thong-in-the-twist

[thong-in-the-twist]

Thimble 22화

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“Oh, yes, your Royal Highness, you are completely right, that is your hand!” It’s followed by soft cooing sounds. “Why, yes, that’s a thumb! And look, a forefinger, a middle finger, oh, your Royal Highness, not so fast, we can’t be skipping fingers as we go, it’s not proper. There you go, a ring finger and a little pinky.”

It’s warm and homey, and you are basking in the feelings of having no outside worries. King unexpectedly arrived and informed you that he is going to spend his afternoon, evening and the night in your pavilion. With you and your son.

It’s the first time it happened, and at first you only saw it as a way to show the whole world your position - the King was clearly favoring you. He willingly chose to take his rest where it would be interrupted by a fussy child. Once again, everyone was advising you to give Lee Yong to the nanny, at least during the night time, but you were adamant to keep him at your side. You were tired, yes, but that little boy was your whole world and you were starting to feel a resemblance of dedication and warmth whenever you saw him do something he could do a day before.

As soon as the King entered your chamber, he sent all of your servants away, asking for his supper to be brought here. He made sure you stayed on your mattress with pillows for support and when he was sure you were comfortable, he took his son from your hands, laid him down on the mattress next to you and laid down as well, hovering over the boy.

It happened at least a half an hour before and he was still in a deep conversation with your son. The boy was cooing and vocalizing and raising his hands and smiling at his father. He was finally at the stage where he was starting to socialize and his father couldn’t have been more excited to witness it.

Watching them is relaxing and you realize that you could probably do it for hours on end. You won’t ever admit that it makes you sentimental, but you are definitely content and at peace. You have nothing to worry about here, in your pavilion, with your man and your son.

Your man.

The King seems to realize you are looking at him, because he looks up at you and smiles when your eyes meet. 

“Your Royal Highness, it seems like my attention is needed elsewhere. Oh, yes, I understand that you might not be content with such an outcome, but one has their duties and until your humble servant’s life ends, his duty is bound to your Royal Highness’ mother. And such a lovely duty it is.”

You are mortified to realize that you are blushing. Your survival depends on you being able to keep your face straight, and you are unable to do so under his gaze. King pushes himself up and leans forward. You react instinctively, in spite of yourself, meeting him halfway. The kiss is short, but sweet, as the boy gurgles something from under his father.

“And once more your wisdom is unparalleled, your Royal Highness,” answers the King immediately. He focuses back on his son and you can’t help but laugh. 

King hands you Lee Yong only when he starts to cry for food. It’s right when your’s and King supper is brought to your pavilion. You feed the boy while his father is alternating between feeding you and eating himself. You feel cared for. You feel safe. And you cherish the family time you get.

Later, when tables are cleared and Lee Yong falls asleep, King focuses on you. It’s the first time since before the birth that it’s really the only two of you. For the first time in ages he demands you give him your place and although you are used to not doing that and you don’t want to do it - you do. You are sure your set jaw is a clear telltale, because King laughs quietly as you move to sit on the other side of your low wooden table. He grabs your hips, not letting you escape and he drags you down.

You fall between his legs, your back to his chest, and he embraces you. Once again you feel yourself blushing. The horror.

“I’ve missed you, my dear,” he whispers into your ear, rocking you slightly. You allow yourself to be lulled, resting your hands on his. You allow yourself to relax and to cuddle.

“I’ve missed you, too, your Highness,” you mumble back, careful not to wake up your son. The “your highness” part is politically right, but suddenly it feels lacking. It feels cold and not enough. “My dear,” you try, not caring how daring you are. “My love,” you try again, and once more it’s not right. “My lord,” you try, feeling how your blush intensifies. Lord is for father, when the girl is young. Lord is for husband, when she gets one. You don’t have the right to call him lord. “My heart.”

“Yes, my dear?” He asks, voice choked. You turn around, surprised, and the warmth in his eyes is so prominent. It’s tangible. He brushes his fingers on your cheek and you lean into the touch. King whimpers.

“I’ve missed you,” you repeat, not knowing what to say. You can’t stand his intense gaze, so you hide, cuddling into his chest, and you truly feel safe. “Is spring coming?”

“Ah yes, the little garden is sprouting more buds every day. I believe that Yong’s 100th day will be celebrated in the full bloom of early flowers. I hope, my love, you’ll soon join me on my walks. It’s not as lively without you there.”

“I shouldn’t spend all my time inside waiting for the prince to grow up, should I?” You feel slight pressure on top of your head and you are nearly sure he just kissed you.

“No, you shouldn’t. I couldn’t keep you inside when Yong was still in the womb, how come you are cooped up inside when he is born?”

“I fear for him, my… heart.” It will take you some time before you grow accustomed, but you will, now that you know he is not opposed to you calling him something so improper. “My love, my dear.”

You shake, as King laughs silently.

“I am here, my dear, there is no need to keep calling for me,” his words are scolding, but he sounds delighted. “I know, my dear, but I am sure he’d also enjoy a little bit of fresh air.”

You look at your son, peacefully sleeping in his blanket. You know that he won’t be as peaceful when the night comes.

“You need to be out and about, my dear,” he says and the change in his voice alarms you. He is still quiet, but there are hard notes in his delightfulness. “I need you to show the Inner Palace that you are its highest power.”

“But I’m not,” you say through a constricted throat. His words are startling enough for you to straighten up to look at him, to assess what he means. He kisses you as soon as he gets a chance.

“Yet, my dear,” he says finally. But seeing your face he exhales. “I know your ambitions end at you being my Bin. It’s not enough, my dear.”

You are watching him silently. The turmoil you feel is mostly hidden, or so you hope, but it’s not something you expected. You are used to the King helping you, yes. But his help usually came after you plotted and asked for it. You did not expect him to actively lead you and push you.

And he must see that in your face, because he sighs and grabs your hand, the one with a blemish and he kisses your palm.

“Sukwon, I know you didn’t approach me because you loved me,” he states as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It freezes you and you immediately stop feeling safe. You’ve been found out. “Stop, wait, before you start treating me like the likes of your father, let me explain. Please.”

He pleads with you. And you got so much thanks to him that you owe him at least that. So you keep quiet but you withdraw your hands. You do, however, stay put.

King exhales and rubs his forehead, clearly gathering thoughts. 

“You know I loved you for a really long time, before my grandfather died. You know that, because I told you. And I love you still, so so much, and it hurts I can’t show it to you like a simple man could. You know I can’t but I try.”

“I also know, you don’t love me. You didn’t love me when you came to me. I longed for you for years, watching you from a distance, as you worked. The first time you addressed me properly, after I was appointed the crown prince, I threw a tantrum - I knew I couldn’t keep spending my time with you. But what hurt the most was the ease with which you separated us. And as the time flew I kept loving you, and you kept being indifferent. And I am not saying that to chide you, I am trying to explain my own turmoil. Given the difference in bloodline, I knew I couldn’t take you as my wife, so I hoped for you to be my Bin. I plotted it extensively. But with every dismissive interaction you were showing me that you wouldn’t become mine, because you didn’t want to.”

“It still didn’t mean I wanted to take your sister as my wife. I abhorred the idea. I fought tooth and nail, but the Throne needed your father and his clan. I did ask for the woman to be you and I still wish I didn’t. I regret it so immensely. Had I not done that…"

He looks at you pained and reaches out, probably to brush your cheek, but stops himself mid motion. He looks away.

"You've become a target overnight. Not only did they use your safety to force me into the marriage, they also made your life harder by putting you in the Tailor's Chamber."

"They?" You manage to ask.

"My father, your father. Their advisors. If I had just kept my mouth shut… But I was young, Sukwon, young and madly in love. In the end I had no choice but to marry."

"I am not sure how much she knew, but she knew enough. She kept reminding me that she was my lawfully wedded wife and I shouldn't keep dreaming about another. But I couldn’t, how could I, Sukwon? You were right there, I was wearing clothes made by you everyday. And she is your sister."

"I did everything that was expected of me. I laid with her, I was polite, but I was never warm - and it was driving her crazy. She knew they were keeping the one I loved hostage, and that was the only reason I came to lay with her on auspicious days. Who told her it was you, the one I loved? I don't know. I am still searching for that person. The moment I heard about the branding I knew it was her, who else it could have been. No one but her. And yet you kept quiet. It was killing me so much. How could you suffer it in silence? Why would you keep the secret? Why would you protect her?"

"But then you came. To me. You came knowingly that I loved you. You acted on it. How could I refuse? Sukwon, I am a weak man when it comes to you, but, please, don't hold it against me. I knew you wanted protection. I knew you wanted revenge. And I knew you. We grew up together, you were a vicious little thing. Hardened and stubborn. You came with a deal, you were willing to sell yourself to achieve your goal."

"Oh, Sukwon, had I been a better man. But I am not. I asked you, as clearly as I could, to state your wishes. I insisted that you ignore my standing. I could have helped you, but I manipulated you. We both know I can't shed my heritage and the deal was clear, your body for my protection."

"Sukwon, I am so sorry. I got drunk on your body, telling myself it was enough. I thought your body was enough, I longed for it for so long. I believed it was lust. It wasn't. And it started to disgust me. I was disgusted with myself and yet, I blamed you. So I stopped seeing you, and stopped my protection. That was the deal, I thought. Your body, for my protection."

"And then it happened. I slipped. I laid with her. I wanted to forget you. I wanted a willing, not forced, body in my bed. I showed affection."

"She became pregnant. And your clan didn't need you anymore. And so the Minister of Treasury did what he did. I am sure it was long pent up anger."

"Sukwon, I nearly killed them when I heard what happened. But it was my fault. Our child, their death, it was my fault. Had I been a better man, Yong might have had an older sibling."

"And once again you came for my protection. I swore I would protect you, I couldn't let you down again. I had to protect you, because even if your indifference hurt my feelings and my pride, I loved you. I love you."

"I am not a wise man, Sukwon. I know I erred. And it cost you your skin and your child. And I will never stop atoning for that. Nor do I wish to. My pain is nothing compared to yours."

"But that's also why I won't stop until you are the rightful owner of the Inner Court, until your name is right next to mine in our family book. Until you’ll be known as a Mother of the Nation.”

“Sukwon, I love you. My love for you only brought you turmoil. I forced myself on you and I forced our son on you. And I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am, also because I can’t bring myself to regret it.”

“Even now I am telling you that because I know you won’t leave me. I violate you, I keep you captive, all because I love you. Sukwon, I wish I was a better man, but I am not. I will never atone for what I’ve done, and what I’ll keep doing, because, my love, I will keep you by my side and I will raise you to my level. And every step of the way I will be apologizing. But I can’t do much else for I can’t live without you.”

He stops, looking at you, silently asking for… Understanding? Forgiveness? But you won’t give it. It was his fault. It was his fault that you became a target of Queen’s ire. The sign on your hand, the miscarriage, the never ending row between Tailor’s and Embrodiery Chambers - it was all his fault. You believed yourself to be so sneaky, so cunning, and now, once more you feel used. 

…like the likes of your Father…

“You are like my Father,” you finally say. He recoils, looking away. You feel nauseated. You can’t even believe his love. Desire? That much you can believe. Love? No. “Excuse me, sir.”

“Sukwon, please…”

You don’t look back as you walk out of your pavilion. It’s the first time in weeks and Woo Palace Lady can keep surprise out of her features. King’s eunuch eyes you, eyes furrowed. He seems worried.

You want to say something, but you fear you’ll cry as soon as you try. So you don’t and walk out without a word. Your entourage scrambles to follow you. 

By the time you come back, you can hear Yong crying. You hurry inside, immediately feeling guilty. King’s entourage is standing outside of your chamber, visibly anxious. Eunuch seems to be relieved when he sees you and he doesn’t even try to announce you - opting for just opening the doors. 

King is alone inside, walking around with Yong in his arms and he snaps to the entrance as soon as he hears doors being open.

“I said no to disturb me!” He roars, but falls silent abruptly when he sees you. You don’t wait for him to get his bearings, you go straight for your son. The boy is red from exertion, wailing with all his might. 

You soothe him as the King stands awkwardly to the side. You are raging inside but you put it aside to take care of Yong. That boy you love and you’ll love whatever happens. You’ll do your utmost to ensure he will get the best in life, you’ll make sure he’ll get what is his by right. 

“Your Highness,” you say into the darkness some time later. Yong is back asleep and you are laying in your nightgown with the King beside you. You refused to engage with him, you said nothing when he pleaded with you to do so. A few hours earlier you were trying out different forms of endearment. He doesn’t say anything but you know he is awake and listening. You’ve spent enough nights in his chambers to recognize the signs. “Since you know my secret, I will not force myself to keep the farce. But I will hold you to your word. Not for my sake, since it’s easy for you to forsake me, but for your son’s sake.”

You wait for him to say something but he keeps quiet. Irked, you turn away from him and force yourself to relax.

As the sleep comes, you hear gentle sobbing behind you.

#joseon au #period: Joseon #optional bias #optional bias scenario #optional bias imagine

[thong-in-the-twist]

Epilogue: The Broken Circle

//Gong Yoo (Kim Shin) x you

Summary: To atone for his sins he is forced to wander the Earth searching for her before it’s too late.

I somehow can’t belived I finished it. It took me five years, but here we are.

Prologue: Silla Goryeo Joseon Tamna March 1st Gwangju

Sometimes you dream. You don’t have dreams often, your nights usually devoid of visions, but whenever a dream comes to you it feels like a vision. It feels palpable, real. The dreams itself bring sensations. Cold rain falling on your face, hands gripping soft fabrics, smell of incense, echoes of a song sung by countless voices, metallic taste of blood. Those dreams leave you drained, yet longing. Every single one of those dreams seems to be a key that opens another box where you can find even more cryptic sensations. They awaken suddenly, brought to surface by mundane things.

You dream awake.

