tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?
summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.
✏️ pairing: yunho x gn!reader
✏️ genre: fluff, crack, friends? to lovers, drawing? to lover
✏️ summary: you never expected for the character you designed for the newest dating simulator to be quite as realistic as this
✏️ wordcount: 5.0k
✏️ warnings/tags: questionable editing, unhinged crack galore, fever dream, digital artist / designer reader, shy boy best friend yunho, lowkey referencing the song the fic is named after (GUY.exe by SUP3RFRUIT)
✏️ taglist: at the bottom of the fic~
✏️ a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MY LOVE MY NADIA @justhere4kpop !!! you are the kindest, funniest, sweetest person ever, i love you so so much and i am so grateful for every day because it means i can spend it with you <3 wishing you the best day, all the most amazing things, experiences, achievements and more!!
Another hour more, and you were going to scream. Hunched over your drawing tablet with bloodshot eyes and a cramping hand, you had been drawing and redrawing what seemed to be the same thing over and over again. But nothing gave you that magical feeling of completion and rightness when the abstract lines and shapes and shadows and doodles all came together on a page to form one whole. What you were experiencing was, in fact, very much the opposite. All because of these damn dumb brown doe eyes that you had decided to give to the character. Of course. What other eyes could the golden retriever type have, right? What other kinds of eyes would your boss approve of for the established archetype, the persona that you had ideated, storyboarded and proposed not only in front of your immediate team but also to senior management? That was right. None. No other. Only these doe eyes that you had been staring at and cursing profusely for the last four hours after having promised yourself that you would try to get to bed at ten in the evening instead of the less-than encouraging past midnight madness. But who were you kidding?
Setting down the pen, you leaned back to stretch, hearing random joints crack and echo around your body, making you wonder if you have even been moving at all for the past few weeks. Having the opportunity to work from home during fast-paced sprints was, of course, a big benefit, but all too often for you, it also meant only ever walking from your home office to your kitchen and back, with the occasional bathroom break and a flop onto the armchair you had dragged into your office for designated social media scrolling time. Gone from the world, with your friends having nicknamed you an e-hermit in not one, but two separate chats. Zoned out and barely hanging onto the words spewed by your superiors, much like the rest of your fellow designers working on this same project, be it other characters, setting, clothing customisation options, accessories, or special items… as the main project lead, boss of the bosses had said: ‘whatever the user wishes for, should be there’. Who knew that a dating simulator could be that intense and demanding?
Your drawing tablet was glaring at you, and so were the eyes on its screen, doubled onto your monitor watching your every movement like a painting at a museum would. They were meant to be kind and loving, crafted to complete the sunshine that this character was supposed to be, but the slightest misses in the lines were throwing the image off-kilter, and you could not pinpoint what was wrong. Reaching out for the now lukewarm cup of coffee off to the side of your desk, narrowly avoiding the clutter of sketches and notes you had made, you heaved a sigh, pondering if it would be the wisest to simply resign yourself to abandoning the task for today, and pick it up at work tomorrow. It was not like you would be punished for having the eyes be slightly off during an update meeting, after all, this was an ongoing process. But the perfectionist part of you was not letting go. You had managed to ideally depict everything else - the toned, tall physique with the stunning waist, torso and broad shoulders, the cheeks that made you feel a strong cute aggression, the tousled locks that could then be customised by a player’s colour preference, every other feature of the face that screamed ‘handsome’ and ‘appealing’... you did it all, and you would not be yourself if you could not overcome this little blip.
“One more try…” you whispered to yourself and searched for the file on your computer that contained a user story and profile of the character you had been agonising over.
One click, another, and the document was up on the screen, revealing an initial concept sketch that you had made when you first proposed the man as a possible love interest for the main character in the simulator, as well as any facts about him, now being even further developed by the story-writers. Page after page, update after update the character in some ways felt more real than you, especially in your current deflated state. A gentleman, a sentimental soul, with what your colleague had called ‘four-dimensional’ traits and overall a funny, adorable sweetheart who at the click of a finger can turn into the sexiest man alive. There was nothing you did not like - aside from some details here and there that you were not sure who added but they had been approved so you had to deal with it, and that was problematic for your work since it meant that you were in the permanent state of wanting to do the character justice. You scrolled back up, starting at the brief, staring at the name as if it wasn’t already imprinted in your mind. Jeong Yunho.
The dance instructor and choreographer. The talented and hardworking man who the main character would meet third, on her eighth day in Seoul. Born on the twenty-third of March nineteen ninety-nine in the city of Gwangju, moving to Seoul to chase his dreams and fight for them. Special talents… skills… favourite phrases… preferences… key memories… you read on, re-absorbing the details and rearranging them on imaginary shelves, trying to make sense of the information in the context of character design. How were you going to depict all of this in a pair of eyes? A part of you was confident that you were overthinking - actually, you definitely were. Not a single other designer was on Yunho's creation, and developers were going to look at him not as a persona, as a representation of a being that had become real in your mind, but as a task to execute, lines of code to make him move in predetermined ways, make him talks in predetermined ways, smile… yes, you were excited to see him be just that bit more alive, but at the same time, you were afraid of that moment - it would be right then that the world you had subconsciously built for you and him alone would be shattered, and your daydreams dispelled, maybe even crushed. So, getting the eyes perfect right now was the least you could do. At least your Yunho would be perfect.
Swearing under your breath, you picked up the pen once more and twirled it once around your fingers. His personality was fresh on your mind, heart racing, you could almost imagine him in front of you. With a final nod of encouragement, you dived back in, with more vigour and motivation than before, determined to get Yunho right, and to depict him how he truly was, how you knew he should be. The time ticked past, and so did the layers of doubt. Erasing themselves along with strokes of the digital brushes that dissatisfied you, you were unveiling the true character, and with a light heart, a smile on your face and a saved file, leaned onto your desk and rested your head on your crossed arms, just for a quick break to relish in the fact that you finally achieved the look that you had been searching for…
“Hey, good morning you worker bee, what did I tell you about sleeping at your desk?”
You never thought you could yell, right after waking up, as loud as you did at that moment. Jolting up from your seat, forgetting all the papers, equipment and stationery that was strewn about on the table on which you had been dozing, you bolted away from the source of the voice. It had resounded far too close to you for comfort, belonged to no one whom you knew, and was dangerously sweet and slightly lower-set. Pleasant. But who the hell was in your apartment and how did they break in when you almost always double-locked your door? After building up a bit of distance, you finally looked up and rubbed the last bits of sleep from your eyes. The figure was lean, toned, considerably tall, perhaps even very tall, definitely a man, with dark hair and a face that was a bit too similar to-
Jeong Yunho. Jaw-dropping, you darted back to your tablet and computer, practically shaking the mouse, forcing the entire digital system to begrudgingly awaken at your command. You searched everywhere. The open file, others, older versions… nothing. No luck in finding what you had been working on. It was as if the Yunho you had been spending weeks developing had never existed, and all that you were left with and were staring at was a blank page, and the character, no, a whole man, right in front of you, supposedly living, breathing and in your room. You stood up straight, giving the not-quite-a-stranger but still a stranger a once over, while he, confused, had an eyebrow raised and a sheepish smile on his face. He looked adorable that way. Abashed to the point of cuteness - you recalled a game developer on your team describing the planned emotional response functionality in that way; it had been a hit, and now you were seeing, in person, why.
“Y-Yunho?” you whispered in disbelief, a hand hovering over your mouth while you were wondering whether you should officially report yourself to your boss for having succumbed to the delusions. Relief flashed over the beautiful man’s features when you mentioned his name, timidly, yes, but still, it was his name that you uttered.
“Yes, Y/N, that’s me, hey, don’t worry.”
“Y/N?” He knew your name. This was too real - a shriek erupted from what felt like the depths of your soul, and you shut your eyes, only to open them again and to see the same picture, but a little more zoomed in. He was approaching you. Code red, alert, alert, hot man of your dreams who you had been drawing all the time and were effectively being paid to thirst over was approaching you.
“Do you not remember me or something, are you okay? See I keep telling you to not sleep so late, it’s bad for you-”
“Look who’s talking, mister ‘time to text at two in the morning’,” It was a shot in the dark, a random recollection of facts that had been noted about Yunho, but that was true, since he stopped immediately, a dazzling smile on his face.
“Alright, alright, you got me. But hey, you answer me so we are in this together, right?” he countered, and winked.
“Yeah… and I should stop drinking coffee that late, it gives me some cursed… abilities…” you concluded cryptically, though Yunho did not seem to care much about the wording, taking it as your account of how easily you had been spooked by him.
After the initial wave of ‘stranger danger’ had subsided, instead being replaced by the odd conviction that the man before you truly was just the representation of the character for the simulator, you crossed your arms and regarded him more slowly, calmly while he approached the book cabinet that was filled to the brim with manga, manhwa, figurines, dolls, action figures… effectively the best representation of what had inspired you and continued to drive you to do what you were doing in your life now. He was dressed casually, in a zip-up grey hoodie and dark grey jeans. He had taken off his shoes and was in black socks that he stuffed into a pair of slippers - so in this reality, Yunho clearly was a regular guest. Scratching the back of your head, you wondered if this was a storyline that had been updated and you were unknowingly hallucinating.
