he stands by the window overlooking the dark expanse. he presses a hand to the glass, immediately feeling the iciness seep into the pads of his fingertips. he remembers how he begged the rest of the crew to install the window in the legacy;
“it’s too dangerous, do you understand how much pressure it has to withstand? there’s too much radiation...”
maybe he’s masochistic, but he yearns to feel. to feel anything, even if it ends up being ultraviolet wavelengths penetrating his skin cells. they serve as a reminder of the spectrum of light and emotions that burst behind his eyelids when he thinks of you. because they remind him how the kisses made it go...
he looks at a band on his index finger, a reminder to himself, to keep him tethered, a focal point when he’s overwhelmed by the loneliness, anxiety, crawling from deep deep within,,, but also to represent a never-ending love, a circle, much like the shape of celestial bodies, galaxies, their orbits. it reminds him that you are the center of his gravity.
-
i wonder if i’ll ever see you again.
-
nights like these are hard. he’s nowhere near, anything, in sight, leaving just him, the legacy, and the vast darkness. it’s night like these where he succumbs. he climbs into the tiny cot and pokes at the mobile above his head, the miniature earth wobbling slightly.
he fits the helmet over his head, making sure all of the wires are plugged into their respective places. he flicks a switch and then, quiet.
a virtual loop an artificial lie.
stargazing at night, falling into each other’s orbit, sweet sensual kisses, the moment the space ship reaches cruising altitude, silence and zero gravity, overlooking the night sky and stars, long hot showers, bruising kisses that leave you breathless, improv sessions on the piano, slow blink, sleeping in until noon, head on a shoulder -
-
he’s always awake first.
you turn and try to rub the tiredness from your eyes, but instead scoot closer and tuck your head on his chest. he scoots back and you look up at him questioningly.
he smiles softly, pressing a kiss on the tip of your nose.
you mesmerize with your eyes when you blink blink.
you two share another smile and you rest your head on his chest again, closing your eyes, falling falling falling into his embrace, as well as the deep embrace of slumber.
a short moment within a vast timeline and he wishes you two could stay like this forever.
-
you both crash into each other, lips tugging, teeth and tongues grazing. you finally break apart for a split second, a thin trail of saliva tethered between your mouths as you exchange puffs of air. he grasps your face with both hands and looks into your eyes. you nod.
the shower runs unnaturally hot, steam billowing in the tiny space. you’re hugging yourself, wet hair dripping all over your face. he gently pries your hands away from yourself and tucks your sopping hair behind your ear. he smiles endearingly and tugs you a little closer to himself, pressing a chaste kiss on your hand. then he kisses your forehead and the shell of your ear.
“there’s no need to be shy.”
you stand mere inches apart from him, lightly resting your forehead on his collarbone. a hand rubs circles in the small of your back. you watch a droplet roll down his chest, followed by another, then another. you lift your head up, and suddenly a slight bout of dizziness pounds behind your eyelids. is it the blood that rushes too quickly? the billowing steam of the shower? the intense yet loving gaze from this space boy? the subtle pressure of his lazy fingertips? the way he takes both hands and pulls you flush against him? the way ,,,
he presses a kiss on your nose, your cheeks, a quick one to your lips and he starts traveling down down to your hips, then to the middle, your favorite kiss?
when it’s your turn, you slowly go down down down down, his head tips back, bumping against the shower wall.
all i see is stars go upside down.
-
alarms are blaring and he’s frantically running back and forth to salvage any important remains, not that he has many belongings in the first place. but, he grabs the square tin foil packet from a small cubby and tucks it into his jumpsuit.
the alarms are blaring insistently now and he chokes back a dry sob. he lovingly caresses the window he so often stared out through and runs his fingers across the now malfunctioning motherboard one last time.
he rushes to slide the belt up his person and adjusts the straps and buckles so they fit snugly against his body. his fingers are shaking and the zipper catches several times as he tries to put on his jumpsuit.
he feels himself falling apart because this is the last time the legacy will be whole ever again; his heart and soul prematurely fracturing similar to the wreckage (oh his poor ship) that he’s expecting.
he braces himself and takes a running start. a heart stopping moment and everything seems to go quiet, and his gut pulls, he’s free falling.
his hands tighten into fists and he feels the band digging into his flesh.
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reminders: YOU HAVE TO READ THE HALF TIME INTERVAL BEFORE YOU PROCEED TO THIS PART!!
summary: some tragic story of you sharing one class with your long time college crush jaehyun who never notices you until he accidentally reads your work and he gets curious— oh, and he uses lame excuses to get to talk to you.
note: AAAAA here we finally are! thank you so much for the kind words and the support y’all gave during the entire process of this fic, i’m so grateful! hope to see you guys read my fics in the future! from here, this has been ‘when icarus falls,’ thank you.
wordcount: 15,375
>
Chittaphon and Doyoung did not ask any questions when you asked them to drive you home, but since you spilt your own feelings to them - they already knew that something bad happened between you and Jaehyun. You were silently holding sobs in the backseat, not even wanting to make any semblance of a sniffle, but it caused more pain to your windpipe that felt like it was swelling. When they reached your apartment an hour and a half later you immediately got out the car, wanting to vomit on the sidewalk. Although you knew that what had happened with Jaehyun punched the sobriety back into your senses, your body seemed to protest otherwise.
“I’m so fucked.” You managed to say in between breaths, your mouth tasted like acid. You hated yourself for ever drinking and for ever setting foot in that place, your two friends worried behind you - Chittaphon having to pull your hair back. And then you cried in full volume, like putting yourself on mute pented up even more of your emotions. They didn’t know how to respond, but you couldn’t blame them for that. There was always an assumption that they would never really understand you even if you told them how you felt, and they really wouldn’t. In fact, at this point, not a soul could understand what you felt for Jung Jaehyun.
he arrives exactly 10 minutes early, a quality that is quite endearing: punctuality for people he holds dear but also wanting to be the one to greet you first. and that’s how you two always meet. sliding doors open to reveal him outside at the docking station, leaning against the legacy, side profile sharp, angular against the crimson setting suns or against the pitch black sky. today it is dark out, his hair is tied back in a small ponytail, two small braids. his lips are chapped. details details details.
you buckle yourself in, shifting until your back hits the seat and you glance to the side as he fiddles with the myriad of buttons and switches. his rings glint under the starlight as his fingers flit from switch to button button back to switch and then finally a lever. his eyelashes flutter against his cheeks, one of the small braids falling back down into his face again, you reach over and brush it behind his ear, grazing against his orbital piercing. he turns, leaning a bit into your touch. he blinks once, twice, me, you. details details details.
he reaches over to and interlaces his fingers with yours, steady steady grip as he knows you’ll never get used to the feeling of liftoff. life on mars isn’t very exciting for you, but your space boy has expanded your horizons in more ways than one. perhaps now you’ve become an avid space explorer, a listener of the stars, a part of the universe. for him, the vast expanse is a space of comfort, comfort he thinks as he glances down at your hands. (of all the galaxies he’s traveled, planets he’s visited, of all the parts of the universe, you’ve become his favorite.) he pushes the lever, tightening his grip with yours, rubs his thumb comfortingly over your knuckles, a small cut over one. he glances over to you sees your eyes closed a little too tightly, you two liftoff. his breath is effectively taken away. details details details.
he doesn’t take you to an actual planet this time. instead he stops midsky and puts the legacy in suspension. he turns a switch to get rid of the gravity and you both unbuckle your seatbelts, slowly floating. hands still interlocked, he expertly maneuvers over to the round window to show you; you’re in the middle of what looks like a galaxy and from your vantage point you can see all of the planets in it, a two point perspective of colorful celestial bodies, some with rings, some surrounded by hazy clouds, some encased in crystalline. you’re overcome by this overwhelming feeling, of how insignificant you feel, inside this ship with your space boy, in the middle of this galaxy, a mere hazy band of light and stardust enshrouding these beautiful planets, surrounded by other galaxies, in the middle of this wide wide universe. but you’re here. you grasp his face in between your hands and softly thumb his cheeks. again, you are mesmerized by his eyes. they are green today. you gently touch foreheads, eyes fluttering closed and you ground yourselves. me, you. details details details . . .
