* — promise ;

when everything is giving you a hard time, i'll always save this place for you, so that you can rest without thinking about anything.

[fadingstvrs]

moondvzed​:

     the trip is one that he had expected but not expected so soon. they weren’t to be married for a while yet, as both sets of parents had wanted seojun to court hyejin properly. or as properly as he knew how to, considering he had never done this before. he had heard stories of grand, romantic gestures but after meeting hyejin and getting to know her better—he knew that she wouldn’t appreciate something like that.

     so he plans nice dates and casual hangouts for them to chat and get to know each other better. despite it being a strategic move for their kingdoms, or something like that, he knows that it will be much more pleasant for the involved parties (i.e. the two of them) if they were at least friends. 

     (and it will be uh … less awkward in the future when they have to wed and give birth to an heir, yadda yadda. you know.)

     it feels like a lot of work considering they’re literally, practically married. he’s doing this for them but he hates that both of their parents are on their backs too.

     (a better kingdom, a better future, yadda yadda. he hasn’t listened to them much as of late.)

     either way, seojun thinks that he and hyejin have come to a mutual understanding and appreciation (more on his part than hers, he’s sure) of each other as of late. their conversations are no longer as stilted or as awkward anymore, and it doesn’t feel like pulling teeth when they have to meet everyday. he’s been looking forward to talking to her, considering she had been set to be queen and it’s kind of fun picking at her brain for thoughts of the future. if anything, he’s happy to have her by his side if it means smooth sailing for the sake of his kingdom. which he loves very much, but would much rather not take part in running. 

     he had held out hopes of his parents giving birth to a younger brother for him, because they had always been understanding of his passions that lay outside the realm of ruling. but they were growing older and with his mother’s recent health issues, seojun knew that he had no choice anymore. 

     the idea for a picnic had been his own idea, thinking that it would be nice to get out of the castle at least. he had had a feeling that hyejin was not as happy to be home as they both had thought she might be, and that thought is confirmed with her first words once they’re settled comfortably on the plethora of blankets he had requested. just because they would be sitting on the ground did not mean that they should be uncomfortable while doing so. 

     he doesn’t respond straight away, having busied himself with one of the rolls that the kitchen staff had given them and he’s examining it carefully. he’s not doubting their skills or thinking that they were going to poison him—that would be considered treason of the highest standard—but more considering how nicely it had been cut. popping a piece into his mouth, he chews quietly as he mulls over her words. 

     “is it because of your father?” he asks tentatively, letting out an appreciative hum at the taste that had flooded his mouth and he offers her the container, smiling enough for his canines to show. “i thought that you would be happy to be home.”

if she were to be asked, hyejin would readily admit that the life she has led in her betrothed’s kingdom has been much more pleasant that she had dared to hope. she had expected, with the callous manner that she had been traded away — a human life wed in exchange for peace — that she would be little more than a pretty wife to hang off her soon-to-be husband’s arm. silent and irrelevant, save for the heirs she would eventually have to produce. and so she had worn icy politeness as her mask, keeping herself distant to ward off pain that would come as a result of growing too soft. 

and yet seojun, despite her initial poor evaluation of him, had proven to be much more than she had expected. she had expected disregard of her desires and preferences, but despite seojun seeming like the type of person who would default to grand, romantic gestures, to hyejin’s surprise, he had only made that mistake once, when their acquaintanceship had still been new. once they had spoken more than just cordial greeting at length, she had noticed that he planned small outings for just the two of them, private and easy-going. the more he takes note of her reactions, the harder she finds it to remain quite as icy. not when he is trying. he is earnestly trying, and he does not have to. she knows this well. 

it’s easier to talk to him now, months into their betrothal, and while hyejin still chafes at the fact that all of her childhood training is still useless, she thinks that maybe being seojun’s wife will not be as much of a prison as she had imagined. the trip here had been more pleasant than their stay has been so far, and that is something she never thought would cross her mind. 

“he just hasn’t changed,” she murmurs quietly, the bitterness in her tone carefully masked, though she wouldn’t be surprised if seojun had heard it. he seems to be much more perceptive than she’d given him credit for, after all. she lets out a tiny sigh, taking a piece delicately and chewing on it quietly, offering him a faint smile in response to his genuine one. 

