#Her every step is defined by this end point and always will be and always has been and it's haunting her so fucking bad

[seafoam-taide]

I love love love my dear Entropy I think about her all the time I love her <33 I have to write about her she is always in my thoughts. Don't click these tags open unless you really want to read them there is . There's lots. THERE WERE TOO MANY IT KILLED SOME OF THEM. WHY DIDN'T IT TELL ME TAG LIMIT I KEPT TYPUNG !!! That's so sad and I can't even put the rest that I typed up here bc I forgot it already because my brain fucking sucks. Whatever whatever whatever rahggg beams Entropy thoughts directly into your brain you know exactly what I mean now

[sodaabaa]

suitors and sutures 

anthony bridgerton x reader reader is named the diamond of the season but despite this, she finds the men of the ton avoiding her rather than courting her.  

tw: none

Y/N marveled at the grand ballroom adorned with crystal chandeliers that sparkled as they caught the light. Her heart racing with nerves and excitement as she entered to make her debut. This moment would define her prospects — her entire future. She recalled everything she’d been taught for this moment, every movement she made exuding grace and poise. Y/N wore only the finest, her ivory gown embellished with dainty beading, her hair done up in an intricate updo with curls hanging out to frame her delicate face. She looked and felt like a princess. 

She took slow, steady steps towards the throne. Queen Charlotte sat before her, trained on her every move as she approached, scrutinizing the girl before her. She stood before the Queen, a pleasant smile on her face as she curtsied — a movement marked by grace, as though she were floating. She rose after a heartbeat, looking up at the Queen in reverence. The Queen regarded her for a moment before leaning forward and with the gentlest of touches, held Y/N’s chin. She placed a kiss on her forehead, Y/N’s heart nearly burst. The Queen sat back, nodding as she declared Y/N to be the diamond of the season. She curtsied once more, thanking the Queen for bestowing her with such a title. When her presentation had come to an end, Y/N returned to her place beside her parents who gave her at least two dozen kisses, proud of their daughter for catching the eye of the Queen.

“Y/N!” A hushed voice came from her left – she looked for the source of the sound and found Francesca Bridgerton leaning behind her brothers to catch her best friend’s attention. Y/N leaned behind her parents to return her excitement.

“Francesca!” 

“You’re the diamond! My best friend is the diamond! I knew only you could impress the Queen” She exclaimed, her face bright with excitement.

“I’m not certain I believe it,” she replied. It was true she couldn’t quite believe that her weeks of training for this moment had paid off. 

“Hush, you two. There are still debutantes making their entrances,” Y/N rolled her eyes at the sound of the eldest Bridgerton chastising them. Francesca giggled at her friend’s blatant disregard for Anthony’s warning but swatted a hand at her to hush before Anthony scolded them once more.

Y/N lived directly across from the Bridgertons and thus, she grew up alongside the rather large family. Where Y/N was all mischief and confidence, Francesca was timid and quiet – as a child, Y/N had been drawn towards Francesca, the yin to her yang. They’d been inseparable since then. But with Francesca came an abundance of brothers and sisters who she’d grown comfortable with over the years – all except for the eldest, Anthony. Constantly reprimanding his siblings – and Y/N – for their behavior, always being the end to their fun. Though she had to admit, Y/N found great joy in taunting and teasing the grumpy viscount, making him lose his patience and composure was one of her favorite pastimes. 

“Be mindful of who you are speaking to, Lord Bridgerton, I am the diamond of the season after all,” she retorted.

He gave her a pointed look which she returned, “it’s far too easy to rile you up, my lord,” she mocked. Next to Anthony stood Benedict, amused at their little spat. 

“How you managed to become the diamond is beyond me,” he shook his head in annoyance. 

She giggled but before she could tease him any further, her mother pulled her arm, motioning for her to face forward. 

“Dearest, now that you are the diamond, you must be mindful of your behavior – especially with the Bridgertons,” she said, insinuating that she needed to be more ladylike with the Bridgerton boys. 

“Of course mother,” she replied with a sigh.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“May I have this dance, Miss L/N?” She nodded graciously, accepting the man’s offer despite her feet begging her to take a seat. She’d danced with at least a dozen earls and barons and a few viscounts here and there – all of them vying for her attention, trying to impress her so that she might be receptive to their courtship. 

As they danced across the ballroom, the man droned on about his accomplishments – she’d periodically offered nods and smiles to appear engaged but truth be told all she could focus on was the pain in her poor feet. She looked around the room, trying to find something more interesting to think about when her eyes clashed with Anthony’s. He was already staring at her when she found him, his face set in a scowl. 

Someone’s grumpy tonight, she thought. 

“My lady?” The man snapped her out of her thoughts.

“Pardon?” 

“Do you not think it is the most riveting exercise – chess?” He repeated his question.

She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes, had he been droning on about chess this entire time?

“Yes, of course. My apologies, all of this dancing has made me awfully parched,” she put on her most damsel-in-distress demeanor. 

“I shall retrieve a lemonade immediately, my lady.”

Finally, she sighed, making her way towards the viscount pouting in the corner. 

“Has someone insulted you tonight or is your face just permanently set in a scowl?” 

He rolled his eyes, “You abandoned your dance partner.”

“Would you believe me if I said he’d been giving a lecture on chess the entire time?” 

He scoffed a laugh, amused at the torture she had to endure. She leaned against the wall next to him, facing the dance floor. She saw the man looking for her in the crowd, two lemonades in hand as promised.

She turned to Anthony and threw him a dazzling smile, “Would you be so kind as to dance with me?” 

He looked down at her, not buying her flirtatious act. From the corner of her eyes, she saw the chess man making his way toward her. 

“Please, have mercy Viscount Bridgerton,” she said more sincerely. 

He looked up for a moment, muttering a curse under his breath before taking her hand with a sigh. She smiled, triumphant.

“Miss L/N?” Chess man said.

“Apologies Donovan, I shall be taking this next dance with Miss L/N,” Anthony replied before she could say anything. He didn’t wait for a response as he pulled her to the dance floor.

“My hero,” she said, exaggerating her relief. He tried not to smile at her antics.

He led them across the dance floor, expertly guiding her through as he held her gaze. She was impressed by his ballroom skills – though she couldn’t say she was surprised, the grouch of a viscount had always been the type of person to excel in anything and everything he did. They danced quietly, a relief for Y/N after having to endure hours of talking. The two of them were content, comfortable to dance without exchanging meaningless pleasantries or droning on about their achievements. When the music slowed, signaling the end of the night, he bowed, she returned the gesture with a curtsy and with that, she bid the viscount goodbye.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Warm rays of sunlight nudged Y/N awake. Her mind instantly recalled her dance with Anthony last night. She sat up, suddenly remembering that there must be dozens of suitors calling on her right now. 

Shit. She scrambled out of bed, calling on her maids to come and help her find the appropriate dress for the morning. She quickly did her hair, pinched her cheeks to bring some color back into her face, and rushed downstairs to the drawing room. There sat her mother – alone?

“Mother? Were there no callers?” 

Her mother set down her teacup on the table in front of her, “perhaps it's simply too early, I’m sure there will be callers soon,” she replied. 

She sat beside her mother, confused. She recalled Daphne Bridgerton’s experience with being the diamond. She had suitors instantaneously, regardless of the time of day. The maid brought her breakfast, setting it down on the table but Y/N found herself lacking an appetite. Her aching feet were a reminder of the many men who took a vehement interest in her the night before – where had they all gone?

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Perhaps it was simply too early in the day?” Francesca echoed her mother’s sentiments as they walked arm in arm around the park. The two oldest Bridgerton brothers trailed behind them, acting as chaperones (primarily for Francesca while Y/N merely intruded). 

“Are you men not up at ungodly hours in the morning to tend to whatever business it is you have?” She called out to the two behind her. 

“I certainly am not,” Benedict replied, “and you, brother?”

“Any respectable man would be up bright and early. I should think your suitors from last night are all lousy men you would not want courting you anyway, Miss L/N,” Anthony replied gruffly.

She rolled her eyes at his remark, “Do vampires require sleep?” She asked no one in particular (though she had hoped Anthony would understand the insult). 

“Vampires cannot roam freely in the daylight,” Anthony replied. She smiled, satisfied.

Francesca and Benedict laughed, “I do hope whatever poor fellow does end up courting you has thick skin and an abundance of patience,” Benedict said.

“I think you should be a tad bit nicer, Y/N. Men have unfortunately fragile egos,” Francesca replied, leaning in closer to whisper the last part.

“Heard that,” the two men behind them said in unison.

That night as Y/N lay in bed, she raked over her conversation with the Bridgertons. Perhaps her behavior had scared away her potential suitors. She knew she could be a bit brash – not always able to hold her tongue or control her facial expressions but as Benedict said, she simply needed a man who could handle her colorful personality. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Dearest Reader,

It appears our revered diamond may not dazzle as brightly as Her Majesty had envisioned. Whispers abound that Miss Y/N L/N finds herself unable to secure a suitor. Despite her dances and promenades with many a gentlemen, a courtship remains elusive – let alone a match. Was it an error on the Queen's part to name Miss L/N as the diamond of the season? Or perhaps, dare I say, is she not quite equal to the challenge?

Yours Truly,

Lady Whistledown

Tears stung Y/N’s eyes as she read the excerpt of Lady Whistledown’s paper. It’d been weeks since the start of the season and she was still unable to keep a man interested long enough for him to court her. She took Francesca’s advice and started being kinder, showed more enthusiasm the interests of whomever was conversing with her but it was all in vain – for the next day they were nowhere to be found.

She took deep breaths to steady herself as she prepared for yet another ball, no doubt the Queen would be watching her closely trying to determine the reason for her diamond’s failure. She had not only embarrassed herself and her family this season but she risked embarrassing the Queen as well. The thought made her stomach churn with anxiety but she pushed them away, determined to redeem herself tonight.

Y/N entered Lady Danbury’s ballroom with her parents, eyes instantly seeking out Francesca for support. Instead, she found another familiar face standing before her, hand out in front of him asking for a dance.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. L/N,” Anthony nodded to her parents, “may I steal Miss L/N for the first dance?” 

They let her go with an enthusiastic nod as Y/N took Anthony’s hand. She muttered a ‘thank you’ to Anthony as they made their way to the dance floor. She knew she had to stay busy to avoid the Queen’s ire. As they made their way to the dance floor, she noticed one of the men who had walked with her days ago sporting a rather painful-looking black eye. Ouch. What had he done to earn that? She wondered. 

“Lady Whistledown was quite harsh,” He broke her out of her thoughts as they started dancing. 

“Perhaps she was right,” her voice was quiet.

Anthony’s face contorted in disbelief, “If there’s anyone who can handle being diamond, it's you, Y/N. Lady Whistledown is merely looking for a way to undermine the Queen’s judgment.”

She looked up at him, surprised at his reassuring words. But it was not enough, she couldn’t help but wonder if she was simply unmarriageable. 

“Perhaps Francesca was right, I should be more gentle, more kind, and gracious to the attentions of men,” she said.

Anthony scoffed, “Perhaps those half-wits shouldn’t be courting you at all.” 

Y/N couldn’t hold back the laughter that escaped her – had he just called the other men half-wits? 

“Then who should be courting me, Lord Bridgerton?” She looked at him with curiosity.

“Whoever shows up at your house, calling upon you at ungodly hours in the morning,” he replied, a small smirk gracing his lips.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Miss! You have a caller!” 

Y/N groaned, lifting the duvet over her ears. One of the maids pulled back the curtains, the sudden burst of light making Y/N flinch. 

“What is it, Celia?” She muttered to her maid, still half asleep.

“You have a caller, Miss! Your mother needs you to come downstairs straight away.”

She sat up, cursing the awful man who had decided now to call upon her. She threw off the duvet, begrudgingly leaving the cozy bed to get dressed.

She made her way down the stairs to find out who had so callously pulled her out of bed at this time. She could hear her mother from the hall, stalling him by talking about all of Y/N’s achievements and something about how happy she was that a longtime friend was courting Y/N. 

Longtime friend?

She turned the corner, entering the drawing room when she stopped in her tracks. The sight of the familiar silhouette jolted her awake. 

“Anthony?”

He turned, standing up with a smile.

“Y/N, mind your manners, that is no way to refer to Viscount Bridgerton!” Her mother called out.

“It’s quite alright, Mrs. L/N, we’ve long since passed the need for formalities, have we not?” He asked her. 

She nodded, unable to find any words to construct a proper reply. 

“May we have a moment, Mrs. L/N?” 

“Of course!” Her mother scurried from the drawing room, leaving behind a maid as the chaperone.

Anthony motioned for her to sit as he sat down on the sofa. She took a seat in front of him.

“What’s all this?” She asked, still in shock.

“I believe I should begin by apologizing,” he said. 

Her brows furrowed in confusion, “Whatever for?”

He exhaled, “What Lady Whistledown said,” he paused, “you had – or would have had many suitors calling upon you had I not interfered.”

She looked at him, still confused – perhaps even more so. He took her confusion as permission to go on.

“None of those men were decent nor respectable. Your behavior felt like a challenge towards them -- I overheard several of those half-wits making bets on who’d be able to,” he cleared his throat, “break your attitude.”

Y/N sat back, astonished by the sudden revelation. He brought a hand up to his chin, stroking it as if in thought. Her eyes fell to his knuckles, red as if he’d –. 

Realization dawned on her.

“Did you – one of the men I talked to, he had a black eye at the ball last night! Anthony did you –,” Before she could finish, the look on his face gave her all the answer she needed. He looked smug, pleased with himself.

“He deserved it," he said as he sat back.

“Anthony! The poor man probably needed sutures!”

“I was not going to allow such things to be said about a lady in my presence!”

She laughed, “What then, you were protecting me from them?”

He nodded, “They were unworthy of you.” 

“And you are?” She challenged.

“If you’ll have me,” he replied. 

She watched him, still reeling from the fact that he’d punched another man for her. That he’d been keeping all of those men away from her. It made her stomach flutter. She knew of his fierce protectiveness through Francesca and Daphne but being on the receiving end of such gallant behavior – if there was a man who could handle her, it had to be Anthony with his quick wit and no-nonsense attitude that he threw out the window when it came to matching her in a spat. He fit her in every way, though it took her until now to realize it.

“How could I refuse my hero?”

[lightwise]

Omega is not okay

I know we've all been over the moon about Crosshair and Hunter's dynamic in The Return, but I want to draw some attention to Omega in this episode, and something that I think Joel Aron is trying to draw attention to with his lighting choices.