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here goes nothing: trust falls, an asteroid flying out of its usual orbit, running up a grassy hill, jumping off a cliff into a clear lake below, the moment before a race begins, reassuring whispers, a steady hand on your shoulder
geronimo: an airplane speeds up on the tarmac, a dream where you’re falling and right before impact you wake up, the feeling of pushing yourself to do the last rep of an exercise, the burn in your muscles, running as fast as you can
to whoever: (this ones,,, self explanatory i don’t think i could word it any better than dabin) hot sunny days in guam, grains of sand btwn ur toes, a crashing wave, waking up early to go to school, a child reaching for their parent’s hand, sitting in a car in silence, watching the seoul skyline blur by
out of control: recklessness, playing hooky, that one song that makes u unconsciously press on the gas pedal too hard, the moment where you’re about to go on stage, adrenaline rush, sugar highs, dizzy vision, a feeling of being alone but being surrounded by people
disconnect: the moment the cinema goes dark and the sound comes on, bass guitars, visiting a planetarium, hitting the top of a roller coaster, psychedelic art, playing random keys at the same time on the synth, driving on an empty highway, playing arcade games
s.o.s.: friendships that last, the feeling of finishing a big project successfully, skate parks, a clear lake, linking arms, retro video games like galaga, closing your eyes and feeling the bass run through you, screaming at the top of your lungs
oh girl: you’re in a bar in space, an old jukebox, friendly or flirty? banter, a friendly slap on the arm, a coy glance over the shoulder, butterflies in your stomach, true genuine stomach clutching laughter, a flower blooming, waiting for the text back
kiss me: stargazing at night, falling into each other’s orbit, sweet sensual kisses, the moment the space ship reaches cruising altitude, silence and zero gravity, overlooking the night sky and stars, long hot showers, bruising kisses that leave you breathless, improv sessions on the piano, slow blink, sleeping in until noon, head on a shoulder
neon: dance cyphers, clubbing or raving with your closest friends, sparks flying, electrifying touches, fireworks, being buzzed, spinning until ur dizzy, crossing your eyes until your vision blurs, coloring outside the lines, deep blushes, the moment the performer comes out on stage at a concert
legacy: spitting rhymes, friendly competition, clean sneakers, racing cars, getting drunk drunk, power pose, hands casually in your pockets, performing onstage under blinding stage lights, flashing cameras, hitting the gas pedal, engines revving
no rescue needed: a clear sky, a friendly smile, laying spread eagled on the floor like you’re trying to sink into the earth, unearthing a buried time capsule, a radio playing in the distance
“So… you’re a vampire,” you say, watching him carefully, examining every single movement of his body. It seems to move too fast, even when he’s not doing anything, the only slow thing about him his breaths.
“Yes,” Johnny answers. His brows are furrowed as he waits for your reaction.
“Hmm,” you think out loud, as if you’re debating whether to believe him or not. Eventually, you shrug, “Okay.”
This answer surprises him. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“That’s because I don’t believe you.” Lie.
His eyebrows now raise in understanding before he nods slowly in understanding, “You-”
“Prove it.”
“Huh?” His attention is no longer on you, instead looking briefly at the titles of the books on the bookshelves. The faint thrumming of a heavy beat can be heard through the doorway, and you wonder if it bothers him at all.
“Prove it. Prove that you’re a vampire.” When he doesn’t move, you roll your eyes, “What? It’s not like you’re a werewolf who only transforms during a full moon. Come on.”
At this, his gaze snaps to you, and as quickly as his eyes had moved to you, he’s in front on you, leaning over you dangerously, his mouth opened in a half-smile-half-smirk that reveals one of his fangs. He’s so close you can feel one side of his body pressing you gently into the wall. It’s so sudden; you’d barely blinked.
Yet, you’d moved just as fast. The second his gaze had met yours, you pulled out a dagger, holding it horizontally in front of your face, so that it now rested against his neck. The blade only just pressed against his skin, not enough to draw blood, but enough to be uncomfortable. As realisation struck, his eyes widened as he looked down at you in shock. “You’re a hunter?”
“And you’re actually a vampire,” you say in wonder, removing your dagger from his throat and using the end to push one side of his mouth upward, revealing his teeth. “And a young one, too, by the looks of it. I’m surprised you haven’t tried to kill me yet.” He bats the dagger away.
He lets out a deep breath, “It’s been a struggle. You don’t smell of-”
“Vampires aren’t the only ones who hate the smell of repellent,” you mumble, before pushing him away from you. He only stumbles for a millisecond before straightening.
“How can you tell that-”
“That you’ve recently turned?” He nods. “Your teeth. You’ve got vampire baby teeth.” You smile to yourself, tossing your dagger up in lazy circles before catching it and sliding it back in its sheath.
“Are… are there more of you?” His eyes are wide now, brows furrowed. You’ve never seen a vampire look even slightly scared before, but Johnny looks weary.
“Are there more of you?”
He doesn’t respond.
You nod, as if in agreement. “You protect your own; I’ll protect mine,” you begin to back away from him, towards the door.
“And about- about that kiss-”
“Forget about it. You didn’t know.”
“But you did?”
You’re already in the doorway, and you hold his gaze for a moment, silently giving him your answer. A moment passes and your gaze flickers to the ground, but then you’re shutting the door and returning to the party downstairs, as if you hadn’t just made out with a vampire. As if you hadn’t just found out that your town was filled with his kind. As if you hadn’t just found out that you’d have to kill them, that it was expected of you. To kill vampires. To kill Johnny.
1) “You know, you always look so much better when I mark you up.”
2) “You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat.”
3) “How do you feel about adding another person to the mix?”
4) “You’d better be quiet if you don’t want to get caught.”
5) “You look good all soaking wet.”
6) “Are you sure that’s what you want? I could really hurt you.”
7) “Oh my god you’re so much better than the last person I was with.”
8) “If you’re going to act like a little brat then I’m going to treat you like a little brat.”
9) “I don’t care how good it feels you’d better not cum until I tell you to.”
10) “Look, I’m not into choking but I wouldn’t mind if you grabbed me by the neck every once in a while.”
11) “I bet you think you’re real cute letting them put their hands all over you. We’ll see how cute you look later when I get you home.”
12) “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.”
13) “Touch yourself for me.”
14) “Do you think you deserve to be punished?”
15) “You take my fingers so well don’t you?”
16) “Shut up and take your pants off.”
17) “When I get home I expect you to be undressed and waiting on all fours for me.”
18) “Are you wearing my shirt?”
19) “Do you need me to finger you first?”
20) “You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”
21) “Did I stutter? Do as you’re told!”
22) “Look at you, I’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shaking.”
23) “I can’t wait to be on my knees for you later.”
24) “Maybe if I punish you it’ll help you remember who you belong to next time.”
25) “Do you want it on your back or would you like to be on your stomach?”
26) “Suck on my fingers and get them nice and wet for me.”
27) “Oh honey, you know, you really shouldn’t tease me.”
28) “If you keep making those sounds I’m not going to be able to stop myself.”
29) “Take it off. Slowly.”
30) “Such a needy little thing, aren’t you?”
31) “Why don’t you go put on something pretty for me?”
32) “Kitten, don’t make me tell you twice.”
33) “Pushing back against my fingers already? How pathetic.”
34) “I love the sounds you make when you come undone.”
35) “Maybe I should get you a collar so you don’t forget who you belong to.”
36) “You’d better watch your fucking mouth.”
37) “Did I say you could stop?”
38) “I need you. Now!”
39) “I’m so sick of your voice. Why don’t you come over here and put your mouth to better use?”
40) “I love the way you look with my fingers inside you.”
41) “You keep acting like a little brat and I’ll take you over my knee right here, I don’t care how many people are watching.”
42) “I guess I’ll just get off all by myself.”
43) “Don’t you want to play with me?
44) “Yes! I mean yes, Sir!”
45) “When we get home I’m cuffing you to the bed and going down on you all night until my jaw is sore.”
46) “Wanna see what I’m wearing underneath all this?”
47) “You deserve a reward for being so good today, what would you like it to be?”
48) “I can’t wait to put bruises all over that pretty skin.”
49) “You look so good on your knees like that.”
50) “I only want to please you.”