“i thought i would be too,” she admits when she’s swallowed the mouthful, noting that it is still just as good as she remembers. she might need to ask for the recipe. “but there’s something different,” she continues on. “i don’t feel like i belong here, anymore. i feel...” she hesitates before she blinks at him, a small furrow between her brows, “it feels like i am an outsider. in my own home.” the word home comes out stilted, and she wonders — when did this place stop being home? 

[fadingstvrs]

it has been strange to be back home, back in her kingdom. or rather, her parents’ — her father’s kingdom, later to be her brother’s. bitterness coats the back of her tongue with its acridity and she swallows it down as she does so many things that want to surface from her lips. she hadn’t asked for this life, hadn’t asked to be shipped off as cattle to a foreign kingdom, bartered as a good to be traded for the peace of the nations. she had been born the crown princess, the one destined to inherit the throne, and all of that had been thrown away callously without a thought when her brother had been born. 

it would be a lie to say that she was over it. she isn’t. she still cannot get over the fact that her father had sent her away like she was worth nothing to him, to the kingdom, nothing but a bargaining chip that completely disregarded the years of training and dedication she had put into preparing to rule the kingdom. 

don’t get her wrong — she adores her brother. the little boy isn’t the one at fault here. no, her resentment is laid solely on the shoulders of the father who had tossed her aside and the mother who had done nothing to stop him. hence why she had agreed to come back to the kingdom for a visit (when had it stopped being home to her? was it when she had begun to realize that seojun was not shallow, incompetent, witless, like she had unfairly accused him of being? was it when she had dared to consider that maybe, maybe, she could be happier there, rather than miserable?), accompanied by her betrothed, as per her parents’ demands. there were some books she had hoped to retrieve, in any case, and seeing her brother would never be a bad thing. 

but this whole trip has been rather strange, as though she’s a cog out of place. there are subtle differences that have left her off-kilter, so when seojun had suggested a picnic out on the grounds, she had accepted much more readily than usual. he, at least, has not changed over the journey and in the castle.

as they settle down, lunch unpacked and blankets spread on the ground, she pauses before she takes a bite. “i never thought i’d say this,” she admits with a small frown, “but i almost miss your kingdom.” 

                    — the story of im hyejin and ahn seojun // { @moondvzed }

[fadingstvrs]

despair and anger blanket him equally the more time he spends in this kingdom. he had come with high spirits, already missing his home but ready to take a step into a foreign kingdom for the sake of peace. he had hoped, surely, that since he and his intended were of similar ages, that they could have an amiable relationship, regardless of the fact that neither of them had truly had a choice. 

he had not anticipated nor looked forward to his duty, but he had been ready to bear it. perhaps he could have borne the weight of his duties happily if his intended were not such a... younghwan pauses, but even in his mind, he cannot come up with a word suitable for the distaste he feels for the younger male. it’s just evident to him that no matter what jeonghun might say to him, the other’s actions indicate far too clearly that he is not welcome. cold and frigid, talking to jeonghun does not feel unsimilar to talking to an ice block while locked in a cold storage. not that it would be much different, for younghwan truly is trapped, in a manner of speaking. he had agreed, and now that he is here, he is chained by the words of his promise and locked into what will certainly be a miserable joke of a marriage. 

it is difficult, in this situation, not to be angry. it is difficult not to resent his intended, not to place the blame for how unwelcome and out of place he still feels in this foreign land solely on the shoulders of kim jeonghun. 

a soft sigh escapes from his lips as he wraps his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, protecting himself from the chillier weather. it’s not quite winter, still autumn, but the seasons here are more extreme than they had been back home. picking his way through the still unfamiliar roads, he startles when he hears a familiar voice, excitement clear in its tone, interspersed by childish cries of delight. following the sounds leads him to a clearing obviously well used, and his eyes widen slightly.

the scene that greets him is not one he had ever expected to see. he stares at the image of kim jeonghun, icy and cold and forbidding, playing freely with children. there’s something oddly captivating about the image, and he can’t help but watch, wondering to himself if maybe there’s more to jeonghun than he had thought. 