Omega is not okay.

Joel has made pointed out many times that he loves doing reveal lighting (think the overhead light in Crosshair's cell or on the freighter at the end of A Different Approach giving him a halo, or how Hunter stops short of the overhead light on the Marauder before stepping out to greet Omega). And throughout this whole episode, the light is breaking over Crosshair and bathing him in warmth more and more. He is slowly returning the light and coming home to his family.

Omega, however, in nearly every single scene in this episode, is in shadow.

Yes, her hairstyle is contributing to the fall of light on her face, and yes, she has her hat on while they're on Barton IV. But this is showing that her psychological state since they escaped Tantiss is uneasy, at best, and very conflicted and darkened, at worst. Even when she wakes up in the comfort and safety of the Marauder, she is shrouded in shadow. And even in scenes where the light wraps around and highlights Crosshair's face, Omega's is kept harshly defined, and she is often looking away from the "camera".

Even when we see her somewhat happier at points in this episode, usually due to watching her brothers reconnect, her face is not as well lit as theirs.

Omega kept her positivity and optimism at the forefront while she and Crosshair were in prison, and throughout most of their escape. It's what we most associate with her--being a ray of sunshine and encouragement for those around her. Now, however, she has the opportunity to relax a bit, for the adults to be handling certain things, and the trauma and perspective shift that she has just gone through is coming to the forefront.

Her survivors guilt, her shock at not being the only female clone, her confusion and questions over who she is and why she is so important, the cruelty she's seen Hemlock be capable of, and her continued empathy for anyone who is suffering is all swirling around in her in ways that she doesn't know what to do with yet. Yes, she has seen much suffering in the galaxy already in her short life, and has always been adamant about her need to help others. But ultimately it had never impacted her like this. Until now.

Crosshair has been broken and remade by his experiences. Omega is being broken and remade by hers as well. And I'm not sure the boys fully realize just how much yet.

Omega refuses to be left behind. She feels responsible for the fact that the rest of the clones are still on Tantiss. She feels guilty that she could have a chance at a life still and they don't. She feels an all-encompassing need to help them if she can, even though she is still young and vulnerable. This is ultimately going to conflict with Hunter's desires to keep her safe and hidden. Echo has already chosen the fight. Wrecker is willing to go wherever he's needed. Crosshair has been through too much to not be willing to fight back however necessary.

Hunter is going to eventually realize that while Omega is still a child, and does need to be protected, at the same time, her own sense of responsibility is going to eventually supersede his desires.

Echo and Crosshair especially will be able to understand some of what she is feeling and hopefully help guide her through it. Hopefully, Omega will be able to reconcile who she is, what she is capable of, and what is outside of her ability to fix, sooner rather than later. But it's safe to say she will never be the same after this. At least she has a little bit of reprieve before facing whatever is next.

[ask-whitepearl-and-steven]

If it's not a spoiler, what would you say is WD!Rose's biggest weakness/flaw?

I would hope that her biggest flaws haven't really changed from the original show. It's not like she acquired some new ones just because Steven's there. At her core, her motivations and fears are still the same.

Largely, it's her self-hatred and self-doubt.

Rose Quartz has always been defined by her dislike of herself. It's in the lyrics of the end song. It's practically telegraphed at every episode she shows up in.

Rose Quartz popped out of the ground, was immediately defined by who she was (supposed to be) and then was pretty much immediately reprimanded by the other diamonds for acting out in any way that didn't fit their 'standards'.

Then she went to Earth, realized their standards were shite, and tried desperately to become someone else - while never believing that she could ACTUALLY change and grow to be someone new. To the very end, she thought that she was fooling the others, even as she tried to protect them.

Her entire arc is about desperately trying to be herself, and failing at every step of the way because she fundamentally doesn't believe she's capable of change. She looks in the mirror and she sees in past tense.

Rose, here, is faced with something she has been running after her whole life:

Living proof of how a Diamond could be Not A Diamond in a way that isn't deceiving anyone. In a way that is purely, entirely, fundamentally, changing who they are.

Rose adores Steven at this point in the story, as much as she is terrified of him and all he represents.

His ability to forget who he is supposed to be.

His potential for change, and growth beyond his programming.

And the looming threat of that all being just another lie, or a temporary fix that will shatter her hopes of ever becoming like him.

Of course... she doesn't know about his dreams, nor his internal struggles. But that's gonna be its own story. :)

[lyjen]

Maybe

Summary: Evan and (Y/n) end up closer than ever on a call. But when (Y/n) gets hurt and Evan’s girlfriend notices the slightest sign of worry for his colleague, she confronts him.

Request by: anonymous - The request

9-1-1 masterlist

Taglist: ( @oliviah-25 @shauna-carsley

______

“Come on, we’re halfway there.” Buck tries to motivate (Y/n), to attempt to give her some more energy. A sigh falls off (Y/n)’s lips as her flat hand slides over the side of the stairwell wall and starts carefully placing her feet down onto the metal railing underneath her.

They are inside a building that was going to snap in two.

Buck and (Y/n) had the opportunity to go up the partly collapsed building, doing a sweep to see if there were any signs of life inside the building. The chances of that weren’t that high, the building they were in was an old hospital and wasn’t being used in decades.

But protocol said to always do a sweep through the buildings to make sure they wouldn’t leave anyone behind. So, that’s what they were doing. But till so far, they didn’t see anyone.

“Can you believe it? They made us go all the way up there, and find nothing.” she said as she stepped down onto the stairs and grabbed the railing with her gloved hands.

“Well, if you define old broken hospital cabinets and beds as nothing.” Evan laughed at her as he panted and flashed his light, which was secured to his harness, towards the rest of the stairwell.

But his laugh was nowhere to be found anymore when he looked at the barricaded entryway of the stairwell. “You’ve got to be kidding me” he sighed as he stepped closer.

They were in the second half of the building. They were almost back on the ground floor. Although they needed to go down another six to seven levels, it still felt like they were almost there.

(Y/n) could still hear the building trying to move with every step they took inside. The concrete was creaking and cracking on every corner.

Evan turned his head to look at his colleague “There’s no other way than..” he pointed his index finger up and looked in between the staircases until he could see the part where the building was snapped. “Back up. I get it.” She finished his sentence annoyed.

She was tired, exhausted, this was hour twenty one of the twenty four hour shift she was on and she still didn’t have any decent sleep.

“Let’s go probie” Evan said with a smirk on his face as he pulled himself up by the help of the railing. He knew damn’ well (Y/n) wasn’t a probie anymore, but he loved teasing her with that nickname. He knew she didn’t like it, she could handle other people saying it, but whenever Evan said it, it sent a shiver down her spine.

*

“Okay, there’s nothing to worry about.. you’re going to be fine.” (Y/n) motivated herself as she walked down the stairs and focussed herself on repeating the sentences she just read in the books. “You’re going to be just fine” she whispered as she tried to reassure herself as she skipped the last two steps of the stairs and landed safe and sound on the ground with her two feet.

She had a few study books piled up in her hands, with a couple of loose sheets sticking out of the books because those were her notes she just wrote down.

(Y/n) was in her probation period, trying to train, study and work all at once. It was hard, but she knew she could do it. She just had to step up and work a little harder. While she was walking towards the locker room to put her books away, she was looking through the pile of books.

“Hey probie!” Evan’s voice sounded through the firehouse, harder than he originally wanted to sound.

(Y/n) was caught off guard as she heard her new nickname fall off the lips of Evan. The books she was holding flew out of her hands and within a second they were all spread over the ground floor of the firehouse.

“Fuck” she hissed underneath her breath as she quickly squatted down and started collecting the books she just spread over the floor.

“Oh shit, sorry” Evan said as he quickly walked towards her and crouched down to collect some lost papers.

“You-..You don't have to do that..” she stumbled as she saw Evan collecting her notes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you” Evan apologizes as he picks up the papers he collected and handed them over to (y/n).

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t really paying attention.” she said as she accepted the papers he was holding out to her, and she placed them right on top of the pile of books she made. She secured the pile of books between her lower arm and her chest as she and Evan both straightened up again.

Their eyes connected, it felt like Evan was drowning in those beautiful eyes. “Hey, uh..” Evan sighed as an awkward silence fell between the two of them and he was still looking in her eyes like he was possessed. “We’re going out with the team after shift for a drink, do you want to join us?” he continued as he pointed over his shoulder and slid his hands in his pockets.

“That’s sweet.. but I’m kinda busy” she smiled softly at him as she shrugged her shoulders and motioned with her head towards the books in her arms. “Oh yeah” Evan said as he realized what he asked her was not his best move.

(Y/n) turned around as the conversation fell silent again. She could feel the tension in the air, it made her uncomfortable, so she decided to walk away.

“Uh, maybe next time?” Evan spoke loudly as he was now watching her back again, trying to get her attention. She didn’t dare to give him another glance. “Maybe!” she shouted back as she continued her way towards the locker room again with a smile on her face.

*

“Hey! Open these doors with your halligan” Evan commanded as they finally reached an elevator shaft with the door closed tightly. A groan fell off her lips as she tried to balance her weight and keep herself in place while the building was obliquely.

Her hand reached for the halligan, which was secured on her back, and she pushed the metal tool in between the two elevator doors and pushed as hard as she could. Evan’s gloved hands were placed on one of the doors to assist her.

Evan panted as he had put all of his strength into his action and looked around to search for a possible anchor point to hold their weight. “This is not going to hold the both of us..” Evan said as he saw the nearest point to attach them to while he held onto the elevator door.

It was a half broken piece of railing of the hospital hallways. It was old, probably rotten, but it could only hold one of them. It wasn’t surely the strongest one, but it could hold one person to the max.

(Y/n)’s hand harshly tapped against his chest. “So, we find another anchor point.” she said as she finally got Evan’s attention and pointed her hand out to the opposite direction of the elevator doors.

There was another set of doors on the opposite side, it was a double-sided elevator.

“I was about to say that you had to ripple down first, but this could work too.” Evan laughed as he looked to his left and met her gaze. They were standing close, maybe too close, but that happens when gravity is pulling you down and you’re in a building that’s in the wrong angle than it's supposed to be.

She could feel his warm breath tickling her skin as he inhaled and exhaled. “I’ll go to the.. otherside.” she stumbled as she disconnected her eyes from his. Evan cleared his throat as he agreed with her, “Yes, do that. I’m.. going to set the rope up.” Evan said as he was pulled out of his trance.

“You do that!” (Y/n) said as she grabbed the railing with both hands and let herself slide into the wall to move a little faster. It felt like they were on this call for too long.

As (Y/n) rounded the corner and finally reached the other pair of doors, she again pushed her tool between the two doors and pulled them open. (Y/n) quickly secured her rope to the railing just as Evan did on his side of the hallway. She tightened the knot and gave it a few hard pulls to see if it would hold.

She turned around and looked into the shaft, trying to get a look on how deep it is. “Are you ready for this?” (Y/n) asked Evan as she glanced at him. “Are we really ready for anything?” Evan said as he looked around in the shaft and shrugged his shoulders.

She shook her head as she laughed at the ceiling, typically Evan.

A sigh left her lips as she saw Evan already going over the edge, rippling down. “You coming?” Evan said as he looked up and saw herself starting to second guess her idea. “You’re doing great.” he tried to give her some motivation.

She swallowed as she turned around and let the rope catch her weight. Inch for inch, she let the rope slide through her gloved hands, lowering herself down.

The sound of the elevator shaft creaking was flowing through the space they were in.

Evan looked up at the ceiling, shining his headlight towards the parts above them. On first notice, there was nothing to be seen, but when Evan shone his light right above (Y/n), he could see a large, half broken beam dangling loosely above her side of the shaft. Inches above the doors she had climbed through.

It could fall any moment.

“(Y/n). I need you to stay calm for me, okay?” Evan suddenly said after a few moments of silence. Her stomach turned and filled itself with anxiety at the way he talked. Why was he suddenly talking to her like she was a victim? What was he seeing that she couldn’t see?

“What?” Her confused voice sounded through the shaft as she tried to look over her shoulder at Evan.

“I need you to push yourself with your feet, off the side and reach out for my hand.” Evan tried to stay calm but his eyes stayed right on the large beam a few feet above her head, ready to fall any second.

“Do it now!” Evan called out. There was no time to explain what the hell was going on, she had to trust Evan on his words. So she did exactly what he asked her to do.

She bent her knees as much as she could, so (Y/n) could create enough momentum to reach Evan's side. She pushed as hard as she could and swung from her side of the elevator shaft towards his side. Evan held out his hand as far as he could so he could catch hers.

A loud bang sounded through the shaft as the beam disconnected itself from the shaft.

He could feel her fingers brushing his wrist and clinging onto it as he tightly grabbed hers. Evan was holding all of her weight and gear in his right hand. He let his left hand climb further on her arm and resumed pulling her closer that way.

A groan escaped her mouth as she felt Evan’s nails pinning into her skin. But on that last pull, a yelp fell past her lips and Evan could hear her hissing in pain. Within seconds he had his chest meeting hers. His hands were secured around her waist, and the other one around her upper back, holding her as close as possible.

Evan panted as he put each and all of his energy what was left into that quick stunt they pulled. “Fuck” (Y/n) sighed as she had her arms attached around his back, looking like they were in a hug in the middle of a lift shaft. “Yeah, that was.. unexpected” Evan said as he looked down towards the hole where the beam just fell down.

“That, and.. that beam hit my damn’ left foot.” she hissed as she squeezed her eyes. “Wait what?” Evan said confused as she tried to read her face. (Y/n) let her forehead for a second rest against Evan’s shoulder as she closed her eyes and tried to stop focussing on the pain. “You okay?” his voice sounded worried.

Yes, they were friends and co-workers, nothing more and nothing less. But yet here they are closer than ever before.

“Yeah, for now.. let’s just get down to proper ground. I don’t want another beam falling down onto us.” (Y/n) said as she looked up at the sky, looking for other loose material. “Great idea” Evan said as he let the adrenaline that rushed through his veins calm down.

(Y/n) started to detach her hands off Evan’s back so she could swing her way back towards her side of the shaft. Her palms were awkwardly pushing into Evan’s collarbones, trying to create some distance between the two of them. “Evan? You can let go of me now” she said.

Evan was lost in his thoughts when she called his name. “Oh yeah.. Right. Sorry.” he apologized as he let his eyes connect with hers once again. He could hear her breathe, he could swear that he even heard her heartbeat for a second. They were close, and he didn’t want to let go.