“Well, uh, if you… if you want me to come by another time I don’t mind. Whatever works best for you…”
Oh. It finally clicked in your head, and your heart fluttered. The moment was stark and aching in your mind, and you were barely able to contain yourself, the subconscious fangirl in you fully awakening. The light flush of pink on his cheeks, those damn doe eyes that were so perfect, and were now looking right at you as if you were Yunho’s entire world, it was all a telltale sign for what was to happen later, and the past disappointment at having been woken up and having no more documents to present evaporated. This was another life, it had to be. One where you did not have to worry about the endless story points, bi-weekly sprints and one deliverable after another. Only a very precious Yunho who, while toying with the sleeve of his hoodie was pondering if he was even welcome.
“Hey! No, we were planning to hang out and we are going to. Sorry, you know how work is and it got to me this time. What shall we do then? Go out, stay in?” you amplified your sociability, putting the fantastical aspect of the circumstances on the back burner for future pondering.
Laying down the pen that you had absent-mindedly grabbed for self-defence, you stepped around the desk and towards Yunho, never once breaking the visual exchange, except when his gaze darted to the floor under your intensity. You had the advantage after all, of knowledge. You could sense, and could confirm by your universe, what exactly was going to happen. He was pretending to not be affected by your closeness, looking at the cabinet again, though the tone in which he spoke was vulnerable, every bit the dream guy you were imagining all this time. You could barely resist the urge to pinch his cheek - in fact, you made a mental note to yourself to check if that was a playable option in the game or not.
“Can we… stay in?”
“Take out?” if there was something you would not quite let him do, it would be to give him full power over the kitchen. Perhaps another time, but not when the dream was so magnificent.
“You bet! I’m buying this time-”
“Yun, c’mon.”
“Technically I am still the guest.”
“You are much more than a guest-” a pause, a blur within which Yunho was attempting to pick out the meaning behind the words which you had purposefully left to be ambiguous, just to mess with him a little bit. It was too sweet, “I mean, you practically live here at this point,” he groaned and playfully rolled his eyes while continuing to tap in the order to what was for sure meant to be your favourite restaurant in the neighbourhood.
You followed him into your living room. Everything was just as you had left it. Even Yunho’s presence was beginning to feel natural, probably because it had already been pretty much just as constant as him now physically falling onto the couch and leaning back to stretch an arm out over the back of it. Hell, you had even spent some evenings sketching him in this same room. As you settled beside him, while still keeping a little bit of distance - just as friends who were feeling not quite platonic would do, you realised that indeed, you were that close. You did know him ‘since forever’, and whatever this fever dream was, you had every right to enjoy it. So upon pulling your legs onto the couch and under you, you settled in and with a soft sigh began to set up the movie you were going to watch. Just like you and Yunho would do had he been an actual interest of yours.
As the food arrived and was promptly devoured, and you were midway through the film, you found Yunho slowly but surely gravitating towards you. First, it was with an outstretched hand when he was trying to imitate a character on the screen, then with him sitting ever so slightly closer when there was supposedly a ‘spooky moment’ even though you knew full well that out of the two of you, you were the one who would not dare enter a haunted house again, and finally, under the pretence of ‘wanting to show you a funny meme on his phone’ he sat right next to you, thighs flush against each other, arm resting on the sofa right behind your head. You could not help but lean into the warmth, attracted to it, comforted. You knew Yunho inside and out, and if there was anyone who you would trust like this, it would be him. He had seen you at your worst - crying in the office bathrooms when during your early days at the company you had been humiliated by your old boss (who, thankfully, had been promptly fired), and had seen you at your best - your award-winning presentation and proof of concept for an innovative life simulation game, selected as a showpiece for the company at a major global conference. He was always there. Be it on your phone, in a sketchbook, or on your laptop - he was always there, cheering you on. There was no difference between then and now, except that now you could allow your head to rest against his broad chest, hearing the soothing beating of his heart behind the cotton fabrics, feeling how his hand dropped to trace random, intricate shapes on your shoulder while his eyes stayed glued to the television screen.
You could sense that he was afraid to look at you, or at least of what he would think or do if he were to do so. He was warm. Very warm. Maybe too warm. You looked up, noting the adorable redness of his ears that appeared only in particular instances: either he just woke up from deep sleep which was not the case, or he had violently shaken his head and rubbed his ears - another no, or he was embarrassed and shy. Bingo. There it was. You nuzzled against him and swore you could feel his entire body stiffen. Just like when a cat makes a person ‘ the chosen one’ by lying on their lap and said person almost forgets to breathe, you nearly knocked consciousness out of Yunho, it seemed.
“What’s up?” you mumbled, noting that Yunho straightened his back, sitting in an unnatural position.
“I, uh, nothing, it’s nothing,” he responded, clearing his throat, still not daring to look to the side to face you.
A pause. That was his character - you nodded to yourself. He had always been like this. Sympathy through the roof but when it came to his openness - he far from often strayed into that field. It would take quite a bit of coaxing, or, somehow easier, waiting for the right moment. So wait you did, comfortably resting against Yunho, insistent that he return to his previously unwinded state. Before you could snake your hand around him to pull his hood up, your friend suddenly shot up, mumbling something about it being too stuffy, or too hot, and tugged the article of clothing off.
All would be fine and dandy if he was not built how he was - and you knew it better than anyone, however strange it was to admit. After all, you had been the one to pick and sketch out his physique, knowing every muscle, curve and edge. As he fumbled with the sleeves, you took in his form, mouth agape as you saw what you had only perceived two-dimensionally, now in live action, and somehow being the one case of where the transition was impeccable if not better. If he were to turn at any moment, he would bear witness to your disturbingly dedicated scrutiny. But at the same time, what could a digital artist and designer do when a handsome man was right before them? Exactly. It was practically a duty to perceive; if not for personal interests (which you would be a liar if you were to say you did not have them), then at least for science. He looked too good in the dark grey graphic t-shirt, which, despite it being slightly oversize, did its beautiful work by revealing his perfectly toned arms. When you noticed him being in the process of turning back, you peeled your gaze away and back to the movie, not sure where in the storyline you even were, nor what the actors were saying. Patting the space next to you, you beckoned Yunho back. This time, he was calmer in his demeanour, falling back and letting you fall into him, with him, for him - and he was right there to catch you.
Action scene after action scene turned into a blur, dialogue was static that you were not bothered to discern while you focused on Yunho’s breathing. Shallower than before, but still comforting. Who would have thought that you would be cuddling with your dream man when a mere few hours ago you were holed up behind your desk, with a cramped and stiff neck, an exhausted hand and equally tired eyes? Eyelids grew heavier, and you wondered if it would be long before you would fall asleep again, and wake up alone, as usual; a bitter smile settled on your lips when the realisation hit you, earning you a perplexed glance from Yunho and a poke in your side.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Oh, nothing.”
“Definitely something, he turned to you, studying your every movement. The action led him to detangle himself from you, leading you to shiver a little from the lack of his body heat, “ah wait are you cold now? I- wait, here, hoodie?”
“Thanks.”
Him. In every thread. The scent of clean laundry, cotton, and fabric softener. There was something so magical in it, soothing. You wanted to float in the aroma and this moment forever. Pulling the hoodie tighter around you, you pretended to not notice the adoration that was blatantly obvious in Yunho’s expression. He watched as you pushed up the sleeves a little bit, crossed your legs and looked back at him. Your friend, your muse and subject was nervous, and it did not need a trained professional to figure it out. The tale was climbing to a peak, and the main characters had to face it together. You waited for him, mellowness across your features as you played with one of the hoodie’s drawstrings.
Yunho looked at you, and something about the purity, and hopefulness within him made you think of the very first drawings you had made on post-its in the middle of a conference. Bored out of your mind, your mind wandered back to pondering the new project you had been assigned - the dating simulator. Idea after idea had been proposed for the characters, but not a single one stuck. Everyone was at a standstill until he came along. A breathtaking blessing, just like he was now. Silence settled like snow, only to be broken by a short hum, and Yunho taking the risk you had been wishing for.
“I… I know it has only been a few months but… I really don’t think I can be friends with you anymore, Y/N,” you tilted your head as he put his hands on his lap, fingers repeatedly messing with the material of his sweatpants - his attempt to soothe himself. You, on the other hand, were oddly calm. Simply waiting for the events to unfold and for you to embrace them with the fullest heart. While he was searching for the right words to say, you placed a hand over his, waking him from rumination. A weak smile was replaced by determination, truth spilling from his soul.
“I like you too much. Really. I would not be able to keep my distance even if I tried.”
“Well I think you are a bit too far away right now, Yun,” with a wave of boldness having washed over you, you acted on instinct, leaning towards the beautiful, infinitely precious man until he could not look away, captivated by your proximity, your glimmering eyes, your acceptance.
“Huh?” the sound was barely audible, an echo lost to the tension. You ran a finger over his jawline, instantly seeing his expression darken with another reverberating, deep sensation.
“We should seal the deal, shouldn’t we?” remaining cryptic, you inched closer and closer until you could pick apart the flicks of lighter mahogany in those stunning irises - you wanted to shake your hand for having persevered to finish them in the drawing. Truly, one of a kind.
