I Literally Have No Idea/creativity To Write

I literally have no idea/creativity to write 🥲

words existed

(but yours broke my heart)

I wrote this poem a while back. Thinking of including this in the next chap- what do you guys think?

A little spoiler of Chapter 2. Enjoy!

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𓆜 𓆝 𓆞 𓆟‧₊˚ ☽ ⋅

"It ends here, as it starts.

The story of my heart, listen intently:

The shore, that waves at me sometimes,

and the sandy breeze

that welcomes me home

at some nights.

I lay in the night to uncover it,

and the water, the water

touches the vessel (me), it's familiar with.

It unknots and unfolds,

And the water– the water runs as it was,

Ever hot, as it's equally cold.

My Porcelain pot, careful— it's delicate, I had told him.

Between the to and fro,

and there—

he was reckless, and I lost it!

Now the tears, Oh, the tears wash the ocean floor,

the flora and fauna that flourishes

beneath the warm shore.

I cry; and the ocean blooms,

Oh, how fascinating it once was.

The seagull that squeaks

the thunder that clears up the blue sky

And breathe, my darling

Because it was talking by

The vessel knows the strange language

It's the ba-dum now, it's the Thump then.

Strange, it seems,

making me naïve, sensitive, and weak.

I look at him,

and then, my Porcelain pot

It turns green.

Violent and angry,

Jealous and lonely,

Burning love and Greed,

it demands to be sorted,

And so, I refuse to.

Then, it shatters,

Turning back to the ever-black void

again, just as it was

unknown origin, utterly bland.

My Porcelain pot descends.

It started there, as it ends."

"Seungmin’s standing in the shallows of the ocean, just ankle-deep in the frigid Pacific, thinking. The world keeps spinning and all of them on this earth, spinning along with it. Things change and they change and they change and sometimes they change for the better. People change too, but there is also a constancy in their hearts, especially when it comes to love.

Equilibrium is important; vital, even. But, there are always new equilibria to come to."

Me, with Equilibria by scheherazaade.

My very first bookmark.

Like the plot??? The Angst????? The storyline and the slow burn???? 10/10

the :) AO3 gives you after telling you you’ve already left kudos on a particular fic is my archenemy because what do you mean :) ? what do you mean I’ve already left kudos here? have you read my favorite author’s work? look me in the eyes and tell me one kudos is enough. I’d give them a thousand kudos and my kidney plus my firstborn. what do you mean I can only give them one kudos??????

[TEASER]

Chapter One: words existed (but yours broke my heart)

(available on Ao3, find on thenightsoftingles)

Genre: Angst, Slow burn, Unrequited Love, Misscommunication.

Pairing: 2min.

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i. It's stupid now— come on.

Minho Hyung hums, sitting across from Hyunjin who was eyeing Jisung wildly. Concerned, if Seungmin is to correct himself.

Probably stupid.

But wasn't he?

It was the look of Minho Hyung that cracked him.

Fond, soft─ concerned when Jisung huffed and coughed a little, and Minho Hyung, ever the caring hyung, pushed the glass of water in front of him.

Like Seungmin did. Blindly to his heart. The to and fro stopped when they agreed not to play anymore.

Seungmin reassures himself again that he wasn't jealous of Jisung, but jealous of himself to be so stupid to think that he was jealous of Jisung.

"You did not!" Jisung gasps dramatically.

Ah, turns out Minho Hyung bought Jisung cheesecake, too.

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ii. Felix takes a deep breath in between his speech, eyes closing when Seungmin gently towels the clean and wet dishes.

Minho Hyung doesn't like half-job done. He owns the kitchen of the cuties' dorm, rhetorically.

"All I say is, come with me and Innie to this brand new, cute cafe and-"

"You should go."

"What?"

"You should go with Innie."

Resilient. That is what his heart is. Like a stupid, possessive organ whose only function is to pump blood.

The noise of thump thump thump hurts his ears with guilt when Felix's smile falters. It falters, then it falls.

Être fleur bleue.

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iii. "I know that you hate the skin. I peeled it. You will eat them when you feel like eating." No, it was not a demand, but closer to a command.

Seungmin is picky and does not get his hoard without whining, at the very least to a cat with claws. And this?