                     — the story of seo younghwan and kim jeonghun // { @scarletcrux​ }

[fadingstvrs]

moondvzed​:

     she never thought that she would be here, for good reason—her ex, for one and also the only reason that she needed to say that she was never going to date again—yet, here she is. six months and some spare change into a relationship that she had never thought she would commit to.

     originally, she had only agreed because she was sue that he would do something that would turn her off and she could say good riddance and then stay single for the rest of her life, be the disappointment that her parents had always said she would be. not that their opinions mattered anymore, but it was just an offhanded thought.

     you’re born alone and you die alone, after all.

     but now, she’s kinda rethinking those thoughts. if only because yejun makes her feel like she’s worth something to him. like she’s special just for being in his life. andd while neither of them are the best at showing affection, there’s just something about being with him that makes her feel like she’s actually living her life again, instead of just existing. 

     gross.

     either way, they’re six months and strong and she’s had enough mental breakdowns over the fact that if she had been asked about their relationship six months ago, she would never have believed they could make it past one month, let alone six. 

     and if someone had told her that she would be watching marvel movies while willingly cuddled up against his side, she would’ve laughed in their face and told them that was impossible. yet here she was, making the impossible possible. it was disgusting and cheesy, yet she wouldn’t change a single thing about their relationship and how it came to be. it’s nice to have someone who she can be herself around, even if herself is kinda annoying. purposely so. and he deals with it and even goes along with her, so she really can’t be upset.

     “i would say iron man if i have to choose a hero,” she replies, frowning slightly in thought. “but honestly, i think my absolute favourite is loki, who—by all means—is not a hero but is still my favourite.” she glances at him, at his side profile more like, illuminated by the screen. “i bet yours is like … captain america. or something.”

if he’s being totally honest, his attraction to ryu eunbyeol had started much earlier than he’d acknowledged it. he’s still not exactly sure why he became so attracted to her, other than the fact that she had been something so markedly different from everything else in his life that it had almost been hard to resist. he’s used to a certain level of darkness — it comes with the sorcerer training, as it’s impossible to be supernatural, especially a more neutral type that services all kind of other supernaturals, and not understand the variety that the world holds. 

even now that they’re dating, eunbyeol is still refreshingly and unabashedly unchanged. it makes him happy, to know that she genuinely only spends time with him because she still likes him, even after six months. he had thought initially that perhaps they would prove to be too different in a relationship, after all. but to his relief, while she hadn’t changed, really, she had softened towards him, and he was more able to recognize her wit as a form of affection, much like seojun. 

“somehow, i’m not surprised that your favourite would be loki,” he comments, without looking away from the screen. “also not surprised that your favourite hero is iron man. they’re both snarky, just like you,” and here he laughs a little bit before he feels her gaze on his face, turning his head to look at her, offering her a soft little smile. 

at her comment, though, his eyebrow arches and he points at himself with his free hand. “me? captain america?” he laughs, shaking his head. “i don’t give off that kind of vibe, do i?” he shoots a skeptical, playful look at her, amused. “he’s attractive, sure, but i don’t think he’d be close to my favourite. i like iron man too... and black widow.” he muses. 

“who do you think you’re most like?” in his mind, his girlfriend is a bit like the black widow — deadly (theoretically speaking) and independent, taking no shit from others. but maybe he’s wrong. who knows? maybe that’s part of the reason he adores her — because he sees all these qualities that he’s always admired in a fictional character, embodied in real life.