While changing your sheets you get the urge to tear them up and use the scraps to make a rope. Splash of water on your face in the morning can leave you terrified and claustrophobic in your otherwise moderately sized bathroom. Sweet rice cake brings you a faint memory of music and your own feet moving lightly in a foreign yet familiar pattern.

That’s what stumps you. You know that what you get are fleeting memories but they are not your memories. You can’t remember your hands on the strings of gayageum, because you’ve never played it in your life. You can’t remember weaving something using straw, because you’ve never weaved.

Just like you can’t remember being sprawled on the throne in a barely lit hall filled with people wearing pre-Joseon clothes as you are being urged to stay strong against Tang’s demands. 

You were already a university student when your friends took you to a shaman during the spring festival. You all thought it would be funny. There were four of you, all barely stopping yourself from giggling as you pushed money and slips of paper with dates and hours of your birth to the shaman. Their tent was dark and decorated with yellow and red talismans, colorful ribbons and miscellaneous knick-knacks. Those colorful ribbons brought you a vision of a grand tree adorned with similar scraps of fabric. Suddenly there was a taste of dirt and bile in your mouth. 

You listened as the shaman spilled secrets of the future. Boyfriends, jobs, kids - all were mentioned, none were set in stone. You all expected that, some future-reading with caveats that everything could be changed. When shaman finally opened your slip of paper and consulted their charts, you were ready for the exact same noncommittal quips.

“You are destined for an epic love story,” you heard. Shaman’s voice was deadpan and suddenly the tent fell silent. Your friends were no longer giggling, enchanted with a single phrase. “The love that will go through the ages.”

You looked into the shaman's eyes. You were not sure what their gender was, but there was depth to their eyes. Skin was wrinkled and dotted with liver spots, and yet, they seemed way older than they were.

Suddenly what you saw was not a carnival tent but an inside of a hut. Air was heavy with a smell of herbs and the shaman in front of you, who was clearly male, was focused on charts laid out on the low desk. The charts weren’t laminated and were clearly written on handmade paper. Someone was sitting next to you, their presence imposing. You didn’t know how you knew that but your mind helpfully supplied: the wedding day selection.

You snapped back to reality, used to things like that happening. You wanted to clarify, to ask whether the shaman's words meant a long marriage or your next life, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. The mood shifted and you were not sure if asking a question would make what they were saying more believable.

“But the soul you are looking for is old and tired, and it’s no longer searching,” you heard and you didn’t break eye contact. One of your friends muttered “old” under her breath. She didn’t giggle. “You are stuck in a circle, forced to do the same thing again and again, not knowing that the same thing will come around once more. What was to be found, must search. What was repeated, must be broken. The woven pattern must come to an irregularity.”

You realized you were holding your breath. It sounded sincere, ominous and inducive. 

“You are not powerless. You have the knowledge. You have the heart.”

To this day your friends tend to jokingly ask you about your epic love story. Whether you used your knowledge and your heart to find your destined old soul. You laugh with them as life goes on.

*

Ribbons of steam are twirling above your cup. The way the liquid seems to leave a sheen layer of residue around the rim  is familiar enough for you to be transported into a traditional Korean house. There is a low wooden table in front of you and bright light seeps through paper doors. You hastily reach for a low white bowl sitting threateningly in the middle of the table and down the bitter liquid.

You snap back to the present and take a sip from your cup, just to ground yourself. You are surrounded by low sounds of the coffee shop: pleasant murmur of conversations, easy-to-listen music and coffee express’ noises. A man sitting opposite of you keeps talking, oblivious to the fact that you are not listening.

He is handsome. He was good looking in the photo that was shown to you before you agreed to meeting him. He comes from a good family, has a good education, a good job. Good character, good manners, good credit score. Good style, good car, good neighborhood. Good prospects, good future, good plans. Good life, good health, good money.

Good.

Everything is always good.

You force yourself to engage. To play your part of an interested interlocutor. Your own laughter rings in your mind and you hear your own voice asking “and what happened then, my lord?” It’s distracting to say the least. Everything you do, everything you say can evoke a scene that is not yours to recall. Even if you recognise yourself in the visions you have.

You know that the man in front of you is not the man. Oh, he is nice. Everything about him is just enough but it doesn’t satisfy you. 

It was always like this. If something was just enough it wasn’t enough to tempt you. You always needed things to be right. Just enough is not enough. That mindset more than once pissed off your parents, more than once frustrated your friends. But why bother if the results are going to be merely satisfactory.

The date ends on a good note. You hear that it was good meeting you. He had a good time. He hopes you can find a good place to meet again. If the weather is good you could have a picnic. He wishes you good luck with your upcoming assignment. You smile, you repeat the platitudes.

You walk down a busy pedestrian street, paying enough attention not to be killed by delivery scooters. You pass BBQ restaurants and coffee shops, different smells and different sounds invading your senses. You are not surprised when the smell of grilled seafood brings the sea in front of your eyes. You can see greish sea and feel the salty wind on your face. You are huddled together with other halfnaked women of all ages around a fire shielded from view by a wall made by volcanic rock. The name of this structure is hidden somewhere in your mind. You recognise it, but this time because you’ve seen it in a history book. Or was it a museum?

Early on you realized you don’t like learning history. Nor do you like going to museums. They are like minefields to you, every second thing badgering you with different visions. It doesn’t matter if it's Korean history or if it's world history. It can be too hard to even walk, with the constant onslaught of different visions. 

That’s why you focused on STEM. You tried physics first and gave up as soon as you reached cosmology, your mind filled with old time charts tracking movements of stars and planets. Chemistry brought out memories of herbalists, biology - seaside teachings about Tamna’s seafood. 

But Math, Math was safe. 

That’s the only part of your life that you allowed to be just good enough. Statistics are not something you are passionate about but alternatives are way worse. That’s why you’d say your life was moderate. You are moderately satisfied with your earnings, moderately satisfied with your place in life. Life is… Good.

And it makes you indifferent.

*

The three of them are looking at you pleadingly. It’s such a low stakes thing and yet you don’t want to do it. 

“Pretty please,” begs Sohee and you idly wonder how “please” being pretty might change anything. You stretch and sigh.

“Alright. But don’t expect me to contribute!” 

The three of them squeal and laugh. 

That’s how you find yourself on a Thursday night out in Itaewon, walking down into a basement bar where the trivia night is about to happen. Your friends started attending trivia nights regularly back when you were still students, but you never caught on. You went out with them a few times, and seeing how uninterested you were, they stopped pestering you, but the invitation was still standing.

You are not sure why you are here this time. Nothing changed from the last time you tried, but you were so surprised with them even asking  that you agreed.

The bar is surprisingly full but the table for you is empty. There is a name of your team on it and paper and markers ready. Other teams are already gathering, buying beer, chatting and laughing. 

For a second instead of a modern, geeky bar you see plastic tables and folding chairs and you hear someone on the radio announcing that there was an assassination attempt on your president.

You shake your head and the image disappears. You go to the counter to buy something to drink, waiting for girls to arrive, and a poster catches your eyes. It’s about a trivia night. The theme is Korean history and it’s being hosted as a ten years anniversary of hosting trivia nights at this bar and the prize is a two-day-one-night trip to Gyeongju. The date on the poster is today.

To say you feel rage would be an understatement. You are seething. You are not about to suffer a whole night haunted by hallucinations of bygone times, just so you can try to win a trip to the old capital that might as well be called museum city, so full it is with historical monuments. 

You don’t buy your beer, instead choosing to storm out of the place. You are pushing through the crowd, thinking only about escaping when you find yourself face to face with Minji.

Her face falls as soon as she sees you. You see guilt and annoyance in her eyes.

“I know it looks bad,” she starts and you want to roar. Why were they trying to trick you into attending if she knew it’s bad. “I know you hate history. I know you’d rather be back at home cleaning anchovies than attempting to answer any question related to something that happened in the past.”

Minji is talking slowly and pointedly, intently. You know her the longest, since middle school, and she knows you the best. She was there when you were getting to terms with your constant visions. You were diagnosed with anxiety and history was said to be inducing your panic attacks. Officially. Unofficially you were living a nightmare, haunted by visions you didn’t understand. It took you years to be able to shake them down, ignore the constant stream of your consciousness. 

“But?” You ask, because “but” was clearly implied. Minji grabs your hands.

“Sohee needs cheering up. You know that she met Samho here and she loved him. She probably still does. And there he is, not a week after their breakup, parading a new girl around. You also know that Samho is a history buff. Especially Korean history,” she says sternly, but pleadingly. You know that. You know that all. That’s one of the reasons you hated Samho from the beginning and refused to engage with him. An overly talkative history major, for you he was a walking-breathing trigger.

“I know that,” you say through gritted teeth. You know where this is going. and you don’t like that.

“If we don’t do something, Samho is going to win and take his new girl on the trip and he will be boasting about this win for ages. It’s a 10 year anniversary trivia! We’ve been coming here since it started. We can’t let him win!” 

Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t say it…

“And for a person who hates history you sure know a lot about it. You are the only person that can win against Samho!”

There it is.

You look at her in silence. She knows she is pushing it. She sure hopes you’ll agree. She is annoyed she is the one that has to plead with you. 

In turn, you are annoyed that they tricked you. That your mental health is deemed less important than Sohee’s. You know it’s not a competition, but it still hurts.

“Look at him!” Minji says pointing behind you. You are sure she is pointing to Samho. Probably with his new girlfriend. You don’t care. You keep staring at her, who seems to get smaller under your gaze. “I know, I am sorry.”

“You should be,” you say and sigh. Minji perks up and it annoys you even more. She knows she won even before you announce it. “You owe me. All of you. You owe me big and you’d better remember that.”

She agrees enthusiastically, steering you back to your table.

*

Five teams with four members each, five rounds with ten questions each. Starting from modern history and going back through the ages.

You spend every round with your head on the table. Every question triggers you and you have to fight the visions down to answer in time. Viewers are loud and rowdy, and everyone is excitedly cheering on the teams. But the sounds are interchanged with those in your head. Sound of shelling, grim radio announcement, newspaper page. A boy calling for his mother among the flames, a rowdy song with lyrics made up on the spot, loud sound of waves crashing into the rocks. 

Out of fifty questions you have answered wrong twice. It had to do with dates - you were sure of those answers, just like you were sure of every other answer but your head was throbbing and you couldn’t force yourself to care. You were doing the best you could.

Thankfully Samho’s team also slipped on two of the questions as well. The other teams were close behind, but not close enough to threaten either of you.

“And finally! After an even and exciting fight we arrive at the tie-break question! Remember it’s a sudden death round! We want to know which team is going to Gyeongju!” Announces the host, which is greeted with roaring cheers. You don’t look up, happy that in a few seconds you’ll be able to go home. “What was the name of Shilla’s general that brought the federation of Gaya to its knees?”

You see a man. His hair is long and tangled and dirty. He is wearing a black tunic with armor on top of it and bracers, and he is brandishing a wide-bladed longsword in his hand. He is slowly walking up the white stone stairs and he looks imposing and scary. But you don’t fear. Not him. You’d never fear him. Your heart is beating maddeningly fast but you keep your chin up, your hands steady. His eyes find yours - he is begging with his eyes. For permission, for blessing, for forgiveness. You give it. You give it freely. That’s what right, that’s what should be done. The evil is behind you. You’d gladly hallow his quest, even for a price of your life.

You’d do it for your people. You’d do it for you.

You’d do it for the man walking up the stairs.

Pain explodes in your back.

You snap upright.

“Kim Shin!” You yell in the suddenly silent room. The host eyes you surprised as you grab your chest - the way your heart is beating is concerning. It hurts. You need a break. You need out. 

“And we have the right answer!” You hear the host announce. You’ve won. You are not surprised, it’s hard to beat someone who keeps reliving the topic. 

As soon as it’s clear - you are out. You don’t care enough to stay and hear congratulations and or thank-yous. You don’t want to face Samho any more than you want to stay with Sohee. You want out.

Thankfully Minji knows you enough to facilitate your escape.

As you hurry down the street, an imposing warrior haunts your thoughts.

*

He is the reason you find yourself in a train taking the four of you to Gyeongju. Your coming is warmly welcomed albeit quite surprising to your friends. You ask them weakly to allow you to sightsee on your own terms, a plea which is granted immediately. 

After all, you are the reason the four of you are going on the trip.

The warrior stayed on your mind the whole way home from the bar. You didn’t want to name him, but it was obvious to you that who you saw was Kim Shin. He was a historical figure - not widely known, but known enough to be a part of trivia challenge. And he saw you. Kim Shin looked at you as he was walking up the stairs. Where was it happening? What was he going for? What was evil?

Who were you?

It was the first time in your life that you set out to find the answers and to research. With naver’s help you braved through visions. A palankin bringing you somewhere unknown. Frustrated tears falling onto your ceremonial robes. Maniacal laughter in the glorious hall. Younger Kim Shin with a jaw set and eyes hard as he cursed his and yours lineage.

It took you a really long time. You called in sick, which was not taken positively by your company. You couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were exhausted, but you pushed through. You had to know, you had to understand. And for the first time in your life you had a hint and a will to put something together.

You didn’t find much, but what you found was enough. Kim Shin was executed for trying to kill his king and for killing his wife. On the day he came back from conquering Gaya. That laconic description was left by someone ages before in Baekje records. 

But Kim Shin didn’t kill wife. He didn’t kill the Queen. You were the Queen. And Kim Shin didn’t kill you. The killing blow came from behind, it was evil that killed you. Broken visions finally formed a picture that you understood. You loved Kim Shin. Kim Shin loved you. But as star-crossed lovers you couldn’t be together. Your lineage made him lower than you and you were forced to marry your equal - the king. The evil king. The king that Kim Shin asked your consent to kill. 

Which he didn’t do. Why? Why didn’t he kill the king? What stopped him? He was later executed, so he wasn’t killed in action. Then why?

