and not from obligation or some twisted version of filial piety based not on love and respect but on fear and manipulation. Caring for someone was simple when it was the natural thing to do. You twisted your head when you heard more shuffling, and noticed Seonghwa, dressed in loungewear as opposed to the more formal outfit he had chosen to wear on his venture out to the village earlier, speed-sliding across the living room and to his office. You chuckled when he raised his hands in the air and mouthed that ‘he is innocent and does not see anything’. It was easy enough to guess what you were making. Seonghwa could probably guess from the smell alone, but nevertheless he played along and remained patient.

Soon enough, the soup base was in and bubbling away, filling the cottage with mouthwatering fragrance. The home that only you and Seonghwa knew felt complete and was blooming like the gorgeous flora in early April. Threats of a storm had been false alarms and instead a warm sun settled on the magnificent light blue and ultramarine. The occasional white ball of cotton would race across like a tiny woodland rabbit away to wonderland, but nothing could dispel the euphoria that enveloped you. It was simple to imagine the cottage disappearing, but that made every second more precious. For all you knew, in a couple of months the real owners of the property could decide to demolish the priceless history and sell off the land to some magnate for the building of a resort or a private mansion; such an outcome was far too plausible, and you could only clench your teeth and pretend to not be affected. Old Man would have locked himself in this cottage if anyone were to try and destroy it. Now, more than ever, you understood why. The walls had seen decades of history, both of the planet and of the humans who had visited or inhabited the cottage. Tears of sadness and of laughter, bitter love and sweet loss, paradise and purgatory. The cottage, apart from bricks and mortar, was built with memories and the souls of everyone and everything. Wherever you looked, you could recollect something associated with the items in your vision, be it a clock or a creaky floorboard. This, if destroyed, would never be recovered, and would be sacrificed to fading memory. Of course, the human mind was the most powerful when it came to reflecting on the past, but there was only so much it could do when society was as fast paced and as demanding as it was. You did not want to forget, and so wanted to desperately cling to what little you had left of a precious safe haven that had now been fully revived. Wasn't the past always more beautiful when it blended with the present and gained deeper and more vibrant colours?

“Seonghwa! It's ready!”

“Hello I am here-” almost immediately, he rushed out of the office and strode into the kitchen, “did you make seaweed soup? For me?”

“As if you did not guess.”

“Hey, hey, I saw, heard, and said nothing. My goodness, Y/N, I am touched beyond words…”

“It's not too big of a deal, really. I just wanted to make a little something for you and again, wish you a happy birthday,” you attempted to wave him off and stirred the soup once more before turning off the gas and setting the spoon down.

“I hope you don't mind this very forward expression of affection, but may I… hug you?” arms ever so slightly lifted from his sides, Seonghwa waited.

“Woah Seonghwa, so daring,” you teased, “ah come here, birthday boy,” you invited him, heart beating just that little bit faster when he gave you a boxy wide grin and stepped forward to close the space.

Your arms wrapped around his torso, sliding down into a more relaxed position on his waist while his had snaked around you, condoning you from the world. You were careful to not tarnish the impeccable white fabric, but inevitably gave in when you sensed Seonghwa's hand hovering behind your head, as if saying that you could relax into him fully, without any worries. A dazing softness consumed you as your cheek met his shoulder - one last effort to maintain at least a bit of distance between your faces and to hide your quickly blooming blush. He was what you imagined a daydream would be as a person: sweet and comforting, with subtle floral notes and a deep lasting undertone with an indescribable complexity. Honey and the most decadent coffee were the two things that came to mind, but they lacked the original heaviness of the taste and aroma. So heavenly, so surreal, so Seonghwa. Like the setting sun when it hit the waves.

“Thank you,” he whispered into your hair. You suppressed a shiver. Rocking side to side, you stood in the kitchen, neither of you wanting to disturb this bliss.

“Mm, it’s fine.”

“More than fine.”

“I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

“Shall we eat?”

“Yes please,” he uttered, but showed no signs of moving. His arms remained where they were; if anything, they were holding onto you with even more determination, as though you were so fragile you had to be protected from even a speck of dust.

“Are we… uhm, we kind of… need to move to get everything set up.”

“Ah, right,” flustered, Seonhwa detangled himself from you, and rushed to open a cupboard, producing a pair of bowls. A hint of red was visible on his cheeks and the tips of his ears; you were not alone in being a tiny bit shy from the obvious reciprocation.

You had learned each other’s patterns, who tended to move in what order, who reached where, who minded what. The two of you moved in perfect synchrony without trying, following newly acquired instinct. How could you ever not adore the cottage and all the events that led up to now? Not all had been sweet, but without the sour and the atrocious, you would not have been able to experience what you were experiencing as you settled down across from Seonghwa. Or rather, in close proximity to him, since almost instantly, he stood up from his seat and gestured for you to rise again only to take your chair and bring it closer to his side. Accepting your adorable fate, you took your bowl and cutlery and repositioned them.

“There. Now I approve.”

“Wait a second!” you searched in your pockets for an item you had discovered in the midst of your cooking frenzy. Seonghwa was patient, albeit confused, and waited until you produced a box of matches and balanced it on your palm, “not a candle, but you can make a wish!”

“My word, this is, hah- I love it.”

“Perfect. Then, here we go!”