[fadingstvrs]

sebin has not had an easy life. even his human life had been fraught with pain, and while he had kept his spirits up for the most part, it had eventually taken his life. and then just when he should have been free from the suffering of his human life, he had woken up under the ground, gasping for breath that he shouldn’t have had. and his life as a vampire? perhaps the most unfortunate time period of his entire life. he’d never even stood a chance, not when every moment of his reawakening had been specifically engineered to attach him irrevoably to sungha. 

not that sebin has any idea.

to sebin, his attachment and love for sungha? perfectly normal. expected, even. why wouldn’t he love the one who had saved him from the grave? the only friend who had been there for him in his time of utter confusion. the one who is always trying to make sebin stronger and protect him. 

there are so many holes in the story but sebin is too muddled to comprehend them. there is no time, no power to spare to contemplate exactly how calculated the relationship between him and sungha is. how carefully engineered each movement and response is. it’s a lot just for sebin to make it through each day with some degree of coherence, a lot to try and control himself when he’s feeding.

hungry. he always feels a little hungry, even when he’s feeding, and he has to try to remind himself dimly as he sucks hungrily at the warm body in his arms, not to make too much of a mess. too messy, and a hunter might find him. he has to be careful, his brain says very quietly as he feeds messily. 

there’s a presence that lingers, and it comes to sebin’s attention after it doesn’t seem to move. it could be someone coming to steal your food, his mind screams suddenly, or a hunter! he jerks his head up, a snarl painting his face, a messy eater despite all his efforts to reign himself in. 

“mine,” he growls, ineffectual and guttural. there’s familiarity in the face but he’s too lost in bloodlust to immediately recognize who it is. it isn’t sungha. sebin would recognize sungha, no matter what state he was in. “mine.”

                     — the story of ahn sebin and jung siyoon // { @hyvnsung }

[fadingstvrs]

many people have come and gone in the six thousand years that he has been alive. among them, very few still remain. such is the fate of one who does not die, he supposes. along with the thousands of years of life are the memories that never fade. the god of contracts never forgets anything, burdensome as it may be — he would be a poor overlord of contracts, if that were so.

even now that his gnosis is no longer in his possession — stepping down had been the right thing to do for liyue, he is sure, even more so now than he ever had been before — he still loves liyue. it’s hard for him to imagine leaving the city he has watched over for lifetimes; harder than it had been to agree to the tsaritsa’s offer. he had promised guizhong, after all, that he would watch over their people, and to leave liyue behind, even if he is no longer their god, almost feels like a breaking of that contract. 

perhaps that is why he still finds himself with a house in liyue, generously (and secretly) sponsored by the qixing. it hadn’t exactly been his goal, but the tianquan is far too intelligent to miss the telltale amber eyes of the admittedly strange funeral consultant, eyes that shine the exact colour as the geo vision she wields. 

it’s very different from his life up until now, he muses, tending to the flowers that he has taken to growing in front of his house. quietly, he wonders if the presence that has been lingering in front of his house for nearly an hour will approach him or not, and he straightens, sharp amber eyes seeking out a familiar presence. he knows the adeptus hovering there must be torn, so with a faint smile on his face, so gentle now, different from the god he had been two thousand years ago, he calls out to the other.

“xiao-er, will you not come and say hello before you leave?”  

                      — the story of zhongli and xiao // { @hyvnsung }

[fadingstvrs]

the fatui. the name itself is often enough to spark distaste on the tongues of mortals, and yet to one immortal as he is, it means very little. over the years, he has seen mortals come and go, sects vying for power, and gods rise and fall. the fatui are barely anything to him, and certainly not a threat. the tsaritsa, after all, did not pursue his gnosis in the same way that she had with barbatos. they had agreed upon a contract, with boons included, of course — for nothing is equal to the value of a gnosis. there are favours that she now owes him in exchange for the precious object he had handed over to her.

childe. also known as tartaglia, eleventh of the tsaritsa’s harbingers. from the beginning, he had found the other to be refreshing. unabashedly in love with the idea of battle, charming and brash and yet sly in all the ways that he can appreciate. it’s an interesting juxtaposition, he thinks, the child (aptly named, he often muses) within and the honed killer. not so different from the person he thinks he, himself, has grown into. 

rex lapis. morax. prime of the adepti. god of war. god of contracts. the geo archon. zhongli. he has gone by so many names, and yet the one that he had returned to using for this life, after he’d chosen to retire and hand over his gnosis, is the one that he had used with guizhong, all those millennia ago when they had founded the guili assembly. there are so many facets to his own identity that seeing it in a mortal, each side so wholeheartedly embraced is... captivating. and unusual. 

childe is fascinating. childe adapts well to many things, including the culture in liyue and the way that things change around him. but it will never cease to amuse zhongli that two thin wooden sticks can be his undoing. 