He let go of her back and softly grabbed her wrist to get her back to her side of the shaft slowly and steady. They didn’t want her to bang into the wall with a high force of speed.

His fingers were curled around her wrist, and hers were curled around his. Evan let his other arm slowly become looser around her waist, so now she was only holding his wrist. Gravity slowly lets (Y/n)’s body move towards the middle part of the shaft.

Their hands “Ready?” Evan asked as he kept his eyes on their connected hands. “On three okay?” (Y/n) said as she nodded. “One..two..three.” And on three they both let go of each other's wrist.

(Y/n)’s hand wrapped around the rope which was still attached to her harness as she softly landed her right foot against the side of the elevator shaft. “You good?” Evan asked, wanting to know if she didn’t hurt her left foot by returning to her side of the shaft. A sigh left her mouth, as if she was holding a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Yes. Let’s just get out of here” she said as she started rippling down towards the ground floor.

The rest of the ride down was silent, beside some creaking and cracking from the building itself. They were just focussing themselves on getting out of that shaft.

When they reached the lowest level they were able to access, Evan opened the doors of his side of the shaft as he explicitly told (Y/n) to hang tight and wait for him. Especially after she hurt her foot, he couldn’t have her risking doing more damage to it than it probably already had.

Evan detached his harness from the rope and hurried towards the other side of the hallway and opened the doors. It was a relief that he could actually walk straight again after all that climbing and sliding down. “Grab my hand” Evan commanded as she lowered herself a little more, so she could touch the ground with her right foot while she let her left foot float above the ground. Evan’s touch made her heart take a little jump.

“Hold on” he said as he placed her hand onto his shoulder, and felt her fingertips burning into his button up shirt. Evan’s hands reached out to her harness as he detached her from the line.

“Thanks” she mumbled as she limped forward, trying to not put any weight on her left foot but she couldn’t help it.

“No, no. You can’t walk on that” Evan said worried as she slightly put some weight on it to keep her balance. “Here, let me help you.” Evan said as he grabbed her left arm and slung it over his shoulders, trying to support her weight.

Groan after groan fell off her lips with every limp, every hop she took. “Are you sure you can make it outside while limping?” Evan asked as she took another hop. “I’ll have to. Unless you have some other theories” she said as she groaned again. Evan pressed his lips into a thin line as (Y/n) leaned her weight onto Evan for another hop.

“It may be faster if I just carried you.” Evan suggested. A yelp left her mouth as her ankle bent to the outside. She wasn’t sure if it was because of Evan’s suggestion or the matter of fact that she already limped almost a hundred times. “Shit” she said as she held onto Evan’s shoulder with her left arm, she felt like a monkey. “Hey, hey, you alright? Seriously you’re going to hurt yourself even more if you keep on hopping onto that leg.” Evan spoke up as he came down to the same height as her.

She didn’t want to tell him he was right, but he was and she knew it. She just didn’t want him to give him the satisfaction. “Let me carry you. Please.” He was practically begging. He didn’t want her to get hurt any more than she already was. A sigh left her mouth as she mumbled an almost inaudible “Okay”.

Evan’s hand wandered towards his radio as he held the button to speak. “We’re almost done. Coming out in a minute.” he said. And he received a small “copy that” from Bobby. Evan’s left arm was already around her waist since he was guiding her just a second ago. He let his right arm slide underneath her knees and he carried her through the hallway to the exit of the building.

Her arms were hanging around his neck, as Evan hurried towards the ambulance. “Got a possible broken foot over here!” Evan yelled as he saw the rest of his team cleaning up the halligans and other equipment they used for the sweep in the lower building. Hen’s eyes shot up as she looked towards the duo that came rushing towards the team. “How the hell-” Hen mumbled as Evan sat (Y/n) down on the back of the ambulance as carefully as possible.

“Don’t ask” (Y/n) said as Hen removed the boot and started to examine her foot. When Hen touched it, (Y/n) hissed at the pain and grabbed Evan’s wrist, she almost crushes and squeezes all of the blood out of his wrist which made Evan groan.

When the grip became looser on his wrist, he moved his hand up, so she was now holding his hand. “Jesus!” she groaned at the touches, and let her forehead fall into Evan’s chest, wishing for the pain to leave her body.

Evan placed his other free hand on the back of her head. “You’re going to be fine” he whispers and let his chin rest on the top of her head.

______

“You’re late” a familiar voice spoke through the apartment as Evan closed the door behind him. His eyes fall on his girlfriend, Taylor, who’s sitting at the kitchen island. Her hands were curled up around the cup of tea she had just made, the steam was still coming off the hot boiling water.

“Hey” Evan simply said as he slowly walked into the room. He let the keys he had in his hand, slowly slide onto the table and let the strap of the duffle bag which he was balancing on his shoulder, fall onto the ground. A sigh left his mouth as Taylor turned on the chair to face him. “I’m so sorry” he continued as he was looking for the right words.

“Hey. I’m sorry. Really Buck? That’s it? That is everything you have to say?” Taylor said as a scoff left her mouth. “You’re unbelievable” her voice continued as Evan’s eyes wandered back to his feet, which were suddenly very interesting to him.

“Didn’t your shift end like, what? Three hours ago?” She asked when Evan didn’t answer her and she blew softly at the water to try to cool it a little bit down. He nodded his head, “Yeah, I’m sorry, we were with the team at the hospital, waiting for (Y/n)’s results” Evan tries to explain to Taylor.

“And she couldn’t do that alone?” she shot back as she took a small sip of her tea and brought the mug down onto the flat surface. Evan was taken by surprise as he didn’t expect Taylor to react the way she just did. “Uhm.. We’re a team. We’re not leaving each other behind.” he spoke as he took place on the opposite side of the dining table, leaning his hands down on the back of the chair. He watched Taylor stirring her spoon in the hot water of her tea.

“Look. I’m sorry I didn’t call you or texted you back. If that’s the thing you’re mad about, then-” Evan tries to apologize, he wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, but he did it anyways. “It’s okay. It’s fine. Really.” She holds out her hand towards Evan to stop him from talking, as she shoves the chair she was sitting on backwards and starts walking to the kitchen with her cup of tea in her hand.

“You don’t seem fine at all.” Evan says as he pushes his hands off the back of the chair. She placed the full mug of tea on the kitchen counter as she leaned with her palms on the counter. She’s silent. Trying to find the right words. “Taylor… Come on, talk to me. What’s going on?” Evan says as he slowly moves towards the kitchen island now, trying to come closer to her.

With her eyes locked onto the kitchen counter she laughs. “Do you really want to know what the problem is?” her voice sounded somewhat broken. Evan’s voice brought out an almost inaudible yes, but she heard him.

“I was on the scene too.That call of the partly collapsed building that had been split in two” she said. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. So, she was at the scene? But what had made her so upset that she was mad at him?

”It’s her. Isn’t it?” her broken voice asks him as she keeps her back turned towards Evan. “Who?” his voice immediately asked.

“Come on Buck, I'm not that stupid.” She sighs and pushes herself off the kitchen counter and turns her body around so she is now facing Evan. “I saw the way she clung onto you. The way you looked at her, and cared for her because she was hurt.” her lower back leaned against the kitchen counter now, as she folded her arms over one another.

“Taylor, whatever you saw... it’s not what it looks-“ Evan tries to defend himself as he gets cut off by his own girlfriend. “Then tell me” she shot back at him as she stared right into his soul. “Tell you what?” he could feel and hear his voice slightly rising. “That you love me!” within every word she said, her voice broke more and more.

Evan was silent, he was searching for the words. But he couldn’t say it, not if it was a lie. He had used her all this time, to get closer to (y/n), to make her jealous but it didn’t work. He stayed with Taylor to try and get her attention.

The silence was loud, Taylor had given him enough time to say those three simple words. “Guess I know my answer then.” she says as she storms towards the gaderobe.

“Taylor..” Evan’s voice sounded through the room with her footsteps in the background.

She grabbed the hanger and slid off her coat. “Please wait” he says as his eyes fall onto Taylor as she puts on her jacket and pushes with the back of her hand her red hair over the coat, so it wouldn’t be stuffed into the back of her jacket.

Taylor sighs as she turns around one more time. “I’m done waiting for you, Buck. Why should I be waiting for someone, who’s clearly head over heels in love with someone else?” her voice spoke, and with those words she walked to the door and slammed it shut with a bang.

She was right.

______

(Y/n) put down her mug with tea onto the coffee table as she hopped through the house, trying to put as little weight onto her foot as she could.

She was wearing a brace, luckily her foot was badly sprained. Which means she had to take as much rest as she could, and just let it heal by itself. Right now, she was on pain meds and she at least had to be two weeks off the job, which could be stretched out to three or four, but that was up to how good and fast it would heal.

When the doorbell sounds through the house, (Y/n) turns down the volume of the TV which was currently playing the news and hopped towards the door.

As the doorbell sounds for a second time in ten seconds, a sigh leaves her mouth. “Yeah yeah! Coming!” She calls out. Her hand pushed down the lever of the door, and her eyes met those ocean blue eyes she saw almost every shift.

Evan sounded like he had run the Los Angeles marathon and just got over the finish line. With his arm he leaned against the doorframe, as he heavily breathed.

“Evan? What are you doing here?” She clings on to the door to try and keep her balance, since she was standing like a flamingo and holding her injured foot slightly above the ground. “There’s something I have to say to you.” he said as he was breathing normally again.

“And you couldn’t do that by calling or texting me?” She laughs. Seeing her smile like that made a shiver roll down his spine and his heart almost burst out of his chest. “This is something I'd rather tell you face to face.” he says as he slid both of his hands into his pockets, something he always did when he was nervous.

“Come on in” she says and motioned her head towards the hallway of her home. Evan steps over the threshold, far enough for (Y/n) to close the door. She starts hopping towards the kitchen. “I was just about to drink some tea, do you want anything?”

Evan was in some kind of trance, his heart was beating in his chest. But quickly got pulled out of it when her voice called out his name again. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“You’re a little dreamy tonight, I asked if you wanted some tea?” she asked again as she tried to keep her balance on her one foot and leaned her hip against the kitchen counter. “Yeah, that sounds good, thankyou” Evan answered. He didn’t want tea. He wanted to spill his guts.

(Y/n) grabbed a cup out of the upper cabinet and poured the warm water from the kettle into the mug. “Hey, have you seen that highway pile up on the news where the 133 worked on?” she asks. “I still wonder how pile ups like that keep happening.” she continues, it honestly felt like she was talking to a wall. She had never seen Evan that quiet.

“Hey, you okay?” (Y/n)’s voice asks as she glances at Evan and gets out a tea bag and disconnects the little string which was attached to it. She limped back to the area where the mug was standing on the counter.

“I love you” the words fell off his lips.

A silence that was so loud filled the room. “What?” the word rolled off her lips. Did she actually hear him right?

“I think that I’m in love with you” Evan says again as he stares into her soul.

“Did you hit your head in that collapsed building?” (Y/n) asks as she throws the tea bag she had put into the water, into the bin and makes a bee line to limp towards Evan.

When she’s in front of Evan, she holds up her index finger. “Can you follow my finger?” she asks and starts moving it from the left side of his face to the right side.

“No I didn’t hit my head, and besides we were wearing helmets” Evan says as he wrapped his hand around her index finger and pushed it down.

“Im serious (Y/n)” Evan let her name roll off his lips, which sent a shiver down her entire body. The hairs on her arms were standing up, goosebumps were spread all over her body.

“From the moment I saw you walking into the firehouse, you’ve had my heart.” he sighs. “It has been kind of exhausting to try and get your attention. And trust me I went far. I went so far that I got into a relationship with someone else, to try and make you jealous” Evan is out here spilling his guts.

He continues his rattle “But if you do not feel the same, all you have to do is say so and I’ll walk back out of that door and we can pretend this never happene-“ But before Evan could finish that sentence, he could feel the collar of his jacket getting crushed.

“Oh, shut up Buckley” She grabbed the collar and pulled him closer until her lips connected with his.

A warm feeling was spreading through her body as she felt his hand touching the back of her neck. Evan let his index finger and thumb of his other hand slip onto her chin, as he gently pushed it up to meet his height.

It almost felt like Evan was the air she needed to breathe and she couldn’t survive without it. One hand was still placed on the collar of his jacket. As the other one wandered to the back of his head, slightly pulling the short curls on his head.

She could feel his warm breath tickling her skin, it was almost like she was back in that building again when she opened the elevator and they were that close.

They both were panting, catching their breaths as they both took each other's breath away.

Evan let his forehead fall against hers as he smiles. “So you do like me.. did I make you jealous as well?” his low voice said as a small laugh left his mouth.

“Maybe.. ” she teased him.

[mythicalmyles]

step brother Toby 🧍👀 (also i hope tomorrow gets better💗 )

After this ask im gonna have too much in my mind lmfaoo

Stepcest/dubcon/manipulation/tobys gross n toxic/bottom male reader

You huffed out, turning to look at the man that was now your brother. You hated the fact your dad had remarried but there was little you could do, he had made his mind up and moved her and her hell spawn into your home.

Toby stared a lot. Especially when you wire nothing but a towel after a hot shower, you tried to push back any thoughts that tried to weasel into your mind. You couldn’t deny his lifeless brown eyes would easily pin you in place, he always had a smirk on his face, like he knew something else no one else knew.

You were stuck alone with him, he sat on his bed, hair messy and unkempt. He’d likely ran his hands through his locks, deciding that was enough. He wore grey sweat pants decorated with stains that showed off his boxers, he was well defined which had initially surprised you. His glasses sat crooked on his nose, his dark bags hanging down his eyes as he stared at the screen infront of him. He had his shirt off, leaving his mouth watering chest on display. He was toxic as hell, always shouting obscenities down the mic. Even if he had done something stupid he’d still blow his top on those around him.

You were usually quick to make yourself scarce during the times he was gaming, instead you lay on your stomach and watched him lazily as anger seared over his features. “Yo-you fuh-fucking bitch!” He suddenly screamed out, throwing the control off the wall and nearly causing you to leap out of bed. It was too late once you’d realised your mistake.

Something evil took over Toby’s face when his eyes landed on you, his lips pulled into a snarl and a horrifying look in his eyes. You felt like a little fawn that had been dropped into the line of sight of a starved wolf. He moved to strike, jumping up just before your brain finally clicked. He was pissed and you must’ve looked like a target.