You took out a match, and struck it against the side of the box, gasping as it burst into flames - luckily not too intensely or you would be short for time. You started to sing while Seonghwa joined you by mouthing the lyrics and accompanying with rhythmic claps. The fire started to move down the match, the tip of it having already burned out. Saved by the final notes you saw Seonghwa briefly closing his eyes. He reached out his hand and softly rested it on your wrist as he blew out the flame right before it reached your fingers. As suddenly as he had touched you, he let go, not too dissimilar from the dancing red and orange flickers which had just been illuminating the birthday table. For good measure you shook the match and excused yourself to dispose of it after running it under some water. After drying your hands, you straightened out the towel without a second thought. The rest of the meal was quiet aside from a phrase here and there. No longer was there a need to fill the pauses. Companionship was enough. Only when you were almost done did Seonghwa address you, gingerly as though he was scared of breaking the calm.

“Again, thank you so much, this is the best birthday I ever had. I even got to make a wish!” he chuckled.

“I highly doubt it, but I’ll accept your kind words.”

“Humble, so humble,” he paused. When you lowered your spoon to give him your undivided attention, you noticed his miniscule pout.

“What are you thinking about?”

“Ah, nothing. Nothing much.”

“About all the birthday wishes you read, right?” you nudged him.

“Hm, there were some…” he recollected.

“And?” you tried, sensing that he was purposefully leaving some things unsaid.

The question hung in the air, a time bomb. Seonghwa bided the seconds he had to himself before he inevitably had to respond by tasting more of the seaweed soup and nodding in approval. You gave him a brief nod and were about to let the matter go for the sake of a celebratory evening, however it seemed that Seonghwa had other plans. He never could lie, you realised. Or speak in half-truths. He was sincere to a fault, but it was one of the many things you had come to like about him.

“So there is something.”

“Yes.”

‘Say it.”

“I... I don’t know. It might be a little... sad?” he was careful with his words, evidently not wanting to make a big deal out of whatever was plaguing his mind.

“Go on. Say it. It’s okay,’ something told you that you knew what it was going to be anyways. You pursed your lips, ignoring the sinking feeling in your chest.

“I’ll... I’ll have to leave. In a couple of days? Yeah... Hm... I- yeah. in a couple of days,” he fumbled his words and could not face you, instead staring at his own reflection in the soup.

It was bound to happen someday. Your time was not eternal, either. If not today, then you would have had to have this conversation at some point either tomorrow, or the day after that... or could you have pushed it until much later? Would have Seonghwa forgiven you if, on the day of your departure, you would have dropped the news that your sabbatical had run out? If not him, then it would have most certainly been you starting the conversation.

“Oh. Okay,” you mumbled, heart and mind in conflict. This was your fault - had he remained a stranger, you would have had an easier time now. How he had suddenly appeared in your life, he would have disappeared, but now? The inevitable parting was like a high risk, invasive operation which no matter what was going to have aftershocks and side effects.

Seonghwa did not look any better. Misty-eyed and regretful, he inadvertently slumped his shoulders and curled into himself, appearing smaller and more feeble. You wished he did not care, so that it would be easier to learn how to hate him, but you could not ignore how the knuckles of the hand with which he was holding the spoon were turning white. Tentatively, you reached out to him and rested a hand on his shoulder, an action that took him somewhat by surprise judging by how quickly his head turned towards you. His dark eyes bore into yours, shimmering with intense emotion, threatening to overspill.

You realised: this was it. The crossroads. You were faced with a choice, and it was up to you to decide what was to be the absolute right. You could hold a pause and then resort to exhibiting an astonishingly unperturbed stance; he had his life and his path to follow, you had yours, so what if you had poured your souls out to each other and he had rekindled something which you thought you had lost forever? Or you could take a risk and potentially condemn yourself to hurting, if not for the rest of your life than at least for a long, long time, after which all you had seen and lived through in these few weeks at the cottage would have been the one memory to stick with you no matter what you were to do. You knew that wherever, be it under fluorescent lights, or while planning a correction surgery or attempting to discourage a patient from following a fad, you would see him. You bit the bullet, and, for what had to be the first time, followed your heart. Because tragedy, too, could be beautiful.

“Let’s make the most of what we have left. And then see what the future holds. We are two people who are very alike. Caught adrift in a storm. That is what you told me when we first started getting to know each other, right?”

Seonghwa's eyes conveyed a delicate balance of tenderness and nervousness. His gaze, though wrestling with melancholy, flickered with a charming intensity that spoke volumes. His free hand that rested on his leg that he had begun to shake out of unchangeable habit betrayed a subtle tremor, a silent testament to the whirlwind in his mind. Fingers danced nervously, tracing invisible patterns or perhaps echoing poetry that floated in his heart. You could only guess what he was grappling with, but, in the end, when you put your hand over his to abate some of his tension, a reciprocation of your determined decision was undeniable. As he stilled, you observed a serene reassurance. A quiet confidence that spoke of an undeniable care for you, of what could happen to the two of you, and of how worth it the risk was in the end. His heart beat in harmony with yours, mutual melodies rang out in time to the day rushing past the cottage. You shared a longing that was born out of the fear of what could be lost if words failed. But were words even necessary, when this bouquet of delicate emotions was so unbelievably easy to read? The truth was unwavering, and it, too, was beautiful.

“How does the storm look like to you?” he whispered, turning his hand palm up to clasp yours. You knew what was on his mind, and he was aware of what you wanted, no, needed to say to defeat a part of yourself that was scared to ever feel.

‘Beautiful. So, so beautiful.”

“Could you tell me more about it?”

“Hmm...” you thought for a moment, before pointing to Seonghwa’s shoulder. He nodded, and in no time, your head was resting on him while your fingers tightly intertwined, “...where should I start?”