Those questions were why you boarded the train. For the first time in your life your visions became clearer. There was a rhyme and reason to them and you were intent on finding out more. 

*

You are standing in front of the Star-Gazing Tower, the Cheomseongdae. The oldest surviving astronomical observatory in Asia. It might seem you are looking intently at the monument, but your mind is far away. 

You see the opening ceremony, standing with your parents as your cousin, Queen Seondeok, leads the court in rites. You see her body being brought to her tomb. You hear your new name, Jindeok, as you take your cousin’s place. 

You see Kim Shin. 

Which shouldn’t be right. Your quick research tells you that Gaya has fallen a hundred years prior. He shouldn’t be alive and he shouldn’t look the same as he looked back then. And yet, you see him translating envoys from Tang’s court. You see him looking at you forlorn during meetings. You see him bringing you tonic as your health deteriorates.

You find yourself in Gyeongju National Museum and you badger a poor guide with questions long enough for him to push you up the ladder. The keeper is impressed with your knowledge and does their best to fill the blanks. You don’t get the name but together you are able to confirm that there was a Kim that used to work under Kim Yushin, a general from Jindeok’s time, that could have been a translator. 

So you have confirmed that Kim Shin might have existed in Jindeok’s time. What now? 

Now you need to go on a trip down your memories.

You don’t want to theorize. You don’t want to give a name to the whys you have in your head. You are not looking for reasons for you to have the memories. Your hunt is focused on one person, because you suspect that you’ll find him in your other memories.

On your second day you go back to the museum to find the person that helped you the day before. This time your questions are more technical. How to research, where to find your answers, who to ask, what would you need. When asked why you sputter for a second and spin some bullshit about research for a book about women’s history. That gets them talking. 

You spend hours listening, learning, getting resources. You get the feeling that not a lot of people are interested in the knowledge this person is sharing with you. For the first time in your life you wonder what’s so wrong with women’s history?

Back at home you find yourself setting up a research station. It doesn’t take you long before your home is filled with post-it notes, used notebooks, history books. You write everything down, whenever a vision happens. You do your best to identify people, places, times. You compare it with historical records and try to put everything you see in order.

You realize not every memory is connected to Kim Shin, nor do they always connect to a known historical figure. Those visions are somewhat more interesting to you. Sure, seeing a snapshot of the Queen's life is fascinating, but getting a glimpse of the daily life of a commoner is even more mind blowing.

You were never really outgoing but as you spiraled down the rabbit hole you became even more reclusive. A few weeks in you actually started to write the book. At first it was to sort out what you knew, but the longer you wrote the more you wanted to share your knowledge. 

You were able to name six of the women in your memories, three Queens, a Christian martyr, a student-independence fighter and a student that died in the Gwangju Massacre. And while others didn’t leave their names in history, they were still a vital part of it.

It takes you months to polish what you wrote, your merely satisfactory job draining you way more than before. You want to write, you want to immerse yourself in the memories. They become your friends, your hobby, your free time. But one has to live.

You share your manuscript with the person that inspired you, the keeper from Gyeongju National Museum. With their help you apply for a grant with the Korean Foundation. Which is granted.

Which, in turn, allows you to travel. 

And the first stop is Jeju Island.

*

The woman in your memories calls it Tamna. The land of horses, oranges, wind, rocks and women. Now, a popular destination with various attractions. Numerous beaches, climbable dormant volcano, oceanarium, traditional village… And you find yourself on a rocky beach with free diving grandmas. Haenyeo, the living heritage of Jeju. 

The grandmas are warm, welcoming. Their equipment is familiar yet modern. They no longer dive halfnaked, they have goggles and buoys, but the way they speak sounds more like in your memories than modern Korean.

The stream of memories is constant. At this point it’s like a movie playing nonstop in your head. The grandmas are delighted with your knowledge, they take you to the bulteok, they take you out to the sea. It’s so weird to be reliving things that you never lived through. But you know exactly what you are doing, you know exactly how to fish, what to look for and your catch is no worse than that of your teachers. 

You spend a wonderful day with them, that ends with a bonfire in the bulteok, as the sun sets.

You are not the first one to sing. Your people love singing. Grandmas sing an older trot song, and another - and when they ask you to sing, you don’t hesitate. The centuries old song of a diver comes from your heart.

We, the Tamna divers, Absent women of the sea, Miserable households Our world knows.

On the cold day, On the sunny day, On the rainy day, Our sore bodies on the water float.

Our blood and sweat, The work never ends, Absent women of the sea, Where will we go?

That night you dream. You dream of a girl that dreamt of diving. You dream of a girl that didn’t want to take a foreigner. You dream of a girl that died in a rip current. You dream of Kim Shin, that for the nth time in his life tried to reunite with you.

*

After Jeju you try to find the village where the Holy Tree stood. It’s like finding a needle in a haystack. You eat nothing more than seafood and rice mixed with wheat, you go for a temple stay, you actually spend a week in a traditional Korean house. You get weird little snippets that don't narrow it down. 

So you start searching for shamans from the region. It’s a long shot, but you have to try. They send you out on a hunt and you find yourself trekking to numerous Holy Trees. You are not surprised with that. Your country was based on shamanism and shamanistic rites. Even though you might not say you are shamanistic, it’s there, in your culture.

Nor are you surprised when your next shaman turns out to be the one that told you about your destined old soul. They don’t say much. You sit quietly allowing them to assess you, anxious. What will they say?

“Did you know that there is a place where blue alpine swallowtail is easier to observe than green?”

And they say nothing more. Even when you ask to repeat, they stay silent. 

An alpine swallowtail is a butterfly. Usually green, but can be blue. Naver helps you in finding the trail where the blue butterflies are said to be easily spotted on the east coast.

You knew it was a really long shot, but you were grasping at straws. 

And still, when you find the right tree, in the middle of the old forest, you are once again not surprised. You spend a lot of time walking around it, trying to visualize the village that was no longer there. 

Where you think there should be a wall of Binna’s garden you find exactly that. The last few days torrential rains were flooding the Peninsula and there was a landslide not long before you came. 

As you hurry back to the little village you came from, you see a blue alpine swallowtail on one of the trees.

* The museum keeper is feverish when you bring them back to the Holy Tree. They barely contain their excitement when you walk them through what you know. You can’t say how you know and the extent of what you know - but the limited version is also enough to blow their mind.

You don’t have the knowledge and skills needed in the excavation project, but you are credited with the find. It’s nothing big, but the resulting article is enough to have worried Minji back on your case.

You don’t know how to explain and for the first time in a very long time even a joke about using your heart and your knowledge to find your destined old soul doesn’t get her off your back. Which is only a testament of how good of a friend Minji is.

Nonetheless, it takes the whole garden wall to be excavated before you dream of Binna.

You dream of a girl that led a simple life. You dream of a girl that saw her duty in marriage. You dream of a girl that chose death above slavery.

*

The old soul you should be searching for is Kim Shin. 

You feel like that realization comes to you suddenly, but truth be told it was creeping up on you. You’d be lying if you said you knew from the very beginning, but the moment when you utter a soft oh is not earth-shattering. It’s like a lost piece finally sliding back into its place. 

The lives that came before you also seem to be pieces of a puzzle you are trying to solve, but it’s answer is you. The more memories you unlock the fuller of a person you feel. Livelier. 

And you don’t want to go back to being moderate. You want to know how far you can go, how much you can learn, how many of your previous lives you can find, how many you can thoroughly research and make your own once more.

So instead of focusing on Kim Shin himself - you search for your lives.

*

In Poland you find yourself in a cemetery. You need a translator to speak with a really old grandma that used to cut the hair of North Korean orphans. She describes how the children would push their heads into her hand silently asking for a little bit of warmth. Your body is not buried here, you drowned in the Yalu River. But you recognise names of the children that were put to rest here. You ask grandma through a translator about yourself - the past one. The woman looks at you and pats your hand.

“Was she family? Such a sweet child, she looked a lot like you,” you hear from the translator and you smile. You don’t have a heart to say that all of them looked similar to grandma’s foreign eyes.

That’s one of the lives that didn’t meet Kim Shin.

*

You know how to play gayageum. It’s mind boggling. 

The first time you get your hands on one, your inner courtesan comes to the surface to deliver one of the most amazing, the most skilled performances of your life. The guide in the music museum stares at you in silent awe, just to ask you how long you studied before you reached this level of skill.

You say your whole life.

There is something about Chunwoo’s story that haunts you. It’s a tragic one, not that many of your lives weren’t tragic, but you have a feeling that there was a chance of a happier ending. A better choice at least. 

Once again the museum keeper helps you advance your research. Thankfully Joseon records are one of the most detailed in the world. You first find the Minister that wanted you. Then you find Kim Shin. You are able to find the record of him passing gwageo, the national exam. You are able to track every promotion and even through ages old records you can feel how promising of an official he was. And there you found it. A decree taking Chunwoo out of the register, a present to a faithful subject - Kim Shin. 

It was Kim Shin that freed you. And you, in your fear and depression, killed yourself.

You scoured the records for his name. He took the exam eight times. Eight times he placed first. He went through all the ministries, he tried every role, fulfilled every position. And it’s the first time you find Kim Shin endearingly human. Given the time and knowledge he must have, it’s so human of him to go through every possible storyline. Like a game. Especially since you have a lot of memories of marriages that you didn’t want and early deaths from that period of time. 

You also think about the toll it must have taken on him. Eons of solitude rarely broken by an unwilling, not-remembering soul. 

*

Seodaemun prison breaks you. You sit, crying, in front of the entrance while a guard tries to cheer you up. You know you need to go inside to be fulfilled, but it’s so hard - it’s like you are back in middle school, terrified of being awake.

You call for Minji. 

Her jaw is set and eyes are hard, but she says nothing as you buy tickets to the museum. You retch in the basement, where they tortured you. You lean against the brick wall focused on your hand on the surface. A hundred years ago the same hand was nail-less. Courtesy of the beasts that walked those walls.

In a prison hall you find your cell. It’s the only one you can’t walk in, as there is a little shrine to the girl you then were. When Minji comments how small the cells are you absentmindedly say that you were small enough to lay in one, although most men couldn’t.

Thankfully, Minji keeps quiet after that. 

She goes with you to visit your grave. You are still regarded as a hero that fought for independence. You were just a girl, doing what you felt was right. 

*

In Busan you visit the museum of Japanese mobilization. 

While Seodaemun broke you, this museum enraged you. As a comfort woman you were the same age as the student of Ehwa. You were violated in the worst way possible and it’s another life where you yourself ended it. But at least this time you got your revenge. You yourself castrated the worst of your tormentors.

You remember his name. With a morbid curiosity you research what happened to him. He didn’t live long enough to suffer long term consequences. He was murdered on the way back to Japan and found with his own balls stuffed into his mouth.

Somehow you are ok with that.

*

Your book is as much of a hit as might have been expected. So it’s not much of a hit. They end up in museum gift stores, but you are ok with that.

You dedicate it to your curator friend, and Minji, and all the Kim Shins that caught your eye during your research. It’s a book dedicated to women, but a Kim Shin was never far. 

You are invited as a speaker to a conference. That’s surprising. Your book, although with proper references, wasn’t peer reviewed. You wanted it to be a light reading, easily digestible for readers. All to promote women history studies.

The panel is nice, but weirdly frustrating. You are regarded as a lesser specialist, even though the information that other panelists share is wrong. Which you know for a fact, but cannot easily explain. Not all is wrong, but enough to bother you.

“Excuse me,” the voice is tentative and at first you are not sure you even heard it. “I loved your book, could you sign it for me?”

“Oh, of course,” you answer, turning around, suddenly giddy. That’s a first!

And there he is. Hair short, but long enough for soft locks to fall on his forehead. Modern clothes, your book in his hand. The last time you saw him, you begged him to ensure that you’d be buried with your flag.

Your heart skips a beat. He looks handsome. He is handsome, so dashingly handsome.

You take the book and the offered pen. Your thoughts are racing as you try to find appropriate words.

To Goblin, Thank you for your hard work. With love, Your future wife.

He takes the book back, he slowly reads it. And just as slowly he raises it to his face and he hides behind it as the first sob shakes his body. And it breaks your heart.

You don’t hesitate and you hug him in the corridor of the exhibition center you are in. He hugs you back, engulfing you in his embrace. He is so much bigger than you that his sobs are shaking you as well. His face is now hidden in your neck, tears falling on your shoulder. 

He might be crying, but after the first shock - your heart is expanding.

*

On your side, there is no awkwardness. No hesitation. No doubts. 

You know him. You’ve known him for ages, and you loved him since the first time you laid your eyes on him, but when you were only children. 

He is more reserved. He is used to courting you in a proper way, when time and space and conservative cultural norms are a must to a successful relationship. You are the one to initiate every step of the way, and Shin, seems to be flustered with your forwardness. He never tells you that but you can see that in the way his neck flushes and his ears redden.

“Shin, you do realize we’ve already slept together?” You ask when he jumps back embarrassed when you kiss his cheek on the busy street. Your answer is an intensive blush that spreads on his face. Adorable. 

“That was different, my lady,” he mutters and you only smile broader.

“Was it? I definitely wasn’t a lady back then,” you rebuke mischievously and your boyfriend looks away, once again flustered. You grab his hand and drag him down the street, happy with life.

One of the hardest things you have to do is reassure him. So many times he came close enough. So many times you slipped through his fingers. And you reassure him constantly. With your words, with your eyes, your hands, your mouth. And you love every second.

You don’t count days and weeks and months, because you are just happy to spend your time with Shin. It’s easy to do, when your partner is rich. Very rich. Old money rich. Fifteen hundred years old money rich.

On the other hand as your relationship progresses Shin starts getting more stubborn in the ways he wants to progress. He was raised in the times when sex comes after the marriage. You were raised then as well, but you were also raised in the modern times. 