“What-”
“Oh just kiss me already-”
That phrase you did not need to tell Yunho twice. Finally catching on, he was the first to destroy the distance between you, capturing your lips with his and letting his hand find purchase in your hair, digits running through it, caressing you, guiding you into a shared rhythm. He was as sweet as vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. An intoxicating, ecstatically overwhelming daze that consumed you whole. You saw the sketches flash before you, burning one by one to fuel the desire building for Yunho, for you, for the two of you together. It felt right, it felt real. Arms over his shoulders, you allowed him to pull you into his lap, embrace you and pepper the softest kisses on your cheeks, and your neck, finding the path back to your lips. You felt more alive than ever with the electricity coursing through your newfound intimacy. Nothing existed. This universe was Yunho, and you could not be happier. Better than in any story that you or your co-workers could develop, better than in any fairytale, the oddity transformed into eternity. This was a dream you wanted to remain in for as long as you-
Saying it was hard to wake up was an understatement. Your entire body had been aching from having fallen asleep in an awkward position over your drawing tablet, you had slept past your alarms and as such had only fifteen minutes to cram getting ready and leaving for the office, and upon checking your schedule you had the ‘pleasure’ of having three more meetings being crammed into it, reducing your lunch break to what was a near null. With a sigh, you moved away from your space, dragging your tired body to your first official interaction of the day after having sat at your desk for a couple of hours, already dreading it. The new CEO - whoever they were, was the ‘I want to know all the details and be one with the teams’ type, how joyful, you wondered how long that would last.
It was hard to find the motivation, especially after a dream such as yours. It kept on revolving in your head, pressing down on you, making you reminisce the gentle caresses, the sweet words and actions, the delightful kiss that you had managed to just have the time to experience with Yunho. You were seeing your character in an entirely new light, already having reworked some ideas for the possible special event outfits and spammed your close colleagues who were working on the storyline with some ideas about how Yunho could have even better depth and as such, engagement from prospective users. Perhaps for this meeting with authority you just needed to tap into your delusions and it would be good enough - at least they were productive for once.
While you were setting up the presentation, the rest of your immediate team began to file in, giving you excited waves that you returned with an unprecedented warmth. Pleasant chatter, discussion of possibility, mention of just how special it was that this dating simulator game project was the one the CEO had chosen to see today… you were feeling confident. Whoever this person was going to be, you were going to give your best and-
The door opened. Heads turned. Greetings, bows - all forms of politeness that could be expressed being delivered. People standing up, while you stood up taller by the board, the title slide behind you. You raised your head, only for time to slow down and freeze entirely. Your hold on the clicker tightened, and the only person aside from you who existed at that moment was the newcomer. The CEO. Greeting others with a smile and with equally as elegant bows. Every bit the gentleman in his tailored suit, hair swept back and impeccably styled. Jeong Yunho.
This had to be some kind of joke, right? Was this a dream? The stinging remaining after you pinched your arm slapped you back into reality. No. This Yunho was definitely real. But who was the one you-... the one you started dating? The one who you were way more than colleagues or friends with? Before your mind could accelerate into panicked rumination, his gaze stopped at you, and you could sense everyone else’s attention drift to you too. You were under his spotlight. Melting under what was nothing but kindness in his eyes.
“L/N Y/N, right? I heard a lot about you,” his grin was making you dizzy, memories of his taste resurfacing and sending heat to your cheeks, giving them a light dusting of pink.
“Good things, I hope?” you managed, he chuckled, and sent you a wink before sitting down on his chair.
“The best. I am really looking forward to this,” a playful tease.
“Glad to know this.”
“I heard you made quite a few new developments, how did that happen?” you knew what he was getting at, and that made you feel secure. So it was the same Yunho. That precious Yunho who had confessed to you, the one who had come to life and was now part of yours, by some odd twist of fate had appeared in your company, and was now right in front of you, eager and in love. You smirked while twisting to check the slide one last time, well aware that his only focus ever would be you.
tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?
summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.
authors note: tw for this chapter!! brief description of torture (nothing specific) and toxic/strained relationship with parents, notably the father.
join taglist here! if you're already on the taglist, i'd appreciate it if you were to fill in the attached form anyway so i can keep up with who's on which taglist hehe. ik i do be messy n forgetful but lets ignore that.....
word count: 5.2k
networks: @cromernet
currently, ten out of ?
previous.
breathe in.
breathe out.
one, two, three…
shoot.
with a small movement of his fingers, yeosang lets go of the bow string, and his arrow zips through the air with great speed. the metal arrowhead pierces right through the target’s centre.
bullseye.
the young prince lowers his wooden weapon. he stares forward, the structure of his target that sits approximately 70 meters away from his current spot staring back at him. he can see the previous targets within his peripheral vision, all of them having an arrow struck precisely in the middle of each one. they’re silent, as inanimate objects should be, but yeosang feels irritated by their mere presence.
look at you, they mock. shooting arrows again as if you haven’t mastered archery when you were a child. can’t you do anything else?
yeosang’s fingers tighten around the grip of his weapon. he’s gone mad, he thinks, after years and years of repeated training over a craft that he’s already far over the extent of being simply skilled at. archery used to be something he adored ever since he first felt the smooth surface of the wooden bow his father gifted him during his 5th birthday, telling him stories about how everyone within the royal lineage of the kang family are masters of the sport.
“this bow used to be mine,” his father smiled down at the sight of his excited son. “and now, it’s yours.”
when he shot his first arrow, even when it was nowhere near his target, he felt as if cupid’s own arrow had pierced his heart as he fell in love.
with the prince’s wide starry eyes and determined smile whenever he’s on the training grounds during his childhood, even he himself would never have guessed that he would grow to hate archery.
if he were to be more bitter and honest, yeosang thinks it’s not just the sport that he hates. he hates the grueling hours of training he has to go through each and every day, he hates the pristine white walls within the castle he resides in, he hates the amount of books he’s expected to read and memorize, he hates the lessons he has to attend every day - and god, does he hate being restricted on what he should and should not do by those who think they have any say in his own life.
a life where he never got the chance to live. truly live.
just as he’s about to place his bow down, a familiar voice calls out his name. yeosang turns around, and he’s met with the tall and buff figure of his father who stands several steps away from his own standing spot. there’s a solemn look of the king’s face, one that he wears almost all the time for as long as yeosang can remember.
“father.” yeosang greets with a quick bow.
when the king doesn’t respond, yeosang knows something is wrong.
his father approches him with long, confident strides, shoes crunching against the grass of the training grounds. the sound makes yeosang’s ears ring and his heart palpitating with anxiety. his father’s figure casts a shadow over his own once the king is standing in front of him, blocking the early morning sunlight and leaving the young prince in the dark.
a moment passes by. yeosang can feel the beating of his heart like the ticking of a bomb that’s just waiting to explode. all of the sudden, his cheek burns.
there’s a deafening ring in the prince’s ears. it takes a few seconds to finally realize that his father had just slapped him right across the face.
“you,” the king speaks, voice low and gruff. “absolute disgrace of a son. have i not told you multiple times to not sneak out of the castle?”
the bomb that was previously ticking within yeosang’s chest bursts. he stiffens, ice running in his veins as he registers the words of his father. other than his personal guard, jongho, there’s no one else who knows about the prince and his habit of sneaking out of the royal castle - and if there’s one word to describe jongho, it’s loyal. ever since he took his oath, the royal guard would never betray yeosang’s trust, even when questioned by the king.
which can only mean one thing.
“what did you do to him?” yeosang’s voice is no louder than an uneasy whisper, fearing the worse.
the silence that comes from his father only serves to feed into his fear. he can feel the king’s eyes burning fire into his skin, a flame that was once ignited with the warmth of a loving father who only wishes the best for his son - but now, the flame has gone far beyond control, searing the prince’s flesh and branding him with a reminder that he is not, and never will be, free.
“what did you do to him?” yeosang urges. there’s moisture prickling in his wavering eyes, and he’s unsure whether it’s from fearing for jongho’s safety or from the broken heart of a child.
“disobey the king’s orders will lead to consequences,” his father tilts his head up, looking down at yeosang with empty eyes. “and neither you nor that incompetent fool of a royal guard are exempted."
yeosang doesn’t need to hear anything else. the wooden bow that he was previously clutching onto is quickly thrown onto the ground, forgotten and abandoned like the fond memories he once shared with his father. the prince runs past the king without a single look back, undoubtedly making his way back into the castle to find the whereabouts of his guard. he whizzes past onlookers, servants and fellow archerers alike - some of them call out for him with worry, but the prince doesn’t spare them a glance.
not when all he can think of is jongho, jongho, jongho.
the walls of the castle echo the hurried sounds of his shoes against the floors, as if they’re mocking his misfortune. yeosang wastes no time as he quickly reaches the darker area of the castle, one that doesn’t feel the shine of the sun against it’s cold and hostile stone floors.
if his father decided to punish jongho, then there’s no other place to do so if not within the underground dungeons.
as soon as he reaches the end of the staircase that leads to the dungeons, yeosang hears it - the metallic rattles of handcuffs. it’s faint, yet it bounces everywhere against the dirtied walls, surrounding the young prince’s heart with anxiety and sinking it’s claws into his chest. yeosang follows the sound deeper into the dungeons, every step he takes bringing him away from any source of natural lighting until he reaches the end of the corridor, standing in front of the furthest cell.
once his eyes finally adjust to the poor lighting, the prince feels his knees give out at the sight before him.
jongho, his most precious friend and trusted guard, kneels in the middle of the dark and dirty prison cell, head hung low as his arms are stretched upwards in an uncomfortable form, wrists cuffed onto the chain that hangs from the ceiling. his clothes are tattered and torn, slashes that seem to have been caused by a sharp blade tearing the fabric and giving the prince a small glimpse of the dark red that oozes from jongho’s skin. he’s breathing, yeosang can only make out that much, but he doesn’t seem very… well.
the prince feels something wet on his cheeks, but he’s quick to wipe it away.