“shall i ask for alternate utensils?” he offers to the orange-haired foreigner, his lips curving up very slightly at the corners.

                       — the story of zhongli and childe // { @moondvzed​ }

[fadingstvrs]

an arm slung around slim shoulders.

a warm weight against his side.

the gentle rise and fall of her body against his as they watch the movie in front of them in silence.

all of it brings him an immense amount of comfort for some reason, and he finds that he is, well, much happier than he had thought he would be at this moment in life. for a long time, the only thing that had really captured his interest was the apprenticeship to hone his sorcery skills. that, and the (definitely illegal) tattoos that he’s been subtly doing under the table for the past year or two. 

despite the way that they quarrel over nothing at all — he’s still sure that eunbyeol does it on purpose — he finds their relationship amusing, refreshing, and... well, rather different from what he’s used to. the way eunbyeol treats him reminds him of seojun, and regardless of how much he claims to hate his cousin, the truth is well-known that seojun is one of the most precious people in his life. 

and eunbyeol? well, they haven’t been dating for that long, but she definitely brings something to his life that he hadn’t really had before. you could probably call him sappy, or even a sucker for pain. “who’s your favourite avenger?” he asks her idly as iron man appears on the screen, his lips curling up at the corners. 

                        — the story of jung yejun and ryu eunbyeol // { @moondvzed​ }

[fadingstvrs]

hyvnsung​:

war changes everyone. that’s what many would say—and there’s proof to that statement, but what about those whose sole existence come to be due to war itself? what about those whose purpose in life was to end the war, no matter the bloodshed that come by, how tainted their own hands become?

for the guardian yaksha, once the war came to a close, he learned to anticipate. there’s shackles he can’t free himself from, a duty he’s bound to serve for as long as he’s able to breathe. as alatus, he waits, for the moment he’d have to plunge into the battlefield once more. he watches over liyue, hoping for a better future as the past continues to haunt him. there’s no sure method to keep liyue away from harm, to shield it from another archon war or the rebirth of yet another vicious god. that’s why he remains, always waiting.

but as xiao, he’s learning to appreciate the little things. small flowers that can easily be taken in by the wind, the inviting scent of almond tofu, the innkeepers that welcomed his stay—gege, he hears. xiao turns his head, casting his gaze downwards to find the source of that monotone yet sweet voice. he wears a smile he usually doesn’t around unexpected visitors, faint but genuine.

the little things.

“qiqi,” he says as he crouches down to face her properly. his eyes linger on the talisman, feeling a familiar uncomfortable twinge under his skin. “you found me, again. here to make another special delivery?”

there are so many things that slip past her notice because she doesn’t remember the things that she hasn’t committed to remembering. the war? qiqi doesn’t remember most of it. she remembers a crash, and then a great deal of nothing. but she remembers her gege, better now that she sees him more often and has made note of him in her notebook, over and over and over again. 

she still doesn’t remember his name, but that’s okay. he answers to her when she calls him gege, so she doesn’t think it’s crucial information.  “yes... qiqi remembers... that gege likes flowers.” she says in her soft little voice, her wide magenta eyes blinking up at the other guilelessly. she holds out the flowers again, the translucent white petals pristine, “for you...” 

the sadness in his eyes makes her confused every time she looks up at him, the way his eyes linger on her talisman. she wonders if maybe it makes him uncomfortable that she’s a zombie. qiqi wishes that she could remove the talisman, but she knows it has to stay there. what else can she do? qiqi’s orders are to make gege happy, but she doesn’t seem to be very good at it. “is gege sad...?”