“Anywhere.“

“You’re a poet and an academic, for goodness’ sake, I’d like some expert advice,” you retorted, your voice remaining light, bright and playful.

“Hardly the latter.”

“That’s what the future is holding for you, isn’t it?” you felt his cheek brush your crown, and smiled to yourself when you heard a low chuckle.

“I sure hope so. Much better than whatever was happening before.”

“It’s all part of the journey.”

“I see someone’s very optimistic!” Seonghwa’s exclamation was void of any malice. Genuinely cheerful and proud of your metamorphosis from a sardonic and grim misanthrope to a hopeful doctor proud of who they and those they loved were, he considered it to be the greatest gift. Laden with meaning and stemming from unfathomable effort, you allowed yourself to flourish and find reasons to live, rather than reasons to not die.

“Maybe because, while there are certain things we cannot change, I have come to realise that there is something sweet about it. Take leaving the cottage for example. Technically, we could stay. But in the long term, it is only going to result in a far from happy ending. So what does that mean for both you and me? We cannot change the fact that we have to leave. However in this we confirm to ourselves and each other that this is not a dream and that our time here... yeah. Yeah,” you cut yourself off, embarrassed by your own words, earning yourself a tiny shoulder nudge and a squeeze of the hand.

“Yeah, what?” Seonghwa’s curiosity was piqued. Too late. No going back for you. You bit your lower lip and inhaled deeply in an effort to stop yourself from cringing.

“Please forgive me for the insane cheesiness, but-”

“Only the highest quality cheese could come from you, don’t you fret.”

“Seonghwa!”

“What? Accept it. Now, as the people say, ‘spill the tea’.”

“A modern poet, truly.”

“Of course, of course, I try my best.”

“Anyways,” you interjected, returning to your train of thought, “ I just wanted to say that I am happy...”

“With what?” you could catch a note of teasing in his tone, but chose to let it go.

“With... this,” you gestured to him, to yourself and then to the surrounding rooms, “this is by far... the best I have felt. In a long, long time.”

“Oh? Someone made you feel this way before?”

“Shush, you get what I mean,” you glared upwards and twisted to lightly slap Seonghwa on his chest, which turned out to be a mistake in the making since he did not miss the chance to capture you fully. And so you were stuck, semi-suspended and essentially at Seonghwa’s mercy with how he was supporting your balance, blinking in surprise at his coy smirk.

“What do you mean?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. What are you ready to say?”

“Considering how we keep switching topics, I don’t think I can answer anything.”

“Okay, okay, the storm then. What does it mean?”

“What storm?” you furrowed your brows.

“Y/N we just discussed it-”

“Ah, right. Actually, you know what, everything might be linked,” you tried to shuffle to get a better angle and not feel like you were about to topple at any moment, but Seonghwa was not so eager to stop practically cradling you.

“Hm?”

“I mean, the books you recommended, the things you write, hell, even the cottage and you and I... isn't this all like the weather?”

“Curious observation, but yes, I can see where you are coming from. Do go on,”

“If you let me sit down properly, and maybe... finish your soup?” you pointed your chin at the cooling dish.

“Right, sorry, but hey! You too! I see the-”

“Eat, Hwa, then I promise you I will give you a full rundown of my chaotic analogies.”

You were shocked from how speedily he inhaled the soup and then, with a proud look on his face, flung his arm over the back of your chair and announced that his mission was accomplished. As you chewed on the last of the seaweed and ladled the last spoonful of broth, a tiny voice in your head made you want to return to the cliffs and yell louder than before: this conversation, everything that was happening now was because you had accepted that something was beautiful to you. Or rather, instead of connecting beauty to something concrete, you now were comfortable with beauty being an ever-changing continuum. Thanks to what?

“Okay, I’m done now. So, the storm. We were running from them, weren’t we?”

“Mhm.”

“But now... I don’t know if you think the same but I dare say those storms are not so spooky anymore,” if only you could have taken a picture then and there to keep in your wallet. The precious glimmering joy visible across every feature was contagious, and your doubt was forgotten.

“Not spooky at all,” you could hear the gears moving in his head as he regarded you.

“What?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason,” he sighed and hid his gaze, “...shall we clear the table?”

“Let’s do it.”

He did not miss the chances to brush past you, or to steady himself after reaching across for something by tapping your arm or your waist. Not that you minded, but his amplified affections were dizzying. It was as though he was doing everything in his power to ensure that he would be missed so strongly by you that you would end up snapping and attempting to find him in the big city. That was when it hit you - you did not know where he lived, nor where location-wise he worked, nor his contact details. It had never come up in conversation - neither of you were terribly fond of delving too deep into how life was in the metropolis and had shared what was necessary for the present, and considering that in the weeks you had been here you two were always in close proximity, things like phone numbers or social media details were obsolete. When you finished washing up, dried your hands, and waited for Seonghwa to complete his task of putting the dishes away, you were astonished by your own lack of foresight. You had always been a planner but following your time at the cottage you wanted time to stop.

“Hey may I ask something? Or rather for something?”

“Go on ahead- wow, the sun sure is doing its magic,” you followed Seonghwa’s gaze and stepped after him into the living room.

The window. A little old thing. The frame was holding up impressively well, and the paint had remained pristine even after you had opened the window a couple of times to let the fresh air in. Beyond it, between the shrubs and above the stone wall was a never ending golden steppe, rippling and rolling in heavenly rays. It was rare to have a day as good as this on this part of the coastline. Leaves shimmered like coins, and the clouds took on yellow, orange and lilac hues, waving from up above.

“Truly.”