“jongho,” he whispers, fearing that if he were to speak any louder, his friend might crumble into pieces. “jongho, please answer me.”
silence.
“jongho,” yeosang grits his teeth, clutching onto the bars of the cell. “i order you to answer me right this instant, damn it!”
other than hearing the palpitation of his own heart, yeosang’s ears catch the sound of a pained groan coming from within the cell, and his knuckles turn white from the way he grips onto the metal bars as if his life depended on it.
“your highness…” jongho croaks out. “i’m sorry.”
a shaky sigh escapes the prince’s pale lips once he hears jongho speak. even if he sounds weak, at least he’s still able to talk.
“no,” yeosang breathes out. “it’s not your fault, it never was. i should have stopped sneaking out long ago…”
yeosang would rather disappear off the face of the earth than ever admit that his father is right, and he still thinks so at this very moment - but as he takes in his friend’s condition, the nagging voice in the back of his brain somehow becomes more prominent than ever.
this is your fault, it taunts him. look at him. look at what you’ve done. you almost killed the one person who cares for you, and for what? the smallest taste of freedom that you were never supposed to have?
selfish.
cursed child.
you’re going to end up just like your sister.
“your highness,” jongho calls out despite the ache in his throat. “stop it. it’s not your fault either.”
from the way yeosang turned quiet and lowered his head in something akin to shame, jongho knew that he’s spiralling again. it’s obvious to notice, he thinks, even within the dungeon’s darkness. thanks to the many years he had spent with the prince, he’s gotten used to the many quirks and habits of the young man that would be easily dismissed by those who aren’t familiar with them.
“i’m sorry.” yeosang mumbles. “i put you in danger for my own selfish wants, i don’t deserve your sympathy.”
jongho simply hums.
“you’re lucky i’m cuffed,” the guard says, earning a confused look from the prince. “or i would have smacked you for saying that.”
a faint smiles grows on jongho’s bloodied lips when he hears the quiet chuckle from his dear prince.
“you’re not in the appropriate state to be joking right now.” yeosang scolds, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt before looking around. “did my - ah, did the king do this to you?”
yeosang doesn’t feel like he would willingly call that man as his father, especially not after this occasion.
“he ordered for it, yes.” jongho breathes out. “but the one who did his dirty work was another guard.”
“did you recognize him?” yeosang questions with a furrow of his eyebrows. he can’t believe the audacity of his father being able to cruelly order the torture of his personal guard yet still refuse to get his hands dirty, even when his fingers are already dripping in the blood of others.
perhaps it’s his own sick and twisted way of showing some sympathy, since jongho has been yeosang’s guard ever since they were both young teenagers. maybe he couldn’t bear having the blood of the young man who would lay his life down for his son, whose loyalty runs deeper than the lowest underwater trench of the sea.
wherever one went, the other would follow closely, treating each other more like brothers rather than a royal and his servant.
whatever it may be, sympathy or not, yeosang still thinks it’s unacceptable.
“no,” jongho weakly shakes his head. “had his armor on, helmet and everything.”
before yeosang had the chance to curse out the cowardice of the guard who dared to harm jongho, his attention is caught by the familiar sound of jingling keys coming from inside the cell.
“lucky for me,” jongho smiles weakly. “i managed to snatch this off from the coward. i had to ruin my voice by screaming so he wouldn’t notice, though.”
the prince’s eyes travel upwards ever so slightly, and he feels a weak smile of disbelief growing on his lips when he sees the ring of silver keys dangling from jongho’s fingers.
“of course.” yeosang breathes a soft laugh out, reaching his hand into the cell to grab the keys once jongho throws it towards him, the keys falling onto the dirty floor. “of course you’d do something like that, you crazed man.”
“hey,” jongho feigns offense. “i wasn’t called ‘the best guard eridanus has ever had’ for nothing, your highness.”
as yeosang gets up on wobbly knees to unlock the prison cell’s door, he doesn’t stop the snort that escapes from his lips. the only person who has ever called jongho ‘the best guard eridanus has ever had’ was the prince himself, and he remembers the fact that he said it only because jongho bought his favourite piece of pastry during his birthday several years ago.
yeosang remembers as if it were yesterday. he had to hold back his tears when the young guard barged into his room with a small cake decorated fruit toppings. even when it was far inferior to the grand cake that his father had specially ordered for him, the one that jongho got made him happier than any gigantic cake could ever.
once the prison door clicks open, yeosang moves into the cell and quickly uncuffs his friend, catching his weak body just in time before he could fall face first onto the ground as soon as he’s set free.
“we need to get you treated,” the prince says, properly supporting jongho’s weight with his arm wrapped around the other man’s waist. “i don’t want to take care of a sick teddy bear if your wounds get infected.”
“harsh,” jongho frowns dramatically, earning himself a scoff from his prince. “and here i thought you cared for me.”
the guard winces when he feels a pinch on his side, and he sends a playful glare at the prince, who opts to look away and feign innocence. the two young men make their way out of the gloomy underground dungeon, with yeosang adjusting his own pace to match with jongho’s limps and occasional stumbles.
“...where are we going?” the guard questions as he notices the slight detour that his prince is taking. as far as he knows, the only way back up is via the staircase by the end of the dark corridor, but yeosang seems to have other plans in his head as he brings jongho through a smaller, tight-spaced hallway that they entered using a secret door that jongho never knew even existed.
which is odd. all royal guards have been taught of every secret door, passage, room, and everything alike within the castle just in case there was a need for an emergency exit or entry. however, jongho can’t seem to remember nor recognize the path that yeosang is leading him into.
“we’re sneaking out, duh,” yeosang says as a matter-of-factly. “i can’t risk bringing you to the royal physician, he’ll report us to the king and he’ll get both of us killed.”
a smile blooms on jongho’s lips. of course, even when he told himself he wouldn’t sneak out again, his prince would never stay true to those words. yeosang has always been a free-spirit who longs to explore the world outside the castle walls - to be free of duty and responsibilty, away from the sharp claws of his royal lineage that suffocates him.
during his first few weeks of becoming the prince’s personal guard, jongho had commited himself wholly to the king’s simple orders - never allow the prince to leave the castle grounds. naive and eager to please, jongho was always quick to deny yeosang’s wishes to go out and explore, but the prince was quicker. he’d find ways to sneak past his eagle eyes and sharp ears, leaving jongho frustrated and at risk of growing white hair at the ripe age of 18.
the moment jongho finally, finally, caught yeosang sneaking out, he decided to follow him. find out where he’s going, who he interacts with, memorize the specific paths he takes and the approximate amount of time he takes to get from one place to another - he was determined to squeeze out all the information he could get his hands on.
instead, he found himself in trouble when he saw the look on the prince’s face as he sat quietly on top of the tall wall that surrounds the city of eridanus with a content smile on his lips, one that gives shame to the strained and fake smile the prince always had whenever he’s within the castle. it was dark, jongho remembers, the twinkle of the night stars and the gentle glow of moonlight illuminating the prince’s face as he gazed forward.
what was he looking at? there’s nothing to admire outside the walls, only acres of forestry with rough terrains and steeps hills as well as countless bodies of water.
and yet, as the prince gazed at nothing, the guard could see everything in his eyes, even when he was spying on him from afar. yeosang never had this look on his face whenever he’s within the castle - the face of someone who wants more, someone who knows he’s destined for more. his eyes longed for everything that he itches to reach for and grab on to, in hopes it could drag him out of his miserable life as a royal who only lives to be caged.
ever since then, jongho would let yeosang sneak out as much as he wants to, even going to the extent of lying to his fellow guards about the prince’s whereabouts and allowing himself to be mercilessly beaten.
the scars are temporary, jongho thinks, mere setbacks as he does his best to make sure his dear prince will get the freedom he deserves.
if it meant that yeosang would have the stars twinkling in his eyes again, then jongho would sacrifice anything for him.
if you knew you were going to be thrown into the middle of a kingdom you’ve never been to before, all alone, you never would have agreed to that witch of a woman who calls herself yoona.
just the thought of her makes you irritated, as if you’re not already stomping your away through eridanus’ streets with the most obvious frown on your face.
“just go straight and turn left at the tavern,” you mock her voice, gripping onto the cloak that seonghwa had given you back in cygnus. “it’s the shop right by the corner, my ass.”
the moment you had woken up to the song of eridanus’ early morning birds, your peace was disturbed immediately when you bumped into yoona in the hallway of the second floor. you saw her exiting one of the rooms, which you can only guess to be the one yunho is resting in, and she’s quick to approach you even when you tried to turn away and get back into your own room.
“i need your help.” yoona had called out to you.
“good morning to you too.” you didn’t initally plan to sound far too sarcastic, but you did anyway. oh well.
“.... good morning,” the young woman replied, her eye twitching by the tone of your voice. “look, i really need your help. the other boys are still sleeping and i don’t want to wake them up.”
you sighed and gestured for her to continue.