51) “Did you touch yourself while I was gone?”
52) “Are you going to be good from now on?”
53) “Is that a tattoo?”
54) “These walls are pretty thick, which means you and I can be as loud as we want.”
55) “Well, since you want to cum so badly, why don’t we see how many times I can make you cum right now.”
56) “Come sit on my face, let me show you how much I missed you.”
57) “I wonder what your girlfriend/boyfriend would do if they knew what you were doing right now.”
58) “Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”
59) “So desperate for it, aren’t you? Well, if you want it so bad you’d better start taking it.”
60) “Please? I’ll be good, I promise!”
61) “If you don’t change out of those shorts and into some pants I’ll have them around your ankles by lunch time.”
62) “I bet all our neighbors can hear you, I bet they all know what a dirty little slut you are.”
63) “Open your mouth.”
64) “I never knew someone could cum that fast just from a few fingers.”
65) “Pull my hair!”
66) “If you leave the house wearing that then the second you get back home I’m going to bend you over that bed.”
67) “If you want to cum you’d better beg.”
68) “You know I don’t like to be teased.”
69) “Come here, baby, let Mommy/Daddy take care of you.”
70) "Say my name over and over again and, once you think you’ve said it loud enough, scream it. I want the whole neighborhood to know who’s making you feel good.“
71) “I’m gonna fuck you in front of the mirror, I want you to see how pretty you look when you’re spreading your legs for me.”
72) “Maybe I should leave you like this, that way anyone who wanted to use you could have a go with you. Would you like that?”
73) “I wanna fuck you right against the glass so everyone can see how good you take it.”
74) “Wow, I think you’re blushing even redder than the vibrator inside you.”
75) “You know, you look real pretty when you cry.”
76) “I think I like you better with a gag in your mouth.”
77) “Tell me what you like.”
78) “Shh, don’t worry, I’ll take very good care of you.”
79) “Look at you, grinding against everything, you’re really desperate for it. Aren’t you?”
80) “How do you feel about two at once?”
81) “Is that a thong?”
82) “Yeah, that’s it, baby, just like that.”
83) “Aww, poor baby, you want me to take care of it for you?”
84) “I love it when you dress up for me.”
85) “Did you dress up just for me?”
86) “Let me show you what happens to little brats who don’t follow the rules.”
87) “Think you can handle that much?”
88) “Mmm, good morning to you too.”
89) “Just pull the car over!”
90) “What’s wrong? I thought you liked teasing.”
91) “Aww, is my little princess/prince getting shy?”
92) “Come on, take it all on your own like a good little pet.”
93) “It’s okay, honey, you can pull my hair as hard as you want while I’m between your legs.”
94) “Be a good girl/boy and do what I tell you.”
95) “That tickles.”
96) “Were you touching yourself without permission?”
97) “I think you forgot to lock the door, that means anyone could walk right in and see you like this.”
98) “I see the gift I got you fits well.”
99) “You know, there wasn’t a single thing to eat in the kitchen until you walked in.”
100) “Call me selfish, but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”
[02:52PM] you sigh as you stare at the clock hanging on the opposite side of the café, counting the seconds as they tick along. only eight more minutes until you’re free from this prison.
it’s not like you didn’t like your job. you got paid well, you were close with the other baristas, you were able to take pastries home for free, it was actually pretty fun up until last month when manager kim got hired. she was nice at first, but she got onto everyone about everything, like she even sent xiaojun home the other day for wearing navy jeans instead of black jeans. in less than a few weeks, almost all of your coworkers had quit and ㅡ
the ding! of the entrance chime shakes you from your thoughts, but you’re pleasantly surprised by the familiar face that walks through the door.
“hendery!” you rise from your seat, greeting your crush as he approaches the counter. “what can i get for you?” he smiles, sending your heart beat through the roof.
“hey y/n, can i get some tea?” you nod, handing him a menu.
“sure. what kind?” he shrugs, not even reading it before handing it back to you.
“anything, just blistering hot.”
“okay, does chai sound okay?” you ask, reaching for a pen to take his order.
“no.”
“oh.” you quickly skim through the menu, trying not to pay too much mind to how hot your face feels. “what about green?”
“no.” you pause, slowly looking up at him. no words are exchanged, but somehow you know exactly what he’s looking for. you motion him to come closer, glancing around to make sure no one else is within earshot. you lean against the counter until your lips are just a couple centimeters away from his ear.
“our manager’s fucking our stock boy and her husband has no idea.” he gasps, both hands shooting to his face to cover his mouth.
“no way…” you nod, and before you can say anything else, he pulls out three dollars and drops it in the tip jar. “that’s all i needed. thank you.”
warnings: au, dragon!San, fluff, angst, mentions of blood/gore
word count: 1,984
“Are you sure you want to do this?”
You turn to find San watching you from a few feet away. It’s the closest he’s allowed to be to you at the moment, but it’s still close enough for you to see the furrow in his forehead, the concern that flashes in his eyes.
“I’m sure,” you say, offering him a small smile that doesn’t seem to ease him in the least as he continues to stare at you.
“Are you saying that because you mean it or because you don’t have a choice?” There’s a bitter edge to his tone that makes your heart twinge, and you glance at the door behind you for a moment before refocusing on San.
San is tense against you when you connect with him, though he eases up after a moment, arms winding around you tightly. He’s as warm as he always is, heat seeping through the thick folds of the robe you’ve been given, the sting of cold stone floor against your bare feet forgotten for several moments.
“I’m sure,” you murmur, soft enough for him and only him to hear. “I’m making this decision because I want to, not because I have to.”
“But you’ll be bound to me,” he says, “are you absolutely certain you want that? You could find someone else, someone…better suited for you to–”
You pull away, head tipping back to look at him. “I’m choosing to do this, San. I wouldn’t want to with anyone else.”
—
“Do it.”
Though Seonghwa hadn’t been expecting any other answer from the younger boy, the swiftness with which San responds still startles him. “Are you sure? I’m certain if I look a little bit longer, I could find a different remedy, one that–”
“Seonghwa.” The shadows of exhaustion haven’t quite left beneath San’s eyes completely, but the color has returned to his face, eyes bright and alert. “I wouldn’t have agreed if I wasn’t certain.”
Seonghwa swallows. “You know what this means fully, yes? You’ll heal, but that scale won’t grow back.”
San’s expression doesn’t waver. “I know.” His attention finally shifts, falling to you. Your expression is calm in your slumber, your breathing slow and even. If he didn’t know better, he’d simply say you were dreaming, that you’d wake any moment – but there’s a translucent tinge to your skin, a horrible reminder of just how close to Death’s door you truly are. “She’d do the same for me if our positions were switched.”
There’s truth in his words, and even Seonghwa knows it – and he closes his eyes, steeling himself before he looks back up at San. “Let me get my supplies.” He moves off, retrieving the things that he needs easily before he returns. “Do you need anything before?”
San shakes his head and turns, hands curling into his tunic and pulling upward. He drapes the fabric over the chair he’s claimed as his over the last few days, head bowing as he grips the back of the chair.
Seonghwa picks up the jar he’s brought over with him, opening it and dipping two fingers into it. “I’m going to use some numbing salve,” he says, “I’m not sure it’ll numb it completely, but it won’t hurt quite so badly, at least.” I hope, he adds silently.
San is silent as Seonghwa rubs the salve around his remnant scales, and he waits until the older healer pulls away. “Are you absolutely certain that this is going to work, Seonghwa?” When he doesn’t get an immediate response he continues, “I trust you, I just…I just want to see her open her eyes again.”
“I know,” Seonghwa murmurs quietly, waiting for the salve to soak into San’s skin as he picks up the knife. “I do too.” He approaches, pressing the knife to the edge of the scale. Like the rest of them, it’s a shade or two darker than the rest of San’s skin, edged with a shadow of black and red, a reminder of San’s other form. Part of him wonders if it would have been easier to ask San to shift before removing the scale – but he also isn’t certain if a different scale from somewhere else on his body would work as well. “I’ll try to make this as quick and painless as I can.”
San nods just once, and Seonghwa tightens his grip on the knife. The tip digs in, pressing against the resistance of San’s skin before it gives way, and Seonghwa resists the urge to immediately retreat. After all, he’s a healer – by nature, he never means to hurt. Only to mend.