“Anyways, as you were saying?” he turned, catching some of the sunlight on his regal form.

“Let me borrow the horrendous phrase for a second... ahem, may I get your number?” Much to your delight and amusement, Seonghwa did not bat an eye, and instead dug in his pocket.

“Ahead of you, but thank you for reminding me. Here. I put down my number, my home address, the publisher’s office... and my private social media if you want to connect on there.”

“How-”

“I want to... hm... I didn’t think that, when I come to actually saying what I want to say, that it would be kind of hard,” cryptic, as ever when he was about to shake you to your core with something profound. You took the piece of paper from him, carefully refolding it after checking the written contents and sliding it into the pocket of your cardigan.

“Time for me to inquire. Whatever do you mean?”

“I want to keep this going.”

“Oh?”

“Interesting thing to wish for after we literally lived together, but... I want to see you. Officially see you. What do you say?”

“Ever the gentleman,” his lopsided grin made you wish you could squeeze his cheeks. Perhaps down the line you could have that privilege, “I accept.”

“You do?”

“I too, really want to see you. Often, I hope,” Seonghwa’s vigorous nodding, paired with his undivided attention was like a thousand suns, brilliant and beyond anything you could put into a sentence. He approached you and peered into what had to be your very soul.

“May I spoil a potential gift? And, sort of, the reason why I need to depart?”

“Go on, I am all ears.”

“You know how,” his pointer fingers hooked around yours, and you were subconsciously pulled to him, “my relatives own this cottage, right?”

“Right,” you were aware, and had accepted it. Such was life.

“Well... I may or may not have gotten in contact with them, and am starting a legal process to put the property up for sale.”

“For sale? Excuse me? Are you mad? It will be- no, I cannot let this, no, they will bulldoze this place into the dirt I-” you began to panic, voice rising higher and blood beginning to boil.

“I did not say to whom the property will be sold.”

“Some mogul or billionaire who does real estate for fun.”

“Are you either of the two?”

“Pardon?”

“Are you a mogul or real estate fiend?”

“I? No?”

“The sale is a formality anyways. The cost will be put down as one won, which I’ll just pass to my cousin with a handshake. Your job, should you wish to be the owner of the cottage, is to sign some papers, and attend some meetings.”

“Am I dreaming?”

“This place does sometimes give the surreal sensation of floating in space, but I promise you, you are not. In fact, tomorrow we can go to the cafe again and I can show-”

“Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you thank you thank you-”

“Glad I can help in some way. This is your cottage, after all-”

“I am on cloud nine... how is this- how did you?” you swung your arms, with Seonghwa’s following.

“Easy. I just mentioned you. That was enough to seal the deal. Old Man talked about you, you know.”

“Oh, I- may I hug you?”

“You do not need to ask me for permission to do that,” you did not need to be told twice.

Your thoughts were racing. This could not be. You shut your eyes until you saw phosphenes. Opened them again. You were still in Seonghwa’s arms, in that sweet-scented paradise, caressed by a tender flame. All emotions that had been slumbering over the years have fully awoken, and were threatening to come to the surface to rejoice in what could only be called the reclaiming of the self. Your history, your identity that was stored in these four walls was now promised to be yours. Was that not to celebrate?

“Seonghwa… it is your birthday and you are giving me the gift of an infinite number of lifetimes...”

“My gift is seeing you so happy,” you inhaled sharply, and peered at his dark chocolate irises.

“Come on, you cannot be serious.”

“I am more serious than you could imagine. And I hope to keep proving it to you. Day by day. Again, if you let me.”

“I don’t know what to say or do right now. I am a tiny bit overwhelmed... this... this is as if I walked into a magical house, met a magician, and he tapped me on the head with a little wand and here we are, wish granted,”

“I knew I was missing something.”

“What?“

“A wand,” you beamed and floated into bliss, focusing on Seonghwa’s heartbeat, endearingly close to your own both physically, and rhythmically. Right here was beautiful, right this moment was beautiful. The promise and plan was beautiful. But one note of misery remained, one that you were determined to vanquish.

“Seonghwa?”

“Yes?”

“I am a little anxious about something...” he hugged you closer, but instead of it being soothing, it made you want to cry despite the euphoria you were experiencing.

“What is it?”

“What if it goes away?”

“What goes?”

“What if beauty disappears when I go back?”

You knew it was a silly question, you knew that it was all in your head and that you sounded like an absolute desperate fool while asking this, but it was sickening, a lump in your throat that you could not swallow. The first light of love and of freedom, so pure and so unconditional, was addictive and sweet. You did not want to consider its falsities or ponder potential disillusionment. You threw away even the inklings of paranoid suspicion that Seonghwa, too, could join the ranks of those who laced their kind words with malice or with judgement, and might have wanted to play with your feelings, both romantic and historic. At least right here, right now, you wanted to believe in there being someone who could love in both the presence and absence of beauty, whatever any given individual desired to define it to be. You wanted to know that he was on your team, and that this place really was a key to real life wish-fulfilment. Seonghwa’s hand slowly glided down your back, disappeared, and slid down again. In this perpetual motion he silently offered some stability.

“You know it won’t.”

“How?”

“Because you are you. Your soul is beautiful. And if you ever think that the world around you is starting to strike you like the cold winter months, remember that, now, I am just one call away. Always.”

“But it- goodness, sorry,” you were choked up and had to pause. Seonghwa did not make you hurry, instead, he brushed away the strand of hair that was about to get in your eye, and looked at you as though you were his future.

“Don’t apologise for feeling, my angel.”

