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KIJUNG !

♡ / delivery from han kijung, backdated to dec 31st !

the moment yuri slips through the door, eyes scanning the crowd for any familiar faces ( of which there are supposed to be a lot ), his next knee-jerk reaction is to head out a minute after. why? because yuri immediately picks up the sound of someone he doesn't want to hear, one that he used to listen to often until that inevitable point in time where they fell apart. yuri almost grumbles to himself, annoyed and frustrated at the idea of even running into kijung—like a puppy being taunted with a treat it can't have.

but leaving the party would mean yuri had admitted defeat; that kijung's presence is significant enough to cause his exit. yuri had told himself over and over that it's over, they're over. there's nothing for yuri to run away from, even if the rapid beat of his pulse is saying otherwise, putting all of yuri's efforts in vain and echoing the opposite. it pays to be in denial and be justified for it! unlike whatever it is his idiot of an ex has going on.

maybe that's just his wishful thinking again. stupid yuri, stupid feelings, stupid heart. still hung up on that one guy he intends to avoid tonight at all costs, no matter what happens. there are people he actually wants to meet, new people to acquaint himself with—anything as long as he isn't alone with his thoughts and the looming threat of a new year, accompanied by the cruel realization that nothing has changed. nothing ever will.

he's determined to avoid a daunting and taxing confrontation at the very least, turning the other way whenever he notices a tall figure from the corner of his eyes. lucky for yuri, it's not difficult pointing out kijung—but that in itself is infuriating, yuri briefly wonders how many useless moments he has wasted searching for the other out of habit to make it so easy. it's a habit he intends to kill next, along with everything that he had accumulated simply by being around kijung.

somehow, the night goes on without so much as a hitch. not that yuri isn't making any sacrifices, he remains mildly sober just so he can keep a cooler head, knowing that being drunk would only fuel his numb brain to make dumb decisions. if kijung's here, that's definitely an option he doesn't want to take. he can't risk it—who knows what will spill out of his lips if he has no brain-to-mouth filter?

being sober means he can observe his surroundings better, so it shouldn't be that surprising when he witnesses the way kijung sways in his steps—is the dumbass already drunk!?—and a traitorous wave of concern overtakes him. it's not like he hasn't seen kijung drinking more than he can take, but in those cases, yuri had been there to make sure kijung doesn't trip over his own overly grown limbs. can yuri blame it on an unchangeable habit if he wanders close to kijung, taking his place by kijung's side like how he always thought he would continue to do?

probably not. but yuri will do so anyway. he'll even blame kijung, who is currently leaning in closer to kiss him without a care in the world as the clock strikes twelve—

...huh?

wait. what?

yuri's thought process fails to catch up to the newly updated situation, where he can feel kijung's lips against his own for a brief moment—a sensation that he believed he'd never feel again, a sudden weight he wasn't ready for. his breath halts, and he freezes as if he had been left out in the cold snow. what should've lasted for a mere few seconds stretches into hours in yuri's mind, aided by how his imagination replays the scene again. and again. and again. and again.

he can hear the whisper of his name just as much as he can feel the heat rising to his cheeks, kijung's face coming into his view, looking surprised—why is kijung the one surprised!? yuri barely had any time to react! how is this fair?

“you—why would you—what did you just do?” he's at a loss for words, stammering over what he's trying to say, stuck in disbelief. to be fair, everyone had been doing what kijung just did, maybe a part of yuri knew what would happen if he lingered within kijung's premises but decided to still do so. but... still! still!!!! kijung wouldn't—

yuri takes a sniff of the air and notices the strong smell of alcohol. oh, of course. that's why. there's no way kijung meant to kiss yuri in particular.

he scoffs, making his judgement known. “didn't know you're a player who'd kiss just about anyone to greet the new year.” yuri comments, dripping venom into the tone of his voice. “you smell, too. why did you drink so much?”

defeated, he lets out a sigh. “well guess what, genius. you ended up kissing your ex instead. sorry to disappoint.” becoming even more frustrated now that he had verbally addressed the situation, yuri’s eyes narrow into a glare. annoyed. exasperated. wishing for a christmas miracle too late into the game—

“unless it was on purpose? you wanna do that again? missed me that much?” he says in jest, meaning to do nothing more than poke fun at kijung.

currently trying to adjust to having an internship while still doing university so please be patient with me </3 i miss writing without guilt (sighs wistfully)

i wanna get this show on the road, so... if anyone’s interested, like this post for a random starter!