Dark red blood beads over the blade as he digs deeper, aware of the way San tenses, the creak of wood beneath his fingers. The drip of blood becomes a steady stream, narrow ribbons of crimson that slide down San’s back as Seonghwa moves the blade, and there’s only the faint glimmer of relief when he manages to free the scale.
It’s surprisingly small in his hand, and hot – and he drops it into the waiting empty bowl before he snatches up the cotton pad and bandages, working quickly to bandage San up. Though he knows San’s healing will take over soon enough, he still watches the young Shifter in a mixture of anticipation and concern. “Are you alright?”
“Fine,” comes the quiet response, but he still catches the flinch of pain as San straightens and moves to put his tunic back on. “Will this…affect my shifting abilities?”
Seonghwa’s head tilts. “It shouldn’t,” he answers at last, “There’ll be a scar where that scale was. I can come up with an ointment to make it less noticable if you’d like.”
“No,” San answers, “it’ll be fine.” He turns as Seonghwa picks up the bowl. “How long will it be before you can give it to her?”
Seonghwa runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll be able to make the antidote immediately and administer it, but she’ll need to be watched overnight to make sure she doesn’t have any adverse reactions to it. I’ll–”
“I’ll do it.”
He should tell San no – that even with San’s healing abilities, he should still be resting as well – but San is already resuming his seat beside you, and Seonghwa decides that one more night won’t hurt.
—
You’re still asleep.
San had watched as Seonghwa had applied the salve, the thick substance a faint pink and smelling so strongly of herbs that San’s nose wrinkled in protest – and then wound fresh bandages around it to keep the salve in place.
“It should absorb into her system within a couple of hours,” Seonghwa had told him, “and then it’s just a matter of when she wakes up.”
When you wake up, he tells himself firmly, repeating it over and over in his head like a mantra. When. Not If. He won’t think about the Ifs, refuses to give them attention even though they beg for it.
He reaches for your hand, limp and cold, colder than it has any right to be, and it makes him stare at you to make sure that you’re still breathing – and when he’s certain that you are, he curls his fingers.
“I don’t know if you can hear me,” he begins, “but I hope that you can. That my voice can somehow reach you, even in sleep. But I just want to let you know that I’m here, and that you’re safe now. You’re home, with me.” He takes a shaky breath. “I don’t know what happened, but I wish I’d been there to protect you. You must have been scared…but you’re brave, you know? And strong, so strong.”
He imagines that he gets a twitch of your fingers in response, ignores the faint twinge of residual ache in his back as he shifts in his seat, tightening his grip on your hand. It’s a little less cold now, but still so small in his – you’ve always been smaller than him, something that he’s teased you mercilessly in the past about.
“I could pick you up,” he’d teased you on one occasion, “just wrap my arms around you and never let go. You’d be stuck with me forever.”
He wishes that he could do it now, to make himself feel better, to make it feel like he can actually protect you. How many times had he made the promise to himself? To be there like you’ve always been for him, to give you just as much unwavering, unending support – and what did it all come to now? Had they just been empty promises after all?
He feels like he’s failed you.
“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, bringing your hand up, eyes never leaving your face as his lips brush your knuckles. Your skin is soft beneath his mouth, and he brushes the lightest of kisses against them. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to protect you. That I couldn’t keep you safe like I always tell you I will. I’ll do better next time.”
If, that nasty voice whispers, a cruel taunt that makes his blood run cold and his heart stutter in his chest. If there’s a next time. Because somewhere despite his best efforts to ignore it, there’s a part of him that wonders what he’s going to do if you die. What is he supposed to do without you? He isn’t sure he can remember a time without you by his side – or if he really wants to.
He knows your family’s history, knows how deeply rooted and intertwined it is with his family’s, centuries of service and sacrifice, the burden you carry simply for the blood that flows through your veins, just as he does. But he doesn’t give a damn about that, never has and never will – it’s always been more than just an obligation, more than just a duty.
You’d never once made him feel as though you were doing things just because you felt you had to. Everything you’d ever done for him had been because you wanted to – and you’d made it clear at every turn, soothing every doubt that he’d had, every worry that some day you’d want more, something that he may not be able to give you.
“As long as you let me be by your side,” you’d told him, “I could never want anything more. You’re more than enough for me, San. I promise.”
“I don’t want anything else either,” he says, and he can hear the tremble in his voice just as much as he can feel the burn in his eyes, the swell of desperation and hurt that threatens to swallow him and never let him come up for air again. He can’t lose you. He can’t. He needs you, needs you in ways that he’s never thought about – never let himself think about, too unrealistic for true consideration, but he wants it all the same – he wants you. “I just need you. You’re more than enough for me.”
He hopes you can hear him, somehow that his words are getting through to you. And even if they aren’t, he makes a promise to himself that once you wake up, he’ll tell you them again. Over and over, as many times as he needs to for you to believe him. Because he means them, means them more than he’s ever meant anything else.
Nothing else has ever meant more to him than you. It’s always been you, and it always will be. He’s nothing without you.
He presses your hand to his lips again, closing his eyes as he clings, hoping, wishing, wanting. And he speaks quietly, even though there’s no one else to hear him besides you, says the words that have rested in the back of his throat for a while now, ones he isn’t certain he’ll ever get to actually tell you. “I love you.”
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atoms of light elements squeezed and squeezed under immense pressure, and their nuclei undergo fusion. a delicate balance of astronomical forces: the force of gravity compressing atoms in interstellar gas until fusion begins. a star is born.
sure, jungkook knows that. but jungkook doesn’t remember being squeezed and squeezed or his atoms’ individual nuclei starting fusion. he especially doesn’t remember succumbing to the all-consuming force of gravity.
what he does remember is warmth. he feels himself being surrounded by warmth on all sides, a blanket of comfort, a steady and pulsating fire. he also remembers red. red. red. red. bleeding color into his periphery and slowly becoming a constant in his world.
///
yoongi feels jungkook’s hand - so, so warm, burning burning burning, but he doesn’t care. he grabs jungkook’s hand, as if to have it leave a burning imprint.
“kook-ah. i-,” he clears his throat shakily. up until he had stumbled into jungkook, the passage of time had drudged by, leaving yoongi swimming sluggishly with the current. but the thing about currents, they continue to move along, their paths are inexorable.
yoongi looks into jungkook’s starry eyes again and feels his emotions suddenly bubbling up, desperation clawing up his throat, he feels like bursting with all the things he wants to say. there’s not enough time, not enough time, not enough.
Sometimes you want to work on your WIP when you don’t have much time (during school, work, out on errands, etc) so here are quick, easy, and little things you can do with it when you can’t actually write/plan in-depth. I’ve also included websites and links as jumping off points.
Create a playlist based on the WIP or a character/relationship
Brainstorm possible titles/chapter names (my post about titling format examples and a deep dive into two-word titling)
Write a journal entry/letter as one of the characters
Research very specific things about the setting/history, lore, clothing, hobbies/vocations, etc of your story
Deep dive into a category of worldbuilding (I have posts on WB here, here, and here)
Create a mood board for the setting, a character, or entire story on Pinterest or Canva (Some examples for countryside, city at night, summer abroad, and the coast)
Write down dialogue for a therapy session your MC might have
Design a section of a character’s room/home using pictures, descriptions, or drawings
Research names and meanings (The way I find OC names)
Write down a dream/nightmare a character might have
Take a personality test as your MC
Write a fortune cookie for each MC/side character
Research actors/models/etc if you’re still creating physical descriptions for characters (I recommend using IMDb)
Research mannerisms, habits, and quirks to enrich characterization (I wrote some down here.)
Hopefully these things help you satisfy your itch to work when you can’t exactly work. Happy writing!
Your mom admits to you that you have some… supernatural blood running through your veins. But she doesn’t remember what kind, cause she was kinda a hoe.