‘Stop, Hwa, you’re going to make me bawl in a moment,” you exclaimed with a groan, trying to laugh your concerns away. Seonghwa chuckled, but kept holding onto you, rocking on his legs, swaying side to side like the eternal, unstoppable clock that governed your entangled lives.

“Oh no, we don’t want that, do we?” his voice vibrated across his chest, and in turn, struck your heart like a dozen healing melodies. ‘We’, it was now ‘we’, rather than everyone being left to scramble for salvation, against everybody else who surrounded them. You repeated the word in your mind once, and again, and again, until it turned into wind chimes twirling in a waltz with a serene breeze.

“I’d like to smile more with you.”

“I’d like that too. I never get tired of smiling with you,” you pushed your upper body away by a fraction to admire Seonghwa more.

“I am afraid, Seonghwa. You make me so happy. I- I am so happy. But so, so afraid that all of this will vanish.”

“Y/N,” his hands clasped around you, relaxing - a gentle salvation from all dark secrets the coming months undoubtedly contained, “Beauty shall never vanish. Because love is beautiful. There were times when I have been shaken even by the weakest of winds, and times when my breathing was unbearably heavy. One single comment or event... anything at all could turn a bright summer day into a biting winter. Storms shall always remain, even if we try to bid them farewell...”

He waited for you to steady your breaths before continuing, and upon your brief nod, pressed his forehead against yours. His hair tickled your skin the tiniest bit, but it only made you more aware of him, more connected to him. More loved and seen.

“Our pasts and our steps through our years brought us towards each other. And... I am... so, so honoured and so happy that a person like me can bring happiness to your life, and can only hope that I can give you as much love. I am stunned by how we do the little things together, how you ask about me, how you, you wonderful angel, give me love for no reason as if it was only natural,” tears welled up in your eyes, only to be caught by Seonghwa’s thumbs and erased before they could form a river, “Maybe my greatest gift is you, and all the little things that make you, you. Because you are here, in my life, and are part of my world, I am learning the feeling of love again. Now,” he noticed your urgency as you were about to interrupt him, and tapped your nose with his own, “Thanks to you, thanks to us, I am finding beauty. I cherish our past, our spectacular present, and pray for our future to exceed eternity.”

“Seonghwa...”

“Spring comes and goes, but I will always ensure that your heart stays warm. If you will let me.”

“If you will let me do the same,” the gap between you grew smaller and smaller, until was a mere memory and you tasted the coffee and honey, the many sunrises and sunsets to come, the sound of the waves and the rustling of the grass on the cliffs.

The cottage, while it was a real place with its many wonders, was more than that. It was a panacea, a safe haven in one’s mind or a world for those whom one loved. The cottage could be anything, could be anyone, could be anywhere.

And that was truly beautiful.

⋆✧.✧⋆

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last-words-ofashootingstar · 8 months

Text

The Garden

Chapter One

❥Prince!Park Seonghwa x fem reader

☆ feat. ateez, tomorrow x together, and others

➯a/n: i've had this idea in the drafts for a very long time and it's gone through a million iterations of characters and love interests and something about hwa in the skirt and sword clicked in my brain. i'm still recovering but this idea hit me hard and fast so i decided i'd put something out. i promise i'll stop starting new stories 😭 (shoutout to my gf again for helping this come to life)

✃"I will give you the happy ending you've always wanted."

✫彡wordcount: 2.7k

(✯◡✯)genre: historical fantasy au, drama

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: mentions of violence, anxiety, and loved ones passing, briefly proof read

⁂taglist: @stvrfir3 @tunaasan

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

𖢌

I hope this letter has found you well.

The wheels crunch the gravel road. Horses hooves clap against the ground loudly. The waves crash just feet way. The sounds echo through the carriage.

I know it's short notice.

The sun is casting down from a clear sky. The grass is healthy, green and lush. The ocean is vast and blue, foam from the waves clings to the pure white sand.

Taedemere is in jeopardy. We are at war. Lord Hwang declared it silently.

It was a bumpy ride. A long one. But you don't seem to mind. You keep your sisters entertained and keep your brothers minds off of the impending war. Doing so, you can almost manage to distract yourself from your own future.

He's already posted spies. Spies in the castle. Gods knows how long they've been here.

"The dragon fell from the tower. It's shrieks echoed through the kingdom!" You read with enthusiasm, looking at the twins who look back with wide eyes.

It's not safe for them here. We had to sneak them away through the tunnels.

"Did the prince kill it?!" Seunghee asks, holding tight to your skirt. "He must have," Soojun is entranced by the story, "right?"

There was an attempt on my life. An attempt on the girls in the garden. Another on Kai and (Y/n). They are everywhere.

You launch forward and scream, spooking the girls back into Kais leg. He's holding back a laugh as he pats their heads. "The dragon soars up from the fog, the princes sword still lodged into its scaly side!"

They are threatening us with no words at all. Lord Hwang is coming for the Taedemere crown.

"Must you scare them with such stories?" Yeonjun sighs as he tugs the young girls back up to the seat, sandwiching himself between them and his brother.

You must forgive our absence. I have to keep the crown secure until we have a more solidified plan.

You simply ignore him, "the creature perches itself on the ledge, it's jaws reach for the prince. He backs into the wall and draws his dagger. 'Foul demon! I send you back to hell!' he yells as he dives at it. They tumb-"

It's time.

The carriage halts. You snap the book shut and lean back to get a look out of the foggy window. Yeonjun slides into the seat next to you and does the same. Kai strains his neck to look out of the window behind him.

Take care of our children. Our future.