French kisses were few and far between, Kim Shin stopping you every time with hands on your shoulders and forehead against yours, expression pained. You want to tease him, say that you know he wants it. But that’s not a solution.

You introduce him to your parents. Another set of your parents, that is. He charms the socks of them, which is the least you expected. He charms the socks of your friends as well, all of them asking if he was the old soul. You confirmed.

You go back to the shaman that gave you the first push and neither you, nor them, nor Kim Shin say anything as you push your dates and hours of birth written on provided pieces of paper with birth years noted as being from the 6th century. It takes longer than usual to find your auspicious day, but you are sure that the shaman will manage. They have to count many generations back and Kim Shin helpfully supplies charts from back then. That book should be a national treasure.

Later you ask him if he kept it just for this moment.

He nods and the love for this man warms you up. He protected charts of stars for fifteen hundred years to make sure you’ll be able to choose a right date for your wedding.

You go through what is now called a traditional Korean wedding. It’s not traditional but it’s the closest ceremony you get to what would have happened in Shilla. Shin confides in you that he is not a fan of Joseon-style wedding ceremonies but even that is better than the western one.

The whole ceremony you wait for it to appear. The sword. The one that he is supposed to have buried in his chest.

The steps, rites come and go, and you see no change in Kim Shin’s appearance.

And that’s when you start to panic.

***

Kim Shin led a simple life. A life without worries and death and disappointments. He bought a house in Kangwon, deep in the forest. He read, he wrote, he painted, he trained. He barely left his house dead set on not searching for her.

He set up a few subscription services with books and after forty years of collecting, his library was enormous. He knew that someone might have compared it to the story that came from the west, the Beauty and the Beast, but he was sure his library wouldn’t tempt her. 

But he still missed her. He missed her so much.

He knew that his last actions “in the field” helped his people to end the dictatorship. For the first time in the history, they had a working democracy, women were slowly getting their position back.

Life was good.

The bettering situation of women on the peninsula meant that more books about them and about their struggles appeared on the market. There were better and worse productions, but he read them all.

With her book, he skipped the dedications. He never read them, he didn’t feel the need, didn’t know what the point was. But as he started reading the book itself, it took him one page before he knew. It was an autobiography of all her lives. Every single one of them, even those he never got a chance to meet. He read it over and over again biting his tongue not to curse the Divine. One more time it gave her the memories. 

When he finally read the dedication page he knew that he needed to find her. She was calling for him, not for the Goblin, but for him, Kim Shin.

And suddenly luck was on his side. Like it never was. He attended her panel, listened to her words, listened to her being talked over. That was the same woman that he fell in love with, but conditioned to be silent. Generations of patriarchy stifled the Queen in her.

For the first time in his journey, he was truly hesitant to go to her.

She recognized him instantly, his welcome was never that warm and sincere. It was the first time in centuries that she hugged him. The Queen, the one and only, hugged him. And held him as he cried.

She was different. More open. More forward. Less reserved. It made him frustrated a lot, but at the same so incredibly loved. Every moment, every second spent with her was immensely fulfilling and yet, at every step he was afraid. Of losing her and going through the circle once again.

The whole wedding ceremony felt like a dream, felt unreal. Every time Kim Shin closed his eyes, he feared that it would all disappear when he opened them. She was grounding him, full of giddy excitement. Her soul was as old as his, and yet she was fresher. Livelier. 

And he allowed himself to hope, to believe that she was finally becoming his.

She broke as soon as they were left alone. 

“I can’t see it! Shin, I can’t see it!” She wailed and he stifled the pleasant tingle he felt every time she called his name. It felt new every time it happened.

“What, my love?” He asked, delicately, delighted he was finally free to call her that. She was his love, the one and only, for years - and now she was finally his.

“The sword, there was supposed to be a sword,” she choked out and Kim Shin exhaled suddenly remembering about the thing stuck in his chest. It was ages since he last thought about it and now, brought back to his mind once more it hurt more than he was accustomed to.

He laid his hand on her face and she immediately leaned into the touch.

“Did we do something wrong?”

He felt her tears on his hand. He should have hurried to reassure her, but it warmed him up to see her so distraught about his welfare.

“No, my love. We didn’t. It’s just, we have yet to finish,” Kim Shin said delicately coercing her to look up. She seemed confused but her husband was sure she’d understand in due time and he bent down to kiss her, her soft lips tasting of salt.

***

You allow yourself to be calmed down by his kiss. He deepens it, and it’s even more welcome, so rarely you get to kiss him like that. You throw your arms on his neck, to keep him close - even though it has never worked. This time, he doesn’t stop. It makes you hot, it makes you want.

You want to be as close to him as possible instinctively pushing yourself against him - and for once Kim Shin doesn’t oppose. Is he tired or is he finally allowed to hold you, now that you are his wife.

His wife. 

It has a good ring to it. A very good ring. An amazing ring, even.

Shin pushes back against you and you feel his arousal through the clothes. You moan in the back of your throat and he echoes the sound. He pushes you harder, making you walk backwards and you trust him to lead you safely through the rooms. He does, breaking the kiss to pepper kisses all over your face, clever fingers working to undress you.

You are quite eager to help. You realize that there is nothing stopping you, finally. The needs of your old soul husband are met and you can finally have sex.

Which sinks in as you fall on the mattress. It’s not your first time together, Chunwoo had the first taste, but you can’t wait to loving him again.

You are already half naked and you make short work of the rest of your clothes as he undresses himself as well.

That body. The body of a warrior that’s finally within your reach. You ask for him with open arms and an eager heart. His naked body covers you, weight pushing you deeper into the mattress. His cock is already flushed with his desire, mirroring your own. 

He reacquaints himself with your body with his mouth, teeth and fingers. No expanse is spared. No expanse is loved less. By the time he kisses your hipbone you are more than ready to proceed. You ask him to come back up with little mewls and curious fingers and he grants your wishes as he always did. 

You kiss him as he delivers the first thrust. By the time you lose the count you can no longer kiss him. Your voice catches in your throat and you can only hold him close with your arms and with your legs and with your loyal heart.

If it went on forever it still wouldn’t be enough. You push his damp hair off his face as your own forehead is covered in sweat. His breaths are heavy and labored fanning the skin of your shoulder and it sets your nerves ablaze. The way covers roll up under your back, the way your muscles cramp, the way he fits between your arms and knees - it’s all too much and yet not enough.

Your orgasm comes suddenly, having crept on you rather sneakily - and helps you through it, keeping his pace and seeking his own release. It comes with a prolonged moan, one that you’ll have on repeat for many nights to come. It chisels itself into soft tissue of your brain, along with a wet from sweat face and dark with arousal eyes. 

You lost fifteen hundred years not doing that with him and it hurts. Had the laws of your country been different your story might have been easier. 

He rolls off you, onto his back, breathing heavily.

And there it is. The sword. The famed sword buried up to the hilt in Kim Shin’s chest. The wound looks fresh, fresh enough that blood didn’t have time to flow. You bring what strength you have left and roll onto him. 

Even though you feel a spike of arousal as his hands grab your hips, it’s not what you are thinking about. 

Kim Shin is flushed, looking at you and your body with potent interest. You wet your lips, suddenly parched.

“Why didn’t you kill the evil?” You ask the one question that haunted you all this time. You hold his gaze steady, not giving him the chance to look away.

“I hesitated when he brought out my father,” he says simply. He seems to have come to terms with that fact long ago. “I squandered the chance you gave me.”

“You did,” you agree, not finding regret or disappointment in yourself. You don’t blame him, even if once you did, you no longer do. You just want to be with him and love him till the end of time. “Are you ready?”

Even as you ask your hands are already on the hilt. His bigger hands cover yours as he nods, eyes red.

It goes easier than you thought it would. You yank at it with all your might and it would have gone with the barest pull. You lose your balance falling back as the sword falls flat on your body and Kim Shin's chest explodes with thousands of blue alpine swallowtails. 

***

Blue butterflies filled the room as Kim Shin seized in pain. He heard her voice calling for him, felt her crawl over him, felt her fingers on his face, lips on his mouth. 

As the pain subdued he was left free. Of pain. Of guilt. Of goblin duties. He was finally free.

He didn’t know whether he was still immortal. He didn’t know what the Divine had in store for them. But Kim Shin knew that whatever happened he’d find her again, and she’d look for him once more. Whether it was their last life or whether they’d be reborn again - Kim Shin was sure.

The Divine would never keep them apart again.

#gong yoo scenarios #gong yoo imagine #kdrama scenario #kdrama imagine

[thong-in-the-twist]

Downtown Throw VII

In basketball throw from downtown is a throw well outside three-point line. Nam Juhyuk x you

Part I II III IV V VI VII

As my life goes to shit, I find myself writing again.

---

The smell of the sea is fresh, inviting, as you cross the road. You can hear the waves crashing into the land and you know that the sea is hidden just below the cliff you are standing on. It might be considered weird for you (a person living on the island their whole life) to be excited about the sea but you are. You don’t get to see it everyday, so you run the last few steps and grab the wooden handrail at the edge of the cliff.

There it is - the greish sea and stone beach and dark volcanic rock cliffs with a little bit of greenery snuggled in the crevasses. Salty wind hits you in the face, tugging at your clothes and you exhale contentedly. Just behind you there is a city with roads and buses and apartments, and there you are faced with nature. And it brings you peace.

Together you go to see waterfalls. They are famous enough that you’ve seen them a few years back, but it doesn’t matter. You stand on the boulder looking at the falling water allowing the little droplets of water to refresh you, as Juhyuk reads you the wikipedia entry about this place. And you are ok with that and you are ok with being this much taller than him. Especially since that doesn’t really happen considering how tall Juhyuk is. 

It’s still early enough both in the day and in the year that there aren’t many people around. One older couple came and went, and one older gentleman is basking in the sun on the bench near the stairs leading back up the cliff. Juhyuk was sitting on the rock that you are standing on, with your backpacks thrown near it. As he finished reading he stood up and glanced at you, just to take a few steps back.

You are not surprised when he asks you to pose.

You laugh, and you do. You feel free and comfortable, and you know for sure that you are letting yourself forget about things that might have stopped you otherwise. You don’t want to worry and you don’t want to be wary. You just want to have fun.

Juhyuk stops taking photos to look at them and he seems satisfied. With a bright smile he comes to you to show you one of them and while you have to bend down to see it better, you are fairly sure it’s going to be your new profile picture. Because you look really good with bright eyes and rosy completion and wind billowing out your clothes. The beauty is in the eye of a beholder and it’s both weird and warmth inducing to be able to see yourself through Juhyuk’s eyes.

Which makes you bold and giddy with mischievousness. You know he likes you. And you feel like it gives you the right to do what you are about to do.

“Juhyuk, come here,” you say, as you put your hands on his shoulders. “I need help getting down,” you explain to his questioning face. It takes a little urging but you manage to get him where you want him. To say that Juhyuk is wary is an understatement, his whole body goes rigid as you maneuver him, but he moves nonetheless. You say you need help getting down but you make him turn his back to you, while you still hold his shoulders. Nice, broad shoulders. 

He starts to say something, probably complain, but you just laugh and tell him to prepare himself as you jump on his back. Surprised “oof” escapes him as he stumbles forward. There is a second of panic in your heart as Juhyuk struggles to regain his balance. You are ready to let him go, but as soon as you can feel him getting steady, your arms move from his shoulders to his neck to secure yourself.

Juhyuk does not complain.

Juhyuk does not ask.

He just grabs your thighs to make you sit up a little bit higher, and you use your elbows on his shoulders to do just that. He doesn’t really hold you up, he doesn’t have to, you can hold yourself up just fine with your arms and thighs. You laugh.

You can’t pinpoint the reason you are laughing. The laughter seems to be bubbling up inside you, so easily spilling out.

“Hm…” you muse and you can both see and feel the shiver of Juhyuk’s body. Little hairs on his neck are rising. “So that’s the view you have.”

His body shakes a little bit stronger as he allows himself a laugh. He smells a lot of nice cologne but you can also smell a citrus shampoo on his hair. He doesn’t try to shake you off or look at you.

There is also a fact that he is not straining with you on his back.

“Well, if you had just asked, I could have shown you the view much earlier,” he says and not leaving you any room to respond, he adds: “are you ready for the next stop of our trip?”

“Yes!” Your exclamation might be a touch too enthusiastic. But you are not enthusiastic because you are about to go somewhere else - you are enthusiastic because it seems like Juhyuk is going to continue, not making a huge deal of you on his back. And you have no idea why but it makes you rather thrilled.

He takes a few tentative steps and you tighten your thighs on his waist. As he realizes that you do not obstruct his movements he bends down to grab your backpacks. Once more, you can’t help but laugh, light-headed with child-like excitement. 

You can feel the effort Juhyuk puts in to be nonchalant about this whole thing. In the back of your head you know that he is not acknowledging your antics to ensure that you’ll continue it. He is wary because he doesn’t know if his doing something would be crossing a line. You know it, you feel it, and you ignore it all the same, because you are having fun. It’s not everyday you can get a piggyback.

“Show me the photos,” you say and Juhyuk raises his hand holding his smartphone. He starts walking and you look on as he unlocks his phone, idly allowing yourself to stare as he draws his password pattern. As soon as he enters the gallery you surge forward and grab the phone. You hold it with your one hand while the other drops down to his chest to give you better leverage. Juhyuk tentatively grabs your legs. 

You swing your legs once or twice as you look together through the photos he took. You have to give it to him, he took really nice photos of you. 

You stop him when he reaches the stairs going into camera mode. Your arm is too short for a nice selfie but Juhyuk comes to the rescue, grabbing his phone and angling it to get you both and the beach and the sea behind you. You sit up once more, one hand on his chest, the other in a victory sign near your face. You look into the camera.

Juhyuk looks flushed but it’s not with the exertion. His eyes are shining, his smile is broad and there is a blush creeping up his neck. Nonetheless he looks really good, both handsome and boish. Your smile is just as big and your eyes are just as shiny. 