[fadingstvrs]

qiqi has a hard time remembering things. perhaps it is only to be expected, with the young age she had died at combined with the fact that she is now... well, a zombie. not quite alive, not quite dead, but caught in the middle between the two. 

but qiqi is good at remembering things that she specifically focuses on putting into her memory. she might not remember all the little details, but she can remember a surprising amount for a small zombie. she doesn’t remember his name, but she does remember that he likes the qingxin flower. she remembers that to her, he is gege, and that is all that matters. she remembers that he always has a small smile on his face when she gives him the qingxin flowers. it always feels sad, but qiqi doesn’t really know why. 

qiqi toddles up to him on short legs, legs that had never finished growing before her life had been cut short, standing in front of him silently and blinking up at him past the talisman permanently attached to her forehead. small. “gege...” she says in her soft, little voice. 

                        — the story of xiao and qiqi // { @hyvnsung }

[scarletcrux]

steps a little clumsier than usual, light but not light enough, minjae makes his way into a mansion as if he had been there many times before—and he has, frequenting the building with purpose, carving its layout into the back of his mind, a crystal clear image he can always come back to should something go south. he’s confident in his abilities though, hasn’t lost sight of the goal he had been trusted with, even if he finds himself looking forward to the meticulously concocted rendezvous that he had arranged with an unsuspecting tenant.

minjae is experienced—he knows how to slink into the shadows, to move without a sound and remain undetected. but when he roams the almost barren hallways this time around, there’s weight in every step he makes—nothing alarming, just enough to alert someone that he’s here; a recurring visitor. he doesn’t do all this without reason, of course. hiding underneath the veil of a thief isn’t leisurely, he has to carry himself like one, except he needs to get caught. this game had gone on for long enough, it’s about time that he proceeds to the next step.

hook, line…

there’s a faint rustle behind him as he admires an artefact, eyes glued to it as if he hadn’t notice a presence slowly approaching him. it was only when said presence was close enough, a subtle hint at gaining his attention, did he acknowledge it.

…and sinker.

he doesn’t turn around, no—he continues to observe every intricate piece of this item, half out of curiosity itself, half simply to maintain a persona. after a few moments, he finally speaks. “as empty as this mansion is, there are a lot of… exorbitant objects lying around.” there’s a delicate curve on his lips when he finally faces his target, maybe a little too delicate—too genuine, for what he’s doing right now. he ignores that thought, dwelling on it will only serve as a distraction. “it’s no wonder that i chose this place, although i never thought i’d keep coming back.”

although it confuses him at times, no discomfort comes whenever he’s here—he doesn’t feel like he’s out of place, even when he’s supposed to be. it’s easy for him to talk, it doesn’t feel as if he’s acting. perhaps that should have been the first red flag. “i take it you received my love letter?”

                     (  ✉  ) — letter to lee sihun, @fadingstvrs

[fadingstvrs]

the mansion that he resides in is lonely and cold. the silence that falls upon the building, too massive for one person, is sometimes oppressive and stifling, and sihun wonders if it might not be better after all for him to move to a smaller place. although it would admittedly be a significant adjustment, it’s something that he has been considering for decades now, as korea urbanized and existing housing changed to suit the needs of the rapidly developing country. 

it’s amazing how quickly a country can change, sihun had marvelled, watching as the country transformed more in five decades than it had in five centuries. he had never known that joseon — no, korea, it’s still something he forgets — was capable of such a thing. 

perhaps, though, with the absence of his fledglings in his life, the precious few he had turned establishing their own lives, despite their routine visits, it’s time for him to consider moving into a place less cold and empty. 

the only interaction he’s had in the past few years or so, outside of those visits and council meetings? that would be the little thief who’s been sneaking into his mansion, poorly, but almost endearing in the way that he tries to be sneaky but isn’t. the other had successfully “stolen” something from the mansion — if one can call taking an object that sihun had deliberately left out “stealing.” 

he takes his steps quietly, but his presence is easily felt — there’s something inhuman about it, that a normal human would surely feel slightly uneasy from, but it’s a pleasant surprise when the little thief speaks up without a tremor in his voice. his lips curve up at the corners as he steps into the room behind the other. the fondness that he feels is something that perhaps he should examine twice; is this what happens when one is alone for too long? 

“indeed i did... minjae.” he says, his voice curling around the name like it’s something delicate and precious. “i have to say, i was pleasantly surprised to see that you’d actually managed to acquire something.” 