The gates are iron, shining like they were scrubbed everyday. The castle beyond them seems to be endless.

-King Choi Seungcheol

As the gates open, you can feel your heart beat in your ears. Seunghee climbs on your lap and peeks out of the window, her eyes widen with every second she inspects the castle.

Yeonjun seems to notice your dismay as the carriage grows ever closer.

He can feel it to. The feeling that your future is being written in stone with every inch you grow closer.

"When I last saw him," he hesitates as he gets your attention. "Prince Seonghwa seemed to be the same. He hasn't changed, he's still your old friend."

You manage a nod with a small smile, and although he can tell it's forced; it helps comfort him. It doesn't comfort Kai, however. He never liked the idea of you marrying someone so far away. He still doesn't. You're attached at the hip.

Everyone knows Choi (Y/n) doesn't want to marry for security or position. You made it very clear. It's a miracle that you've been able to avoid it this long. You figured if you put up enough of a fuss, your oldest brother would simply give up. But you are equally stubborn. And now he's King.

A loud horn startles you, and you instinctively pull Seunghee closer. Your breathing hitches until you realize it's just the castle welcoming your entourage.

As you come to a complete stop, all of your demeanors change. Yeonjun wipes his caring expression away and straightens his back. Kai lets go of Soojuns hand and fixes his blouse. The twins try their best to hide their awe at the beautiful and vast architecture.

And all you can do is hide your growing anxieties with a polite smile.

The door squeaks as it opens. Yeonjun is the first one to exit. Soojun eagerly follows, and Seunghee is right behind her. The remaining siblings can hear the fuss from the bystanders outside.

The middle siblings sit silence for a moment before he speaks up. "You don't have to be afraid."

You look up and let the faux smile fade the second you see his sincerity.

"Don't I?"

"No."He shakes his head. He's sure. His sister has nothing to be afraid of. Because- "if that Prince hurts you; I'll be the one to personally whip some senses into him."

You can't help the small chuckle that leaves your lips, and motion for him to leave the carriage first. He does, leaving you alone for a single moment before someone peeks in.

"Your highness?" You smile at the man in uniform, standing slowly.

"So impatient," you roll your eyes playfully and take his hand as he helps you step down. "Thank you, Yeosang."

He bows slightly before leading you to your place in between your brothers and sisters. Your eyes are still adjusting to the bright light, but you can see the large doors open in front of you.

Yeonjun kneels, Kai follows his lead, you follow his, Seunghee following you; and Soojun stands upright just staring at the royal family until you notice and pull her down by the back of her neck without even lifting you head. You can all hear a small snort of laughter, and Yeonjun worries your family managed to already offend them until the King speaks.

"Please, rise."

The Choi family does so and Yeosang, the knight, steps forward. He bows deeply before turning to the siblings. "The Prince Choi Yeonjun. The Princess Choi (Y/n). The Princess Choi Seunghee. The Princess Choi Soojun. Huening Kai."

A man steps up from behind the other family, introducing them like Yeosang had just done for your family. "His Royal Majesty Park Kyujun. The Prince Park Seonghwa. The Princess Park Bongcha. The Princess Hayoon."

Your family bows, greeting him in unison, "Your Majesty." Yeonjun continues. "Thank you for your hospitality, sire. We are forever grateful."

Your eyes are fully adjusted when you rise from your bow. The king is older than you remember, but it has been a long time. Princess Bongcha has grown so much that you briefly wonder if you've found yourself time-traveled. There's an unfamiliar little girl beside her. The prince, your fiancé, has changed just as much as you have. You contemplate if he even remembers you. But those wonders are cleared when he addresses you directly.

"Princess (Y/n)," he has a bright smile and dark hair, that much has stayed the same. "Your highness," you smile back and lower your head.

Whispers echo through the crowd that's held back by the guards: and it's becoming hard for you ignore them. You wrap your arm around Soojun when she cowers closer.

"Please, come," King Kyujun motions for you all to follow him, and you gladly do.

It's been a long journey, but it's only just begun.

𖢌

King Kyujun leads the Choi family down the great hall and they can't help but marvel in its greatness. To the twins, it's a new world to be explored, coming up with their own stories that go along with the stain glass windows. To the older siblings, it brings back memories of childhood, a time when they didn't have such worries that plague their minds these days.

Yeonjun can remember his first kiss behind a delicately painted pillar during the dead of night. Kai can remember learning a dance with his mother in this hall, the feeling of belonging. (Y/n) can remember running away from the tutor with Seonghwa beside her.

As you look over to him, you notice it. "You still have that goofy smile," you've dropped the titles and politics. You're just a girl reunited with her child hood friend and fiancé. "I though you may have outgrown it."

"I'm starting to think I may not," he laughs a bit.

"I'd hope not. It's one of your few redeeming qualities," you joke, hiding your smirk as you look up at the new chandelier you pass under.

He feigns a gasp, a hand on his chest. "I'll have you know that I have many good qualities."

You hum, turning to him, "such as? Sparring with a squirrel?" He slaps a hand over his mouth to swallow his laughter. Your laughter rings free in the empty hall.

"That squirrel was a menace! It startled me!" He argues in a low voice. "It had no right jumping next to me like that," he says with an exaggerated frown.

"Unnie!" Soojun hollers, catching your attention quickly as you see that your little sisters have fallen behind. You make your way to them quickly, scolding them that they shouldn't yell in the presence of the King. "Look, Unnie," she points as she ignores your scolding.

Your heart speeds before it stops abruptly, face to face with the intricate stained glass window. The sun shines through it, casting colorful lights on you all. It's a beautiful collage of colors. Every tiny piece is fit together perfectly to tell a story.