As soon as he takes the picture, you jump down his back, grabbing your backpack out of his hand as soon as you are steady on the ground.

“Where to now?” You ask, noticing, but ignoring, a slight disappointment in his eyes.

The next stop is a little island just off the coast. It’s connected with your island by a glass pedestrian bridge and both the island and the bridge are quite picturesque. You know that during summer months this area is filled with people. It’s a really nice walk and Juhyuk takes a ton of photos of you.

The island itself has no beaches, being more of a high rock with a little bit of greenery on top. It’s not an even terrain with the trail leading up and down around it. 

You notice how Juhyuk seems to position himself near you, but lower whenever you stop for a photo or to admire something. He shows you his back a lot, backpack conveniently only on one shoulder. Which, while tempting (and endearing), is also not something you were expecting. And you do not take the offered chance. You had your piggyback ride and it was enough.

By the time you are back on the glass bridge you are getting hungry. Juhyuk has been quiet for a while and you suspect that he is sulking a little bit. That’s the first time you realize that you don’t want him to sulk. The image of both of you smiling on the beach flashes in your mind as you allow him to go first, putting distance between both of you. 

You focus on his back. It’s an early spring so both of you are wearing jackets. He has his backpack on one shoulder, and you idly pull the strings of yours to secure it. You exhale slowly as you prepare yourself. 

And you run. 

One more time there is laughter bubbling up inside of you, as sea wind is tugging at your clothes as you run. You’ve nearly caught up to him, when he starts to turn around, your steps catching his attention.

“No!” You manage to whizz out, and he stops for just enough time for you to reach him. Once again you grab his shoulders and you use them to help you up as you jump in the air. This time it’s harder because you need to reach his back, but at the same time, as soon as Juhyuk realizes what you are doing, he bends his knees, arms coming to secure your legs, even as his backpack falls from his shoulder from the impact, hitting your sides. A little bit of shuffling and both of you are content in the position. “And go!”

He laughs and starts walking. 

It’s so stupid and yet you feel so pampered. You also have no problems with the fact that he was practically asking for this. Silently, stubbornly. In a very Juhyuk-like manner. This time he is way more relaxed, talking to you about some new thing from the world of technology. You listen curiously, while swinging your legs and basking in the midday, early spring, sun.

You eat at a pizza place and you don’t stop teasing him about his core workout. He dismisses you, diminishing your weight and the scale of burden you might have been. It’s nice and easy.

Would it be as easy and nice at the movies with Taejun? With Sonjae? Would you feel as giddy and as drunk with sea and salt? This thought comes once, as you laugh at something stupid Juhyuk said. It comes to the surface, surprisingly accusative and you push it back down. Not the time, not the place.

You split the check even though Juhyuk insists on paying. He spends the next 5 minutes pouting but as soon as he realizes that you are not going to acknowledge it, he drops the ruse, allowing himself to laugh with you. And that’s the way you want him to be.

On the ride back you are both way more energetic than you were while going there. You spend the whole time arguing about webtoons (mostly whether Lookism or Weak Hero is better - but you are sure you’ll never reach an agreement on that). 

All-in-all this whole date feels a lot like a good hangout session with friends. 

It’s back at the bus stop that reality hits you. As soon as you see a familiar neighborhood, you are once again a girl that went out on a date with her best friend’s younger brother. And you don’t like the way it sounds, and who it makes you to be.

“Well, that was nice,” you say awkwardly and Juhyuk smiles at you. It’s not as broad as it was on the other end of the island, but it is still warm. Small, but warm. He also seems to feel awkwardness, now that you are back. You idly play with your backpack’s strap. “Well, see you around?”

“Yeah,” he says. “See you tomorrow.”

You wave awkwardly to each other and split, both of you going your own way. You know it would be easy for him to walk part of the way with you, but he doesn’t even try, and you don’t know whether you should be relieved or annoyed about that.

Later in the evening, your phone chimes while you are watching a thriller with your father. Jaehyun is nowhere to be seen and you are not even sure if he’s home. Your mother went to sleep early, which means you get to spend some quality time with your dad.

You check your phone as your father complains about a main character who misses an obvious hint. It keeps vibrating in your hand as messages keep coming. You are surprised for a second until you realize it’s Juhyuk who sends you photos from the trip.

You scroll through them, once again filled with giddiness. The trip was nice and the photos are nice, and you look nice in them. And you are not surprised in the slightest when you realize you’d like to do it again.

*

You start your week in an awfully good mood. What’s more surprising is the fact that Jaehyun seems to be as content with life as you are. There are no early morning fights or bickering - he helps you clean the table, even though it’s your time to do it. And you can’t even find it in yourself to be suspicious of him.

You catch your parents exchanging surprised glances but no one comments. Which is nice, you are sure that any comment could end this weird truce you are having with your brother. It wasn’t agreed upon but you want it to hold its power for as long as it can. 

With this newly found communal spirit there is no need to rush out the doors and you can leisurely walk to the bus stop. You are out early enough that Juhyuk is only clearing the corner of the street leading from his house when you see him.

Something warm drops in your stomach. The feeling dissipates as soon as it comes, but there is no denying that you felt warmth when you saw Juhyuk. He doesn’t look amazingly handsome or something, he doesn’t take your breath away. It’s just… You had so much fun yesterday. And you already know that you’ll remember it fondly - especially the part when you got piggyback rides from him.

At the same time you know, you don’t really want to talk about it.

Your truce with Jaehyun is broken as soon as he sees Juhyuk. He nearly sprints to him, throwing his arm on Juhyuk’s shoulders in a greeting.

“Dude, I have so much to tell you!” Jaehyun exclaims, and looks back at you. “Go on, it doesn’t concern you.”

You roll your eyes, because seriously? And you just get on your way. You could remind him that all three of you are walking in the same direction. Or joke that Juhyuk would prefer to walk with you. Or even tease him about Bora, because you suspect that to be the subject Jaehyun wants to talk about. 

And you do nothing of sorts, still content with your own good mood.

“Do you think Jaehyun would lose his way if Juhyuk didn’t come to fetch him every morning?” Asks Yangju in lieu of greeting when you arrive at the bus stop. You can’t help but laugh and look around. They are not far behind you and judging from Juhyuk’s red ears and Jaehyun’s scowl they were close enough to hear her as well.

After that you ignore them both altogether, even though you are pushed against Juhyuk side the whole ride to school. You are entirely focused on your conversation with Yangju.

Entirely.

*

Last night you promised yourself you wouldn’t tell a soul about your excursion with Juhyuk. Why would you? Why would anyone need to hear it?

But as soon as you enter your classroom and see Taejun in his seat, you realize that you’ve never replied to him. Nor did you reply to Sonjae. And it sends you into a panic mode because you have no idea how they are going to react and what you can say to them.

You quietly hope that both are going to be too embarrassed to mention anything.

The moment the first period  ends you remember Taejun is not someone to be embarrassed. 

“Every second you leave me without an answer my heart is breaking into a million pieces,” melodramatically cries Taejun dropping to his knees in front of your desk, elbows on the desk. Instantly embarrassment overtakes you. “Oh why, oh why would you leave me hanging? What can I do for you to accept my heart?”

“Stop it,” you say, mortified. You can see in his eyes that he is joking but there is a little bit of maliciousness in his actions. “It’s not funny.”

He pushes himself up and turns an empty chair in front of you so he can sit on it. Suddenly, the maliciousness is gone. You see that because you held his gaze steady as you spoke to him.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly and ruffles his hair. “I didn’t want to embarrass you, it just… Well. I was being a dickhead.”

“Nothing new,” muses Yangju, lazily turning a page in her book. You snap your head up - everyone is looking at you. You can feel how hot your face is and you don’t want to know how red you are. 

“Oh my god,” that’s the only thing that you can choke out as you hide your face in your hands. Behind your eyelids you can still see Bora’s grin. You don’t want to face her and you can only imagine how everyone is going to tease you. “Go away Taejun,” your voice is weak and barely audible.

He starts to protest but stops abruptly. It takes a moment of silence but you finally hear him stand up and leave. You are 100% sure Yangju made him go away and you are so thankful for her. Giggling sound reaches and you let your head fall to your desk with a dull thud. You stay like that until the start of the next period, but even then you can feel your face burning.

*

By the end of the day the story of Taejun’s heartfelt confession is widely known. It doesn’t matter that Taejun didn’t intend it to be taken as a confession. You realize he wanted to chastise you for your lack of response. But you are the one to know that, because you know him. It’s not obvious to the outside viewer. And given the fact that the story of you and him getting 7 minutes in heaven at Jeho’s party resurfaced, other students were sure of their understanding of what transpired.

Which made you miserable.

Taejun’s being sorry and his explanations to your classmates was not enough. Not when Sonjae all but ignored you when you met in the corridor. Not when you heard sophomores gossiping about you in the toilet. Had it not been Taejun. Had it been another student, one that wasn’t a part of the beloved basketball team it wouldn’t have been such a hot gossip. 

That’s why, when Jaemin asks you if you are going to BomBom with the rest of them to study, you excuse yourself and run away as fast as possible. You want to bury yourself under your duvet and never come out again. 

You do just that when you arrive at home. It took you longer than usual because you decided to walk all the way home. A little exercise could only help and you didn’t want to risk overhearing any more gossip on the bus. Knowing that you are alone in the apartment you allowed yourself to scream in frustration muffling the sounds with your pillow. 

It’s all so stupid. And annoying. And juvenile. And why did it have to be you?

You spend two hours just trashing about on your bed, screaming and bemoaning your fate. It takes this long for you to dispose of your restless energy and by the end of the ordeal you are just numb.

And because you are a high school senior who cares about your future, you force yourself to study. It goes surprisingly well and you are surprised that it’s dark outside the next time you lose your focus. Someone is knocking on your doors.

“Have you seen Jaehyun?” It’s your mom.

“No, but I haven’t left my room since I arrived. Why?” 

“Practice is long over and he didn’t check in that he is going to be late,” she says dryly. You shrug before she can even ask if you know something. You open your mouth to say something smart-assy. “Yeah, yeah, you are not his nanny. Have I ever forced you to be?”

She turns around on her heel and walks out, leaving your door open and complaining about you, Jaehyun and the world. You need a moment to compose yourself because your annoyance is through the roof. You are in your room, studying, being a good daughter and student, you didn’t say anything and she left your doors open.

You stand up and go to close your doors.

“Oh, right, we are out of jam - can you go to 7-eleven and grab something for breakfast?” It takes all your willpower not to scowl as your mother searches for her wallet. 

“Sure,” you say, shrugging, but inside you are nearly boiling. “Is that all?”

Your mother’s eyes snap to you and she eyes you warningly. You don’t roll your eyes even though you want to.

“Like milk or fruits?” You ask quickly to diffuse the situation. She must be really annoyed with Jaehyun and you are not about to earn what he is due. She visibly relaxes.

“Oh, you can buy grapes or bananas if you want to. And if they are fresh.”

Armed with cash you put on your flip-flops and first jacket you grab and go out. Less than 10 minutes later you leave the convenience store and as you are about to go back to your apartment you hear a familiar giggle. It’s barely audible but it catches your attention. You freeze, waiting for more, because the voice itself is distinctive enough to awaken your curiosity.

A few seconds later you hear it again, followed by a murmur of another familiar voice. You walk to the corner of the store and around it, where you know there is a hole in the fence and shrubs that shield this place from the road. If you wanted to, you could use it as a shortcut to Nams’ house., but dealing with shrubbery wasn’t worth it. But it was a place known to all the kids that grew up in this neighborhood. 

You do your best to be quiet but it’s hard to be with so many shrubs. The second voice hushes the first one.

“Jaehyun,” you call out with a lazy sneer in your voice. “You should’ve invited Bora inside and not made her hide in the shrubs. Also it’s better you come home, mom is so pissed with you right now.”

#kdrama imagine #kdrama scenario #nam joo hyuk imagine #nam joo hyuk scenario

[thong-in-the-twist]

And once more.

I fucked up, sorry.

[thong-in-the-twist]

I fucked up, sorry.

[thong-in-the-twist]

Chapter: Gwangju

//Gong Yoo (Kim Shin) x you

Summary: To atone for his sins he is forced to wander the Earth searching for her before it’s too late.

Prologue: Silla Goryeo Joseon Tamna March 1st

It's been three years since I updated this last. Exactly three years and 9 days, and I'm glad to be posting it. God it’s been so long I no longer remember how I used to format my entries. I don’t even remember my tagging system. A word of warning: modern Korean history is heavily marked with suffering and for the purposes of this story I needed "her" to go through... A lot. But there is only one chapter left, so hopefully, we won't be suffering a lot longer.

***

It was obvious to him that she was going to be reborn immediately. It worked like that for centuries, why this time it would have been different? So he started searching for her immediately, anxious. His land was crying, his people were suffering.

Forests were being cut down to fuel the new age, the industrialization age. Instead, the land was being converted into fields: rice, cereals, cotton. Colonizers were laying new roads, tarmac was flowing down the peninsula so similarly to cold mountain streams. All to fuel the new age, all to feed the great Japanese Empire.

Mines on the peninsula were running day and night, long shafts filled with exploited bodies. Names were being changed to Japanese sounding ones, men were forced to cut their hair, celibate Buddhist monks were forced to marry, kids were banned from learning Korean in schools, papers were censored, farmers forced out of their lands, his people were forced to worship Shinto, and to see the Emperor as a god.

Shamanistic rituals were even scarcer than during the reign of the Lee dynasty. People were no longer openly calling for him, but their thoughts thrown into the ether were reaching him. Pleas and begging, prayers and threats, all were filling his mind and heart. The burden was heavy. Not too heavy to carry, but it seemed harder than the sword he was carrying in his heart. It seemed heavier than the last memories of his other life, than the image of red on white stone.