Fear flooded through you as you scrambled up, desperately praying for escape. Toby literally slammed the thoughts out of your head, sending you fly into the wall. You let out a cry as your body hit the wall, head slamming against the plaster and leaving your head spinning.

He had always scared you, he disappeared for days on end and always came back just that little bit extra terrifying. It was almost like every time he came back he left a little more humanity behind. You had tried so hard to stay out of his way despite sharing a room, you knew he was a ticking time bomb and yet you had stayed any way. You’d long given up on having your room look nice, he always tore it up anyway.

He grabbed your wrists, slamming them against the wall so hard you yelped. “T-Toby, ple-please.” The look on his face let you know just how big of a mistake you had made, he held your arms above your head with one hand while the other wrapped around your throat. His grip was tight and unforgiving, you were positive his nails would leave scars along your neck. You choked out a whimper, tears dripping from your eyes as he choked you to the point of blackout. He stopped just before you fell over the edge and into darkness, pulling away watching as you fell to your knees grasping your neck and choking.

Toby didn’t have any interest in you at first, intent on keeping the worst parts of himself until he was ready to leave. But when he caught sight of that dumb little look on your face it went straight to his cock, he knew you feared him and he relished in it. He was enraged from his game, the idiots in his team sucked. When he caught sight of you after his rage he felt something stir in him, the fear on your face, the way you bit down onto your lip eyeing him like you were about to bolt. He couldn’t have that.

That was how you’d ended up biting onto your sheets, Toby’s cock smashing deep inside of you. You felt your tears rush down your cheeks and soak into your sheets. “You like tha-a-that? Getting fuh-fucked by your big bro-brother?” Toby was insane, his words were lewd and disgusting. Yet your cock leaked between your legs, body shaking as he nailed into you. He left deep scratches in your hips, slamming you back onto his cock.

You couldn’t breathe, he loved the way you struggled underneath him. “S-stop To-toby-y.” You choked out one last time, he knew you didn’t mean it. He knew by the way your back arched, letting his cock slide deeper into you. Your choked moans filled the room along with the sound of him slamming into you, his cock abusing your prostate.

He ripped himself out and flipped you over, baring down at you with a shark toothed grin. He looked terrifying, drool dripping from his mouth as he stared down at you. The sight of his cock slamming into your tight hole was almost enough to spur him over the edge. “Ye-yeah that-thats it baby, ta-ah-take my cock.” He slammed your lips together, tongue forcing its way into your mouth and wasting no time in exploring. You whined into the kiss, feeling both of your saliva dripping down your face and neck.

“Do-dont wor-ry ill take go-good care of you, li-lit-little bro.” Toby’s words left you whining, hands grabbing desperately against his shoulders. You barely had a moment before an orgasm ripped through you, tearing you apart at the seams and leaving you clenching around Toby’s cock.

You clenched hard around him, sobbing and whining as you felt his cum flood your stomach. He flopped down onto you, his weight keeping you pinned down as he lazily ground into you. He ignored your overstimulated cries, content to keep his cock buried in your tight ass. “Suh-such a good b-boy.” Toby muttered, petting your hair as you came down from your high.

[elliemarchetti]

Eris Week Day 6: AU/Retellings

Inspired by one of @foxcort’s unhinged prompts because I couldn’t resist although I’m not totally out of my writing/Tumblr hiatus yet. Hope my contribution to @erisweekofficial will still be appreciated even if it’s in Cassian’s POV.

Disclaimer: I know some of you will see this more as Cassian's self-pitying account of an event that highlights his inadequacy as a mate, but in my eyes it's an excerpt of the happy life that awaits Eris and Nesta once her contacts with the Night Court will be reduced to a minimum, only from the point of view of someone who will remain in the past. Still, and for this I turn to the admins of Eris Week, if you find it inadequate for any reason you have every right not to reblog it and I won't bear you any grudge. You guys are amazing, and when my life will be a little more normal I can't wait to read everything that's been written and show some love to all the wonderful fanarts I'm sure the artists have made.

Plot: The Lord of Bloodshed is having the worst time of his life. The heir of Autumn can’t really say the same. This is the famous scene at the Court of Nightmares reimagined with a totally different plot for the whole last book so if it doesn’t really make sense, I’m sorry.

Rating: Explicit

Words: 1529

When the next song began, its notes lighter, the steps easier than the ones they had just engaged in, Nesta didn’t hesitate to take Eris’s hand. She seemed eager, like her partner wasn’t the monster they all told her about but just a good dancer who instinctively knew her body screamed to do those extra, solo turns that had catalysed the attention of the whole room. Cassian realized he wouldn’t have let her go, too worried about the impractical design of her dress, too apprehensive she was drunk on the music and not paying enough attention to her surroundings to succeed.  If he had been in Eris’s place, he would’ve scolded her by the end of the music, dragging her off the dancefloor, while the heir of Autumn studied her with his amber eyes as they chatted amiably, chuckles audible here and there. The General couldn’t hear everything they said, but as they got closer he caught a few scraps, words that made the blood in his veins boil.

“… I didn’t see this side of you…”

He wasn’t smiling, but she met his stare anyway as she responded, suave and flirty. She never spoke to Cassian in that tone, always composed, almost defensive, in the rare occasions their topic hadn’t revolved around training or the thousand obligations they were subjected to due to their roles. Maybe it was because he had never spun her, never murmured sweet nothings in her ear, sentences so refined her mouth twitched to one side. Unable to witness more, he turned to Mor, who watched from beside Feyre and Rhys, her face neutral and aloof. He couldn’t imagine how she was feeling, knowing she was the one who taught Nesta those steps.

“Are you inquiring after my eligibility?” Cassian heard Eris joke, his sharp smile turning into a full-on silky laugh at her reply. As it often happened, he felt inadequate in his vulgarity, in his lack of grace. A brute, as the eldest of the Vanserras liked to define him. There was no room for someone like him by the side of a female capable of carrying a political meeting on her inexperienced shoulders and tear someone’s head from their neck in the same week. That duality, the savage rage and silver fire mixed with a beauty able to bring kings to their knees was too much for him, no matter how many times he had claimed her as his, yet his feet moved instinctively, and he reached the pair at the very end of the waltz, trying to ignore how his tapered fingers had descended into the hollow of her bare back or how her cheeks were flushed.

“Move,” Cassian said coldly, halting their private moment. He stood before them amid the sea of people cradled in black, just another piece of Night, until Eris stared at him down his straight nose, ignoring the burning violence oozing from the warrior’s hazel eyes.

“Go sit at your master’s feet, dog,” he hissed, teeth bared, but Nesta was quick to interject, accepting her mates unspoken offer.

“We’ll play later, Nesta Archeron,” the fireling retorted, putting too much emphasis on her last name for Cassian’s liking, before aiming for the dais. For an instant, really just the time of the song, the General deluded himself that he had won, that he could somehow be the knight in shining armour of the story, the hero who saves the princess from the villain and thus obtains her hand and eternal, unconditional love. Those empty illusions were shattered when he followed her into the dark and suffocating corridors of the Court of Nightmares, when he watched her slender figure enter the chamber assigned to Eris for the duration of his visit, her steps cautious and silent as a cat’s. She barely glanced at the slightly ajar door, too focused on her lover’s eager embrace, and Cassian clenched his jaw at the portrait of carefree happiness.

“You’re tickling me!” she giggled as the snake peppered her neck with light kisses, the sound like a harp strumming high and sweet. From his hiding spot, Cassian saw his nemesis’ half-smile widen as he hooked a finger under one of her dress’ straps and pulled, flooding him with pounding, vibrating jealousy. He had to remind himself to breathe when the silk slid down her chest, briefly exposing one of her breasts before Eris could sweep her to the bed, the impalpable skirt mostly gathered between her parted legs, firmly clutched around his waist. As he feasted on her exposed skin, her body went loose and taunt in so many different places Cassian didn’t know where to focus: she was bent and shaped and directed by her lover, her widened pupils hiding under long lashes thanks to the skill of the fingertips massaging her core. The ghosts of nearly faded love bites revealed themselves on the lower part of her ass as she arched her back in ecstasy and Cassian’s face went slack. It wasn’t him who left those marks on her, the memory of the sleepless night spent together forever imprinted in his memory, so she could only have had other partners, or maybe she had previously entertained herself between Eris’ sheets, protocol be damned. The matter quickly slipped out of his mind when the smell of her arousal flowed and swam around him, clouding his senses as she melted under someone else’s touch. There wasn’t enough space inside him, not in his mind or his heart, for what the situation made him feel, he just knew he was hard under his trousers, his body ready to honour and worship someone he had been unable to keep up with when he had the chance.

He was about to leave to deal with his shame when their gazes met. He would have expected those merciless and cold eyes to pin him to the spot, he supposed she would scream in anger, or perhaps warn Eris with quiet disdain that some beast beneath them was spying on their tryst, but instead her irises glimmered and she let out a moan, her flawless red lips, sin personified, parted to draw a likewise perfect O. As if awakened by that sound, her lover crawled back to her mouth, his hands busy undoing his pompous clothing. Cassian knew what was about to happen, he had watched and performed this dance for centuries, in the frenzy of inexperienced youth and in the blind search for solace when the need was too much. He had fucked females on all fours like some kind of wild animal, knees hurting on marble floors and feet losing their grips in the mud, in a foolish attempt to fill the void left by Nesta, but no one showed on their features the pure, feral delight that crashed on his mate’s face when Eris entered her all at once, like a conqueror of death, glowing as he devoured moonlit skin and shared heartbeats. Between one fast thrust and the next, he lifted Nesta’s arms above her head, their matching rings glinting as if lit by an inner fire. He guided her through the orgasm with ease and they came together, a rising cacophony of panting and groaning.

“I hope you’re with child,” he whispered, his words so shocking they made Cassian audibly gasp. There was no way he hadn’t heard the sound, even lost in his unchecked, dark joy, yet he decided to ignore it.

"Why so?" she murmured seductively, gleaming with wanton desire as she drank in his expression, whatever it was. She didn’t seem to object the idea, nor she sounded eager to postpone it as long as she could.

“It would give us an excuse to speed up the organization of this wedding. I know my father wants it to exude power, to convey all the strength of our family, and my mother wishes for every detail to be perfect, but I’m growing tired of this façade,” he replied honestly, then lovingly erased a smudge of kohl from the corner of her left eye, a remark of the familiarity they shouldn’t have had yet.

“She has no daughters and I have no mother,” she pointed out, amazing Cassian with the nonchalance she used to address her traumatic past. “Let her have fun.”

“I know, and I will never show even a hint of displeasure when she will inevitably take you away for the whole day to pick the best party favours and select the optimal spot to best showcase the sheer magnitude of the orchestra you so wisely selected, but the only thing I aspire to is to finally be able to get away from the intrigues and the backstabbing for a while, to travel wherever we want and show you all the wonders Prythian and the Continent has to offer,” he confessed, and Nesta kissed him again, dangling her love and triumph in Cassian’s face, a silent dismissal to whatever his role had been in her night.

Slowly, the fearsome Lord of Bloodshed retreated in the shadow, engulfed in a cocoon of grief and rage at the Mother’s mistake, the sound of his shattering heart deafening in his eardrums.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Absence | Sebastian Sallow x OC #43

Things have been working out a bit too smoothly for these two so… just a little drama

Summary: After a week of Sebastian coming to bed late, Evangeline snaps, telling Ominis that he has been sneaking around at night. They discover that Sebastian has been breaking into the Restricted Section, bringing up old fears and culminating in Evangeline confronting him.

Words: ~5,200

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Protective Friends, Drama (With a Happy Ending), Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Mutual Pining, Longing, Jealousy, Unspoken Feelings, Happy Ending :)

Timeline: Mid April

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The soft, flickering light from the fire in the Undercroft did little to cut through the heaviness that surrounded Evangeline. The shadows of the room stretched long across the stone walls, and the warm, familiar comfort of the place—her refuge from the rest of the world—now felt oddly hollow. She lay beneath the blankets, staring up at the ceiling, her mind racing.

Sebastian was late. Again.

Normally, by this hour, he’d be here beside her, lying on the other side of the bed—always there when she needed him, always close enough to reach out and feel the steady warmth of him, whether in conversation or silence.

But tonight, she was alone.

Her thoughts drifted back to the last few weeks. Their quiet bond had shifted, deepened, as the lines between friendship and something more blurred without ever being defined. Whether it was lingering touches—his fingers brushing lightly against her wrist as they walked together, the subtle press of his hand to her lower back as he guided her through doorways, or those private smiles they exchanged when no one else was watching, there was no denying that whatever this was between them. And yet, nothing had been said. No promises, no declarations. Just the quiet comfort of his company, of him being there, and the knowledge that something unspoken passed between them.

And yet, for the past week, Sebastian had started arriving later and later to the Undercroft. This wasn’t the first time he’d been caught up in something, distracted by his interests or various obligations. Evangeline understood that. But this was different. His absences had become more frequent, stretching longer than ever before, to the point that every night this week, she was left lying in the quiet of the Undercroft, waiting for him to return.

It wasn’t like him. He had always been reliable—always there when she needed him, even if it was just for a few quiet moments together before they went to sleep. Now, those moments were slipping away, and Evangeline was left with nothing but the silence and the unsettling feeling that something had changed.

What was he doing? Where was he going? Would tonight be the night he came later still? Was he growing bored of her? Or worse—had he started seeing someone else?

The thought sent a sharp, sudden pang through her chest. They hadn’t spoken about what was happening between them—whatever this was—but she wanted to believe in him. She wanted to trust that whatever it was, it was enough.

But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop wondering: If he wanted her, truly wanted her, wouldn’t he have said something by now? Wouldn’t he have made it clear that she was the one he wanted, that there was no one else? Why hadn’t he said it? Why hadn't he claimed her?

Evangeline's thoughts began to race faster, an overwhelming sense of insecurity washing over her. What if he was only interested in her for fleeting moments of companionship? What if she was just a comfort for him to enjoy in private, but not enough to make a commitment in public?

She sat up from the bed, the blankets falling in a soft heap around her waist as she swung her legs over the side. She couldn’t stand it any longer—this waiting. The unanswered questions that twisted inside her chest.

Her heart thudded uneasily as she moved toward the door, her steps light, almost cautious, as if she were afraid to disturb the peace of the night that felt anything but peaceful. She didn't know exactly what she intended to do, but she knew she couldn't sit here torturing herself until Sebastian showed up.

