starkspangled
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It’s happened enough times by now that it feels like a running joke. Seonghwa throws out a complaint about never being praised properly. Hongjoong meets it with an easy grin and just enough teasing in his tone to keep it from tipping into anything serious. The members laugh, the staff laughs too, and the moment passes like it always does.
And afterward, Seonghwa leaves everything exactly as it is. He straightens his posture, gathers whatever dignity remains, and pretends—very convincingly, he thinks—that he has absolutely no deeper emotional investment in the situation whatsoever.
Seonghwa tells himself he is above fishing for compliments. This belief lasts right up until Hongjoong is the one withholding them.
Bookmarked by starkspangled
27 May 2026
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Hongjoong hid his frown by taking another drink of coffee, shifting his gaze to the doorway of the break-room.
Park Seonghwa stood there, in the door-frame, with all his sharp-eyed, tight-shouldered, I-am-clearly-better-than-you glory. There weren’t many people Hongjoong could honestly say he couldn’t stand being around in his lifetime.
Park Seonghwa was one of them.
Until a chance encounter made Hongjoong realize that Seonghwa sometimes wears skirts and- well, the image won't leave his head.
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- English
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Bookmarked by starkspangled
18 May 2026
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Mingi could only watch as his target once again evaded his scheduled death, the human slipping on the wet bathroom tile like Mingi had written, but somehow managing to right himself afterwards, instead of falling to his demise in the shower.
And the bastard had the nerve to say out loud, “Phew, that was a close one!” before casually walking out of the bathroom to continue going about his day unbothered, whistling as he towel dried his hair. Infuriating.
Snapping the notebook in his hands shut, Mingi phased through the walls, floating above his target with his arms crossed as the human got dressed and made himself a cup of coffee, Yunho upgrading from whistling to humming beneath Mingi’s invisible glare.
By all accounts, Jeong Yunho was a perfectly ordinary soul, his near black aura signifying that he was at the end of his life cycle and therefore in need of reaping. So why wouldn’t he die?
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- English
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Bookmarked by starkspangled
14 May 2026
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Seonghwa’s world is measured in stems and ribbon lengths, in the quiet hum of Mars in Bloom and the familiar weight of scissors in his hand.
Hongjoong’s is sharper — clean lines of ink, the low buzz of a tattoo machine, flashes of red hair bent over a sketchbook in the moody light of No. 1 Ink.
They’re neighbors by chance.
A marigold in the middle of a rainstorm changes everything.What starts with swapped deliveries and questions about the language of flowers turns into afternoons spent in each other’s spaces. Somewhere between the petals and the ink lines, something begins to take root.
Or: A florist and a tattoo artist keep finding excuses not to leave.
Bookmarked by starkspangled
09 May 2026
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“I can't believe you never told me you were cursed," Mingi grumbled. "Did it not occur to you that maybe I could help you with this little problem of yours?”
“Little?” Yunho said with a petulant raise of his brows, gesturing to his naked body that still had specks of tiny golden scales scattered across it. There was nothing little about the dragon he turned into every night.
The knight’s eyes traveled down to Yunho’s crotch before he could help it, voice amused when he amended teasingly, “Alright, above average problem. Sizable, even. Feel better now, my prince?”
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- English
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Bookmarked by starkspangled
03 May 2026