She found her. Young girl in the seaside village, barely 20 kilometers north from the village where she was born as Binna, centuries ago. The village tree was still alive even if the village itself didn’t exist anymore. Kim Shin didn’t know what happened to it after he saw her sacrifice herself back then. Were it pirates, or wars, or famine that drew people out? There was no way of knowing it.

She was four when he found her. Back in Joseon she would have been found just in time, he’d have two years to convince her parents not to give her away. And then 11 years until she had to be wed. Her village was far off the beaten path. It was far from the capital and far from Japanese shores. People were hardened and down-to-earth but it was a tightly knit community. It was as safe as it could have been in that age and time.

Kim Shin spent his days under the Holy Tree, now surrounded by forest. He remembered the village square and colorful ribbons. He remembered tax collectors and their cart. He remembered Binna’s clothes and hair, and sword splitting her throat open.

Kim Shin visited her house by night. He hid in the shadows, not ready to be seen by her nor her parents. He watched her as she slept in the same room as the rest of her family. He watched her wondering what woman she would grow up to be. He hoped that he’d be able to shield her from any hardship that she was destined to face in her life.

While watching her sleep, he was reminiscing about her previous lives. Her bravery, her tenacity, her pride and her selflessness. The lives that were lived and ended for his people, the lives that were ended for him, the ones that were ended because of him.

Kim Shin was restless. He was used to waiting. He learnt to be patient after centuries of waiting and slowly working towards his goal. And yet, he was restless. Sitting by the Holy Tree he was restless and anxious. Her last life was sacrificed for the country. For this land, and for the people. And here he was waiting idly for her to grow up. She was safe.

The Holy Tree was old but strong, with new springs and bright green leaves. It was magnificent even without ribbons and paper talismans. It was safe, far off the beaten path.

Their people were not.

And yet, he was idly waiting for her to grow up and take away his burden, while sitting under the Holy Tree.

While their people were desperately begging for help.

She was safe. And he had time. He had enough time to present her the liberation of their people as a wedding gift.

And thus, Kim Shin was off once more.

*

Koreans were fighting on the peninsula, yes, but there were fighting abroad as well. Kim Shin supported the Provisional  Government of Republic of Korea in Shanghai, and aided students in Japan. When the empire invaded Manchuria, he was there fighting them off. He pleaded and negotiated with Chinese diplomats for them to move against the assailant before it was too late.

But the Central Kingdom waited too long, they were undecided way beyond what was safe. And thus, the Japanese attacked first.

The war that broke out drained the Korean peninsula even more. They were the ones to bear the brunt of feeding and supplying soldiers. And then, when Kim Shin was sure it couldn’t be worse, European war came to their lands, merging with the already raging Sino-Japanese conflict and bringing more players, more arms and more death into the equation. His people were forced into the Japanese army, forced to fight far away from their home – living and dying in China, Indonesia, Philippines.

He went where they were. It wasn’t their fight. They were farmers, artisans, teachers, workers – they weren’t warriors. He was. Kim Shin was back in the field, once more fighting for his homeland. Once more he took upon himself to be the most faithful agent of death. Immortal and determined, with unfamiliar weapon in his hand, but oh so familiar scent of blood, tears and fear clinging to him. The art of war changed through centuries but principles reminded the same.

But now it was harder to understand the purpose. It was harder to face dying foes. Every soul in his wake had hopes, and dreams, and dedication, and destiny – and yet he was invading the realm of the Divine, deciding who was to live and who was to day. What he did was to slaughter.

 But he was also fighting for his compatriots, forced to lay their lives for the occupant. He fought to save them and to bring them back to their land. He helped them escape, he cleared camps, he dealt with Japanese officers.

Japanese defeat was what they were hoping for anyway.

It was in Perek that faced his hardest encampment. It was in Perek that among Japanese officers and soldiers, and his people forced into ranks, he found others. It was in Perek that among male voices he heard female pleas.

It was in broad daylight that he marched through the camp, taking in the tents and appraising layouts and main locations. Where to get food, where to get supplies, where were the blind spots. It was in broad daylight that he heard a plea so similar to one he heard centuries ago in the Song Dynasty’s capital. So earnest and so broken plea of death.

After the first one came another, hurried and repeated like a mantra, like a prayer. And another, and another.

And another.

So familiar. So heartbreaking.

Here, so far from his homeland, he heard her begging for death. For an escape.

But she was safe. She was safe back in her village, on the shores of Eastern Seas. She was safe back in her village, so close to the Holy Tree.

And yet, it was her voice, strung thin and wavering, but unmistakably hers.

A taste of bile invaded his throat as he zeroed on a dilapidated building. Better than a shack only in the name, with dark walls and dirty windows barely containing the horrors inside. His surroundings seemed to disappear, sounds of the encampment dying out, the building his focal point.

He took his time. Waiting itself was horrible, pleas constant, it would have been so easy to just end it. End all of it, all of them, all of the oppressors, just raze the  camp to the ground. But he was afraid. Afraid of going inside and seeing that was happening, how they lived. It was easy to guess, and hard to understand. Justified rage was clawing his insides, not only for her, but for all of them. It wasn’t human to do, not that the occupant was ever human.

His fear was their prolonged suffering.

He fulfilled every one of their pleas. Every single one. Some wished for death, some wished for death for their oppressors. Some wished for health, some wished to never remember. Some wished for another chance in life, some wished for one last meeting with assailants and sharp object to meet them with. He did it all.

She wanted a knife. Sharp, and easy to conceal. She found it with glee and fervor. She wanted for her doors to be open and for night to be dark. She wished for rain, heavy and obscuring. She wished for that man to fall. To suffer. To know. To fear. To never forget.

Kim Shin watched her as she sneaked out of her room. He watched her back as she sneaked through the building, chastising himself for ever believing she was safe. It wasn’t even 15 years since he saw her last. He watched her as she found her prey. He watched her as she made sure that man would never do the same thing to another woman ever again.

His screams were muffled by a gag she made out of her sad excuse of a blanket. His blood was mixing with the falling rain, that matted her hair to her face. Her skin was ghostly, blush and looked paper-thin.

Once again he watched her as she raised her blade against herself. She was sure and focused,  and emanating finally found peace. She was quick and efficient, and he barely had time to catch her before she fell down. She was smiling when her head hit the cradle of his head and her open eyes were staring lifelessly at the rainy clouds.

Kim Shin sat there in the rain, holding her body, obvious to now quiet whimpers coming from the man laying a few steps away from him. Once more her life was filled with suffering. Was her childhood good? How did she grow up? How long was she here?

He didn’t cry – feeling like he did not deserve to. She wasn’t the only one of his people that went through this, and something was telling him that there were countless more suffering now.

*

Finding her was important, but making sure that the world she was being born into was better became urgent. Kim Shin knew he couldn’t deal with her suffering. All recent lives he witnessed ended in a tragedy. Queen trying to protect freedom, young girl fighting for it, and the one that saw it in death.

She deserved freedom, all of his people did.

And freedom came with pain, tears and even more death. Foreign powers fought over his land, influencing its growth and stagnation once again. His land was sold and divided even after its occupant lost the war. Both red and blue powers abhorred giving Koreans back their land and their freedoms, forcing their ideologies upon them.

And thus the greatest conflict shook the land once more. June 25th, the day when brother went against his brother. Three years. Three years of fights, civil war raging on the peninsula destroying what was left after 35 years of the occupation.

And even that conflict ended because outside powers decided so. Every death, every lost soul – it was all because foreigners decided to settle their differences right there on Korean soil. The wound left by the war was painful and still suppurating. Peninsula was divided into two, one nation was split and the border between them became a wall that separated families and broke people’s spirit.

He saw fourteen hundred years of conflicts and changes, and ups and downs, but the last hundred years were far the worst he had seen. For the first time in his long life he wasn’t sure how to go about finding her. If he even should. Every time he found her, he lost her just as quickly. She suffered so much.

But if he didn’t search for her, he was sure that the Divine would find another way to punish them. Like giving her knowledge of his existence and urging her to wait for him.

By now Divine schemes were somewhat readable. He’d find her where he’d least expect her – where she was supposedly the safest, yet in the biggest danger. People in the south were struggling, famine and corruption was rampant. North was getting help from other communist states and plotting expansion. And he couldn’t find her.

Just like when he found her on Tamna, she wasn’t here. She wasn’t within the borders of both Korean states. And that’s what horrified him. He looked in China, so many of his compatriots lived there. He looked in Japan among those who stayed after occupation. He searched in South East Asia among those who stayed after the second world war. He visited the United States of America, hoping to find her there. And yet, as if the Divine was shielding her from him, he couldn’t find her.

In Germany he saw the Wall. The Berlin Wall dividing one nation into two. The blue state and red state, just like his homeland, was divided. The Wall was fresh and imposing, newly built. A palpable sign of schism. A knife in a wound, cutting it more open with every breath. It wasn’t as protected as the inter-Korean border was but it served as a reminder of similarly painful division.

As Kim Shin walked by the Wall, on the western side of the border, he heard a cautious ask. Barely audible, fleeting.

The person was asking for a haircut. If he wasn’t over fourteen hundred years old, he’d dismiss it as an auditory illusion. What would be a Korean doing behind the Iron Curtain – asking for a haircut?

Kim Shin knew better. Kim Shin knew: she was there.

*

Finding his way into the USSR was easier than he thought it to be. As a citizen of the communist, neighboring nation, he was more than welcome. He travelled from Korea, surprised by the sheer numbers of Koreans on the USSR's eastern lands. But the closer he got to Europe the fewer they got. By the time he left Moscow, his head was clear and free of usual prayers. It was in Poland that he heard one more plea – a different voice, exactly the same ask.

Children. Who Kim Shin found were children. From 5 years old to 16. War orphans being cared for by people so vastly different from them.

She was among them, one of the oldest kids, happily chatting in weirdly hard language.

It took him quite long to understand why all the kids kept praying for a haircut. Their hair was neatly kept, just like their clothes, their rooms. There was something of military efficiency in the way they were being brought up, and Kim Shin understood that it was due to a few Korean supervisors that came here with kids.

Kids were cared for, but not exactly loved. That’s why they thought so fondly of getting haircuts. Hairdressers would pat and massage their heads – that was an extent of warmth they were getting.

*

She and the rest of the kids were sent back to Korea a few months later. She drowned in a river when she tried to escape back to her European orphanage for the third time. Yalu River was her undoing, just like those centuries ago cold waters of the sea took her away.

So much death. So much suffering. What for?

As the North's situation was getting worse, the South started fighting for its economy. Authoritarian governments in both Koreas were similar in goals but different in execution, and slowly their fates were changing. South Korea was coming out of poverty, just as North Korea started spiraling into it.

With newly found resources South Koreans were finally able to think and want – and what they wanted was freedom. Freedom through free choice and democracy. Assassination of general Park, southern dictator, seemed like a perfect opportunity – but before democratic movement could raise its momentum it was brutally squashed.

***

“If we all go, they won’t be able to hold him! We need to get him out!”

Every frantic sentence is met with loud approval. You weren’t surprised when they formed a new government without looking back at people. You weren’t surprised when Chun Doohwan took over KCIA while still holding his position in the Korean Army. Of course he would. Even martial law wasn’t a surprise. But a few hours ago you heard that they arrested Kim Daejung.

Kim was an oppositionist. He was fighting for democracy in your country, and what was more important he was from your region. Rumors said that he was being held on charges of instigating demonstrations.

What a bull…

You were there all because you wanted to be there, and wanted better for your country.

“They are closing the university!” The shout could be heard above the other voices. Suddenly the thirty of you fell silent. You focused on the man that shouted it. You knew his face, you might have seen him once or twice in the library.

“What…?”

“Chun declared universities to be dangerous to society!” The roar that follows is deafening. There is no more “inciting”, all of you immediately walk to the university, gathering other students while marching.

The road leading to the main entrance is long, which gives you a perfect view of army vehicles parked in front of it. Soldiers organizing were also visible, moving with purpose or watching you with caution.  Your group wasn’t big. Maybe two hundred souls. You weren’t sure what was the plan – but the goal was clear – to show that you wouldn’t take it lying down. They couldn’t take it all. Freedom, Kim Daejung, universities.

You weren’t sure who threw the first stone. It was all a blur. There was shouting, screams and orders, flying stones and falling batons. The students’ group dispersed only to form back, and to scatter once more but this time closer to the Provincial Office.

This time soldiers were wearing riot gear.

*

“You know well that I am going back out there!”

Your mother's eyes are filled with tension. The same tension pushes her lips into a thin line drawing her wrinkles out. She won’t back down, but neither will your brother and you.

“Mom, it’s what we have to do. They killed Gyeongcheol,” says Chanhwan. He is a high school senior and his goal was to get into your university.

“His poor mother,” whispers your mother as if against herself. That was something she said every time this was mentioned. Soldiers in riot gear killed Kim Gyeongcheol as he was passing by protesters. It infuriated the city and their protest was gathering momentum, but every person counted.

They needed to pay. For Gyeongcheol and for those who were killed yesterday.

What you wouldn’t tell your mother is the fact that you got guns. Yesterday you raided one of the military warehouses. It wasn’t an usual protest anymore, it was an uprising. Chanhwan told you that he heard that folks were talking about liberating Gwangju and making it into a free city. An official request for help was being drafted to be sent to the US Embassy. A country so enamored with freedom would for sure help you.

Freedom.

That’s what you longed for.

A horn outside let you know that your transport was there. Chanhwan was already out the doors, you stalled a second to grab your mother’s hand.

“Believe in us, mom. We will be back, victorious,” you said with emphasis. The world was yours to take and you wouldn’t hesitate. You run outside, not waiting for her to answer, and jump into the waiting taxi.

What an odd vehicle to be driving to a fight.

*

City was cordoned off and outside communications were cut. It didn’t scare you off. Nothing could, really.