“could you get some lavender for me? i ran out but i need it to treat yunho’s wounds.” yoona had requested, playing with the fabric of her apron that’s neatly tied around her middle.
if you were any more bitter, you would have denied and told her that you are not some kind of maid that she can simply order around. luckily for her, you’re not insufferably bitter, at least not verbally. plus, it’s for yunho, and you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you denied anything that could make him feel better.
so, you agreed. the innkeeper’s daughter handed you a few gold coins for the lavender’s payment and a bunch of vague instructions on how to reach the local herbalist - ones that you were quick to forget, embarrasingly so.
just because you’re some kind of chosen one that could read an ancient map does not mean you’re any better with directions than a child. it’s not even your fault, how could she expect you to know your way around the kingdom when you arrived only yesterday?
should you ask around? it seems to be the most appropriate choice, and luckily for you, there are several groups of townspeople passing by.
just pick a random stranger, you urge yourself. it’s not that hard.
your eyes scan the area for any faces that look easy to approach, but everyone seems to be on their way to go somewhere. soon enough, you spot a young man who’s leaning against a wall, seemingly doing nothing but staring at the passerbys. he’s dressed in dark colors from head to toe, his black hair slicked back with a few strands framing his sharp face and a matching set of dark eyes following the movement of the people who walk pass him. he seems to be around your age, so you suppose that he should be easier to talk to compared to the elderly townsfolk who might just scold you for wasting their time on giving you directions.
with a quick breath in and out, you make your way towards the man.
“excuse me,” you say once you’re close enough, and the man is quick to turn his head towards you. “do you know the way to the herbalist’s shop?”
the man is quiet for a second as his eyes look at you up and down. before you had the chance to feel intimidated, the man flashes you a smile.
“of course,” he speaks, and you notice that he has a bit of an accent. “i’ll walk you there. can’t have a lady like you in these streets alone.”
“ah,” you return his smile warmly. “thank you. i hope i’m not disturbing you or anything.”
the man gently kicks himself off the wall he was previously leaning against, dismissing your words with a wave of his hand.
“nah, i wasn’t up to anything. just wanted to get some fresh morning air.” he explains. the man walks pass you, and you follow him closely once he gestures you to do so with a quick tilt of his head.
“you from around here?” he asks.
“no,” you turn away in attempt to hide the fact that you’re lying through your teeth. “i’m just a travelling merchant.”
the man simply hums.
“i see,” he responds. “seems like that’s one thing in common between us - except i’m not a merchant.”
“what are you, then?” you question, deciding to turn once again to look at the man as he walks beside you.
“a humble traveler.” he says, offering no further explanation. his eyes meet yours as he tilts his head slightly just to see you, and he smiles.
you, ever so kind, smile back at the stranger. for some reason, a voice in the back of your head is telling you not to, but you ignore it.
the rest of the journey towards the herbalist shop goes on in silence. truthfully, halfway through the trip, you had begun to worry. what if this man isn’t who he says he is? he might be leading you somewhere else, taking advantage of the fact that you’re absolutely clueless about the roads in eridanus before killing you in cold blood for his own sick satisfaction.
your worries are quickly shut down once you spot the herbalist shop sign, and you let go of the breath you didn’t even realize you were holding.
it’s just baseless, meaningless worries. that’s all to it.
“here we are,” the man stops right in front of the shop. “would you like me to wait for you? just in case you don’t remember the way back.”
a soft snicker falls from your lips at the man’s words, because he’s most definitely right. you do not remember the way back.
“that would be great,” you grin. “thank you, mister…”
you drag your words a little, and the man takes the hint to tell you his name.
“christopher,” he informs. “but everyone calls me chan, so i expect you to do the same, miss…”
christopher, or chan, drags his words in a similar way you did to yours mere seconds ago, and it makes you stiffle back an entertained laugh.
“well, chan,” you speak smoothly. “you can call me byeol.”
the fake name that you came up with during your youth slides off your tongue as easy as any lie does, despite the uncomfortable nagging in your chest in the form of a palpitating heart.
“byeol,” chan repeats. “that has to be the best fitting name i’ve ever come across.”
you scoff, dismissing the cheeky smile that chan has on his lips with a wave of your hand before making your way up the small flight of stairs in front of the herbalist shop’s front porch.
you knock the wooden door thrice before entering, and the chime of a small bell rings above your head. the moment you step in, the strong scent of various herbs paired with a faint smell of burning fire overcomes your senses. the shop is lit with the natural glows of sunlight coming from the tall, open windows, and there’s a gentle breeze coming from one of them that makes some of the many, many plants within the shop sway with it’s blows.
there’s a wooden counter at the middle of the shop, but nobody stands behind it. you suppose the owner is somewhere else, maybe they’re helping another customer that came before you - either way, you’re left to figure out by yourself on where the lavender is kept within the cramped shop.
you take a few timid steps forward, the heels of your shoes clicking against the floorboards. you come to notice that there is someone else inside the shop as you catch the sight of a rather tall person by the corner of the shop. they have their back facing you, seemingly busy with browsing through the myriad of herbs, but you notice that they’re wearing a cloak, much like yourself.
in the back of your head, you can only remember one person who uses that cloak.
the person turns around just enough for you to see their side-profile, and your suspicions are correct. the sight of a familiar looking birthmark that sits prettily right under the person’s eye is a dead giveaway to the man you previously bumped into while you were on your little cafe hopping trip with wooyoung and san yesterday.
without taking a second to reconsider what you’re about to do, you approach the man with a wide grin, tapping onto his shoulder to gain his attention.
“hey there,” you greet warmly. “fancy seeing you here!”
yeosang jolts in surprise when he feels someone tapping on his shoulder, and he turns around to see a familiar face - the woman who bumped into him yesterday.
the same woman who called his birthmark pretty. despite the previous anxiety that he had felt while he was waiting for the herbalist to fix jongho up in the back of the shop, yeosang feels a smile growing on his lips.
“hi,” he grins. “what a pleasant surprise. i remember you from yesterday, dear travelling merchant.”
“ah,” you blink, a little caught off guard that the man actually remembers the event. you were beginning to prepare yourself for the incoming embarrassment if he didn’t recognize you. “you’re right, that’s me! i didn’t think you’d remember.”
“of course i remember,” yeosang chuckles. “no one else has been as clumsy as you are to bump right into a stranger.”
at the obvious tease in his words, you scrunch your face at the stranger.
“hey,” you grumble. “not my fault that you were standing in my way, you absolute tree.”
yeosang shakes his head, scoffing at your choice of words. even jongho never called him such a thing - he’ll be making a mental reminder to use it against his guard before the latter could have the chance to use it on him. although, yeosang realizes after a short second, jongho isn’t exactly a tree. if anything, that young man is a whole wall.
okay, yeosang thinks. i’ll call him wall instead.
“what are you doing here, anyway?” yeosang questions.
“oh, just here for some lavender.” you shrug your shoulders. “i’m not sure where they are, though.”
“oh,” yeosang walks pass you quickly before reaching upwards to the top of a shelf, hands plucking a few light purple stems from one of the pots. “they’re right here. here you go.”
the prince offers you the lavender stems, and you can’t stop the wide, appreciative smile that blooms on your lips as you take the herbs into your own hands. you thank him promptly, bowing a few times to further emphasize your gratefulness.
“no problem.” yeosang brushes your thanks off. “you can take your leave if you’re in a hurry, by the way. i’ll pay for your lavenders.”
just as you were about to reject the offer, you realize that yoona had given you enough coins for a maximum of three stems of lavender - and what you have in your hands now is closer to a mini bouquet. well, since he already offered…
“sure,” you agree, grinning ear to ear at the man. “i’d appreciate that, thank you so much.”
yeosang merely nods as a humble way to accept your thanks, and he waves goodbye to you as you make your way out of the shop. once you’re out of sight, the prince’s smile slowly fades away.
lavenders, he thinks. they’re for treating wounds. i hope she isn’t hurt.
you exit the shop with a happy smile, a hand full of lavenders, and a content heart. maybe today isn’t so bad.
“chan!” you call out as you skip down the stairs. “i got my lavenders, some prince looking guy paid them for me-”
just as you arrive at the bottom of the stairs, you realize that chan is nowhere to be found.
ugh, you frown, mood quickly going down again. spoke way too soon.
you could wait for the birthmark man to come out and ask him to escort you instead, you suppose, but you don’t want to keep yoona waiting. not that you’re being considerate for her, it’s more to not wanting to delay her process of making sure yunho’s wounds are properly treated and kept away from any infections.
so, with a heavy frown and an even heavier heart, you stomp away from the shop, going back to the grumpiness you had earlier and mentally preparing yourself to get lost once more.
as you walk away, you don’t notice the pair of sharp eyes following your movements.
“chan to hyunjin,” chan whispers into the communication device in his hands, hidden in the darkness of the alleyway he snuck in to. “come in, hyunjin.”
the device crackles for a few moments before the familiar voice of his most trusted assassin speaks up.
“hyunjin coming in,” the assassin responds through the device. “what’s up?”
“tell the others,” chan says, a satisfied smirk creeping onto his cold lips. “to prepare for the win we’ve been waiting for.”
there’s a brief silence by the other end of the device before the sound of excited chatter comes up.
“are you serious?” hyunjin’s voice speaks up again, and it only makes chan’s smirk grown bigger.
With changing faiths, the old gods were left as mere names recorded in the history of the evolution of mankind, left to the figments of imagination in myths and legends. Their fall was never recorded in history, erased by the sands of time and rewritten by humanity as “passing comets.” Condemned to Earth for eternity, they built a home for themselves in one corner of the world, away from humans who turned their backs on them. They spend their lives in the Bermuda Triangle, their prison-turned-paradise, a mere shadow of the heavens they once occupied. Some found a way to escape for a while to roam the world they once held in their hands, blending with the humans they once loved. You can find them anywhere, in a coffee shop, walking on the street, or in your university classroom. But if you’re daring enough, you can access this piece of heaven from anywhere in the world. The only catch—you have to be willing to go off the map.
