unfeignedpalms
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Summary
“Excuse me, I’ll be sitting besides y—“
As the figure turned to face her, the words died in her throat, eyes widening as a pair of familiar golden eyes stared back at her.
A man sat at the window seat, pale skin glowing beneath the cabin lights as his tousled blond hair curled gently at the nape of his neck. The top buttons of his white collared shirt were undone—and when he looked up, there was a flicker of shock in his eyes, as if he too wasn't expecting to see her.
Ah, the asshole she had added to her personal blacklist.
Or,
Hyuna is just trying to have a peaceful flight—but that's not possible when some bastard spills coffee all over her 15 minutes before boarding. Oh—and did I mention she's stuck sitting with him for 14 hours?
Bookmarked by unfeignedpalms
05 Jul 2026
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It, at most, was a 30-second ordeal before teachers pushed their way through the crowd and dragged him off of Ivan.
But it felt like forever.
Forever of Till looking for an opening, forever of Ivan's fist pounding at whatever part of Till's body he could make contact with, and when Till finally gained the upper hand, forever of Ivan giving up and hearing his sorrowful cries.
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[Three times Till fails to tell Ivan how much he likes him, one time he finally gets it right.]
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“Hey. Luka?” She tries to shake him awake. “We need to climb a few flights of stairs. Work with me here, okay?”
He opens his eyes, blinks drowsily, and then closes them again. “Why can’t–” he takes a short break to yawn. “Why can’t you just carry me up all of them? You have such strong muscles, Hyuna–see?”
He moves his hand to her arms and squeezes her arm strongly, his hand just barely skimming the surface of her skin, like a windsurf swaying on the ocean. “Your muscles, Hyuna–they’re so big. And strong. And hot.” He smiles goofily before almost falling face first into a wall.
“You know what?” She declares. “Maybe I should carry you up. That sounds like a good idea.”
Or, Luka gets absolutely hammered, lands into a pole, and drunkenly confesses. Hyuna is left to deal with him.
Bookmarked by unfeignedpalms
05 Jul 2026
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Summary
Hyuna shifts, but Luka pulls away before she can grab it. “Sit up, Hyuna. I’m not letting you light a cigarette while lying down. That’s a fire waiting to occur.”
Belligerently, she obliges. Her hair falls over her face in a tangled mess, oily and stringy. The strap of her top falls down her shoulder, pulling the front cut of the fabric lower with it. Dark bags line her eyes in rings, her coppery skin wan and washed of its tan from days spent holed up in the dark recesses of her room, a protest of the singing and performance practice enforced on each contestant before a show. Luka finds her no less beautiful for it.
She yawns. “Let me burn, then. Take your easy win, and let the whole place crumble.”
Or, Luka seeks out Hyuna one last time.
Bookmarked by unfeignedpalms
05 Jul 2026
Bookmarker's Notes
Her smoke hits his senses, and, Anakt, it hurts so good. Luka wants to burn in it, burn from every sliver of herself she gives him. Hyuna tangles a hand in his hair and tugs at the locks, bitten-down nails scraping against his scalp, and he moans, soft and sweet as his song can come, surrendering the hold of his neck to her cruel grip. He lets his head loll back when her hand leaves his hair, and her thumb edges his lips, sandpaper-rough. His mouth falls open without hesitancy. “‘Clemency?’ The fuck is that supposed to mean?”
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Staring up at the adult before him, he thinks he can understand now, why the segyein call them replicas. Next to Luka, he is nothing but a shadow of the real deal, little more than a glimmer of light in the brilliance of a burning sun.
"Hello," he says, figuring he ought to say something. He tries to sound confident, but his voice comes out as little more than a quiet mumble, "I'm Prince."
He peers up at the adult curiously.
"Are you Luka?" He asks, "You're very pretty."
The adult doesn't move, nor does he respond, staring down at him as though he were something utterly horrifying.
A replica meets the original