Of course everyone knows of the seven deadly sins, and the seven heavenly virtues. But a less known group resides on earth as humans. Apathy, distraction, procrastination, undecidedness, irritation, anxiety, and depression are the seven unnecessary inconveniences.
chamomile: soft bed sheets and white pillowcases, pointe shoes, peach flavoured lipbalm, stays up way too late to finish books, listens to tchaikovsky, goes through life in a daze but wishes they could be fully present
green tea: autumn trees, being outdoors, misty forests and moonlight, stars peaking through window frames, kind of just wants to be left alone, kind of wants to be a faerie or a forest nymph
english breakfast: ocean waves, sunshine, kindness overflowing in their hearts, wants the world to be nice to them for once, wishes people would stop mistaking their optimism for naiveté
darjeeling: neon lights and short skirts, probably one too many vodka shots, has the same crush for seven years but never acts on it, tries very hard to be okay, always tired, probably listens to music 24/7
jasmine: colour-coded schedules, procrastination (but good grades, somehow), taking too much on at once, easily burnt out, insomnia, wishes they could take all the subjects and learn everything at once, wants to own a library
oolong: travel journals and inkstains, lacy curtains, wanderlust and a wish for adventure, an overactive imagination, getting in trouble for daydreaming in class, constantly trying to soothe their aching soul
earl grey: red lipstick, high heels, slow music, loves poetry and class-assigned literature, either heartbroken or hopelessly in love- no in between, likes the smell of cigarette smoke and burnt out matches
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in such an infinite, ever expanding galaxy, i am the star - i, no- we, will be the stars that light up your nights, especially on ones where you can’t seem to find the light within yourself. or rather you struggle to find that light but really it’s you still trying to find your galaxy when you don’t realize that you hold so much within you already.
you were born a star, you’ve grown as a constellation, and now you’ve created for us a solar system, with you as the center, our sun because you keep us in our steady orbits as we revolve around your steady guidance. in many a dream, you have appeared, by virtue of your talent and ability to traverse through multiple dreams, multiple realities. at the end of the day, you never fail to draw attention to your light as my, as our, very own north star, the compass that leads us home. and similarly to what i said to you often on those nights, i may be full sun in name, but you are full sun in body, in soul.
i’ll forever think of you as my guidance everywhere i go and somehow i feel it within my bones you will still be there for me if not physically but through my laugh my smile i see you through my eyes as they crinkle up in smile just thinking about the thought of you. maybe we’ll be driving one day, again with you serving as my guidance in more ways than one and the windows will be rolled down and we’ll be laughing at the top of our lungs amongst other things. and as you’re waving your hand out in the open window like you’re throwing away all of your burdens with such a simple gesture i’ll perhaps look over knowing that you are unaware and those things i couldn’t say, don’t have the courage to say, i worry i worry we worry, one day they will reach you, one day our gazes will meet.
i treat you like i treat my heart, with delicacy and care, but that is just in my nature and i hold every other star to the same regard. but for you, our bright north star who has started to move further, above, ahead i just want you to know that we will forever be beside you. imagine a carousel, perhaps an old, worn-down one that still hasn’t lost its charm. it’s abandoned but we somehow manage to spend an eternity spinning spinning spinning at one point we just end up beside each other. and at one point it stops spinning but we don’t realize, we’re so used to it. it will be like a fond memory to look back on and i want you to treat it as such because i am handing it to you like that the way i would hand you my heart, i say this but i am fully aware that you would treat it well anyway, after all you’ve managed to craft six other stars from bits and pieces, star dust.
you’ve crafted all of us, similar to how i’ve crafted my seemingly innocent pure nature, as a mask, a facade, a wall that i don’t necessarily hide behind because i know you still know the truest purest side of me. but you, don’t need any sort of shell to curl up inside in because you just are. you probably wouldn’t fit inside anyway because you your presence fills up entire rooms entire solar systems because once again you are our galaxy and sometimes you don’t realize how much you hold within yourself.
you hold so much, held so much and i want you to know that i’ve always seen it inside of you even though others may not have. we were all young starlings but i could feel that you had an air of wisdom experience about you and just like the moon the sun i look up to you and feel your comforting rays upon my very being, my being that is made up of stardust thanks to you. and one day i want you to know that i have you and if you ever need it, i will be the star that lifts you up.
you lift me up but most of all you keep me afloat. if i am the lighthouse on that lonely island you are the light keeper, trekking miles to keep the flame aglow. and with that light you guide me to shore where i can land the boat we seem to share because even though we are together we are also oceans apart. yet you still manage to be the sun the moon that beckons and coaxes the waves to keep me afloat. and if anything ever happens and you happen to be stuck on an island all by your lonesome i will be the green light, the green light that you can focus on and maybe i can guide you for once.
i want you all to know that i have found my galaxy thanks to you. i want you to also know that stars do combust or collapse into themselves but our universe will continue to grow, to be forever expanding. similar to that, our book our story is still being written and i sign off on this current page but you are free to write your own stories as well. i don’t want this to sound like we’re departing.
but if i ever get lost, if i ever forget, if i ever can’t seem to find the light within me, i know within my heart my soul my very being that you will all be there to guide me like how i have done the same for you.
read: yoongi keeps running into this cute cashier boy. and they keep matching?
(music to listen: 1. belief - mabinc
2. i am you you are me - zico
3. soulmate - zico ft. iu)
man, seoul has a completely different atmosphere and air to it - way different than in daegu. literally, the air smells different here and yoongi thinks it’s not necessarily a bad thing, but the fact that he notices this small and random detail just makes him a little more depressed because he longs for his cozy home back in good ole d-town.
he’s lounging in a flimsy lawn chair on his apartment balcony and distastefully sniffs the stuffy seoul air again. his mind wanders back to old, familiar places - the bustling family restaurant, his mom’s soothing voice, his father beckoning him to taste the family’s famous galbi-jjim , his brother’s annoying method of showing affection via noogies when yoongi grudgingly accepts his chores for the day.
the fond memories in his head are juxtaposed with the outside sound and sight of the bustling nighttime atmosphere. everything in seoul is so,fast-paced , even the night life, which he can clearly see from his vantage point. he hasn’t really gotten used to it all, more like, barely tolerating it. he’s kinda stubbornly refusing to settle completely which serves to make him more homesick and then he’s stuck in this cycle of stubbornness and nostalgia and longing and stubbornness and nostalgia and longing.
yoongi breaks his nostalgic reverie when he stands up, the chair loudly scraping against the floor. if he’s going to drown himself in memories and be a sad, depressed sack he might as well do it right - with some alcohol.
he checks the fridge to grab a can of beer but fuck - he’s out. all that’s left is a pack of sliced turkey meat, a sad pile of lettuce, a lone half-empty gallon of milk, and a fully empty carton that used to hold eggs.
damn, his produce is mocking him.
just a few hours ago when he opened his fridge he saw the same turkey, lettuce, milk, and egg carton and the word minimalism smugly appeared in his head. yoongi prides himself on not being wasteful; he’s able to use each and every one of his ingredients until they’re completely gone, thank you very much.
but seeing as he’s in a less than ideal mood to be holed up at home and he has a dire need of alcohol, yoongi tears his eyes away from his sad produce, grabs his wallet and keys, and wrestles himself into a big sweater to combat the chilly night-time seoul air. he grumbles as he steps out of his apartment complex. daegu was always on the warmer side. who knows, maybe the seoul air will help clear his head. maybe.
yoongi finds himself deep in thought as he’s walking, a result of his melancholy mood and the atmosphere of night probably. as a result, he doesn’t realize that he’s actually not walking in the direction of the nearest 7-eleven. when he hears the distant sound of a car angrily honking five times - goddamn, chill - he’s shaken out of his thoughts and glances at his surroundings.
nice. he’s in a random alley.
well, way to go min yoongi. this night is just continually fucking with him and becoming more and more disappointing. he takes a minute to inwardly curse at himself for his obliviousness before he has the smart idea of grabbing his phone out his pocket. he googles the nearest convenience store. the top result is ten yards from his current location.
he rounds a corner and walks a few paces before he spots it. only a single neon sign that reads “ level” adorns its storefront and he assumes that’s what the store is called. yoongi power walks toward it, through the front door, and straight towards where he thinks they should be keeping the alcohol because dammit, he is a man on a mission.
somewhere on the other end of the store, which isn’t actually far from where yoongi stands now, the clock goes from 11:59 to 12:00.