[fadingstvrs]

hyvnsung​:

( tw // alcohol, intoxication )

it may be the alcohol talking, feeding him false information and interpretations, but form the way seungjun is barely able to describe the movie, hyunjun is able to conclude that they’re both not paying attention to it at all. besides, how is he able to focus when the younger is pouting like that? his gaze lingers on the other’s lips for a little too long, but he catches himself eventually, averting his gaze to the floor as he tries to erase the devastatingly cute image in his head to no avail.

when seungjun sits up abruptly, hyunjun’s eyes follow him once more, if only to make sure the other doesn’t fall over and hurt himself, even if he isn’t in a state better than seungjun’s. worried—and maybe his body is moving on its own, hyunjun isn’t going to question it right now—he loops a protective arm around seungjun’s waist, to help the younger stay still. it isn’t long until he realised that such an act isn’t good for his own heart, so he retracts himself, horrified that he’s slipping up even more under the influence of alcohol.

how long will it take until he messes up completely?

ever since the heavy reality check he had went through, hyunjun is careful when it comes to close contact with seungjun. it’s not like he doesn’t want it, the younger’s gentle touches and soothing embrace. but it’s precisely because a part of him craves it all that he has to step away, pull his hands behind his own back and stop himself before he starts getting ahead of himself. before he begins wishing for more, when he doesn’t deserve it—when seungjun couldn’t possibly grant him that.

hyunjun’s impulse control is slowly fading away, though. that is what usually happens when alcohol is brought into the mix, seen from the way he practically snapped at his friend back during the ball when he didn’t mean to. he doesn’t want that to repeat, the last thing he wants is for seungjun to look at him with sadness in his eyes again.

“a game.” he starts to ponder over that instead of his feelings, hoping it’d be a notable distraction. what are games that people usually play when they’re drunk? hyunjun may not be very sociable but he knows a thing or two. “spin the bottle? ah, wait—we don’t have enough people, it won’t work very well with just the two of us.”

with a blink, he suggests another game. “what about truth or dare?”

and thus begins ahn hyunjun’s downfall.

( trigger warnings // alcohol, intoxication )

he has no idea of the fact that hyunjun’s eyes are focused on him, and his mind is more focused on the fact that he’s currently very, very comfortable, all nestled up against hyunjun. seungjun loves cuddles, after all. there’s something so soothing and comforting about being hugged or cuddled that sets all of his old fears, long buried deep but never forgotten, at bay from the active area of his imagination. 

no no no. he doesn’t want to go down that path right now. he’s comfortable, he’s happy, and all his finals are over. that’s what’s important right now. 

hyunjun’s arm sneaks around his waist, and seungjun giggles softly into the older male’s shoulder, his own hand resting easily on the other’s chest, as though it belongs there. when the other’s warmth leaves his waist, he pouts a little bit to himself, but he’s easily distracted from his displeasure when hyunjun repeats his words after him. 

“spin the bottle?” his laughter spills freely from his lips. “it would just be us taking turns,” he agrees and his eyes are bright, feverish with intoxication. “truth... truth or dare is fun!” he sits upright abruptly and topples off of hyunjun’s lap, head spinning dizzily and his eyes now cast upon the ceiling. but instead of correcting his position, he just lays there on the couch, legs still over hyunjun’s lap, and he giggles at the ceiling. 

wow, if his head isn’t fuzzy. but it feels nice in a way, kind of floaty, pleasantly warm, and he pats his own cheeks clumsily, checking to see if they’re warm. “hyung hyung hyung,” he says from where he’s laying, the thought of getting up just a little bit too much effort, “let’s play... play rock scissors paper to decide who goes first...!” 