please do fill in my INTEREST CHECKER so that it’s easier for me to pick which muses you’d like from me and which muses from your side i can write to! (you’re free to ask for more than one thread too.)

life is busy — william leads his with grace, teetering between crime and a ‘simple’ role as professor in a university. at this moment, he’s fulfilling his duties for the latter, clearing out his board of mathematical equations and its longwinded solutions. his students have long since left the room, eager to continue on with their day. nothing seems amiss, they’re processing his teachings quite well so far, from what he can tell. he’ll need to do further assessments afterwards. william is already preparing an assignment in his head, from easiest to smallest, though he stops when he hears the faint creak of the door open. he’ll have to postpone this to a later time. he smiles as he gathers his papers from the table, unable to keep a small chuckle from leaving him. “mr. holmes, what a pleasant surprise. it feels like only yesterday when you were here last.” carefully, he sorts everything into a folder, before finally turning to his guest. “to what do i owe the occasion, this time? surely you aren’t planning on enrolling into this curriculum, are you?”

                   (  ✉  ) — letter to sherlock holmes, @goldenloved 

writing for myself tomorrow this i promise <3

currently revamping this blog :)

qiqi !

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

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

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

the little things.

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

going along with any and all of kiyoung’s pranks have been a part of his daily duties for a while now. it shouldn’t be, considering sihwan is a respected prefect and shouldn’t let his friends walk over him, but he was always the easiest to convince out of the rest of the prefects. it’s almost a wonder how he’s able to keep his position if it wasn’t for the fact that he’s good at everything else. so far though, he hadn’t gotten into trouble himself for letting a few students go without repercussions. he intends to keep it that way, albeit he isn’t doing a very great job with that when he’s literally running with kiyoung as if he’s just as guilty for the prank the other pulled previously.

despite all this, sihwan manages to let out a laugh as he runs after his friend, the refreshing thrill that comes after almost getting away with something welcomed. “i can’t believe you just did that,” sihwan says, his voice a harsh whisper, careful so they won’t get caught. kiyoung makes a point to let sihwan know whenever he’s about to cause trouble, mostly so he’d be able to bail kiyoung out of it, but sihwan finds it rather fun to get involved, in a way. it’s like their thing—even if whenever kiyoung asks him to do so he’s a step closer to getting his title as prefect revoked.

he halts his own laughter when he hears heavy footsteps approaching, followed by a frustrated grumble. sihwan knows exactly what that entails, he’s not sure they’ll be able to get out of this without an invisibility cloak. he looks at kiyoung like a deer before headlights, pondering over what they should do next. as his eyes scanned their surroundings, scrolling through his head for a spell that could save them without raising any sort of suspicions, it was then that he received an epiphany—or more like, his thoughts hit a dead end and he decided on the most convenient option.

convenient to who? he’s not sure yet.

“kiyoung, listen—you don’t want to get caught, right?” sihwan doesn’t need a verbal response to know the answer, not when kiyoung had gone on a long streak getting away with most things. “okay, well, don’t panic! i know just what to do.” considering where they are, dimly lit hallway, backed into a corner—this is the spot for activities that sihwan would usually interrupt himself for the sake of his job as a prefect or wilfully ignore out of respect. he’s not sure whether kiyoung is familiar with it, but kiyoung is attractive so it shouldn’t be out of the norm for the other to be dragged to these types of spots before. now isn’t the time to think, though—it’s time to act.

sihwan mumbles a short apology as his gaze drops to kiyoung’s lips, looping an arm over the other’s neck and pulling him in—closer, closer, closer. he shuts his eyes then, listening to the sound someone approaching and hoping this is distraction enough. but even then, he can’t get the feeling of kiyoung’s lips against his out of his head.

                   (  ✉  ) — letter to gyeon kiyoung, @heartbrewlcves 

xie lian !

today is a special day—why? naturally, one of the reasons is because he gets to see xie lian. hua cheng had never been very subtle about how much he looks forward to spending time with the florist, sometimes he’d be so obvious that xie lian would redden and let out a nervous laugh. their shops are fairly close, which he finds comfort in. hua cheng had told the older many times taht if ever xie lian wants to visit, he’s always welcomed to, no matter what it is he’s doing. however, that isn’t all there is to today.

when xie lian came to him with the idea of getting his own tattoo, hua cheng had been a little surprised. not in a bad way, never when it comes to xie lian. instead, it’s a pleasant surprised. he always thought that xie lian would look good with one (that may be his bias speaking, but he does find the idea of dark ink against xie lian’s skin to be a particularly beautiful image).