Taxi was slowly rolling down the street, Chanhwan laying low in the driver's seat. He knew that as soon as he raised his head, he’d be dead. You knew that there were forces on the other end of the street aiming at you with their guns, hidden behind covers.

You and Chanhwan’s friend Sunwoo were slowly creeping along the car, using it as a moving shield. You could see a body that you were tasked with retrieving. You hoped the girl was alive. You all knew that not moving after being shot increased your chances of surviving if you couldn’t move on your own.

Suddenly you heard a loud bang and sounds of automatic fire.

“Run!” yelled Chanhwan and you didn’t need to be told twice. With Sunwoo you lurched forward trying to match Chanhwan’s accelerations. You kept your head low as smoke filled the street. Sunwoo was the first to reach the body.

Dead.

Boy opened back doors and together you pushed the lifeless body inside – not caring for decency you jumped inside as Sunwoo closed doors behind you. You heard him get in and Chanhwan was speeding off.

Girl’s hair smelt of flowers.

*

A helicopter was flying overhead. You’ve never would have guessed that you’d learn how to make Molotov’s cocktail. But there you were pushing a rag into a bottle. Sunwoo was in the field hospital, chances of saving his leg quite high. Which was more than could be said about many of your friends.

Casualties were high, but you weren’t ready to give up. The uprising cost the city too many lives to be so easily abandoned.

How could your government do that? You didn’t know. But you hoped for those soldiers to spend the rest of their lives knowing that they killed their own.

Chanhwan was on the other side of the street, giving you signs. You focused on him and he started slowly counting down with his fingers. As soon as you saw him countdown to zero, you threw your bottle.

There was an explosion and a sudden yell. You didn’t stay put to see the effect, you needed to escape as fast as possible. On your left you could see a group of fifteen or so students running the other way. There were fires and smoke and it could be hard to realize what was happening.

You lost your footing as you realized that Chanhwan was not running parallel to you. It seemed like eternity as you looked back to see him lying on the corner of the street. You could see his dark uniform jacket slowly dampening with even darker liquid.

It wasn’t conscious. Nor your scream, nor your leap.

The first bullet going through your arm was more surprising than painful. Second one caught your leg, tripping you down, the third one pierced through your clavicle as you fell. You saw smoke, and soldiers moving forward with riot shields, and your brother laying on the street, and an abandoned taxi. You saw another group of students running somewhere to your right.

Pavement was hot from the sun as you fell down. It didn’t hurt, or maybe it was so painful that you couldn’t feel it.

You saw a blue butterfly flying away.

***

Kim Shin forced his way into the fighting city. Through fields and through the army, he walked into the fray. No one knew. A village ten kilometers away? No one knew what was happening in the city. There were rumors, but not one could have prepared him for the riots he saw.

He saw students organizing, he saw local militias forming, he saw field hospitals being erected, he saw taxi and bus drivers using their vehicles to help the cause.

Had he done everything he could? No. Was it resignation? Maybe.

How many times had he seen her fighting? Why every time he saw her she was either suffering or leading a good fight. Why was she always selfless, and always right in the center of a turmoil ailing his nation. Just once couldn’t she be selfish and live?

Seeing her protest against authoritarian government barely half a century after she did the same against occupation filled him with unfamiliar annoyance. Rage. Why her. What did she do to be always reincarnated into such circumstances.

Was it even worth pursuing her?

Was it his atonement for not killing his king eons ago, even when she sacrificed herself. Was she destined to be laying her life for a cause while he watched her do it?

Defiance. That was what stopped him from acting. He could have gone on a rampage. Just like when he was a general, fighting with Gaya’s warriors. It wouldn’t have been hard, decimating troops. Those already stationed in the city, and those that would undoubtedly come to reinforce them.

He felt old. He was old. Looking at the fighting city he felt like it wasn’t his fight.

In the city he saw a foreigner. A foreigner with a camera. Documenting what was happening, what atrocities were committed on Gwangju’s streets.

Instead of watching her die once again he decided to protect the foreigner. To make sure that his recordings would be seen by the world.

As Kim Shin protected the foreigner, he didn’t realize that he could no longer hear prayers.

#gong yoo scenarios #gong yoo imagine #kdrama scenarios #kdrama imagine

[thong-in-the-twist]

Glad you found it! Now it even has a sequel: Coming after courting, for those that felt a little bit dissatisfied with this part hah

Courting

//Gong Yoo x you ❤️

Word count: 11,119

Summary: Gong Yoo knows shit about courting women.

Rated: explicit, mentions of toys and bondage

Ok, I know everybody is losing their shit over Goblin (AND I AM AS WELL), but I’ve always loved him, and today I realised that he has no English porn online, and the state of his fanfiction is even worse than Jongdae’s so… Say hello to Gong Yoo, he is here to stay. Along EXO.

Special thanks to @hidaulie for French translation, and for research on suits, which somehow lead to maddening spam of photos of Gong Yoo wearing suits.

This job is everything you could have dreamed of. Every job you could manage while being a senior at the University is a good job, but the one that has satisfactory pay, social that you can’t really complain about, and it’s moderately easy? It’s a needle found in the stack of hay, really.

And on top of that, it’s one that you can put on your LinkedIn resume and it would actually give you some kind of experience.

Keep reading

#moment for tidt

[thong-in-the-twist]

Do you take requests?

Oh, hon, I don't even write.

[thong-in-the-twist]

Coming after courting

//Gong Yoo x you ❤️ 

Word count: 4,400

Hi, guys! So many of you loved (and enjoyed) my Courting - and I finally came through and I am coming to you with my humble offering. It’s a sequel, which is basically there so I can relieve my horniness. Also I am indulging my kink, so yeah.

Warnings: size kink, cock ring, body worship(?)

***

It’s not like you didn’t realize it. Of course you did. One would have been really blind not to see the striking difference in sizes. Jicheol is big. You are not. He is big in every aspect you can think of. He is tall, his shoulders are broad, his thighs are muscled, his fingers are long, his girth is substantial.

You are nowhere near his measurements. And it’s not a problem, you’ve never seen it as such. Of course, kissing him can be a challenge whether you are wearing heels or not. In heels you can easily yank him down with a hand on his nape and it’s sort of comfortable for both of you. If he keeps his massive hands on your jaw and holds your face up, cradling your head – you are good. You don’t even have to use much of your strength, he is cushioning any strain you might feel. Without heels, now that’s a real challenge. It usually involves some kind of acrobatics either from you or from Jicheol. But most often from you. Jicheol goes as far as bend slightly to you – but he is easily annoyed. Then he picks you up, slams you against a wall or puts you on higher flat surface. Your ass has already came in contact with every flat surface in your flat and his condo, nothing in his office was spared either. You also learned to climb on things to be able to kiss him. Standing on stack of books that don’t fit onto your bookcase, jumping onto stack of wastepaper ready to be recycled, climbing on the shoe rack in your hallway, rocking on the sofa, balancing on the open drawer you were using to get to your favorite mug (after that one incident he bought you a step stool designed for children as a joke – you told him to shove it because you are too dignified for it and ended up using it anyway because everything in his condo is way too high).

The thing is you are not that small. You believe to be a normal size, but next to this giant – you feel way smaller than you are.

And the thing is you like it very much.

It didn’t come to you easily. It was a slow but very informing process. You might have missed signs in the beginning, but as of right now, you are sure – you like it very much. You like it when you are working and you are tapping away on your laptop, maybe with earphones in, and you suddenly see a shadow on your keyboard and heavy presence behind you. You love it when he comes closer, so your desk is in his shadow and you turn around to face him and he is standing so close that you have to bare your neck to be able to look at his face.

You like it when you are walking down the empty corridor but you can hear office being alive, coffee machine working in the kitchen, people talking, photocopier printing, and suddenly he is there with you, and he pushes you against the wall and although you can hear it, you can’t see anything except Jicheol, his body covering yours completely. You like it when he steers you out of danger when you walk together outside, his big hand splaying on your side, middle finger nearly reaching your navel while his thumb barely misses your spine.

His sheer size is what keeps you on your toes, literally and not.

You stretch, your vertebras snapping back in place and you risk a glance behind you. You are subtle, you know you are, but Jicheol’s assistant is as good as they come, immediately sensing your eyes on her and she looks up – just as you casually slide your eyes on the cubicles closer to you. At this point you are sure she knows. She is that good. But you are not official by any means and you suspect she doesn’t think highly of you, probably believing that you are sleeping with her boss for profit.

And, well. Sleeping with him is a profit in its own right.

You hoped you’d be able to sneak into his office, but you know better not to try when she is guarding the doors. You hope that one day you’ll be able to best her in her own game, but it’s definitely not today.

So you turn back to your computer, feeling how her eyes are burning a hole in the back of your head.

You manage to keep it up for another 40 minutes before you try to look around again – and yes, nothing changed. Assistant’s head snaps right when you glance at her. She must have some kind of third eye that is always open and always looking at you.

Another half an hour or so, and you really can’t stand how slow this day is going. It Wednesday, still too many days till weekend, and still too much time before your day ends and you wish for a quick break. You stop working for a second, wondering if you should try looking back once more, when you see, out of the corner of your eye, the assistant walking down the aisle. You have no doubt that she is eyeing you warningly, but your adrenaline levels are spiking.

And here you were believing that she doesn’t pee at all.

Sure enough, she disappears in the toilet, and you are out of your seat is seconds. You walk to Jicheol’s office as if you had business in going to him, and while it’s true, the nature of this business is not something you’d like to share with your overseeing manager.

Feeling like a kid stealing freshly baked cookies, you knock on the doors and go in: only to find out that the office is empty. As it should be, Jicheol was supposed to be out of office today. Which you totally forgot about.

Your mood is killed, but you did come with a purpose, so you walk over to his chair, sit down in it, pose just like you wanted to do in front of him, snap a picture and you are out of his office before his assistant comes back.

You send the photo only when you sit back down at your desk.

*

Jicheol seems frustrated and amused as he holds his phone in front of your face. You are not entirely sure what seems to be a problem as you stare at the photo you’ve sent him.

“Care to explain this?”, he asks as if you owed him an explanation. Which is odd, because the picture itself should be self explanatory. It’s not like it’s a nude or anything like that. It’s you, sitting in his chair, no biggie. He must have seen your lack of understanding on your face because he follows: “I got it while I was discussing a new deal with AS Group.”

Well, that certainly clarifies the problem.

“I mean, it’s me? In your chair?”, you say, doing your best to keep your face straight.

“Well, yeah, but what are you doing?”, he is not going to let it go. You can see that and you wouldn’t want it any other way. He goes as far as pointing at the offending part of the picture.

“Oh! You mean the part where I am biting the cock ring you so nicely presented me with?”, you still keep up the pretense of not really realizing what the problem is. “And why were you checking your phone while discussing a new deal with AS Group? You should know better than to do that.”

That gives him a pause and he brings his phone back, looking at the picture. You smile as you watch his eyes darken a little. He clears his throat and puts his phone down, just when your food arrives.

“You know what? You are right, actually,” he says, looking at his plate and grabbing fork and knife, voice perfectly conversational. “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have checked the phone during the meeting.”

“Good boy,” the praise makes him snap his eyes back at you. It takes a few heartbeats before he laughs, loud and free. His left eye closes a millisecond earlier than the other one and as always it puts you at ease. It’s just so familiar. There is a slight disbelief in his features, the air of incredulity about him when he shakes his head but when he focuses back on you? The warmth and the love you see in his eyes match your own feelings. He slides his hand across the table, resting it on your own. You look down, seeing how it completely covers your smaller hand, how his long fingers reach below your wrist and there is a prickling sensation at the back of your head.

You love him this big.

*

You look at him when he drives you home. It’s Wednesday night, a school night, so to speak, you have to wake up early tomorrow and go to work, and so does Jicheol. There is something lazy about the way he drives. He looks relaxed, with one hand on the wheel and the other on the gearshift. The silence that took over the car is comfortable and you are using all your senses to feast on him.

His shoulders are broad. Half of it is just bone structure but the rounded shape of his muscles that curve smoothly into the biceps – that’s what gets to you. The veins near his wrists that get your attention when he changes gears are also something to enjoy. You feel no shame in appreciating his chest moving with every breath, his legs shifting when he presses pedals.

There is no shame in appreciating what’s basically yours.

And there is definitely no shame in getting turned on by this.

Somewhere along the way Jicheol turns his head to you. He never has any qualms about you ogling him so intensively. He usually notices you staring and smiles. It’s a small, secretive smile, one that shows you that he knows how much you love his body and that he has nothing against it – because he knows you love the rest of him as well.

Because you do.

Nearly as much as you love his massive hands.

But this time, when he lazily turns his head to you, there is something he sees in your face that stops him. That makes it harder for him to focus back on the road. You can see how his fingers clench on the wheel, how he shifts and how he clears his throat.

You don’t have to look at his lap to know what is happening. You instantly get hot as if he turned off air conditioning. He didn’t but it still seems like all the oxygen has disappeared from the car. You uncross your legs, feeling how damp the fabrics of your jeans is. You say nothing not to distract Jicheol, trying and failing to breathe evenly.

Above the slowly raising volume of thumping blood in your ears you can hear how Jicheol starts tapping his fingers on the wheel. Where the fuck is your building?

A quiet thank god when you finally see it that falls from Jicheol’s mouth makes you laugh. It’s a wild laugh, a laugh of a person that’s losing it. Especially when the gods are not helping you in your quest and Jicheol needs to drive around to find an empty spot to park.

“You really need to get yourself a place with assigned parking,” he says in even voice. That’s what gives him away – his even, controlled voice appears only when he is about to lose control.

You hum agreeably through a lump in your throat. It’s hard to keep your calm and your leg is shaking impatiently. When you see another car leaving, freeing a space for you to take, you nearly yell to get Jicheol’s attention. He swerves into it, little care for safety and you don’t even wait for him to straighten the wheels. You are out of the car as soon as he is in the parking spot.