Welcome to Cromer Net’s first writing event! Here are some guidelines you must adhere to:
You can only join if you are willing to write for an ateez member. You can join even if you are not a part of the network. [TO JOIN (IF YOU'RE NOT A MEMBER) THE EVENT PLEASE DM THE NETWORK BLOG OR @pocketjoong]
The basic theme revolves around fallen gods (from Greek, Roman, Norse, or any other mythology, for example, Zeus, Bacchus, Loki, etc.) who have been imprisoned on Earth after their fall. They live in the Bermuda Triangle, and their prison is guarded by demons, but some of them have figured out a way to leave the confines of their prison to visit the different places on earth, but many others choose to stay.
The storyline can include a fallen god!reader, a human reader, a nymph!reader, or a demon!reader (same goes for the ateez members you choose to write for).
Note: Bermuda Triangle (aka their prison) is a manifestation of eternal damnation, a "hell" if you will. But they created a "heaven" for themselves there. (Think Hades. He was cast out of Olympus but created his own Empire in the underworld.)
Aside from what's given in the prompt and guidelines, everything is open to the interpretation and creativity of the author!
Authors must submit oneshots that are more than 1000 words long. You may submit a series as long as you are able to finish it by the deadline (all works must have a read more cut).
NSFW content is allowed as long as proper warnings are given. However, no content that is offensive to others will be accepted!
For any questions, you may contact @pocketjoong (A separate discord server might be created if enough authors from outside the network apply).
All network rules will apply. Minors cannot join the event!
Use the tag #elysium falling event cromernet in the first five tags of your post to submit your post for the event!
Summary: Vigilante work has been outlawed, thus sending nine prominent vigilantes either into retirement or into lower ground and, while some abide by the law, a few continue on. Then, one day, a greater threat forces these vigilantes to come together once again, regardless of the law.
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Disclaimer: Please remember that this is an AU and a work of fiction, obviously the idols mentioned/written about in this story would never partake in these actions. The idols mentioned in this work are meant to be seen more as face claims rather than the actual idols themselves.
tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?
summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.
word count: 5.4k
networks: @cromernet
currently, nine out of ?
previous.
evening comes faster than you had expected. you had lost track of time during your impromptu café hopping session with wooyoung and san, trailing behind the two pirates as they tried every tester they could get their grubby hands on and convincing you to try them out as well. as unsettling as eridanus is, you couldn’t help but admit that their pastries are rather tasty.
maybe, you had pondered while trying another tester. i can ask for some to be sent to pyxis when i return.
‘when’ is quite a… hopeful choice of words, you realize after a minute.
it’s more of an ‘if’. if you ever return to your home kingdom, because a nagging piece of your consciousness is reasonable enough to put some sense into you that a certain cold hearted pirate captain might not be kind enough to let you live when you serve no use to him anymore. what exactly does he plan to do with you after the whole map reading ordeal is finished? you haven’t got the slightest clue.
the sound of crackling fire is the only thing that’s keeping you from being swallowed in complete silence. after keeping your promises to meet up during sunset, seonghwa had led you and the other two pirates towards the inn that hongjoong had rented for his crew to rest in. it’s a quaint, unassuming piece of stone architecture that stands a mere two-stories, located by the edge of eridanus’ city.
“head right in,” seonghwa had instructed once you arrived by the wooden door. “i’ll go find yunho and mingi.”
that exchange was approximately twenty minutes ago.
you can see hongjoong’s growing frustration quite clearly, the bright orange flame from the fireplace illuminating his features perfectly for you to see the way his jaw clenches and the deep frown he has on his lips.
“what’s taking them so damn long?” the captain groans, folding his arms over his chest as he leans backwards against the stone wall behind his seat. the dusty air is tense, and you can only fiddle with your fingers underneath the table in front of you while no one else dares to answer hongjoong’s exasperated question. you can feel san shift from one foot to another from his spot behind your seat, the young man opting to stand instead of sitting down like his bright red haired friend who seems a tad more relaxed compared to the others within the cramped common area of the inn.
there’s a sudden creak of an opening door, and everyone within the room turns their heads towards the source of the sound. you’re expecting to see the three men that you’ve been expecting to arrive almost half an hour ago, but instead, you’re met with the sight of a young woman.
the woman carries a tray with her, one that appears to have six pieces of porcelain cups neatly arranged atop. her gown seems simple and modest, colored in a dark brown that’s appealing to the eyes and contrasting with the clean, white apron that’s tied around her middle. you squint in an attempt to make out her features, but due to the poor lighting within the dark inn, you can’t see much of her face.
“good evening,” she greets, voice light and easy on the ears. “i see that the rest aren’t here yet.”
there’s a gentle chuckle coming from someone, and much, much to your surprise, you turn your head back forward just to be greeted with a smiling captain, dark eyes focused on the young woman who just came in.
“unfortunately.” hongjoong sighs. “but i can’t blame them entirely, it’s been a while since we’ve docked here.”
“they’ve gone sightseeing, i suppose?” the woman responds with a playful lift in her tone as she approches closer, and once she steps into the light from the flame in the fireplace, you can clearly see the way she returns hongjoong’s smile.
“they went to get drunk.” wooyoung claims from his spot.
“did they?” the woman tilts her head to raise an eyebrow at the red haired pirate. “hard to believe, since i would’ve expected you to follow them, wooyoungie.”
wooyoungie? you blink, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
“i don’t drink on the job.” wooyoung huffs.
“lies,” you hear san butt in from behind you. “i have enough dirt on you to prove otherwise.”
“sannie, don’t be mean.” the woman scolds, her attention now on the pirate behind you.
a muscle twitches on your face. san is right behind you, and if she were to look at him, she would definitely notice you as well. however, that doesn’t seem to be the case, since she doesn’t spare you a single glance before deciding to place one of the cups from the tray that she’s been holding on top of hongjoong’s table.
“i made some tea for everyone.” she continues to smile at the captain, who returns it with one of his own a little too naturally for your liking. hongjoong mumbles a quick thanks before the woman turns to place another cup on wooyoung’s table, and then one more on your table.
“and this,” she says, eyeing the man behind you once again. “is for sannie.”
it takes all the strength you have not to grimace as she turns to walk away from your table, but before she does, you clear your throat.
“excuse me,” you speak. “i think you’re missing someone.”
the woman finally lets her gaze fall onto you, and the confused look on her face seems as if she’s questioning your entire presence within the inn.
“oh,” she blinks before gesturing towards hongjoong. “i’m sorry, but i only made tea for the gentleman over there and his friends.”
someone scoffs rather loudly, but you decide to ignore it. you’re not given the chance to respond to the woman by saying ‘hey, i came here on their damn ship, too.’ before hongjoong decides to butt in.
“she’s part of the crew,” the captain points out. “it would be appropriate for you to offer her some tea as well.”
there’s a beat of silence that follows hongjoong’s words, one that you can only describe as painfully awkward. the way that the woman’s sickening sweet smile fades away for the quickest moment doesn’t go unnoticed by your eyes, but before the others could catch on, she’s back to her cheery expression.
“i see,” she says as her hands place another cup on your table. “i apologize, i just didn’t expect for the pirate king to recruit a woman onto his ship.”
the woman doesn’t lift her fingers from the rim of the cup even after she places it down onto the wooden table. instead, she keeps her gaze on you for a moment, eyes scanning you from top to bottom. you return her stare, jaws clenched and teeth chewing on the innerside of your bottom lip.
“especially one that looks rather… unbefitting for life at sea.” she continues as she removes her hand from the cup.
“trust me,” you decide to play along, reaching over to grab the porcelain cup and pull it closer to you. “i didn’t have much say in it either. if you’d like any more details, feel free to ask wooyoungie over there.”
as you sip on your tea, the sound of wooyoung spluttering on his drink reaches your ears, and you can’t help the satisfied smile from growing on your lips as you watch the woman’s own smile falter.
nobody gets the chance to say anything afterwards when the front door of the inn is suddenly flung open, the wooden material slamming against the stone wall with enough force that could easily break the sctructure. the legs of someone’s chair screeches against the cold floor, and you don’t bother to turn around and figure out whose, because the sight before your eyes is one that’s hard to break away from.
“sorry for the delay,” seonghwa says from his spot by the doorway. “i had some… issues while looking for these two imbeciles.”
issues seems to be quite an understatement. what you and the others within the room are looking at is more of a whole mess - seonghwa and mingi currently have their arms wrapped around a seemingly unconscious yunho, his head hanging low as he’s dragged inside by the other two men. someone whizzes pass your table to reach the trio, and you watch as the woman fusses over yunho’s unresponsive state.
“is he hurt?” she questions, her tray of teacups placed somewhere else, giving her the chance to place her hands on yunho’s cheeks to lift his head up, allowing her and the rest of the people in the room to get a good look at his face thanks to the light from the fireplace.
“no,” mingi breathes out. “just drunk beyond saving.”
“called it.” wooyoung decides to comment from afar, earning himself a hard glare from seonghwa that immediately shuts the younger pirate up.
“what the hell happened?” hongjoong steps closer, no longer comfortably seated.
“yunho and i decided to go for a few drinks while waiting for sunset,” mingi explains as he follows the woman towards a vacant seat, carefully placing yunho down. “i didn’t think he’d go overboard and get himself this drunk.”