hua cheng would have insisted that he be the one to give xie lian the tattoo. luckily, he didn’t have to. xie lian had asked for it all on his own. of course hua cheng wouldn’t refuse, he had never refused the older, he isn’t going to start now. he’s ecstatic about the entire idea actually, looking forward to when xie lian would come by so they can get started. he finds his gaze drifting towards the clock, just waiting.

although he hadn’t told xie lian this earlier, hua cheng did decide to close up his parlor earlier himself, mostly so he can focus solely on xie lian. once the door opens and he hears the other’s voice calling out for him, a smile spreads across his face, beaming in a way it doesn’t for anyone else. “gege, you’re finally here!” hua cheng steps towards the older, unable to hold himself back from embracing xie lian. after a moment, he pulls away. “have you decided on what you want to get?”

klee !

diluc had never been one to hide his distastes for the knights of favonius, although he doesn’t shy away from acknowledging their contributions to mondstadt either. that isn’t to say that it means overlooking the rest that they’re lacking. he doesn’t step out of his usual routine often, usually strolling around mondstadt to keep an eye out, under the guise of the wine industry that he holds at the palm of his hands, all to make up for what the knights of favonius would miss beneath their own noses.

today, however, isn’t one of those days. when he isn’t keeping up appearances in mondstadt or in his own bar, he’d be in dawn winery—usually with a subordinate, sometimes alone. there’s something he wants to test out in the open, so he instructed the rest of his staff to stay indoors. diluc bends down slightly to place some elemental bait on the ground. now it’s only a matter of time until slimes start showing up.

instead of slimes, however—is a little girl, all dressed in red from head to toe. she crashed into him without a warning, her figure too small to actually cause a fall. for himself, anyway. fortunately, she stumbles but doesn’t fall. he raises an eyebrow, wondering what she’s doing around the premises. diluc recalls seeing her a few times, remembers jean mentioning her in passing. if his memory serves him correct, she is someone diona knows. that, in itself, is cause for concern.

his theory was proven correct when she mentions the other girl’s name, and he nods. “that’s correct. i take it you’re klee, then?” diluc’s tone is calm and flat. “you’ve wandered off quite far. it’d be best if you leave, some creatures are going to show up and—oh, it appears to be too late.” as he spoke, smaller slimes are slowly approaching, no doubt having sensed the elemental bait. “seeing as you’re under jean... can you fight, little girl?”

it’s a wonder how he ended up where he is right now, away from wangshu inn—and for once, he isn’t alone. xiao can’t quite place how exactly a certain traveller began worming his way into his space, slowly, with the aid of almond tofu. a lot had happened since then—aether gradually became a regular visitor. although the adeptus had been difficult at first, sometimes refusing to even show himself to the other, aether persisted. why exactly, he still can’t figure out, but after all this time, xiao would be lying if he said he hated the outcome.

back then, xiao wouldn’t dream of seeing himself crossing lands with another all on his own, making a major decision that would effect his future, separate from his duties. but he’s here now, somewhat at peace, agreeing to share a part of his life with aiding aether on his quest. right now, they’re staying over at an inn, taking a long-awaited break. with a knock on the door, xiao lets himself in, strolling inside as he had done a few times before. although their arrangement is still an hour or two away, the adeptus sees nothing wrong with arriving early, if it’s possible.

he’s about to call out to aether, when he stops in his tracks. it’s unusual for xiao to witness aether’s hair untied—but he’d be lying to himself if he doesn’t find the other beautiful at this very moment. xiao does nothing that could so much as disturb the traveller, keeping himself rooted to his spot. there’s a peaceful air as he watches aether work on his hair, forming a braid. it was only when aether is nearly finished that xiao finally approaches, visible before the mirror reflects aether’s features.

“you don’t have to hurry,” xiao says, settling by aether’s side. briefly, he wonders whether aether had noticed he was watching, but he decides not to ask. “we still have time, there’s no rush.” amber eyes follow the movements of aether’s fingers, his own tapping against his skin—for some reason, he’s itching to reach out. “i don’t think it would be wise for you to rush yourself and somehow ruin all that hard work you’re putting into your hair, after all.”