He follows you, leaving his perfectionist nature impulse to straighten the wheels for another time. It’s not the place nor time to focus on such small things, when there are bigger matters at hand.

You are already halfway to your building when he catches up with you. You know that if he wanted he could have done it earlier but he was probably ogling your ass. Not that you mind.

He grabs your hand, your fingers entwining, his fingertips reaching your wrist. Again. It sends another hot wave through your body and you pick up your pace, dragging him behind you. You don’t check but you are fairly sure he is smiling.

Elevator ride is mercifully short albeit quite stinky. It’s an enclosed space and had it be a different building you would have already jumped Jicheol. But it’s not, and you are not touching him here – where there is a possibility that in the spur of a moment he will push you against one of those disgusting walls. No matter how much you want to go down on him, you are definitely not down for that.

You ready your keys and slip an essential into your back pocket before you get out of the elevator and you cross the last stretch of your race to your apartment. Jicheol is right behind you, breathing down your neck when you unlock the doors. The heat radiating from his body only distracts you, your palms immediately getting sweaty.

Finally you stumble in, toeing your shoes off in the process. Even Jicheol pays no mind to his own shoes as he kicks them off. And then he spins you around and kisses you before you can get your bearings.

And then you don’t even try.

He sighs. You both have been waiting and wanting to do that for so long (most of the day) and it can be felt. You can feel it in your gut, you can feel it in your suddenly relaxing muscles. You can feel it in his hands holding your face up, in his thumb caressing your throat, in his tongue just filthy in your mouth. He can’t be comfortable. He must be bending low to reach your mouth and you surge up onto your toes, your teeth clashing in the process. But neither of you minds.

You pull his collar shirt out of his pants and push your hands under, you feel his skin under your fingers as you slide them onto his back. Skin on skin contact is intoxicating and so is the realization how hard is waist is. It’s narrower than the rest of his body – but compared to yours? Not as much anymore.

You want to be pressed into the mattress with that body. You want to be covered completely with air pushed out of your lungs by his sheer weight. You want it holding you down, you want to be unable to see ceiling above his shoulder, you want all your world to be comprised to his body on top of you, his hand on your side leaving massive bruise on your skin. You want it all.

Now.

And it must be a shared sentiment because he walks you back into your living room. He tries to say something, head moving back but as soon as you sense his escape, you grab him oh-so-desperately. You arms surge up, grabbing his neck and yanking him back down. This time it’s your turn to get filthy, not enough mind left to be teasing. You are the one exploring, you are the one controlling, you are the one not letting the kiss end.

Jicheol groans – it’s a somewhat pained sound. As if he couldn’t believe how aroused you are or as if he just couldn’t help himself.

The back of your legs hits your sofa and you immediately tumble down. He falls down with you, barely controlling his fall and it kicks all of your air out of your lungs. Yes!

He pushes himself between your legs and you just let them fall open. He rolls his hips down, his belt pushing into your stomach, pushing you even deeper into your sofa. Yeah!

The next time, your hips go up to meet his and it makes you groan. You let your legs fall open as wide as they go – one squished against the backrest. The slight pain of your tendons pulling is nothing to the amazing feeling of his hardening erection rubbing just down the middle seam of your jeans. The sofa is not big enough to hold you both comfortably and Jicheol crawls up, his elbows above your shoulders his thigh pushing your free leg even higher. He crowds you against cushions your body covered by his. You exhale through your nostrils, but when you try to roll your hips with what little leverage you can muster – he drops down, his hips pushing yours into the sofa. YAS!

He is dry humping you into the cushions and you love every second, every electrifying push against your crotch, every drag of your clothes against your skin, now that they are getting damper with every second. And kissing? Kissing is a great counterpoint – so languid and filthy. You give as good as you get, biting back every time you feel teeth on your lip. You chase his tongue into his mouth whenever he backs out. You breaths are turning heavier, you can feel his exhale on your cheek, you can feel your mixed saliva on your chin.

He is the one to break the kiss and you are nearly offended. Especially when he sits up, one hand idly resting on your calf hanging on the couch. Fingers try to sink into it, but denim is not forgiving. You are heaving, looking up at this Greek god above you. Your legs are spread as far as they go, inviting him, even when you are still clothed, and the way your hips gyrate tell a clear story. His hand slides up onto your thigh – the warmth you feel through the denim on the inside of your thigh makes you whimper.

Jicheol smiles and the hand is gone – just so he can take off his shirt. Which is great because you decide to lose yours at the same moment. Your bra follows and they all land on the floor, unaccounted for. The moment you see skin you sit up and you both collide because Jicheol decided to go down. It’s prefect when he pushes you back into the sofa, naked skin on naked skin. The kiss is no longer languid and your hands are not longer idle. You are reacquainting yourself with his back and torso, while his own measure your dimensions. Five fingers from your waist to the side of your breasts, length of his middle finger from the side of your breast to your nipple, his mouth maps out the diameter of it, tongue measuring protruding height.  You keep his head close not letting him stop his inspection.

“Ass, ass!” you exhale sounding quite wanton, even to your own ears. You push your hips into his amazing stomach to accentuate what you mean – because you realize he might not understand.

But he does, ever so surely sliding his hand down your arched spine, squeezing your ass. Great.

Jicheol groans around your other nipple teeth setting dangerously over it, he must have felt the hardness of the secret your pocket held. And he knew exactly what that was, even before he pulled it out. Warm metal lands on your stomach. Jicheol’s hand covers it and he uses the ring to mark your body with it. Sliding it up your ribcage, measuring against your breast, rolling up the neck. Your tongue darts out to taste the metal, his reaction is immediate: coming up to kiss you, ring hanging off his fingers as he brushes your hair off your face.

The process of pulling off pants is elaborate and weird but you find yourself back in the starting position and now his hand curling around your thigh, ring once more rolling a path down your skin. You laugh breathily when you realize where is it going. Smooth metal barely rolls down your clitoris and you are whining, offended with the teasing touch. Jicheol mimics your breathy laugh, which dies suddenly when he takes himself into his hand. You support yourself on your elbows to see him fit the ring around his cock and balls.

Have you ever mentioned how much you love his cock?

It’s big, hard and you have no qualms with admitting that. It’s also red and wet from precome and marked with veins. It’s also now adorned with silver band around the base and you can believe how long you waited for this to happen. The need to know what exactly will happen is intoxicating. You won’t wait anymore and you unceremoniously push your hand between your spread legs, thumb roughly circling around your clitoris.

Yes, you can masturbate with Jicheol between your legs. And that’s because it’s naked Jicheol between your legs, your dirty dream, your biggest sin, your most revered fantasy. Your hips rose off the bed chasing your own hand and the way Jicheol’s eyes narrowed on your hand makes you moan. Possessive hand lands on your waist, fingers nearly brushing your spine as he pushes you down and fucks into you with a quick forceful thrust.

“Yes!” you unabashedly moan, free hand reaching Jicheol. He grabbed your hand, kissing your fingers as he leisurely started to move inside you.

Hot wave spreads through your body. It’s highly erotic, something that still catches you off guard. Every time you expect Jicheol to be nearly animalistic, dangerous in bed. With body like that you expect him to threaten you but he only ever makes you feel safe. He shows his vulnerable side, he shows his soft side.

You watch him hypnotized. Jicheol kisses every knuckle, your palm, your wrist, all while rolling his hips into you. Those are not deep-reaching strokes. They are short, rolling, more teasing than not. It’s the thumb on your clitoris that makes you hot.

He suddenly drops down, pushing your wrist into the cushion above your head and you know you wouldn’t be able to fight it – you don’t have enough strength to fight him nor you want to. His head fits between your neck and shoulder and he kisses your jugular.

“Don’t rush it, babe, we are in for a long run,” he whispers huskily, delivering first real thrust of the night. You throw your head back, because yes, yes, yes that’s what you wanted. His breath is fanning your skin when he does it again, his knees slipping on the bed, body falling on top of yours, effectively trapping your hand between your bodies.

That’s a cage you always dream of.

The only lacking thing, however sweet it may be, is him kissing your neck – you want him above you, chasing his own pleasure, fucking you like he needs it.

“Only when I’m done with you,” he states and you don’t want it to be an empty threat. Teeth scrape your pulse point and you push your hips up, your hand putting pressure on his abdomen – you are still teasing your clitoris as much as you can.

One more snap of his hips, nice, one more, like that, pause so he can adjust his knees, one thigh pushing your leg that’s hanging off the sofa just a little bit higher. He bears down on it, moving off center and then he thrusts. He starts fucking you. But, really fucking you. Your hand in his grasp clenches on his fingers as you instinctively try to move up, away from brain numbing pleasure.

He is moving above you, but close enough for you to feel his warmth, experience his sheer size, enjoy the way his chest brushes against yours. You arch to get your pinched nipples any stimulation you can get.

That’s exactly what you’ve been yearning for. Jicheol labored breath in your ear, obscene sounds filling the room, your body sweaty and squirming with his body on top of you, balls deep in you.

And soon thoughts like that leave you – there is only heat, arousal and flashes of pleasure building up into an surely oncoming orgasm.

He brings you to it, fingers leaving imprints on different parts of your body, teeth sinking into skin, tongue lapping at the dented skin. He brings you to it, body sputtering filthy when he doesn’t have enough breath to talk anymore.

He fucks you through it, holding you down, drinking your moans straight from your lips.

And he keeps fucking you though it with a growl deep in his chest. And he keeps fucking you after the sound disperses in the air. He keeps fucking you long after you expect him to end, he keeps fucking you after already dried tears start falling down again. You are coming apart, too hazed with your oversensitivity, spasming on the bed, your pelvic floor muscles cramping periodically, still greedily sucking him inside, your body still trying to get away from the excessive force of his thrusts.

And he is still going hard and strong.

Later you will remember. Later, after all is done, and you can start to breathe more freely, when you can move to the bed on your shaky legs, your labias and your vagina still pulsing, clitoris swollen and body covered in red marks, you will realize that his prowess was enhanced by the stupid ring he gave you. Later, after all is done, and you can bask in the glory of this phenomenal intercourse, wrapped in his muscular arms, you will realize that it was indeed a present to you.

But for now, he was still fucking you, face contorted with overwhelming pleasure. His hips were faltering ever so often, sloppy kisses eating up your pained approval. Your legs cramped as your toes curled and your back arched, your fingers on your neck. He was on top of you, and through glazed eyes you saw neck, clavicle, chest – no sign of the ceiling.

As he kept fucking you.

#gong yoo #gong yu #gon jicheol #gong yoo scenario #gong yoo imagine #gong yoo scenarios #gong yoo imagines #kdrama scenario #kdrama scenarios

[thong-in-the-twist]

No worries, we all have lives to live. Empty handed or not, your blog is yours. So please don’t feel pressured on writing anything. I was on hiatus for a while too, so I was just trying to find the stories I was following.

Glad to be of use. I hope you find the stories as good as they were in the first place! One last thing: my masterlist is still shit, and it hasn’t been updated in quite a long time (to the point where I am unable to find my own stuff - which sucks).

Good thing I don’t feel pressured to write - I want to write!

[thong-in-the-twist]

So glad you're back (no pressure or anything - it doesn't matter if you decide to write or not, so please don't feel obligated to post soon or anything. We're just happy that you're back)! Hopefully everything is well with you! I missed you very much and just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate the work you always put in your stories and how much you actually interact with your readers! Thank you for your hard work

Oh my god, that actually brought a smile to my face. I never considered myself to be on the ‘interacting’ side, so thank you for saying that!

I am very good! Life is good and funny, and I am rather enjoying myself - the only downside? I am rather horny lately which is what made me comeback. Mainly that. Thong in the twist is my horny safe space, after all~

[thong-in-the-twist]

I was definitely thinking about that Yixing Train fic the other day and could not remember what it was called or who it was by and the search feeds have been so wonky I couldn’t find it. But I knew I had post notifications turned on and now you’re responding to asks and I found it again!

It so wild for me to think that people actually have notifications on for me. And also it makes me self-conscious because you are now getting notifications and I am just answering asks.

I am glad you found it tho! Even though I come back empty-handed ㅠㅠ

[thong-in-the-twist]

omg hi??????i haven't seen your blog for so long and i was trying to recall your username because i miss reading your fics and suddenly i saw your blog again im so happy omg youre one of my fav author thank u for writing

! Omg, I am happy that my sudden activity helped you find it! (Because I guess that’s how it works?) Well, if you enjoy rereading stuff, then please do enjoy the old fics galore - because I have not much to offer otherwise.

Thank you, thank you, for writing that! It means so much, to be reading that ❤️

[thong-in-the-twist]

Omg I thought about u today and then you answered asks. Glad to know you're still here ❤️

Oh no, you were thinking about me? How sweet! Yeah, I am lurking here~ But yeah, for the first time in months I have a will and need to write so I gathered my courage to come out and talk to people as I try to finish my next piece.

Especially when I honestly don’t have time to do it! Right when I REALLY want to write. Nothing in life is fair but that is a little heart breaking.

And thank you for talking to me! Highly appreciated ❤️ ~

[thong-in-the-twist]

you are one of the best writers in thiis fandom. your writiing is so refreshing and fun. thank u for everything

Oh my god, thank you so much! It’s so nice to read that! I am sorry though that I can’t give you more of my refreshing and fun writing ㅠㅠ

[thong-in-the-twist]

I didn't know you write jung hae in scenarios omg I'm suprised. I love u so much ❤❤❤

How could I not? (Except for the fact that I don’t really write anymore.) He is just too perfect not to imagine him in scenarios! Thank you very much ❤ ~

[thong-in-the-twist]

I was listening to Billy Joel and Uptown girl came in and it reminded me of you. I hope you're ok!

I have that song on my spotify playlist and whenever I hear it I really want to reread Uptown Girl. Thank you for checking in on me, I am good!