“bullshit.” hongjoong scowls. “what’s with the cuts on your faces, then?”
you feel your heart drop to your stomach the moment you heard hongjoong’s words, and only now do you notice the small slashes and grazes on all three of their skin. you’re unable to see very clearly due to the lighting and the fact that they’re seated quite far from your own spot, but you hope that it’s nothing too serious.
mingi doesn’t respond this time, opting to look somewhere else and keep his eyes low as if he’s avoiding his captain’s angry gaze. sensing the fact that he won’t answer him, hongjoong turns to look at seonghwa instead, trusting that his quartermaster would be sensible enough to offer him a more truthful story.
“... bar fight.” seonghwa responds in one breath. “i don’t know how it started, but i heard the commotion and went to check it out. lo and behold, i caught these two fighting for their damn lives against some thugs and one of them knocked yunho out. i came in and got them out before anything else could happen.”
the room turns quiet once again. the woman decides to exit the room in a hurry, mumbling about getting something to clean the wounds with. you’re expecting for hongjoong to get angry and lecture the trio for being reckless, spewing stuff about how they should know better and not cause any unnessecary trouble.
to your surprise, he doesn’t.
the woman comes back into the room several moments later, and she carries with her a basket that you can safely assume contains a bunch of supplies to clean the open wounds. she settles the basket on top of the table, and you can hear the glass bottles that most porbably contain alcohol clinking against each other.
as she places her hand under seonghwa’s chin to lift his face up and inspect his cuts better, her own face mere inches away from his, you suddenly can’t watch anymore.
the way you quickly look away doesn’t go unnoticed by a certain captain.
“yoona.” hongjoong calls out, and the woman turns to face him.
ah, you note. so that’s her name.
“would you be so kind as to escore the rest of the crew to their rooms? i need to talk with these three for a moment.” hongjoong flashes a quick smile, and yoona obeys diligently.
“of course.” she says, letting go of seonghwa’s face before gesturing for you, san, and wooyoung to follow her. you do exactly that, lifting yourself off from your seat and trailing behind the other two pirates as they follow yoona up the small wooden stairs that lead to the second floor.
yoona explains how three of the boys will share one room, and another three will share another one.
“as for you,” she refers to you without even turning to look you in the eyes. “i didn’t expect an extra guest, so you will have a seperate room for yourself.”
“brilliant.” you respond. yoona doesn’t say anything any further as she hands you the keys to your room, hastily making her way back down to the common area afterwards.
you feel yourself let go of a breath that you didn’t realize you were holding as soon as yoona is out of frame. the silver keys are cold to the touch, and you waste no more time before shoving them into the keyhole of your designated room, wanting nothing more than to rest.
just as you hear the click of the door unlocking, someone whistles behind you.
“looks like you’ve got some competition, your highness.” wooyoung’s voice reaches your ears. you’re glad that you have your back turned against him, because it gives you all the freedom to roll your eyes as hard as you can without his knowledge.
“bold of you to assume that i care.” you respond, offering no further words as you turn the doorknob before pushing the door open.
“really?” wooyoung steps closer, his shoes clicking against the wooden panel floors. “not even when she’s making googly eyes at the captain?”
your fingers tighten their grip around the doorknob as you suck in a deep breath, exhaling slowly afterwards in an attempt to calm yourself down. with a strained smile plastered on your lips, you turn around to face the red haired pirate.
“no. now go to your room, jung wooyoung.”
“wow, you sound like seonghwa now.” the cheeky grin on wooyoung’s face merely grows as he continues. “ah, i get it! you’re not jealous since you’ve got eyes on-”
“goodnight!”
wooyoung’s taunts are promptly cut off by the sound of your door slamming shut right in his face. you can hear his cackles from behind the wooden structure, followed by a bid goodnight with a teasing tilt in his voice. a small scoff falls from your lips as you step away from the door, approaching the single-size bed that’s positioned by the corner of the small room.
the sheets are neat and clean, colored with a dark green that matches the wooden frame. there’s a double-hung window right next to the bed, one that currently has the bottom sash opened and allowing cold evening air to enter the room. if there were any lit candles, they would’ve gone out with a single breeze - luckily, the room is illuminated with a warm, yellow tinted glow coming from an oil-lamp that sits neatly atop the nightstand located next to the bed.
it’s cozy, you think. it’s nothing grand, far from the luxurious comfort of the royal chamber you’ve had for your entire life - but you suppose anything is better than having to rest on a hammock tied between two pillars of a constantly moving vessel.
placing the keys on top of the nightstand, you take your time to look outside the window, even when there’s nothing to even look at. the streets are eerily empty, and a breath of night air whistles past your ears, making you shiver. without any more thought, you reach above your head to hold onto the sash of the window just to bring it back down, closing it properly for your own comfort.
your fingers find the wick adjuster of the oil-lamp, twisting it counterclockwise until the flame goes out entirely. the room dims after the flame’s glow is extinguished, leaving only the gentle beam of moonlight leaking from the glass window. with a soft sigh, you settle yourself down onto the mattress, lying down against the clean sheets and staring at the ceiling above.
with a silent wish to see your homeland once again, you close your eyes, falling into a comfortable sleep.
there’s an itch on your back.
it feels like you’re lying down on a rough surface, miniscule sprinkles of some kind of dirt prickling against your skin through the thin fabric of your outerwear. you feel yourself rumble out a lazy groan, wanting to roll over from your current position just to get away from whatever that you’re lying on – but you’re unable to do so.
your limbs feel heavy for a reason you can’t explain, particularly your legs. the ache in your thighs feels as if you’ve been travelling on foot for miles. the bottom of your feet are sore as well, and you’re suddenly hyperaware of the pain that’s spreading along your soles.
just as you’re about to gently pull yourself out of your lazy slumber, an abrupt sweep of cold water washes over your feet that reaches up just below your knees, and you’re startled wide awake from the sheer temperature that could rival any snowy land.
it hurts as soon as you open your eyes. there’s a bright shine coming from the sky, one that’s far too bright for you at the moment, prompting you to cover your eyes with your hand. blinking once, twice, and a few swivels of your head left and right to take in your surroundings, are all it takes for you to finally register your current situation.
the sea water rises up again, small foamy waves climbing the shore and reaching over to the spot of damp sand you’re currently sitting on. you pull your legs closer to yourself to avoid getting your feet soaked by the water again, and you eventually notice the way you’re barefoot. without any shoes on, the reddened blisters and cuts that decorate your feet are out in perfect display.
you frown. it explains the ache and soreness, but you’re clueless on how you got them. hell, you’re clueless on why you’re even on a beach.
weren’t you… somewhere else? you can’t bring yourself to remember anything, even when you know something isn’t right. you opt to shake your head, deeming your uneasiness as some kind of post nap confusion. so, to freshen up and hopefully get yourself on your bearings again, you decide to move closer towards the water with the intention to wash away the sleepiness.
another wave comes in, and you bend down to collect some water with cupped hands, but you’re stopped halfway through when you catch a glimpse of your reflection.
have you… always looked like this? why do you look so tired, and so different? there are wrinkles on your visage that you don’t remember having, and the dark discolorations under your eyes are somehow more prominent than ever before. it’s as if you’ve aged up for god knows how many years. you reach a hand up to gently place your fingers over the skin of your face, and you grimace at how dry it feels. must’ve been the heat from the sun, you ponder, taking your sweet time to stare at your own features before the water descends back.
you’re startled once again when someone places their hand over your shoulder from behind, and you’re met with an unfamiliar face as you turn around. a man stands tall behind you, dressed in simple clothing that consists of a white long-sleeved shirt and trousers that are neatly folded up to his knees. his hair seems to be just as nicely kept like the rest of his appearance, dark medium length locks neatly tied in a loose bun with a few stray strands framing his chiseled face.
you tilt your head for a moment. you’ve never seen this man before, and yet, you feel yourself break into a fond smile. his name, one that you’ve never heard of, manages to slip out of your mouth as easy as the sea breeze blows at the back of your head, making the tangled strands of your hair obscure your vision for a moment. there’s a chuckle that escapes from the man in front of you as he reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ears.
“look who’s finally awake,” the man smiles, crouching down to meet you at eye level. “are you well rested?”
“… yes.” you breathe out reluctantly. “but my feet are sore.”
“i would be surprised if they weren’t.” the man sighs before properly settling himself down to sit next to you. “we’ve been travelling on foot for days.”
you blink. there’s a question on the tip of your tongue, but it never comes out. you can’t tell whether it’s because you’re far too confused to even speak it out, or it’s because the unfamiliar looking man beside you suddenly… feels very familiar.
he looks unfamiliar, yes, but the aura that he’s giving and the way he makes your heart squeeze in a way that only one person has ever been able to do feels all too familiar to call this man a complete stranger. you feel comfortable with him sitting beside you like this, in the middle of an unknown beach and feeling the salty breeze gust against your face as you stare at his side profile. you mutter out his name again, the syllables rolling off your tongue as if you’ve said his name a thousands times before, and he turns to look at you, lips slightly curved up.
there it is. the shine in his eyes, twinkling like the stars that you’ve always admired ever since the creation of your whole existence – a shine that you thought you’d never witness ever again.
it’s him, you realize, your first and only true love. he looks different, as different as you look yourself, but it’s him. no one else in the entire world could ever reach and have the very stars in his eyes, nor could anyone make your heart tremble the way he does.
“what?” he asks after a moment, and you smile as you notice his cheeks reddening. “is there something on my face?”
“no,” you shake your head. “i just… missed you, i suppose.”