yoongi surveys his surroundings. he’s bombarded with neon colors from every angle, which makes the store feel bigger than it actually is. from the outside, it looked cramped and dull and drab and not colorful. due to this very misleading outward appearance, yoongi immediately thinks that this is exactly the type of store that is empty seventy-five percent of the time and will most likely be out of business within the next month.
okay, it is midnight, but yoongi can tell when a store is being frequented or not, in this case: not. it’s the only possible explanation as to why his sneakers squeak so unusually loud on the unusually pristine tiles.
he strides towards the refrigerated area and for some reason, he feels a strange sense of familiarity, like he’s been here before; a type of vague awareness that comes from something like a dream.
actually, yoongi’s seen stores like this before. namjoon has a very cultured and particular sense of tumblr aesthetic and this store fits the bill perfectly.
yoongi chalks that niggling feeling as a latent reaction to all the posts he witnessed namjoon reblogging to his tumblr, as they sat on the couch on their respective phones. he’s suddenly bitter again because now, with his current situation and location , he can’t even call namjoon out for trying to be hipster because he’s too far away to even see namjoon or his stupid hipster-aesthetic-whatever tumblr in person.
yoongi spots the alcohol, finally, and grabs two - he hesitates and turns around - three bottles of the brand he likes and walks to the checkout station.
well fuck, he was hoping for a some sort of self-checkout machine - this is seoul, the largest metropolis of korea after all - but he should have known not to expect anything when he set foot inside.
god, he’s too impatient and drained and sad to deal with another human being but sucks up his feelings once again as he steps up to the counter. no one is actually there and yoongi spots a bell and rings it twice. a couple more times, more insistently, for good measure. suddenly he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. he checks and sees it’s from namjoon.
at that moment someone stumbles out of the ‘employees only’ door and utters a quick apology for making yoongi wait.
yoongi quickly glances up from the phone and sees that the cashier is a young twenty-something boy. all he sees is a mop of soft brown hair and just under it, a pair of soft brown eyes which he unwittingly makes eye contact with. but suddenly it is broken - the cashier beginning to ring up yoongi’s items, and yoongi looking back at his phone.
dance monster [12:10 am]
hyung
you’ll never guess wat happend today
me [12:10 am]
what
dance monster [12:11 am]
so u kno that tattoo i got a while back ????
me [12:11 am]
joon ur gonna have to be a little more specific
dance monster [12:11 am]
ok ok that one on my wrist !
the moon one !!1!1 !
me [12:11 am]
so...what
dance monster [12:11 am]
idek hyung like
ok fuck
this sounds so weird but like
for some reason i woke up this morning
me [12:11 am]
a goddamn miracle
dance monster [12:12 am]
shut up hyung
anyway i woke up
and now i have a new sun tattoo
me [12:12 am]
wait
what
dance monster [12:12 am]
idk !!! hyung idek wats goin on ajoer
i think it’d be better if u called me
asklejroijga
“excuse me?”
right, yoongi still needs to pay for his things. he jams his phone into his back pocket and fishes for his wallet. he awkwardly fumbles for some bills, “ah, sorry - here you go,” and all but flings them on the counter in his haste to get back to his conversation with namjoon and to go back home and avoid strangers altogether, let alone semi-attractive strangers.
it looks like his original plan of drowning in sorrow will have to be put on hold. nonetheless, he welcomes the new interruption in the form of his dear friend.
right as yoongi’s about to exit the store, the cashier calls out to him.
“um,” he pauses cutely, “nice sweater.”
yoongi looks down. it’s an old number, one that jimin got for him as a christmas present. it’s kinda not his style because it’s colorblocked - well, color in general - but it’s the first thing he found as he left his apartment and it’s oversized and it’s a gift. from jimin. so.
he looks up again and sees the exact same sweater on the cashier.
o-kay. what a coincidence.
at this moment, yoongi gets a really good look at the twenty-something cashier boy. well, as good of a look as he can seeing as half of cashier boy’s body is obscured by the counter.
the cashier is clearly taller and bigger than yoongi but the sweater still looks oversized and his fingers just barely peek out from under the sleeves. yoongi gets a good look at cashier boy’s doe eyes and button nose and his whole look just screams soft. fuck semi-attractive. this guy is possibly the most attractive guy yoongi has ever seen. the most attractive person in seoul, by far. at least to yoongi’s standards. and this is only the visible half - yoongi gulps - doesn’t even want to think about anything lower than that.
he eloquently chokes out a word. “cool.”
real smooth, min yoongi.
well, time’s up. yoongi’s just about done with social interaction and he’s itching to get home and he wants to maybe forget this whole thing because goddamn, he’s awkward and the cashier is cute.
cashier boy blinks and fuck, yoongi can see his eyelashes from here. and then, cashier boy smiles , all twinkling eyes and soft lips, “have a nice evening, sir.”
yoongi bolts out of the door.
/
jungkook just barely managed to keep his fluster in check. he tried to not to stare at the strange man’s silvery hair, or at his sharp profile, or at his attractive piercings, three silver hoops on each ear - fuck, since when did jungkook find piercings on anyone but himself attractive?
but the thing that caught jungkook’s attention the most was the sweater. not the fact that it was so large that it swallowed the man’s entire frame but still made the entire fit scream effortless and attractive. not the fact that the color palette complimented his silver hair.
they had the same fucking sweater?
taehyung, who is privy to jungkook’s unique tastes, had carefully chosen the very sweater as a christmas present. he claims that he happened upon it in some random thrift store and thought it screamed jungkook and bought it even though christmas wasn't for another three months.
jungkook thinks otherwise. the sweater is just. so nice. taehyung probably bought it at a non thrift shop last minute, which would explain why jungkook ran into another person also wearing it. yeah. that would explain the coincidence. it’s definitely embarrassing, but people are bound to be caught wearing the same clothes, seeing as they’re mass produced for that reason - to be worn.
as he starts cleaning up, jungkook silently thanks himself for choosing the night shifts at level supermarket because 1. he likes staying up late 2. he gets to meet interesting and colorful characters like that one sweet ahjumma with cotton candy pink hair that comes in every day at 9:36 pm sharp to buy a bag of lollipops and nothing else, for example.
jungkook’s checking the inventory for the third time - it always helps to be extra thorough - but his mind begins to wander back to that silver-haired man.
a small - admittedly very small - part of him wants to never see that man again because he was a stranger, a very attractive stranger, and jungkook acted like such a freaking loser. god he’s blushing again. but the bigger- much bigger - part of him wants to see the silver-haired man again. like, he was fucking attractive. but also something about a frustrated looking man coming in a store at midnight that hardly anyone ever comes to just.
he’s like a novel jungkook is itching to read.
jungkook just wants to know.
jungkook wants to know. jungkook wants to know how this man likes his eggs cooked. does he have any tattoos? is he a morning person? okay, maybe not that because he’s up and about at midnight.
what is his opinion on soulmates? does he listen to dean? what does his smile look like? does he like smiling? is he a smiley person? is he doing okay?
because most of all, jungkook wants to tell him that things are going to be okay. something about this man seemed - lonely and jungkook has an urge to reach out and be like, me too, i understand, i hope you’re okay.
but. jungkook shakes his head to clear the thoughts. he’s doing it again. he’s getting ahead of himself and he’s doing that fantasizing thing he tends to do. at his core, jungkook is a very kind and empathetic person and the times he does feel good about himself he wants to meet people and reach out. back at his small hometown, the people were very friendly and accepting, and this made it easy for him. and with the town being so small, eventually jungkook knew everyone and everyone knew him and he was very comfortable with this.
however, this is seoul. and after making the difficult decision to leave the comfort of his town to pursue his dreams in the form of a dance degree, jungkook has learned that not everyone feels the same way in this city.
‘city people’ he thinks with distaste - but mostly - disappointment.
jungkook closes and locks the store’s front door, as well as his hopes for seeing the silver-haired man again. he’s no stranger to how this kind of thing works. nothing good happens when he gives into wishful thinking.
/
as soon as yoongi is back in the safety of his apartment he calls namjoon. “joon, what’s up?”
“okay, so. like. yeah. i don’t know, hyung!” yoongi goes to open a bottle of beer, his silence prompting namjoon to continue.