                    (  ✉  ) — letter to aether, @wiindborne

jihoon !

tw // abuse, physical abuse

there’s a lot more to what meets the eye, youngha told himself that the moment he came across jihoon for the first time in years. he doesn’t like to push, wouldn’t dream of ever forcing the younger to reveal to him everything. a part of himself wants to know, to hopefully prevent jihoon from leaving again—a selfish wish, one he doesn’t want to force upon jihoon should it ever surface. another part of himself is afraid to know—youngha doesn’t know the gravity of the situation, he’s clueless as to what jihoon is going through. with his friend showing up unannounced at his doorstep like this, seemingly hurt, youngha isn’t sure whether he’s ready to find out.

above all, however, he wants to become jihoon’s pillar, to be able to hold the younger up whenever he’s having trouble. at the end of the day, jihoon’s comfort and safety come first. he wants the other to know that no matter what it is, he’ll always be happy to help jihoon, to be there for him even when nobody else would be. at this point, he’d do anything to make the other smile at him, to witness that carefree grin that he used to see often back in their childhood days. it’s no secret that he missed that smile, even more so now.

the smile that jihoon gives him is weaker, not as bright as youngha had hoped. it makes his heart ache, but he has to remain strong—for the both of them, but especially for jihoon. he’s still patient with the younger, lets jihoon take his time to piece together whatever it is he wants to say. as much as he’d like to believe jihoon wouldn’t lie to him, isn’t capable of doing that, youngha isn’t oblivious. his friend is far from alright, but what is bothering youngha so much is that he doesn’t know what’s wrong—he can’t even tell if he’d be able to fix things for jihoon, not when he doesn’t understand how bad things are.

“hey—don’t you worry about that, okay?” youngha reaches out slowly, rubbing soothing circles against jihoon’s back in an attempt to comfort the other, to somehow calm him down. for now, that’s the most he can do. “i’m glad you came, i’m happy to have you here, no matter the reason.” he means it, of course. whether it’s over something trivial or if jihoon is seeking comfort—whatever it is, youngha will always welcome jihoon with open arms. the younger’s visits are one of the highlights of his days, he wouldn’t mind if it happened often. if jihoon sees youngha’s apartment as a safe space, then he’d be more than elated to provide.

seeing jihoon hurting like this, with youngha unable to do anything to appease the other, brings a heavy feeling to settle on his chest. youngha eases a little when jihoon sits down, concentrating on his friend as he struggles to speak, noting down every word in his head. he frowns when jihoon buries his face into his own hands—he almost moves to hold the other tightly, but he stops himself. with jihoon’s state, he doesn’t to do something that might push jihoon away, to suffocate the other when he’s already going through a lot. as he tries to think of something to do, jihoon speaks. although the other didn’t finish his sentence, leaving some speculation in the air—for youngha, it was enough.

and that reveal shattered his heart into pieces.

for a moment, youngha doesn’t know what to say. unfortunately, his mind works to paint the picture regardless, the image of jihoon weeping under the hands of a shadowed figure clear in his head. he’s furious, unable to comprehend how a father—with the duty to protect their child—would ever commit such heinous acts. worst of all, he can’t believe jihoon has to go through something like this, to feel unsafe in his own home. at this moment, youngha can’t hold himself back—he doesn’t stop himself when his arms move before his mind could catch up, wrapping jihoon up in a soft hug. there are tears stinging the corner of his eyes, his heart heavy and his tongue twisted, still not knowing the right words to say, finding it difficult to figure out how to comfort jihoon.

but he wants to try. jihoon came to him, so he has to do something.

“i’m so sorry, hoonie... you don’t deserve that—i hope you know that you’ve done nothing to warrant that sort of treatment.” he reels himself in after he pulls himself together, taking a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down. jihoon needs him—he can’t cry in front of the other, not right now. “thank you... for trusting me enough to tell me.” gently, he pats jihoon’s head, trying to muster a smile. “you did so well, you were so brave for reaching out to me. i’m so proud of you, you did the right thing, alright?”

everything is starting to make sense—why jihoon suddenly disappeared, why the other seem to be just a little bit different ever since. yes, people grow and change—but when you’ve been hurt by those who are meant to keep you safe, sometimes that sticks with you for a long time. youngha has no doubt this applies to jihoon as well. how long has jihoon been suffering all alone, with no one to help him? the thought merely brought youngha a new found motivation—youngha will be here now, he’ll do everything within his power to aid jihoon, to hopefully show the other the road to recovery. the process will be slow, they might make a few wrong turns, but he’s determined to take jihoon out of that situation.

“hoonie... can you look at me?” he asks with a gentle voice. “i need to check for injuries, if that’s okay? i don’t want you to keep hurting, if you don’t want to go to the hospital... at least let me take a look?” he’s pleading a little, even if it sounds pathetic. “i have something lying around here, leftovers from when i injured myself playing soccer. i can help you—so, please let me help you.”