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she left the room, closing the door behind her with a soft click. The corridors of Hogwarts were impossibly quiet at this hour, save for the occasional whisper of the wind rattling through the windows. Evangeline walked swiftly, her heart beating faster with each step, her thoughts whirling. She tried to tell herself she was being irrational, that she was overthinking things, that Sebastian had just been caught up in something benign. But it didn’t make the uncertainty go away.

With a resolve that she couldn’t entirely understand, she found herself standing in front of the Slytherin common room, her breath catching in the cool air. The large door was guarded by the serpentine emblem, and the faint glow of torchlight reflected off of it. She raised her hand and knocked—soft at first, then louder, harder, frustration giving her a sharper edge.

The sound echoed through the hallway, and Evangeline didn’t care if she woke anyone up. She couldn’t stand being alone with her thoughts any longer. She knocked again, her patience thinning. She needed someone to talk to, someone who wouldn’t judge her, someone who would just listen.

Ominis.

Finally, the door creaked open, revealing an annoyed and sleepy looking Prefect.

"What in Merlin's name is going on?" the Prefect muttered, rubbing his eyes and squinting into the darkness. "It’s the middle of the night—what do you want?"

Evangeline barely looked at him, her gaze fixed on the common room behind him. "I need Ominis," she said, her voice shaky but firm. "Please. It’s urgent."

The Prefect’s tired expression softened for just a moment as he surveyed her face, the distress written all over her. "Fine," he sighed, rolling his eyes as he retreated back inside.

The door slammed shut in her face, and Evangeline began to pace the length of the corridor, her mind a whirlwind of anxious thoughts. She pressed her palms against her eyes, trying to push away the sting of unshed tears that threatened to overwhelm her.

A few minutes passed, though they felt like hours, before the sound of footsteps interrupted her spiraling thoughts. The Prefect returned, Ominis close behind him, his bleary expression quickly giving way to concern as he took in Evangeline’s frantic posture.

"Evangeline," Ominis said softly, his voice rough from sleep but laced with care. "What’s wrong?"

She didn’t answer immediately, her words tangled in her throat. Instead, she just shook her head. Ominis stepped forward, placing a hand on her shoulder, his touch grounding her in the moment.

"Come on," he said, his voice gentle. "Let’s get you out of the hallway."

Ominis led her through the silent, dimly lit corridors, the only sounds their soft footsteps against the cold stone floor. When they finally reached the Undercroft, Ominis opened the hidden entrance with practiced ease.

Evangeline hesitated before moving to the small bed tucked in the corner. She sat on the edge, her shoulders slumping under the weight of her thoughts. Her fingers began twisting together in her lap, a nervous habit Ominis had come to recognize as a sign of her inner turmoil. She stared down at them as though they held the answers she desperately sought.

Ominis crossed the room without a word, settling into one of the chairs across from her. The wooden creak of the chair legs echoed in the stillness. He leaned forward slightly, his hands clasped in front of him, and though his sightless eyes stared past her, his focus was unwavering.

"So, given that Sebastian isn’t here..." Ominis began quietly, his tone both gentle and probing.

Evangeline’s chest tightened, but she forced herself to swallow the swell of emotion threatening to overtake her. "He’s been coming to bed later and later. I’ve been waiting for him to say something, to explain—but he hasn’t."

Ominis’ brow furrowed deeply as he listened, his sharp mind working to unravel the threads of Evangeline’s worry. He’d noticed the subtle shift between her and Sebastian since the Equinox Ball—the fleeting touches, the lingering gazes, the moments of quiet that carried a gravity beyond mere friendship. But this—Sebastian’s nightly absences—was new, and it unsettled him.

The more Evangeline spoke, the more unease curled in Ominis’ chest like a shadow creeping across the room. Memories of past secrets, past mistakes, came rushing back, and he hated the thought of Sebastian slipping into old habits—especially given he was keeping them both in the dark.

When he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was an unmistakable edge. "I didn’t realize Sebastian’s been disappearing at night... If I’m honest, I thought you two were practically inseparable these days."

Evangeline’s shoulders sagged under the weight of her fears, her lip trembling as she tried to keep her composure. "I don’t understand it either," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She swiped quickly at her eyes, brushing away tears before they could fall. "And I can’t even sleep when he’s not here. When I try, it’s just more nightmares."

Ominis’ hand stilled on the armrest of his chair, his fingers curling into a fist as a surge of protective anger flickered through him. Leaning forward, his voice dropped to a low, deliberate tone. "Do you have any idea where he’s been going?"

Evangeline shook her head, her gaze fixed on the floor as she let out a soft, humorless laugh. "No. He hasn’t said a word. Just acts like everything’s normal during the day." Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap, a habit Ominis recognized as a sign of her turmoil. "I’ve tried to wait. To be patient. But the longer this goes on, the worse it feels, Ominis." Her voice broke, raw and unguarded. "And the more I wonder... if he’s off seeing Chelsea again. Or someone else. He used to do it all the time. What if I’m just... just here to keep him company until someone better comes along?"

Ominis exhaled slowly, the weight of her words pressing down on him like a storm cloud. He knew Sebastian’s history better than anyone—the fleeting flings, the flirtations that rarely lasted, the way he charmed his way into people’s hearts only to leave them behind. It was a pattern as familiar to Ominis as the walls of the Slytherin common room. So Evangeline’s fears? They weren’t unfounded.

But this was different. Ominis was certain of it.

Sebastian might be reckless, even foolish, but he wasn’t stupid (something Ominis would never admit to his face). Sebastian wouldn’t do that to Evangeline, the girl who had stood by him through his highest triumphs and his deepest failures. Not to the woman who was, without a doubt, the love of his life.

"I understand why you might think that," Ominis said carefully, choosing his words with precision. "I know how Sebastian’s been in the past. But you’re not just anyone to him, Evangeline. He’s different with you. He might be keeping things from you—foolishly, I’ll grant you—but I refuse to believe he’d ever lead you on or treat you as disposable."

Evangeline’s eyes flickered up to meet his, doubt clouding her hazel gaze. "How can you be so sure?" she whispered, her voice trembling. "We’ve never even talked about... whatever this is between us. It’s all just been unspoken, and now he’s keeping things from me. Why, Ominis?"

Ominis leaned forward, his gaze steady and unwavering. "Because Sebastian is still Sebastian. He's a bloody idiot. But it doesn’t mean he’s playing you. Whatever’s keeping him distant, it isn’t about you. You’re not the problem. The problem… is something else. Something deeper." He paused, his expression darkening as his mind turned over the possibilities. His voice dropped, turning grave. "Given he's hiding this from us... I fear he may be sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong."

Evangeline stiffened at his words, a chill settling in her chest as her mind raced. The memory of fifth year came rushing back, the cold knot of fear tightening in her stomach. She had felt this before—back when Sebastian’s reckless behavior had spiraled out of control, when he’d made choices that had endangered not just himself, but her and Ominis as well. It wasn’t just his daring streak that worried her now; it was the secrecy, the same suffocating silence that had caused so much chaos before.

"He's obviously up to something he doesn’t want us to know about," Her hazel eyes lifted to Ominis, dark with worry and laced with the beginnings of frustration.

Ominis sat back, his expression grim as he processed her words. His fingers tapped a slow rhythm on the armrest, a rare sign of agitation from someone usually so composed. "It does feel familiar, doesn’t it? The late nights, the secrecy... And if he’s keeping this from both of us, that means he knows we’d try to stop him. And that alone makes me uneasy."

"So, what are we going to do about it? Just wait for him to decide we’re worthy of the truth? Or…" Her voice trailed off, the bite of helplessness threatening to choke her words. She clenched her fists in her lap, desperate for a solution but wary of overstepping.

"For now," Ominis said, his tone firm and decisive, "we do nothing. Not yet. We’re in no state to confront him right now, and going in blind would only make things worse." He hesitated, then added, his voice softening, "Tomorrow night, I’ll follow him. I’ll find out where he’s going and what he’s been hiding. But tonight, we should rest."

Evangeline nodded, conceding to Ominis’ logic. There was no point scouring the castle for Sebastian at this hour, not when exhaustion and uncertainty weighed so heavily on her.

With a quiet sigh, she lay back on the bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. The soft fabric did little to soothe the ache in her chest, but she clung to it nonetheless, as though it might shield her from the storm of thoughts swirling in her mind. Ominis, ever steady, settled into the armchair near the bed, his posture rigid but his expression calm. He wouldn’t leave her alone tonight—not when she so clearly needed someone nearby.

She was grateful for his presence. She always was. But tonight, it wasn’t enough. The space between her and Sebastian felt too vast, too insurmountable, and no amount of Ominis’ quiet reassurances could fill it. That void was a chasm she didn’t know how to cross, and it stretched wider with every passing moment.

The room fell into a heavy silence, the kind that pressed down on her like a weight. Ominis sat still, his own thoughts a quiet hum in the air, while she stared at the canopy above her, willing herself to find some semblance of peace.

Hours slipped by, measured only by the soft crackling of the fire in the hearth and the rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths. Sleep came in fits and starts, fleeting and fragile, as the silence and the dim glow of the fire stretched endlessly into the night

~

The following day unfolded with an unsettling calmness, as if the castle itself had conspired to mask the tension that lingered beneath the surface. Lessons were attended, meals were eaten, and conversations were held, all with a veneer of normalcy that felt both comforting and suffocating. Yet, for Evangeline, every tick of the clock carried a quiet, gnawing unease. The unanswered questions, the hollow absence where Sebastian should have been—they shadowed her every step, a weight she couldn’t shake no matter how hard she tried to focus on the mundane rhythm of the day.

By the time night fell, exhaustion had settled in her bones, but it brought no solace. When Evangeline crawled into bed, she didn’t bother with the usual pretense of waiting for Sebastian to appear. There was no point anymore, not when he’d made it so abundantly clear that he wasn’t coming. She had already resigned herself to the ache of his absence, to the quiet sting of wondering what could possibly be more important than facing her.

Pulling the covers up to her chest, she lay in the dimly lit room, her thoughts heavier than the darkness pressing in around her. Her mind flitted to Ominis, who had promised to follow Sebastian tonight. It was a fragile thread of hope—one that Evangeline clung to as she lay there alone in her and Sebastian's bed.

It wasn’t long before Ominis returned to the Undercroft, his face a storm of barely contained anger. His jaw was clenched tight, and his usually composed demeanor seemed ready to shatter. Evangeline felt the weight of his silence even before he spoke. The tension was suffocating, and the look on his face told her everything she didn’t want to hear. Her heart sank.

“Where is he?” she asked, the panic rising in her chest as she sat upright, gripping the edge of the blanket.

Ominis hesitated, his fists clenching at his sides, the lines of his face sharp with frustration. “The Restricted Section,” he finally said, his voice low and simmering with barely restrained anger. “I followed him. He’s been sneaking there at night, Evangeline—again.”

The words hit her like a curse, knocking the air from her lungs. The Restricted Section. All at once, memories of fifth year surged forward, raw and unrelenting. The reckless pursuits, the forbidden magic, the choices that had left scars none of them could ever fully heal. She had thought that was behind them. For two years, she had believed he had changed, that they had all moved forward.

But now? Now it seemed he was slipping back into the same destructive spiral. The betrayal, the frustration, the heartbreak—it all came rushing in, crashing over her like an unrelenting tide.

“Why?” The word escaped her lips before she could stop it, her voice trembling with equal parts fury and devastation. “What the hell is he thinking? After everything, Ominis—after all that we’ve been through, why is he going back there and hiding it?”

Ominis exhaled sharply, his frustration as palpable as her anger. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice tight. “I don’t know what he’s doing, or why he’s doing it. But, Evangeline, you can’t—”

“I have to,” she cut him off, throwing back the covers and swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her feet hit the cold stone floor with purpose, her movements sharp and determined. “I can’t just sit here. I won’t. I’m not going to let him destroy himself or drag us through that nightmare a second time.”

“Evangeline,” Ominis said firmly, stepping forward, his voice tinged with desperation. “Think for a moment. Barging in there isn’t going to fix this. You’ll only make it worse.”

Her hazel eyes blazed as she looked at him, her chest heaving with the intensity of her emotions. “And do nothing? Is that better?” she demanded. “We almost lost him last time, Ominis. I won’t stand by and watch it happen again.”

Before Ominis could stop her, Evangeline was already moving toward the door, her mind locked on one singular purpose: finding Sebastian and demanding answers. The storm of rage and hurt inside her had grown too powerful to contain, spilling over into swift, determined action.

Ominis called after her, his voice sharp with concern, tinged with frustration. But she didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Her chest was tight with emotion, her heart pounding in her ears, drowning out everything else.

The chill of the night air hit her as she stepped out into the castle corridors, her bare feet moving silently over the cold stone. She hadn’t bothered with shoes, nor had she thought to change from her pajama shorts and tank top. She didn’t care. She couldn’t be bothered to care.

She stormed through the halls, her thoughts blurred with anger, fear, and betrayal. Luckily, she didn’t need to think, didn’t need to watch her surroundings. Evangeline had done enough of her own sneaking around to know the corridors of Hogwarts better than most, and she was on autopilot, weaving through the castle like a ghost.

She didn’t slow her pace until she reached the library, her steps purposeful and quick, driven by a roiling mix of anger and fear. The familiar scent of parchment and dust barely registered as she slipped inside, her movements fluid and precise, honed by countless evenings spent navigating the labyrinth of bookshelves unnoticed.

When she reached the entrance to the Restricted Section, her heart clenched, and a knot of dread tightened in her stomach. Her fingers hesitated for the briefest moment, brushing over the cold wood of the door, before she steeled herself. Whatever Sebastian was hiding, she was done waiting for answers.

Carefulness abandoned, she raised her wand and flicked it sharply. The lock clicked open with an audible snap, the sound sharp in the stillness of the library. She shoved the door forward, her momentum carrying her into the dimly lit room.

“Who’s there?” Sebastian’s voice immediately cut through the air as he spun around, his wand drawn in an instant.

With a slow, deliberate step forward, Evangeline let her Disillusionment Charm drop, stepping into the flickering torchlight. Her heart hammered in her chest as her eyes met his.

Sebastian’s hand tightened around his wand, and his eyes flashed with a mixture of disbelief and guilt.

"Evie—"

"What the fuck are you doing here." Her voice came out low and dangerous, the words edged with raw fury. The words hung in the air between them, heavy with Anger. Betrayal. Fear. All of it crashing together in a single question.