You flinch when a hand is placed on your shoulder. The King apologizes, retracting his hand. "You probably don't remember this..." You shake your head and look back to the art. "I remember, sire."

He sighs deeply, and you can feel his energy apologizing even if he says nothing.

"Come on, there's food waiting." The twins cheer quietly, following the King to the room where everyone else has vanished to.

Seonghwa joins your side and looks at the window, basking in the colored light as he looks over the picture for what must be the millionth time. In his lifetime, he hasn't been able to find a single flaw.

He looks down at you. Your skin is painted in a range of blue and yellow, pinks and greens. There's a patchy scratch on the majority of your cheek that's slipped his notice until now. Your eyebrows have screwed themselves up and your lip quivers.

"Don't cry," he was essentially begging, "please, don't cry, (Y/n)."

You sniff in response, rubbing a stray tear away from your cheek. It's silent between you as you have a staring contest with the glass. "Fuck," you mumble as tears start to fall more often. "Ah, (Y/n)," he coos, moving to block your view of the heartbreaking image.

"I... It's just, I haven't seen them since they passed, Cheol put away their portrait... It breaks his heart to see them, but it breaks mine not to. I almost forgot what they looked like."

He doesn't say anything, simply opening his arms and letting you fill them. After so long, it feels the same. You're still shorter, but you've both grown. He's still strong, but now you caught up. You still turn your head to the left and place it on his chest. He still wraps one arm around your back and places the other on your shoulders. After all these years, you remember how secure he feels when your arms link around his waist. Even with the time that's passed, he can recall the fact you love when he rubs his thumb over your shoulder.

So much has happened to each of you and yet you both still have memorized each other's hugs. You used to be each others safe place. And though you're older and have met again in such pressing circumstances, it remains the same.

"Your highness," the familiar voice is just loud enough to startle you. "Yes, Yeosang?" You questions calmly, and it's a stark contrast to Seonghwas glare at the man. "Your brother asks for you, ma'am." You nod to dismiss him, and turn back to Seonghwa when he's gone.

"How do I look?"

"Look like you've been crying."

You tut your tongue and gently slap his shoulder with the back of your hand. He smiles as you do. "It'll be okay," he assures you as he fixes a stray from your neat hair, "it's dark in the dining hall."

He takes your hand and pulls you away from the image of your passed parents lazing in the garden.

𖢌

His footsteps are heavy. He's forcing his breathing to be slow. His heartbeat is going wild as he gets closer to the Kings quarters.

He steps in front of the guards and they knock on the double doors. "Prince Yeonjun, your majesty!" The Kings response is muffled by the walls, but clear enough for the guards to be confident in opening the doors.

Yeonjun steps in and looks over his shoulder as the doors close behind him, anything to keep his eyes away from King Kyujun. The doors slam shut and he finds a tapestry to inspect.

"Please, sit." He follows his voice and finds himself sitting across from the King on the large balcony, a round table littered in papers separates them.

"Thank you, your Majesty," he eagerly takes the wine he offers, hoping it would soothe his dry throat. He can't remember being so thirsty before the King called for him.

"How do you find your quarters?"

Yeonjuns lips are still occupied with the glass when the man speaks up, and he takes his time before speaking shortly. "Very nice, sire. Thank you."

"And your siblings?"

"I'm sure they're adjusting well, sire. We thank you, again, for your hospitality while we discuss our plans."

When he finally has the courage to look at the man, it calms his nerves. His crown is gone. His blouse is astray. His nose and cheeks carry a rosy hue from the frigid weather. He looks much more human.

"This is, of course, why I've asked you here."

"Of course."

Kyujun leans back into the wooden chair and lets out a sigh. "Once (Y/n) and Seonghwa are married, we will put our combined efforts against Lord Hwang. He's a vicious man," he tuts his tongue, annoyed at the mere mention of the Lord of Kherhai. "I've heard of the attacks on your family. I'm sorry for you loss and... rest assured, we will not let anything happen to you at this court."

"Thank you, sire."

"Your sister," he hesitates just a bit, "I've looked into quite a few people to help her plan the wedding. They'll meet with her tomorrow. I know she doesn't agree with the circumstances, but that doesn't mean it must be unpleasant."

"I'm sure she will appreciate it, sire. She's been hesitant to do any planning on her own."

Kyujun nods in response. He already knows this. He's kept close tabs on his only sons fiancée.

"Sire, may I ask when the wedding is supposed to be taking place?"

"This week, if all goes well. Lord Hwang is no doubt sending men this way as we speak to get rid of the rest of the Choi family lineage." Kyujun doesn't seem to notice Yeonjuns pained expression, and if he does: he doesn't say anything about it.

He, instead, hands the young man a map of Kherhai: diving head first into strategy.