“i just woke up and now i have a new sun tattoo on my wrist! honestly, it looks pretty good paired with the one i already have of the crescent moon.”
“well, as long as you’re happy with it joon, i guess it’s cool.” yoongi takes a long gulp, “could’ve been worse. could’ve woken up with the word ‘penis’ tattooed in large letters instead.”
namjoon cackles heartily and yoongi smiles at the sound. “yeah, you’re right hyung.” he laughs again, “this is like some weird soulmate shit.
yoongi elegantly swallows some beer down the wrong airway. “yeah,” he coughs a few times to clear his throat, “come to think of it-,”
on second thought, maybe yoongi will keep cashier boy to himself. what happened earlier that night still felt - unreal. yoongi feels like he’ll break the enigmatic anonymity of the attractive cashier boy if he says anything.
“hyung?”
“no, nothing. nevermind,” yoongi changes the subject, “how’s that new track going?” and namjoon enthusiastically explains his progress.
/
the next day, yoongi finds himself slouched at his desk, pen tossed somewhere to the side. he’s looking down at what he can only call organized chaos atop his desk. this is usually how his song production process starts anyway. he scans some of the lyrics he just scribbled all over and he sees stuff like ‘ enigma and mystique ’ and ‘ eyes that hold stars ’ and ‘ deer in headlights... i’m struck by your beauty mystery loveliness- ’
uh-huh. yup. okay. yoongi stands up and gathers all those loose leaf papers in a pile and goes to deposit them in the wastebin.
he pauses and throws them in a random drawer in his nightstand.
he needs to get out. he grabs his leather jacket draped across the back of his desk chair and power walks his way out of his apartment.
yoongi finds himself wandering the city again and wait. it’s that store again. what the fuck? did he just subconsciously make his way to back to the store and it’s attractive cashier-
shit. yoongi sees said cashier boy through the front windows, presumably stocking a shelf. he gets up and starts walking back to the counter, but as he’s doing that his body faces the front doors, which probably puts yoongi in his plain sight.
yoongi quickly backpedals, hoping he hasn’t been spotted.
he stands in place for a beat.
he refuses to acknowledge how hard his heart is hammering.
after much internal debate, yoongi decides that fuck it. he’s already here and he sees a huge jar of cheese puffs from where he’s standing and he might as well get that. because. he needs. inspiration.
he walks in, trying his best to put confidence in his steps and not looking at the cashier - who is now sitting at the counter with earphones and bobbing his head to a beat and is he humming?
yoongi walks down the chip aisle, deciding that he needs to have different flavors on hand when he gets tired of the cheese puffs.
over the top of the aisle, yoongi can see cashier boy stretching and fuck. his shoulders look good in that leather jacket too.
yoongi reaches the end of the aisle and is about to stroll into the next one, but almost trips on his shoelaces of his black converse. he kneels down and glances at the counter, seeing that the cashier is now standing. they make awkward eye contact and yoongi quickly goes back to tying his own shoelace, not before seeing a flash of black converses disappearing behind the counter.
when yoongi goes to pay for his items, cashier boy has taken off the leather jacket, leaving him in a simple white tee with a simple supreme logo. and now his incredibly toned biceps are out on display. wow. is it getting hot in here? yoongi sees the veins in cashier boy’s arms when they flex to hold the large container of cheese puffs. yoongi gulps.
it’s too hot - yoongi strips off his own leather jacket and slings it over an arm. eyes looking anywhere but the cashier, he taps his foot and waits for cashier boy to state the price and yoongi can pay and then he can leave.
except. cashier boy hasn’t said anything for a little while. yoongi chances a quick glance upwards. cashier boy is staring at - yoongi’s chest? fuck, did he wear his kumamon jammies out or something?
but like, if this boy has something against kumamon, yoongi has a serious bone to pick with him.
yoongi glances down at his own shirt. then back up at cashier boy. then back at his own shirt.
weird. yoongi’s wearing a supreme shirt. cashier boy’s wearing one too. cashier boy squints, like he’s suspicious of yoongi or something.
yoongi clears his throat, “uh - can i pay for my things?”
this seems to shake the cashier out of whatever stupor he’s in, “ah - sorry.”
yoongi pays for his things and goes to grab the bag the cashier is holding out for him to take. yoongi overshoots a little; okay, maybe he’s a little flustered and accidently knocks his hand against the cashier’s.
there’s a little clink as yoongi’s ring bumps against cashier boy’s.
okay. fuck. they’re wearing matching rings too?
they both face each other with similar looks of shock and confusion. before either of them have a chance to say anything, yoongi books it out of there real quick.
/
something weird is going on and jungkook doesn’t know what to do.
he’s just minding his own business, listening to offonoff’s new album while doing his math homework at the register to keep an eye on the store in case anyone does come in. it’s midnight but still.
then, jungkook sees movement in the corner of his eyes and realizes that someone has come in without him noticing.
it’s the silver-haired man again. and shit, he looks really good. he’s standing in front of the snack shelf, with his hands in the back pockets of his jeans and he’s wearing this large leather jacket.
jungkook does not salivate.
but wait. jungkook looks down at himself. how is he also wearing a leather jacket?
it must be another fluke. jungkook hurriedly stands up and takes his jacket off, pacing around for a bit.
he looks over at the silver-haired man again and sees him tying his right shoelace.
jungkook looks down at his shoes.
his left shoelace is untied.
a mixture of mild horror and panic starts thrumming through his body, but he refuses to tie his shoelaces and resumes his nervous pacing.
he turns around and jumps slightly. the silver haired man is right in front of him, fidgeting with his hair.
jungkook goes to ring up his purchases, which are all comprised of various family size chip bags. he goes to ring up the last item, a jumbo container of cheese puffs, and pauses. the silver-haired man has taken off his leather jacket and. why. is he wearing a supreme shirt. like jungkook.
jungkook stares dumbfoundedly at that stupid supreme logo and the man’s prominent collarbones before he clears his throat and asks for jungkook to ring up the total.
right. jungkook hurriedly bags everything and thrusts them towards the man, hoping he’ll leave quickly.
the man accidentally knocks his hand against jungkook’s and this time jungkook does not hide his shock.
you've got to be fucking kidding. they have matching rings. it's like they're a couple or something.
what. is happening.
/
the next night after his shift at the local coffee shop, yoongi actively seeks out level convenience store, as well as its resident attractive cashier. he’s wearing this ostentatious, bright yellow, furry thing. it’s so. loud. and lowkey ugly. hence the reason why he’s out at night.
however, yoongi swears his sweater is bright enough that he’s probably glowing in the dark.
but, yoongi also needs to prove a point. whatever cosmic fuckery is going on, whatever deity is fucking with him, yoongi just wants to prove to himself that this is all bullshit. running into a cute stranger repeatedly is enough, and yoongi doesn’t need any other unexplainable shit happening.
/
jungkook is tapping his foot, a habit of his that surfaces only when he’s nervous or anxious. jungkook is definitely focusing on math homework and definitely not looking out for a certain silver-haired stranger.
he rubs his nose with the sleeve of his sweater and almost sneezes. geez. jungkook had asked taehyung to lend him his craziest article of clothing at the moment, seeing as taehyung’s fashion style is overall - crazy. so, taehyung tossed him the first thing he laid eyes on in his closet, and it was this gucci sweater. gucci my ass, jungkook thinks. this sweater is just a very good excuse to cosplay as big bird.
jungkook just wants to figure out what is going on. like, he meets some cute stranger and-
holy shit. he sees said stranger standing outside on the sidewalk.
okay, somebody up there must hate jungkook because - he looks down at himself just to make sure - both of them are once again, matching.
like, how does the stranger still look striking in such an ugly sweater?
jungkook can only stare as the stranger swiftly turns around and bolts down the street.