His ocean is no longer getting pulled or pushed, it's thrown upside down by this moon.

What are you doing to me, Hyung?

Seungmin sits there still, the plate of Apples is still untouched, now covered with another plate.

The ocean flip-flops. It squeezes behind his chest, trying to be free.

Calm down you pot, Seungmin hisses to his heart silently.

He thinks what it'd be like to be Minho Hyung's favourite.

Avoir un cœur d’artichaut.

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iv. Seungmin lets himself breathe in and out.

He lets himself be pushed in the careful bursting biceps of a muscle-bound, big sweetheart.

He lets his hyung nuzzle closer to him.

It takes him time to answer, and Changbin waits. Like he always does.

And Seungmin, ever the coward, replies what could be a half lie, "As if I will be anything but fine."

No, Seungmin supplements to his Porcelain pot. Changbin cannot fill that space.

Even if he tries to. Even if Seungmin is to try and think about something other than the cold, freezing water.

The water body that he is finally getting used to.

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v. As if conversationally, he reaches for more skewered meat and when he realizes that the plates are empty, he rises immediately.

Purchasing his time.

"The only one who is botherful," Minho says through the died-down laughter, picking up more meat from the kitchen station, "is you, Kim Seungmin."

He finishes and Seungmin hears something shattering.

When Minho doesn't get another snarky reply from Seungmin, he turns around and sees him standing near the kitchen.

The words are made to hurt when it is required to. But your words... they hurt the most.

Seungmin's lips are drawn in a thin line, and when he speaks, it quivers. "You know, Hyung", he takes a ragged breath to stop shaking, "You can just say that you hate me."

It's quiet. It's too quiet.

The shattering continues. Each piece of the Porcelain pot continues to fall into the black void, back to the burning pit of fire, making such a loud noise that Seungmin's ears ring.

Or: Seungmin and Minho share a Porcelain pot. Once it breaks, everything shatters between them.

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heyy i came from ao3 and went through like 25 stages of grief trying to find your 2min fic 😭 i just want to say im so fucking attached to how wonferful it is and i hope your situation with your computer is better now!! in the meantime, i'll be rereading the first chapter to pass time🙏🙏💞

Hi! I am so sorry that You have to go to such lengths to find my work, ahahaha. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to tag the work there so I asked to check my Ao3 profile!

I am glad you enjoyed the first chapter!!! The second chapter isn't nearly halfway done, but I hope I will soon be able to post it, too!

[Teaser] (now available)

Genre: Unrequited Love, Noona-Dongsaeng relationship, Office scenario, Light Angst.

Type: One-shot, Short fanfiction.

Pairing: Yang Jeongin/Reader

Available on: Ao3

User Id: thenightsoftingles

Word count: 2, 765.

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"So to counter attack the bug, they did this complex coding known as–Hey! How rude it is to walk away when Hyung is talking— Innie!"

Jeongin ignores Jisung's blabber, but it shakes you out of your miserable looking blankness.

You turn to look at Jeongin's approaching figure, and his mind traces each way your gaze shifts to his body at length, from shoulder to shoulder, to his face, to his blowing hair, to his peaking chest.

"Noona." 

You still seem to be unaware of his attention towards you, because when your gaze flicks from his lips to his eyes, Jeongin notices the sharp intake of air that you took.

He notices, and he shakes in his body to not react to such confusing signs. How foolish you can be to jump your Noona, Jeongin, his mind scolds him.

He turns and simply sit beside you, cherishing what little touch of warmth he can cease from your closeness.

It took him months to sit beside you, for you to be so comfortable with him. It took him months to have just a fragment of his skin to overlap yours (although he pertains to confess falsely that he hates skin ship). It took him months, at stretch, to feel the sea breeze lightly touching your burning cheeks (was Jeongin the reason, he wonders through his sobriety),  to feel it vanish past your pale skin, and Jeongin appears not to be affected of the blowing wind, and especially, not jealous. None at all.

Yet, he caves in. Digging in. Pawing and seeking an opening— any entrance to bloom within your heart. To peak beneath, to feel comforted that you like him back, just as badly as loves you.

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Turn to me,

just this once.

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