𖢌

#ateez #ateez au #ateez angst #ateez fluff #park seonghwa #seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #txt #tomorrow x together #seonghwa au

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yuyubeans · 9 days

Text

always

pairing: roommates x hwa

genre: fluff

wc: ??

sitting at his desk, basically lost in a world of music booming through headphones. The rhythmic beats drowning out the chaos of his roommates. except when a cry pierced through the music, pulling Hwa back to reality.

quickly he looked around, seeing you standing in the middle of the living room, frantically searching through the room. your face furrowed with frustration, tears welling in your eyes. Hwa recognized what was happing, you were having a meltdown.

removing his headphones, and rushed over to your side, gently placing a hand on your back "what's up baby?" Hwa asked softly

Tears streamed down your delicate face, explained between sobs that mingi had borrowed your headphones and accidently lost them, the ones you used to block out sensory overload in the apartment. Without them, the noise was unbearable, completely overwhelming.

taking a deep breath, trying to think of how to help. he knew how important those headphones were. "It's okay," Hwa reassured you, "we'll find them together, okay?"

with gentle guidance, Hwa led you to his bed in his room, away from the noisy boys. sitting down together, offering a comforting presence as tried to calm down. eventually out his phone, turning on the torch, searching around the house, hoping that mingi had just left them in a stupid place

after a while, he spotted a familiar pair of of pretty, black headphones on mingis nightstand. grabbing them and running back into his room, showing you them, gently smiling as you let out a shaky breath, the tension in your shoulder quickly dissipating, your face slowly lighting up with gratitude as you were reunited with your precious headphones.

as you sat on his bed, moving back to lay down, turning to him with the smile he loved, "Thanks hwa, you're the best" your voice filled with love

hwa smiling back, feeling grateful that he finally got your pretty smile back, "always" he replied, knowing he'd not just do anything for you, but scold mingi later for being so stupid and not searching his nightstand

a/n: inspired by this + @moonchildust losing their headphones + i worked out the tipped function on my account!!

#i need friends #ateez #writing #jeong yunho #xiaojun #choi jongho #mingi #mingi x reader #hongjoong smut #song mingi #mommy seonghwa #hongjoong x seonghwa #park seonghwa #jongho smut #seonghwa smut #seonghwa #seonghwa ateez #seonghwa angst #seonghwa au

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heonaddict · 2 months

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lowkey want to write an ateez ff based off beauty and the beast…which member

lmk!! and any ideas to add to it??

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ad0rechuu · 8 months

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★ MILKY WAY. ━━ (00i) psh route: peruvian lilies

WORD COUNT. 701

WARNINGS. a bit emotional but overal pure fluff

credits to @ari-shipping-stuff for being my beta reader / writer <33

YOU SEE HIM. AND YOU KNOW HE SEES YOU TOO BY THE WAY HIS EYES WIDEN WHEN HE MEET YOURS.

All the contestants had packed the stage for the award ceremony. Ateez stood pretty far away from the crowds eyes, unintentionally shielding you from their vision.

None of them had spotted you until they were announced as the winners of the silver prize. Yeosang somehow saw your figure in the hoards of people, waving with excitement.

The seemingly innocent action also brought you into his view.

His heart stopped when he sees you in the crowd, looking as radiant as always.

Paying attention to the announcer as he gave them second place was probably the polite thing to do, but he didn’t hear a word. The only thing on Park Seonghwa’s mind was you.

Ten minutes later, he was shaken out of his thoughts by the audience cheering and clapping for everyone as the tired dancers slowly started to leave the stage.

He starts to grow anxious when he notices how slowly the line moves, especially when you stand up and start walking to the exit.

The urge to follow you is running high, he looks around erratically when he meets San’s and Mingi’s knowing gazes. None of them say anything, but the comforting smiles they give him is enough for Seonghwa to give into his urges.

He earns some weird looks as he sprints past the people lining up to get out, but he can hardly be bothered by them as he turns the corner to reach the audience area.

Looking around for you, he feels panic start to bubble up when he doesn’t spot the familiar face.

Did you already leave?

Did you despise him?

Did he lose his chance forever?

He doubles over panting to catch his break. The spontaneous amount of running after dancing is finally catching up to his body.

A hand softly pats his back, startling him. Seonghwa quickly turns around at the action.

Only to see you, big-eyed, staring back at him. All the words that he had rehearsed in his head leave at once and his cheeks turn a rosy color.

“I-I thought you left.” Seonghwa casts his gaze downward, awkwardly rubbing his neck.

A bouquet of pink-white flowers come into his line of view, held up by your hand.

“I saw this guy selling these flowers outside so I went to get you some.” You shrug.

“Me!?” He gasps, probably louder than intended. You nod, giggling at the boy in front of you.

“Yeah, they’re called Peruvian Lilies!” You say before also looking down shyly. “They reminded me of you.”

Park Seonghwa is, in most cases, a patient and careful man. But this is enough for him to take a chance because selfishly, he can’t wait any more.

In one hand he takes the Peruvian Lilies and takes your hand gently in the other.

“Can we talk somewhere a little more private?”

You agree and he leads you out of the venue, to a semi-secluded spot outside.

Once outside, he drops your hand and turns with his back towards you, clutching the plants in nervousness.

“Look, Yn, I— actually, uh… I have feeling— I’m sorry, but…”

“I love you.”

Seonghwa turns around.

“You love me?”

“I do.”

“Love?”

“Love.”

“..I love you too.”

Seonghwa's eyes start to fill up with tears at your exchange, and he wraps his arms around you tightly, resting his head on your shoulder. The pink locks tickle your jaw as you return his actions.

He pulls away and cups your cheeks, his thumbs going in circular motions over your cheekbones and his forehead resting against yours.

You know from the way his eyes keep wandering to your lips that he’s thinking the same thing.

Closing the little space between the two of you, your lips meet each other in a soft exchange. Though it's only the first time, it's as if you've been doing it for forever.

After a while you pull away breathlessly, neither of you say anything. The humongous smiles on your face say enough as you're wrapped in each other's warm embraces.

Just Seonghwa, you, and the Peruvian Lilies.

You found your Milky Way.

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NOTES. fun fact! peruvian lilies are related to stars and to the planet mars ^_~ also please comment your fav hwa moment of this fic

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