Sebastian’s eyes flicked over the scattered books around them. “I’m not— I didn’t come back here for—”

"How could you do this?” she whispered, her voice cracking like glass. The words seemed to tear her open, and Sebastian could see the rawness in her eyes. "Sneaking around in the dead of night like it’s nothing? Keeping it from me? From Ominis?!"

Sebastian's heart twisted painfully in his chest at the sight of her—vulnerable, confused, and hurt. “Evie, please, listen—”

“No!” She cut him off, her voice rising, and he could hear the pain cutting through each word. “You’ve been sneaking around—lying to me—after everything we've been through, Sebastian. After everything I’ve done for you!"

Sebastian’s mouth opened and closed, a desperate search for words that refused to come. “It’s not like that,” he said, “I swear, it’s not.”

“Then what is it like?” she demanded. “You’re sneaking around in the middle of the night, messing with Merlin knows what in the Restricted Section, and you think keeping it from me—keeping it from us—is somehow better? Safer? You promised, Sebastian. You promised me you were done with this. That we’d never go back to... to this.” Her voice cracked, the weight of her hurt pouring into her words.

Sebastian's throat was dry, his mind a mess of tangled thoughts. He didn’t know how to explain. “Evie, I never meant to hurt you or scare you,” he rasped, the words dragging out of him as though they were strangling him. “It’s just… I didn’t know how to tell you. I thought you’d think this was foolish, or worse, that this would be another burden for you.”

Evangeline’s jaw tightened, her arms crossing over her chest like a shield. “So instead, you shut me out,” she said, her voice sharp but trembling with emotion. “You decided for me. You didn’t even give me a chance!”

Her words hit him like a blow, and he flinched, guilt twisting in his chest. “I wasn’t trying to shut you out,” he said quickly, his voice rising with his urgency. “I was trying to protect you.”

“Protect me?” she repeated, incredulous. Her eyes blazed with fury, but underneath, he could see the hurt—deep and raw. “From what, Sebastian? From you?"

The question crushed him, its weight too heavy to bear. Before he could think better of it, Sebastian was moving, his hands reaching out and pulling her into his arms. She stiffened for only a heartbeat before her composure broke entirely, the dam of her emotions shattering as she dissolved into quiet, shuddering sobs against his chest.

“Evie,” he murmured, his voice soft and full of regret, his hands cradling her protectively. “I’m so sorry. Don’t cry, please. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never meant to make you feel like this.” He tightened his hold, as if trying to physically shield her from the pain he’d caused. “I’m here. I’m right here. I promise, Evie, it's not what you think."

“Sebastian, please, just...” she whispered brokenly. “Just tell me what the hell you're doing here.”

His hands gently cupped her face, guiding her gaze to his. Her eyes were red and swollen, and it made his chest ache with a kind of desperation he hadn’t felt in years. Two years, to be exact.

"Everything I’ve been doing, I’ve been doing for you.”

For a long moment, she just stared at him, her face streaked with tears. Her confusion was palpable, and it made his stomach twist with fear.

“For me?” she asked, her voice so soft it made his heart ache. “How? How could this be for me?”

Sebastian took a steadying breath, his heart racing with the weight of his confession. “I’ve been studying ways to strengthen the defenses around the repository."

Evangeline’s brow furrowed, and she took an involuntary step back, her eyes wide with confusion and disbelief. “What… what do you mean?”

Sebastian swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he searched for the right words. “I know how much you’ve given up to keep it safe—to keep it from falling into the wrong hands. The sacrifices you’ve made, the nightmares… I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing anymore. I wanted to find a way to make sure it stays protected. To keep you safe.”

Her head shook reflexively, her voice trembling as she struggled to process his words. “I don’t… I don’t understand. How could you possibly—”

He stepped closer, gently cupping her face in his hands. “Evie, I know what you’ve been through. I know how it haunts you—the weight of it all, the constant fear of losing control.” His voice cracked slightly, but he pushed forward, his determination outweighing his doubt. “I love that I can help keep your nightmares at bay just by being there. That when I’m with you, you can sleep without reliving everything.” He let out a shaky breath. “But that’s not enough. I don’t want to just hold them back for you. I want to stop them entirely.”

She blinked, her expression softening but still laced with uncertainty. “Sebastian…”

He cut her off gently, his words tumbling out in a rush as he brushed away her tears. “The wards around the repository—they’re strong, yes, but they’re not impenetrable. I thought… if I could strengthen them, then maybe you could finally rest. So I’ve been researching ancient enchantments, ones far older and stronger than anything we’ve seen before. I’ve been digging through texts, experimenting, trying to find a way to make them truly unbreakable.”

Her lips parted, but no words came. She simply stared at him, her hazel eyes shining with a mixture of disbelief and something else—something softer. “You’ve been doing all of this… for me?” Her voice was small, fragile, as if she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe it.

Sebastian’s throat tightened, and his grip on her face faltered for just a moment. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice raw and unguarded. “I realize now this isn’t the way I should’ve done it. I should’ve told you from the start, Evie. I should’ve been honest. But I—” He stopped, his words catching in his throat as he looked at her, his gaze filled with an aching vulnerability. “I wanted to carry the burden for you. You’ve already sacrificed so much, and I—”

Evangeline’s arms wrapped around him with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, pulling him into an embrace so fierce and unrelenting it left him momentarily stunned. For a heartbeat, he froze, caught off guard by the sheer intensity of her hold. But then, as her warmth seeped into him, as her trembling form pressed against his, he melted into her. His arms came up slowly, then tightened around her, pulling her closer as the weight of the moment settled over them like a heavy, quiet storm.

He felt the dampness of her tears soaking through the fabric of his shirt, their warmth bleeding into his skin. It didn’t matter. None of it did. All that mattered was that she was holding him—not turning away, not pushing him into the shadow of his own regrets.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered against him, her voice raw and frayed at the edges. It cracked with the weight of her emotions, and he felt it like a knife to his chest. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know you were trying to help me.”

Her hands fisted into his shirt, gripping him as if she feared he might disappear if she let go. It was a desperate, trembling hold, as though she wanted to anchor herself to him completely.

When she finally spoke again, her voice was small but steady, each word measured and deliberate. “I was so angry… I thought you were hiding things because…” She paused, the words catching in her throat. He felt her shoulders shudder as she pressed her face harder against him. “Because you were falling into old habits. I thought you were slipping away again. But now…” she continued, her voice trembling but gaining strength. “I see it. I see what you were trying to do. And I’m sorry, too. For assuming the worst of you. For doubting you.”

Her admission wrapped around him, each word landing with the weight of something he hadn’t realized he’d been waiting to hear. His hand came up to gently cradle the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair in a gesture meant to soothe, though he wasn’t sure who it was meant to comfort more—her or himself.

“You don’t need to apologize,” Sebastian’s throat tightened. "I don't blame you for being worried, I... if I were you, I'd have thought the same. I should've said something. I just... I didn’t want to burden you even more, but I should have trusted you.”

Evangeline pulled back just enough to look up at him, her tear-streaked face so close to his. She shook her head slightly.

“No, we both should’ve trusted each other."

Sebastian nodded, his forehead dropping to rest against hers. "No more secrets."

Evangeline blinked, her tears catching the faint glow of the room’s light as they streaked down her cheeks. A faint smile tugged at her lips, wobbly and uncertain, but there nonetheless. She lifted her hand, her fingers trembling slightly, and extended her pinky toward him.

Sebastian stared at it for a moment, confusion flashing across his features. “What are you—?”

“No more secrets,” she interrupted, her voice soft but firm. "Pinky promise.”

A laugh bubbled up in his chest, unbidden and disbelieving, but he lifted his hand, curling his pinky around hers.

“I promise.”

Satisfied, she nodded, but she didn’t let go. Instead, her grip tightened, and she tilted her head slightly, her expression shifting to something more serious. “Good. Now, tell me everything.”

Sebastian’s smile faded into a nervous chuckle as he straightened, still holding her pinky with his. “Everything?”

“Yes, everything,” she insisted, her hazel eyes narrowing in mock warning. “If we're going to keep that repository safe—and keep you from going off and getting yourself into trouble—I need to know exactly what you’ve been doing.”

Sebastian sighed dramatically, though the fondness in his eyes betrayed his attempt at exasperation. “Well, alright, since you’ve bound me to this ironclad agreement…” He uncoupled their pinkies and stepped back just enough to lean against the nearest surface, crossing his arms as he began. “But you’d better get comfortable. This isn’t a short story—it’s a saga.”

Evangeline arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a small, skeptical smile. “Oh, really? A saga, is it? Should I get some popcorn for this?”

“Evie,” he said, his voice dipping into that dangerously charming tone he used whenever he wanted to get his way. “Just sit. Please. If I’m going to talk for hours, the least you can do is make yourself comfortable.”

She hesitated, her narrowed eyes studying him for a moment before she let out a soft sigh. “Fine. But this had better be worth it.” She perched on the edge the worn out sofa in the corner. “There. Comfortable enough for you, Your Highness?”

Sebastian chuckled, pushing off the wall and walking over to sit beside her. He set his notebook on the table between them, flipping through pages filled with cramped handwriting and hastily drawn diagrams. “You’re going to regret that sarcasm when you realize how brilliant this all is.”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed, “Start talking, genius.”

He tapped a finger against the page he’d opened to, a faint spark of pride glinting in his eyes. “Alright, here’s the short version to start with: I’ve been researching ancient protective enchantments—ones designed to hold back curses, dark magic, even elemental forces. Most of the texts are fragmented, but I’ve pieced together enough to start working on something viable. I’ve been testing their applications on smaller wards, trying to see how they interact with modern protections. And that’s just the beginning.”

The hours stretched on as Sebastian spoke, his voice weaving through technical explanations and the occasional humorous aside to keep her engaged. Evangeline asked questions, pushed back on his riskier ideas, and occasionally let out an exasperated sigh at his more reckless tendencies. Still, the tension from earlier had faded completely, replaced by the quiet rhythm of collaboration, trust, and something deeper—the unspoken bond neither of them dared to name.

By the time Sebastian closed the notebook with a satisfying thud, the candles in the room had burned low. Evangeline was curled up against him now, her head against his shoulder.

“So,” she said softly, her voice tinged with both sleepiness and fondness. “That’s the big plan?”

He nodded, curling an arm around her. “That’s the big plan. And now, you’re officially caught up. No more secrets.”

A faint smile played on her lips as her eyes fluttered shut. “No more secrets,” she murmured.

Read more stories about Sebastian and Evangeline

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[crystalsenergy]

Draconic charts - meaning & how to read (past life personality)

Draconic charts are perfect for seeing the patterns of our Soul - until now. Therefore, this chart helps us to know our personality in past lives.

You can calculate your Draconic chart here.

The Draconic chart is there to remind us of the path our Soul has traveled - or still needs to travel - to evolve.

No Soul of an incarnated being is perfect. Don't be surprised if, when looking at your Draconic chart, you find many excesses, points that may not even manifest in this life… in my view, the Draconic chart is a snapshot of the points we have chosen to evolve in our Soul, points that we have worked on improving in this current life or in some recent ones.

This is because the Draconic chart, in the end, is directly related to the natal chart. The Draconic chart changes as we reincarnate. "But if it represents the Soul, why does it change?" Soul is not fixed, static, frozen in time.

I have an experience to share regarding a Draconic chart that can help better understand what I want to say above.

I know a person who, in this current life, has a chart somewhat opposite to what they have in the Draconic chart - literally opposite.

In the Draconic chart (which represents the condition of our Soul in most recent lives, accumulated patterns, what we have been, the truths we possess), we see a lot of Scorpio, and in the current natal chart, the person is Venusian, with Taurus in various aspects of personality. By the way, this person feels extremely comfortable with Taurus energy, so if she brought this aspect into this life, it's because her Soul has already taken some steps and integrated this point - that doesn't appear in Draconic chart.

This is because we are not born with the natal chart we have by "the force of the universe". The universe doesn't force anything. We don't have a natal chart that was given to us - instead, we define it. Our natal chart is a reflection of our current personality, and the Draconic chart is a reflection of past life patterns, the primary essence that a person possessed. This primary essence doesn't go away, you feel it there, but it evolves, no longer being just what it was on page 1.

Therefore, I see the Draconic chart as the gateway to understanding the past, but not to becoming imprisoned in it. Many end up imprisoning themselves in the past when trying to understand it. The past is past for a reason, and you have certainly changed. Well, you need to change.

"Paty, but does everything change?" Of course not. Only the necessary. And always according to our own efforts. We talk about this below, when explaining the aspects in Draconic charts.

Exactly for this reason, if the person in the example, who has a lot of Scorpio in their Draconic chart, in this current life integrates exactly the opposite sign very easily, we can conclude that this person has made significant progress in relation to their Soul's patterns. And, of course, there is still more to go.

You see, the Draconic chart is not a chart to focus all the time. This is because it represents the past, what we have accumulated in the Soul from past lives.

Every time a life ends, the lessons that make sense are integrated into the Soul; therefore, the Soul changes with each life. The Draconic chart is not a chart to be focused because if it symbolizes the past, which is merely a foundation for the present, and if we are in evolution, we are not here to look back, but to understand what we have from the past to be used in the current moment and what we still have to change, improve because it's not good yet.

Literally, my intention is to convey the idea that the Draconic chart is not a fixed chart that will not change in other lives. This chart represents the higher state in which your Soul was BEFORE you incarnated, came to this earthly experience.

The Draconic chart represents your patterns before you came here, patterns that may be being repeated or changed, issues that may have become only present or still repeat difficulties. The answer to these questions lies in the relationship between the Natal Chart x the Draconic chart.

And since the Draconic chart is not a goal but rather an awareness of what our Soul has been up to this point, the focus must truly be on the relationship between the current personality we assume and the Draconic chart. It is from these two that we see our evolution… and what state we are in relation to that.

We are beings capable of constantly evolving, and understanding this is to move forward and break the monotony of life. It is letting go of the need to be one thing forever, releasing fixed patterns and attachments to your own way of being, to understand that there is something much greater for you to achieve - to achieve from YOURSELF, always.

💜✨ TIPS FOR READING THE DRACONIC CHART 💜✨

I invite you to focus on reading from the following perspective:

Natal x Draconic

-> the lessons we commit to learning in this lifetime IN RELATION to our Soul's constant dynamics, urges, and patterns. <-

The HOUSES in the Draconic and natal charts are always the same because they represent the karmic contract we made with ourselves (karmic not in a derogatory sense, but in terms of lessons and experiences we agreed to undergo for our evolution, the journey we agreed to embark on).