[fadingstvrs]

hyvnsung​:

okay, so, there’s a lot to unpack here.

first of all, a tipsy seungjun—ditsy, cute, completely off guard—isn’t something he’s used to seeing, giggling at the drop of a hat. but there he is, sprawled over hyunjun’s lap like it belongs to him, making himself comfortable (not that hyunjun minds). with finals coming to an end, it’d make sense for the both of them to let loose around one another, celebrating in the best way possible: getting drunk. the only problem is, hyunjun hadn’t been able to let loose around seungjun for a significant reason.

which brings him to his second point: he recently stumbled upon the revelation that he has an undeniable crush on his best friend. drowning himself in exams served as a welcome distraction from his cursed feelings, he’s able to push it to the back of his mind. he believes his time apart from seungjun would help dim his emotions, somehow (or more like he prayed that it did). but now that he’s back right by the younger’s side, he wonders whether it’ll ever disappear.

third, and most important of all—hyunjun isn’t the best at holding his liquor. that’s exactly why he’s even pondering over his feelings like this, his eyes glued to seungjun as his friend grants him that blinding smile. even with the turmoil taking place within him, hyunjun’s own lips curled up. “yeah—it’s funny, when they… make jokes, and stuff.” can he be more obvious about not paying attention to the movie? he can’t even remember what they were watching.

“you’re always so touchy,” hyunjun states, his tone far from a complaint. he doesn’t dislike it, that much he hopes seungjun can tell. it just makes things a little difficult, craving seungjun’s warmth but telling himself that it’s wrong of him for even harbouring such thoughts. why is he thinking about this again? he successfully managed to ignore the evident racing of his heartbeat during the past few weeks, is the alcohol getting to his head?

(he’s so screwed.)

( trigger warnings // alcohol, intoxication )

“y-yeah,” he hiccups with a giggle, his eyes bright and hazy all at the same time, pleased by the smile he can see on the older’s face. “they... they make jokes,” he agrees seriously, obviously also having no idea what’s going on in the movie. heck, can he even remember the title? at the question he asks himself, he furrows his brow, trying to think once more, and his face takes on this focused look of thought that looks positively adorable in combination with the pout that remains on his lips. 

“b’cause you’re comfy, hyung,” he says with an innocent look directed at the other, sitting up slightly and wavering in his spot, just slightly. wow, he’s so incredibly dizzy. but he feels floaty in a great way, everything incredibly amusing, and he sways a little more before he shifts to slump against hyunjun’s chest, his head naturally coming to rest on the other’s shoulder. “and you give good hugs!”

the thing is, this is a position that they’ve definitely taken up before. there’s nothing particularly strange about seungjun being this touchy. he’s always sought comfort from tactile touch, more so from his friends, especially seeing as how his brother had never been particularly tactile. the older lee had accommodated him without complaint for most of the time, but as seungjun grew more aware of others’ needs, he had stopped forcing it upon his brother. 

“we should... we should play, play a game or something...” he blinks up at hyunjun, obviously having forgotten about the movie again. 

lesson learned: lee seungjun and alcohol equate to a seungjun with absolutely zero attention span. and hyunjun? well, hyunjun has always managed to capture his attention. that’s why they’re best friends, right?

[antijacob]

you’re my aurora✨

[fadingstvrs]

— losing all my sleep on you ;

( trigger warnings // alcohol, intoxication )

seungjun can’t help his soft little giggle as he flops over hyunjun’s lap, cheeks flushed pink and his blond hair all messy, tousled. he’s definitely tipsy, verging almost on the edge of being drunk, at the point where his giggles are irrepressible and everything is far too funny, even when it’s not funny at all. 

maybe it’s just the stress of finals being over that makes him feel so free. it feels nice to be so relaxed, after all the cram studying that had made him feel like his brain was on the verge of shutting down, and now that he has nothing to do, the vacation looming ahead, he almost doesn’t know what to do. 

the movie playing in the background is something he’d stopped paying attention to long ago. instead, he reaches out to poke hyunjun’s cheek, dizzily sitting up again and swaying a bit. oof. definitely more than just tipsy, he thinks happily to himself, wondering why the older’s cheek looks so soft. he pokes it again, rather clumsy in his intoxicated state.

“hyung.” he says seriously, though his lips are curved up and his dimples are showing. “the movie is so funny!” the movie. that he’s not paying attention to at all. alright then, seungjun. 

                         — the story of ahn hyunjun and lee seungjun // { @hyvnsung }