/
yoongi slams the door of his apartment closed, breathing heavily. he looks through the peephole to make sure no one had followed him. he’s not taking any chances.
that’s it. something is up and yoongi’s solution is to - hole himself up in his apartment.
wait, can he do that? oh yeah, it’s friday. and he doesn’t have any shifts until monday. fantastic. he can devote himself wholeheartedly to his unfinished tracks over the weekend.
yoongi wakes up saturday afternoon, but allows himself the luxury of lounging around in bed for a few more hours. this effectively brings the start of his day well into saturday evening. he fishes around for some spare instant ramen packets, and begins working as soon as he gives himself some salty sustenance.
his weekend goes by like this: immersing himself with writing lyrics and producing elementary beats for a few straight hours and then taking short naps in between. he eats if he remembers. or if namjoon reminds him.
all in all, he does a good job of not thinking about the weird stuff that’s been going on, and especially about the soft-looking cashier boy.
except.
yoongi stumbles out of his bedroom, finally succumbing to his stomach’s urges, as well as namjoon’s rapid texts.
he fumbles around for a cup of ramen - his last one, he’ll have to refill - and goes to find a scissor to cut off the plastic wrap.
his fingers slip and he ends up cutting himself.
he sighs as he looks down at his bleeding finger. he dabs at it lightly to try to clear away the blood, but it just keeps oozing out. he grabs a tissue and presses on the fresh wound, waiting for it to clot, but the blood just keeps coming.
what the heck? he didn’t cut himself that hard.
ah, shit. he doesn’t have any bandaids.
he checks his phone. 2:55 am. is there a store open at this hour-
there might be one.
before yoongi thinks about it too hard, he wraps a clean tissue around his finger and books it out of his apartment. he’s not about to hold a tissue around his finger for the rest of the night to keep it from getting infected.
as he fast-walks to level convenience store, yoongi thinks about cashier boy again for the first time in awhile (a couple days.) maybe whatever matchy-matchy curse or spell or shit is over, since yoongi hadn’t seen or even thought about the boy. wow. an achievement.
cashier boy probably isn’t even there, seeing as it’s so late.
whatever, yoongi just needs to grab some bandaids and then he’s out.
he heads into the store, notices that the register is unattended, and goes to grab a box of bandaids. while he’s at it, he stops by the ramen aisle to refill his stock.
as he makes his way to the register, he sees someone now sitting behind the counter. yoongi stops in his tracks. it’s cashier boy. he looks as stunning as ever. and he’s fiddling with one of his fingers, which happens to be bandaged. he looks up and only then does yoongi continue walking towards him.
none of them say anything as cashier boy rings up his items, but he does raise his eyebrows slightly when he notices the blood-soaked tissue around yoongi’s finger.
after he pays, yoongi doesn’t leave right away. instead, he rips open the box of bandaids and slaps one around his finger.
“how did you hurt yourself?”
holy shit, even cashier boy’s voice is attractive - what the fuck - with a soft, lilting tone to it.
“uh, i cut myself trying to get some ramen.” god he sounds stupid.
“wait, really?” cashier boy’s doe eyes widen - yoongi sees his eyelashes, - “me too! i was doing inventory and had to refill some ramen for the shelves and yeah.” he gesticulates with his injured finger.
yoongi is silent for a moment. they even have matching wounds.
“this shit is real, isn't it?”
cashier boy tilts his head. “oh. you mean the weird clothes thing-”
the lights in the store flicker and then suddenly fade out completely.
yoongi panics for a second as his eyes adjust to the darkness, but that initial shock instantly goes away as soon as he sees cashier boy’s big eyes reflecting the street lights outside.
he finishes cashier boy’s sentence. “...yeah. the weird clothes-matching thing.”
“well, my best explanation is that the universe continually derives pleasure from fucking with me.” cashier boy pauses, “n-not that it's always a negative thing! i mean, this time wasn't so bad!” he rubs the back of his neck sheepishly, “i-you - sorry! i didn't mean to make that sound like an insult to you.”
yoongi chuckles, “hey, it's fine. the universe likes fucking with me too.”
cashier boy shyly ducks his head.
yoongi looks around the store, now shrouded in complete darkness. “should we maybe find the fuse box or something..?”
cashier boy sits down on his stool. “nah, it’s fine. this happens quite often, actually. i don’t even know why you bother coming here when there are plenty of 7-eleven’s,” he sighs, “this store is pretty shitty and rundown.”
“i don’t know. i kinda like the warm, colorful vibe.” yoongi thinks, also, it’s because you’re here.
“well, the longest the power’s been out was like, thirty minutes.” cashier boy unlocks his phone and begins scrolling through, “um - you’re free to leave..? i have everything under control.”
yoongi makes no move to leave and hops up to sit atop the counter. in doing so, he’s inevitably brought himself closer to cashier boy. when yoongi turns his head, he sees cashier boy up close, ensconced in moonlight, the contours of his face highlighted by shadows.
yoongi stares at cashier boy’s dark eyes, and at his eyelashes as they fan across his cheeks when he blinks slowly.
yoongi’s eyes are immediately drawn to his lips when he worries them between his teeth. if they begin leaning into each other’s orbit, none of them are the wiser.
suddenly, yoongi feels a sharp sting on his forearm. at the same time, cashier boy jerks away, hissing in pain.
something is etching itself into yoongi’s skin and he squeezes his arm to try to take away some of the pain.
his arm is still searing when the lights flicker back on.
“god, what the fuck was that-” yoongi looks down at his right arm, all red and puffy, and sees a tattoo.
it's a lock.
yoongi looks up in shock.
cashier boy has a similar look on his face. and on his left arm, is a tattoo of a key.
there's still specks of blood on cashier boy's fresh tattoo and yoongi grabs a nearby napkin and slowly dabs on it.
cashier boy flinches slightly, but yoongi places a hand on his upper arm to comfort him, to ground him. yoongi traces the boy’s tattoo lightly with his thumb and looks back at his own. a perfect match.
“i’m yoongi. min yoongi.”
cashier boy smiles softly. “jungkook.”
/
me [12:01 pm}
joon
quick question
so like
did anything weird happen
before ur tattoo appeared
dance monster [12:15 pm]
i mean
not that i can think of ??
hyung just cuz u and jungkook had some storybook soulmate romance doesn't mean smt like that happened to me
me [12:32 pm]
well what happened that day
dance monster [12:44 pm]
nothing really
i just had a study session with jin
me [12:49 pm]
‘study’
what exactly were u two studying
dance monster [12:50 pm]
hyung
need i remind u that jin is my metaphysics and epistemology tutor and wait wat were we studying ?
oh yea !!!
~metaphysics and epistemology~
me [1:00 pm]
you think he's cute, don't you
dance monster [1:05 pm]
im not answering that
me [1:06 pm]
im sensing a blush
dance monster [1:10 pm]
actually
now that i think about it
i came into that session late that day
as i was leaving my apartment i somehow
hit my knee on the doorframe
and fell
and dropped all my stuff
left a nasty bruise
also got a paper cut across my right palm as i was tryna pick up all the books in a hurry
me [1:16 pm]
you would
i fuckin bet smt like that happened to jin
hello
joon?
/
yoongi is rudely awakened by big bang’s ‘bang bang bang’ - why did he let his boyfriend pick his ringtone?
said boyfriend stirs in his sleep, burying his face deeper into yoongi’s shoulder and wrapping his arms tighter around yoongi’s waist. “mmph - hyung. make it stop. let’s nap more.”
yoongi turns his head and places a kiss atop jungkook’s forehead, “sorry baby. just let me take this real quick.”
he blindly grabs around for his cell phone and sees namjoon’s caller id lighting up.
“what.”
“hyung! what the fuck. what is happening.”
yoongi groans. “yes, what is happening. please enlighten me.”
“me and jin have matching bruises! even cuts and everything! i met up with him today and remember that cut i got on my palm? he had one too, and then we realized we have the same injuries!”
yoongi tries to process this information as fast as he can with a sleep-addled brain. “so, he’s a masochist?”
“no! god, no. he’s the one with the sun tattoo! remember how my sun tattoo appeared? well, he’s the one that had it, and he said that a moon tattoo appeared on him! like mine! hyung, we’re matching!”
“well, congratulations.” yoongi sounds grumpy, but he means it. “though i feel bad for jin. you’re a fucking klutz. don’t kill him before you ask him out officially.” he yawns. “i’m going back to sleep.”
with that, yoongi hangs up and turns back to wrap himself around jungkook.
“hyung, what was that about?” jungkook murmurs with his eyes still closed.
“nothing. just some weird soulmate shit.” he buries his nose in jungkook’s fragrant hair. “let’s go back to sleep.” ~