In this contract, these are the areas we are working very hard to master, refine, evolve. In our lives, we are experiencing different perspectives of the same area until we understand that there don't need to be extremes, but rather integration to become broader and more complete.

✨ ASPECTS in the Draconic chart x natal chart ✨

Oppositions - Lessons through discomfort, learning from the opposite side. If there are oppositions, it appears that the necessary lessons have been developed by you in that area involving both planets. This is because the natal chart, on one hand, represents your current personality, the set of traits developed up to the PRESENT. The Draconic chart, on the other hand, represents your Soul's quests in relation to past lives, accumulated patterns that may need improvement and evolution.

Squares - Squares represent points of tension. To understand a square aspect, we can think of the signs that naturally form this aspect. An example is Taurus and Aquarius. While the former prefers things in an earthly, practical, objective manner, aiming for energy conservation, is solid, consistent, seeks comfort and security; the latter often wanders, prefers a more mental approach rather than practical, seeks reason, mental life rather than sensation, pleasure, tactile experience as Taurus does. They are distinct languages in many ways. The same goes for Aries and Capricorn. They are very different signs. Aries is instinctive, fast, immediate, impulsive, assertive, independent, often prefers something new; Capricorn is traditional, closed, melancholic, restrictive, limiting, conservative, practical, and planning. In the relationship between these signs, many things need to be adjusted or even sacrificed (which is not always good) to achieve harmony. Given all this, when reading the Draconic chart x natal chart, if you see squares, they may represent the greatest opportunity of all to learn, evolve. It will be difficult, yes, but these lessons will take you out of your comfort zone, require effort, awareness, and discipline. The keyword for squares is conflict that generates change, learning that generates growth.

Conjunctions - The joining of forces and efforts. Here, we have a tremendous opportunity for a person to be INCREASING, GROWING, and EXPANDING that point in their Soul's personality that already existed (after all, conjunctions represent the union of forces and energies that are very similar, almost identical, because they involve the same sign). It's important to examine, through an analysis of the natal chart as a whole, whether the person is 1) reaching new levels in that aspect of the personality, evolving, or 2) if the person is in a comfort zone. Conjunctions can represent points of evolution in an issue that has been repeating, meaning that you are getting better and better at what your Soul already possesses (level 1, level 2, level 3, only analogy), or it can, on the other hand, indicate a comfort zone.

Sextile - Aspects of your Soul that you are manifesting very easily in the current life, through action. Observe, through astrological analysis and your intuition, if these aspects of ease in your personality are beneficial. Is it something that represents a strong point, a force, or is it something to be improved, worked on, or even transcended? For our evolution, we cannot continue with the same old patterns if they don't lead us on a good path. If it's something that harms you more than it helps (e.g., a pride pattern), it's something you haven't evolved, learned yet, something to be improved. If the aspect represents a strength, something good (e.g., communication skills), it means a point your Soul doesn't need to evolve, and it's perfectly fine to integrate it into this current life.

Trine - The same applies here. With the difference that with trines, you see points of your Soul that you are manifesting very easily in the current life, without effort. Observe, even more in trines, also through astrological analysis and your intuition, if these aspects of your personality are beneficial. Is it something that represents a strong point, a force, or is it something to be improved, worked on, or even transcended? For our evolution, we cannot continue with the same old patterns if they don't lead us on a good path. If it's something that harms you more than it helps (e.g., a pride pattern), it's something you haven't evolved, learned yet, something to be improved. If the trine aspect represents a strength, something good (e.g., communication skills), it means a point your Soul doesn't need to evolve and it's perfectly fine to integrate it into this current life.

✨✏️ NOTES AND Q&A (some) ✨✏️

You can observe that in the Draconic chart, the cusps of the houses (Ascendant to the 12th house) are, as a rule (we have exceptions, for example, natal Libra Rising, draconic Taurus or Cancer Rising, because of degrees), in the same elements as these 12 houses in the natal chart. For example:

Natal chart: Ascendant in Taurus. Draconic chart: Ascendant in Capricorn.

"Does the draconic chart symbolize what we need to achieve?".

No. The draconic chart symbolizes the patterns of our Soul and what we were before we got here. Soul missions can be seen with the Draconic chart being put together with the natal chart.

To have a better vision of life purposes, missions, what you are here to do, you can calmly focus on your North Node and Midheaven.

And what if I don't understand and don't resonate with my personality in the natal chart but much more with the personality in the Draconic chart?

It indicates spiritual issues of disconnection from the present moment, from your process of evolution, and a focus on the past. The Draconic chart is a chart of the past, past lives, the pattern of your Soul before you incarnated. You need to honor your present a lot and not just the past, because the past serves as a lesson, a foundation, but not as a focus for life because life is movement. The great news is that you are aligned with your Soul (Draconic chart), and that means you need to learn to look at what you are now and accept that you are changing, growing, improving.

[shrimshrim4fun]

May you please make a part 2 of "Sinners Reacting To you using GenZ slang"?

This one starring Eirene, Thistle, Luvia(and Ray), Lady Pearl, Adela, and Enfer?

Yeah but it might be a bit out of character for Enfer cause I don’t know her (also Luvia Ray) but I hope you enjoy.

Sinners Reacting to you Using GenZ Slang Pt2:

Eirene:

-Confused. Looked at you with an arched eyebrow and asked “Could you elaborate the meaning of….those words you just said?”

-Listened to you very intently like it was a fucking business meaning but at the end she still didn’t get the point of your “meaningless” jokes as she would like to call them

-Though even as she says that she actually once researched what your slang meant, and as she realized what she was doing her face turned red as she shut her computer

-Will sigh when she hears you say it near her or over text. But in private you once caught her practicing it by herself. “I just fanum taxed this company” you once heard her say in her room when she thought you were out

Thistle:

-She probably have heard some of the Sinners her age say it but doesn’t get it. It’s just made up words but you seem to like it

-Notes down the certain things you say in her journal every day. For example, she’ll have little things like: Sigma is a phrase to define someone is superior in looks or appearance. Can also be used in forms like “What the sigma” or “He’s so sigma

-She gets really red if you ever find these small snip its in her journal if you go through it. Stating it’s nothing

-Actually tried a few times to fit in with the younger Sinners by saying stuff like “Let her cook” but always get red afterward due to her straight forward expression and others just looking at her dumbfounded

Luvia Ray:

-Luvia doesn’t really know how to react, so Ray steps in. Ray is more cautious about how you use your words. “What does that mean? Is that a new term to call somone?” She would ask harshly but you quick explain it’s just funny slang and nothing to be took in seriously

-She is skeptical at first but finally accepts it. Luvia doesn’t really use it, but Ray proabably uses it to call creeps that look at Luvia. “Im gonna crash out on that dude if doesn’t stop glaring…”

-Luvia doesn’t really say it but sometimes she’ll talk to herself and when you ask about it she’ll answer with “Sorry…I’m being a bit delulu…is that how you use it in a sentence?”

Lady Pearl:

-Is curious about what you’re saying to say the least. “What are you saying, dear?”She’ll ask curiously as you explain to her

-Sometimes when she’s writing scripts for plays she’ll add in these “new words” she has discovered due to you

-She also sees this as a way to make you go to the plays with her. “But my dear, they are highly inspired by the words you have introduced me to, they are-” you halt her before she continued knowing if you argue any longer she’ll drag it for hours to persuade you.

-Sitting in the seats as the plays roll, a smile on her face as she wanted to see your reaction on how she put the words into the play.

-Though at the end of the play she’ll clap and exclaim loudly “They cooked didn’t they?” You had to stifle a laugh but she didn’t get why

Adela:

-Probably heard it before from the younger Sinners when giving them a haircut. Only chuckled at their words but never really asked

-Started asking because you started to say it around her. “What does that mean exactly?” She asked curiously after some time of you using it. After explaining she finally decided it’s just a way that younger people now have fun

-She’ll sometimes tease you about it but nothing serious. And she’ll also indulge in it a few times before. Mostly when you look stressed she’ll ask “Is the tea pipping hot?”

-Also the type to use the slang to compliment you (more like teasing) Started calling you “her goat” or “the goat” out of nowhere for a few days but stopped after you told her it was a bit embarrassing due to her calm demeanor when she said it

Enfer:

-She views your words as a new form of “art” Though you never got why she explained through a long almost 3 hours of how these words combined through the social class of the “sigma” being timid though reaching and beyond the levels of beauty of wealth while the “alpha” was less timid though the same. How the two contrasted…..yeah you forgot the rest

-Has made several of these words to show as art. All of them somewhat eerie and creepy but she stated “This shows the dynamics between the sigma, alpha, and the goat. The sculpture shows how they all bend together to create the dynamic.”

-Doesn’t care about why other people laughed at her words when she explained to them why the sculpture was influenced by. Would go rant for hours about how the words expanded our imaginations and influenced the way of thinking for us now.

-Probably has a notepad to write the phrases and the meaning/definition it means to her. If you ever flip through it you’ll find the small drawings to help her make sense of the word and other definitions for the word she thinks made sense. “Could you continue to list off some of the words that you have been saying? I find them very intriguing to say the least” She’ll ask 

Sorry if some of them are a little OOC I wasn’t there for some of the events 😞 If you have any thirsts, drabbles, or requests please feel free to interact with my inbox. I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you want a part 3 just ask for characters and I’ll write for them ><

[atxxzist]

broken | c.s (final)

prev // series m.list

pairing: choi san x reader

word count: 13.5k

warning: nothing i can think of but lmk

"you did it once again!" arin squeaks, the excitement in her tone louder than the overwhelming joy you're feeling, only able to stare in awe at the sight before you.

your picture right under the employee of the month for the second time in a row.

"i guess i did," you reply, a confident smile resting on your lips as your chest drops in relief.

it took a lot of time and so much work in order for you to come around and accept the idea that you are good at what you do. that every compliment wasn't just because they pitied or felt bad for you, but because you genuinely deserved it.

it took even longer to come to terms with the fact that despite growing up the way you did, your youth filled with absent parents and a home and family with no love, you are so much more than that.

you are so much more than the traumas and broken pieces in your life, and you're not just a weak, timid girl with a haunted past and a wounded heart.

even if your parents didn't love you, and the only boy who you gave your heart to broke it, those things doesn't define you as much as the belief and faith you have in yourself.

all the sessions of sitting in your therapist's office, crying, spilling your soul and guts out, and trying to believe her when she'd tell you none of it is your fault, whether your parents or the romantic partners you had.

it's worth it because you came out so much better in the end, your mindset almost completely rewired to the point you can't believe how vulnerable you once were.

how, you used to believe every lies so easily, it flying over your head and always giving people the benefits of the doubt when they didn't deserve it.

always such a pushover and so fearful, unconfident at anything, it's hard to wrap your head around the fact you lived for almost nineteen years without medication or guidance when you were on edge and close to breaking down at all time.

but regardless, you did it. you got help and unlearned some, and then had to learn a lot so you could be the person you are today. no longer doubtful of yourself and your abilities, and unwilling to let just anybody step all over you.

it's that mentality that got you this far despite also still being the very same girl from five years ago who's still naive in some ways, and with so many more things to learn and overcome.

"y/n," arin calls, sneaking half her body into your cubicle with a stack of papers in her hold, prompting you to spin the chair around to face her.

"the team's going out to eat after work. it is our treat to you."

"sounds good," you reply, pleased by the offer you wouldn't ever deny. "see you in about 20?"

"yes." she bobs her head. "we're getting barbecue, by the way."

life had been an array of ups and downs, everything not always smooth sailing and hitting many bumps on the road here. from you and yuna joining hands together in making a children's book with her being the illustrator but unable to commit to the idea, to getting ignored or rejected the first 40 or so applications until someone finally found your resume impressive because you didn't want to just rely on other people.

no matter how good yuna's offer was, talking about how she could get you a position in her uncle's company and how bad you wanted to take it because it would've spared you the stress of having to search for a job yourself, you knew you couldn't.

you wanted to earn it and be proud it was through your own efforts.

the rejections humbled you in some ways, and made you stronger in others, stopping at nothing until you finally got the first email that you've been accepted by a makeup brand as their content writer.

the brand, velvetie, had only been out for about a year by the time of your employment and was still fairly small and experimental. now, the brand is known for their lines of lip tints that are labeled soft, smooth, and long-lasting by reviewers, the creations only getting more popular by days as it's just now being praised by actors and idols alike.

you didn't at all imagined this to be the job you'd wind up with, nor did you think you'd turn out liking it, the creative writing degree and your history speaking for itself, but you're happy where you ended up and happy to still be writing in general.

the marketing team you're in, a small but comfortable circle where you've come to love and grow fond of the people you're working with, sharing the same space for a few hours a day and understanding all too well the struggles of meeting deadlines or running into a creative dry spell.

arin, who you're closest to and have known the longest, is who you met in your last semester of sophomore year after making the mistake of taking calculus as an elective while she was taking it as requirement for her business major.

besides the obvious hatred for calculus the two of you shared, it was unusual how quick a friendship came to blossom, never in your life have you felt such a natural bond to anyone. not even mingi, you've already told that story countless times, how it took awhile.

but it was so easy talking to her, your reserved and hesitant personality the perfect one to her more outgoing and friendly nature, you two clicked instantly, it was crazy.

she not only became one of your best friends, but also a part of your everyday life.

"you're completely drunk," you comment, finally pulling your friend's butt off the seat when everyone else finally left.

she hurls out a groan and leans on you slightly, her alcohol breath incredibly intoxicating and is the sole reason why you often rethink the choice of saying yes when you hate taking care of a drunk arin.

"i'm good," she attempts to say but her words are slurred as she tries regaining her balance and striving a few steps forward but you're quick to assist her again because you know she's gonna fall.

"come on, let's get you a cab," you say at the same time walking out with her sluggish body, stopping just right outside the restaurant.