‘miss’ feels like a very light word to describe whatever you’re currently feeling, but it’s the only word you can think of as you try your best not to burst into tears. to sit like this in his presence, talking normally without any malice or ill-will in sight, to hear his laughter and to see his smile – it feels like a dream.
a beautiful dream, but at the same time, it feels cruel. a piece of yourself knows that this may be the only way you could ever be like this with him again. in a dream.
you catch onto the way his features soften up after your words, and you’re not quite fast enough to turn away in attempt to hide the fresh tears rolling down your cheeks. you feel his touch on your face soon enough, hands rough and callous, yet the way he holds you is so soft and loving, it only makes the tears fall faster and drop onto the awaiting sand.
“hey,” he whispers, quickly pulling you closer to wrap you in his embrace. “i’m here, i’m here.”
“please don’t go,” you grasp onto the fabric of his shirt as tightly as you can, as if you’re terrified that the heavens were to be cruel to you and snatch him away once more. “please, you can’t leave me, not again.”
all of the sudden, you feel like a young teenager again. to let go of yourself and be vulnerable in his arms while he holds you with as much care as he would hold a porcelain doll – it makes your heart ache.
“i won’t leave you,” he says, muttering into your hair as he hugs you just as tight as you’re holding onto him. “i will never leave you. i’ll find you in every lifetime, i promise.”
at his words, you feel yourself let out a small, humorless laugh. if he were to find you in every lifetime, you pray that none of them are similar to the one you’re experiencing now. you pray that you can be happy, genuinely happy, with him by your side and without any obstacles in your road to achieve the life you’ve always wanted with him.
“then i’ll be waiting for you,” you croak out, peeling yourself off of the man ever so slightly, just enough to tilt your head up and offer him a tearful smile. “i’ll always wait for you.”
the man returns your smile softly.
“you never change, starlight.” he whispers, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ears. “then please, wait for me now. i’m afraid i can’t stay any longer.”
just as your grip on his shirt tightens, the man cups your face gingerly.
“don’t worry,” he chuckles, as if sensing your anxiety over his previous words. “i’ll come visit another time, okay? trust me.”
you wish to object, to cling onto him as if your life depended on it, to try and convince him to stay with you until the end - but instead, you nod. it’s as if, deep down, you know this isn’t real, that it’s bound to end as soon as you open your eyes and face the reality that only has a cold stare and an even colder heart waiting for you.
you feel the man place his hand over your eyes, prompting you to close them.
“wake up.”
you wake up in cold sweat.
the room is still dark. you blink a few times, and there’s a wetness in your eyes that you don’t remember having when you fell asleep. with a quick touch using the tips of your fingers, you come to realize that you were shedding tears in your slumber.
you don’t remember why, though. did you have a bad dream?
whatever the reason is, you can’t seem to fall back to sleep because of it. you toss and turn, but your head decides to start pounding and your eyes refuse to obey your wishes of wanting to rest some more. you feel yourself getting increasingly agitated, the migraine merely growing and making it feel as if your head is about to split in half. soon enough, you ultimately decide to get up from the comfort of the mattress.
maybe a quick stroll could help, you wonder.
you reach for the keys by the nightstand, shoving them into one of the many pockets you have on the pants you’re wearing before making your way towards the door.
the hallway of the second floor is as dark and quiet as one would expect it to be during the dead of night, but even from your current spot at the end of the coridor, you can make out the silhouette of a person standing by the other end, right at the top of the stairs. the person has their back turned on you, head slightly tilted downwards as if they’re watching whatever that has their attention in the common area downstairs.
they seem to have felt your eyes on them, because they quickly swivel their head around to catch your gaze. there’s a faint, barely-there glow of light that you can safely assume is coming from the fireplace by the common area, and you feel a quick thump in your chest once the person’s features are illuminated for you to make out with a bit of effort and a squint of your eyes.
hongjoong raises a curious brow at your presence, opting to turn himself around properly to face you. he has his arms crossed over his chest, and even with the poor lighting, you’re able to notice the way that he has a few buttons undone. you try your best to keep your eyes from travelling downwards.
“can’t sleep?” hongjoong speaks after a minute, leaning against the railing of the staircase. you give him a weak nod before stepping away from the doorway, closing your door with a soft click. the captain seems slightly surprised by the way you’re willingly approaching him, the gentle thumps of your shoes on the wooden floor getting closer by the second. he notices that you’ve decided to shed yourself off of some layers of your attire, leaving you in a simple white shirt that’s a few sizes too loose and a pair of trousers.
hongjoong steps to the side a little, just to give you enough space to stand next to him and peer down the stairs. he catches a whiff of your scent, as sweet and enticing as he remembers.
you don’t pay mind to the way hongjoong starts to cough and clear his throat next to you. instead, your attention is entirely on the situation that’s playing in the common area. you’re given a clear view of yoona, still wearing the attire you saw her in earlier, sitting down opposite to yunho, who seems to be conscious now. your eyes travel down a little, and you can see the way yoona has her hands clasped around yunho’s, placing them on her lap as she fiddles with the pirate’s long fingers.
they’re chatting about something, judging by the way their lips are moving, but you can only make out hushed whispers.
“you’re spying on them?” you turn to hongjoong, who immediately frowns at your accusation.
“hell no,” he scowls. “i’d rather step in puke than watch those two lovebirds.”
“lovebirds?” you question in slight disbelief.
hongjoong seems to realize what he had just said, and he’s quick to backtrack.
“they’re childhood friends,” the captain explains. “yunho is a local.”
“ah,” you nod. “no wonder you all seem so close.”
your words were that of pure understanding, but for some reason, you can hear an entertained scoff coming from the pirate beside you.
“it’s an act,” he says. “for me, at least. she’s the innkeeper’s daughter so we have to be nice and shit for free stay.”
you nod once again, eyes unwavering from their gaze on the two subjects of your conversation with hongjoong. for some reason, your chest feels a little lighter after what hongjoong had just told you.
“so if you’re not spying on them,” you start, fighting back the smile from growing on your lips as hongjoong narrows his eyes at you. “then what are you doing?”
the captain takes a minute to respond, and you give him all the time he wants.
“.... making sure yunho is okay.” he speaks after a moment, the tone of his voice becoming quieter than before. “being here in eridanus is going to be challenging for him.”
“why?” you decide to query. “i thought this was his homeland.”
“this is where he was born and raised, yes,” hongjoong tenses. “but that doesn’t mean this is his home. not after what happened.”
another question threatens to slip from your mouth, but you stop yourself by pursing your lips. something tells you that it’s best to keep yourself from interrogating any further about this subject. hongjoong seems to appreciate your silence by the way you can feel him relax next to you, breathing out a sigh.
“why couldn’t you sleep?” you decide to change the subject. is that what it is? you feel as if you can’t stand to just sit in silence with him right next to you. you’re unsure if it’s the inability to tolerate the awkward silence or if it’s the fact you just wish to talk to him more. either way, hongjoong responds to you lightly, and you’re glad.
“had a weird dream,” he explains. “woke up with the worst headache ever.”
you feel your heart stop for a second. that sounds awfully familiar, you think, because that’s exactly why you couldn’t sleep either.
“... i see,” you mumble. “i had a weird dream too. woke up crying like a kid.”
your lower lip aches from the way you’re relentlessly chewing on it, and hongjoong’s silence is not helping.
maybe, just maybe, he woke up crying as well? just how you woke up with a headache like he did?
even if he did, would it mean anything significant? or would it be a simple coincidence?
“i see,” hongjoong replies after what felt like hours of painful silence and feeling your chest beat uncontrollably. “didn’t think spoiled royals like you had anything to cry about.”
ah, you think. so it’s nothing.
all of the sudden, it’s quiet again.
hongjoong decides that he’s had enough, and you don’t even bother to turn and look at him as he pushes himself off from the railing, walking away afterwards. every step that he takes feels like a stab to your chest.
note: aand here comes another set of my favorites! im not gonna get sick saying this over and over again, but i swear to god i love all of them (maybe developed an obsession with some)
Hongjoong
Hongjoong Fic by @mymoodwriting
Angry sex w/ Pirate HJ by @wooyoungmybelovedhusband
To you, 2000 years from now by @paradiqms
The red one by @thelargefrye
To good to be true by @l0vecity
Pirate Hongjoong by @i-luvsang
Ugly dragon by @thelargefrye
Breath by @last-words-ofashootingstar
Hongjoong reaction by @wooyoungmybelovedhusband
Overstim by @ja3hwa
Rare blood by @kpopmission
Tear me apart by @mi-rae07
Treasure by @mi-rae07
Pirate Captain Hongjoong by @rosy-wooyoung
Pillows by @mi-rae07
Seonghwa
Vampire Seonghwa by @mymoodwriting
Rebel Rebel by @mingiswow
Acanthus by @ilovebokutokoutaro
Caught in time by @mineogi
Mr Park by @mingis-lightbulb
The biggest star by @mi-rae07
Shatter me by @mi-rae07
Dom-estique by @hwanchaesong
Home by @justhere4kpop
Gentle by @cheollipop
San
Heaven is a place in hell with you by @monstaxdirtywonk
You should check if your posts are appearing on tags. Usually, not being able to see the DM feature means you've been shadowbanned. The best thing to do in this case is to contact support! https://www.tumblr.com/support
just checked and my posts aren't showing up!! :( i had no idea i've been shadowbanned. thank you for the info, anon! imma need to have a word with tumblr 👊🏼
"This reminded me of you" is such a tender sentence. Oh to have impacted someone so much that they find bits of your soul and hold the memory of you in things and places when you're not around.
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