"no. let me go home with you."

you raise an eyebrow at your friend, her head on your shoulder and appearing unconscious but the response just now registering her more aware than you think, because you know the girl, and you know she won't ever pass up the opportunity to visit her boyfriend.

a few months ago when you finally made the big decison to move out after sharing a tiny apartment with mingi for over a year, you had no idea that the new place, a modern-esque two bedroom apartment, would be under the same building as arin's boyfriend, and just right down from the hall to be precise.

you've met him a couple times and of course, he's handsome and wonderful and treats her just right, but you definitely did not apartment hunt with him in mind, so what were the chances.

at least for arin, it made everything all more convenient. her boyfriend in one place and her best friend just two doors down as she'd hop from one to another like it's halloween.

but in spite of her protests along the shared ride because you also shouldn't be driving, your conscious tipsy, you tell the driver to pull up at her place, not at all concerned about the abandoned cars because you'll just pick it up tomorrow, with the restaurant and your workplace a walking distance.

"but the dinner tomorrow, you're still coming, right?" your friend turns to you, her lazy eyes squinting as she awaits an answer.

"yes. we'll talk more about it tomorrow."

you insist on helping her walk to the door, afraid she might hit the cement before she'll even make it, but she assures she got it. still, you watch through the window as she fiddles with the keys until unlocking and disappearing inside.

once you're home, all you want to do is hit the bed. maybe put on a show in the background and just doze off to it, but you have to wash off the sweats and grime of today; get cleaned up and dry before settling on your mattress comfortably.

the ding from your phone you've placed on the nightstand after going the entire day of being on silent is what grabs your attention, your neck snapping to the lit-up screen, checking the bundle of messages you missed out on.

4:43 p.m.

kwak yuna: guys! florence is so beautiful!

kwak yuna: *attachment*

song minGi: beautiful for sure, but would be even better in person 🙄

kwak yuna: i told you guys that we should take a trip and i'll pay for half of it, but y'all always too busy to do anything 🙄💅

song minGi: yeah cuz we have something called being poor & have to keep up with jobs and responsibilities. we don't have mommy's and daddy's limitless money to live off of

kwak yuna: stfu 🖕

song minGi: 😜

lee minJi: he's so jealous fr

song minGi: that, i am. i too wish i was in italy rn

jeong yunho: but we really need to catch up soon. how does seoul sound in about a month from now?

kwak yuna: i can do that. starting to really miss home anyways.

jeong yunho: yeah, me and minji can make a trip there as well

song minGi: sounds good to me. now, we just wait for the other two, which is gonna be a good few years

jeong yunho: y/n has her phone on silence during work

song minGi: and yeosang's too good for the rest of us

jeong yunho: pfft

you giggle and roll your eyes the entire time reading through it, checking the latest message that prompted the notification and seeing it was from yuna.

it only makes sense given it's probably still early for her because of the time zone difference.

9:51 p.m.

kwak yuna: no one cares but this is the outfit i'm wearing for today. it's almost 1pm and i'll be heading to the gallery soon.

kwak yuna: *attachment*

song minGi: you're right, no one cares

y/n: in about a month sounds good to me, and seoul sounds even better. i won't have to do any traveling lol. also @ kwak yuna the outfit is super cute! i love the beret! 💕 and @song minGi you're literally annoying 🥱

song minGi: omg jumpscare! she's here to yell @ me

y/n: yessir

kwak yuna: omg y/n! hi!!!!

y/n: hi 🤭

y/n: had my phone on silence and then went out with my coworkers after. but yes, i miss you guys a lot. let's crash at my place next time!

kwak yuna: yes! i'll bring the booze!

song minGi: make sure it's the expensive kind

y/n: that's it, guys. have to sleep. goodnight! 🌙

before you go to set the alarms and really turn off your phone for the night, you catch just a glimpse of mingi's and yuna's conversation, the brief mention of yeosang before it all turns to fun banters again.

of course, most of the works were because of your own efforts and determination in wanting to get better. but the process would've been so much harder had it not been for the friends and support by your side.

the ones who believed in you when you didn't even believe in yourself, and the ones who gave you words of encouragement one after another, and was just there for you through it all.

a few years ago, you didn't think it was even possible to be without mingi or yunho. without their guidance or assistance because then you'd feel so out of place, lost, and completely confused.

but now, you're cities apart from them, and is surviving and doing absolutely okay.

they were so happy when you told them about arin; how alike but also different you two are, and how comfortable everything is with her, because they could rest assured that when they were no longer by your side, you'd be in good hands.

but even if without arin, they had faith in that you could do it by yourself. you'd grown so much within the past years and had no doubts you'd be fine.

they knew they couldn't be with you forever. not all the time at least. eventually, dreams and ambitions will take one of you from the others until you're all in different places one day, and they wanted you to be ready for that.

and it did. yunho sooner than mingi because as soon as he graduated, he followed his heart and moved to busan with minji, his girlfriend, and has been there since.

mingi on the other hand, lived under the same roof as you for a little over a year, attempting to do something with his psychology degree and earn his teaching credentials before moving back to the quiet town to be closer to his parents. he missed them.

who would've ever thought that out of the three, you would be the one who chose to stay back in the bigger city of strobing lights, loud commotions, and a big population when you were anything but that once upon a time.

so you're all in different places.

not just mingi and yunho, but yuna also traveling the world just like she dreamed of. traveling the continents so she can see the beauty the world has to offer; replicate it in her arts and visiting galleries and museums for more knowledge and inspirations.

you're happy for her.

the only person still in town is yeosang, but even he's not entirely reachable, if at all. he's the least active in the group chat and you can't recall the last time you had a proper conversation with him.

he's incredibly busy, you understand.

last you heard, he's juggling the tech job he got during his senior year, along with his master's at seoul national.

you knew someone like yeosang was always destined for greatness and his current standing doesn't fall any short of it. that he was always meant to go to a competitive university and get offered a great job because he's truly gifted and exceptional.

unable to dwell on any more thoughts, you close your eyes and let the weight of today take over, falling into a deep slumber.

waking up and getting ready for work is a repetitive routine.

first, making yourself a nice cup of coffee before getting dressed up and doing your hair, grabbing all necessary files and anything essential before calling a cab because you left your car at the company's parking lot yesterday.

the company's building is mostly in white, the only splash of other colors is the logo in pink plastered right at the front for everyone to see as they enter.

you swipe your id card and head upstairs to your designated working space, surprise to see arin already at hers before you.

"morning," she coos, her early tone friendly as you pass by her cubicle.

"morning," you reply, voice still tired and drowsy to a point, but your friend's perfectly fine appearance has you questioning, "hangover?"

"nope." she shakes her head. "i'm surprisingly fine, and excited for the dinner tonight. i hope you haven't forgotten."

"i haven't, because you've only reminded me like 50 times."

she giggles, a satisfied smile on.

"okay, good. i'll see you during break."

~

"so what exactly is this dinner about?" you ask your friend, seated in the break room right across from each other, the question stopping her from shoving a sandwich down her throat.

the entire week of her bringing up the 'dinner' event and annoying you with it, she never emphasized on what exactly it means. and dinner in the presence of her boyfriend and his apartment, to be exact.

"i don't understand why you'd want to invite me? i mean, shouldn't you guys be spending time alone?" you add on, confused.

"shhh," she shushes you, index finger at her lips and swirling out an exaggerated sigh, "you don't need to know anything for now. just get dressed up and get pretty, okay?"

she ends it with a calming smile, diving right back into her food as you stare at her with daggers.

you swear, if this is another of her attempt at setting you up on a date, you're so not gonna forgive her for it. it will be the third time, to speak.

the third time that you'll have to explain to her why you're not interested and why it didn't work out with you being completely married to your job and just not ready for the next step.

that no matter how fun and exciting the idea of a double date and hanging together is, it is not a priority for you. at least for now.

nonetheless, you get ready, throwing on a casual enough off shoulder ruffle dress that still looks presentable and like you at least tried, along with a pair of flat sandals.

you think that maybe, there's a chance tonight you're all just gonna eat dinner, probably play a game or two after and even catch a late night movie because arin just wants to hang with her boyfriend and best friend.

that you've drilled it enough time in her head that you're not looking for a romantic interest for her to know to not try to persuade you.

a text from her telling you to come when you're ready is what gets you up from the couch, checking your hair just once in the small mirror before heading down the hall and placing two knocks at the door.

your body and nerves still calm one second, and suddenly the next when the frame comes apart to unveil the person behind it and standing before you, you second guess if you're at the right place and time.

if this is some alternate universe where you're seeing things, or if reality is really so cruel to put you through this.

you've come so far and thought you had conquered most of your fears and hauntings, but all it's taking for your palms to start sweating again and feet with the urge to run to safety, is one of your past showing its head and waddling back into your life.

he's as equally surprised and confused, staring at you like he didn't expect this as well, and time stretches on when you two just gawk at each other like a dramatic scene from a movie.

his appalled expression as his eyes enlarges is disgustingly endearing, and you hate the way your body reacts to it.

hate that he looks even better than the last time, his hair now more refined and there's something more mature and manly about his style.

he's in a suit and no longer looks like a college fratboy that enjoys breaking hearts just for fun.

hate that you haven't seen him in practically five years and everything still feels so familiar; all his features so instantly recognizable that you can still imagine the way his lips feel on yours, and how cute dimples would pop out of his cheeks when he smiles.

hate that everything's coming back all at once; when time used to stop and when it was still hard to breathe.

when a beating heart was usually followed by swarm of butterflies in your stomach that you haven't felt in years, and now the sight of him in front triggering the sensation once again.

and you hate the fact that no matter how much pain he had put you through, or how many times he had hurt you to the point you were so sure you were over him, there's a certain fondness you have for him and a special place in your heart that reacts with familiarity.

it feels like the world stopped spinning and everything in the background turning blurry just for the few seconds you two meet again for the first time, although it feels like forever.

"hey, y/n!" yeonjun's voice snaps you back, your gaze skipping over san's shoulder to your friend's boyfriend and you loathe it even more that none of it is a mistake.

that you didn't just happen to wander into the wrong apartment or something.

that the universe is really so unfair and cruel and setting you up for the worst by crossing paths with san again.

"come on in!" he ushers, his tone happy and excited the way you know yeonjun always is, him and your friend completely ignorant to the bubbling tension between you and the boy still standing before you.

you just nod in return, san moving out of the way awkwardly as you finally step in and roam the interior as if you haven't already seen it, trying your best to focus on anything else but the person raising the hair at the back of your neck.

the closing of the door is heard the same time yeonjun switches to introduce you to one another, and you both just humming and bowing with acknowledgement.

act as if this is the first time meeting each other. as if there isn't a history that played a signifcant part in shaping the two of you in becoming the people you are today, and now landing in this situation by some odd twisted fate.

arin and yeonjun just laughing off the awkward and bumbling exchange, brushing it off as no more than two strangers new to each other and moving it to the dining table.

"let's eat first. perfect opportunity to learn about each other," your friend speaks, and all that is going through your mind is which is worse: sitting next to san or across from him. you think the latter.

but the former isn't any better with arin and yeonjun watching the both of you like hawks, unaware that the reason you're both not speaking to each other isn't because of shyness or unfamiliarity.

but they do notice something isn't right; that there might another reason up in the air why the both of you can barely look at each other.

yeonjun with how bold and confident san tends to be, the boy always approaching everything so smugly. and arin in the entirety of knowing you, never had seen you look so tense.

she wasn't gonna do it at first. knows and understands how much you've been telling her it's never gonna work out, the two guys she connected you with from before ending in complete disaster.

but she just couldn't help it this time when her boyfriend started talking about his friend he met in the states finally flying to korea and will be staying with him for a couple of days.

and she especially couldn't help it when she learned he's not only incredibly handsome but also single.

she figured she was doing you a favor, but by the look of your face and body language right now, white in complexion like you just saw a ghost, she thinks you're totally gonna yell at her for this.

"i uhm, i gotta use the restroom," you speak up, lying through your teeth and san can't even blame you for it, honestly even relieved you're the one to initiate.

you wobble the entire way to the bathroom, your legs shaky and your stomach starting to become upset but your chest dropping slightly when you sit on the edge of the bathtub, glad to just be away.

you were doing so good. you were.

you hadn't thought of him in forever and now he just shows up out of nowhere, not even just as a stranger, but as the friend of your friend's boyfriend?

what sick joke is reality trying to play on you right now?

"y/n?" arin's sweet and concerned voice calls from the other side as you attempt to gather yourself to face your friend. tell her why you can't be here and make up something in hope you can leave.

"hey," you say lowly after prying the door open, a forced smile on your lips which arin doesn't buy into.

"you okay?"

"i'm alright. i just... don't feel so good right now," is your excuse, just praying she doesn't start questioning now, because you're not exactly in the time or place to explain everything between you and san.

all the heartbreaks and betrayals, and why you cannot stay here any longer or you'll really break.

"do you want to go home, or?" she's the one to bring up the idea, and you're thankful because you didn't want to be that person.

didn't want to have to break it to her and end the night so soon given how much she's talked about the day, and all the planning and preparation that yeonjun must've put in.

"yeah, i think it's best if i do," you answer, guilt present in your eyes, "i'm sorry i couldn't stay any longer. you guys probably worked hard on dinner."

arin snickers and shakes her head, the reassuring smile on her helps in dissipating some of the guilt.

"don't worry about it. you go ahead, i'll tell yeonjun."

she isn't gonna fight you on it. not when she's never seen you this way, coming off uneasy and absolutely troubled, she's gonna have to get down to the root of it tomorrow.

but for now, she just knows you need to be away.

you barely manage to make it to the door the stealthiest you can, bidding a weak goodbye to yeonjun and zooming out that instant, the frame shut right behind you and your shoulders dropping from the built up suffocation.

you proceed to your apartment, pushing past everything with a thumping heart until you're sitting at the edge of your bed, going on to do the one thing you always do when it's just all too overwhelming--

"mingi, you're not gonna believe this."

you can hear his protests of groans and sighs from the other side, so in character of him because this is usually his nap time.

"i just saw san."

the commotion is loud, the shuffling of body as he sits himself up and tries regaining conscious just to make sure he's not tripping out.

"you're forreal?" he remarks, sounding a lot more awake but still unconvinced.

"yes. he's yeonjun's friend and i don't even know how the fuck they knew each other or why he's here. all i know is arin needs to give up on trying to find me a date," you say in disbelief, recalling the last guy you went out with who left you feeling extremely disrespected and insulted after, and you thought the next one couldn't possibly be any worse.

"wait. so let me get this straight. you two met again because you're friend with arin and he's friend with yeonjun, and arin and yeonjun are dating?"

"yes."

"and yeonjun and you just happen to live under the same complex?"

"well, yes."

"what in the soulmate fuckery is this?"

"pfft," you scoff, throwing your head back into the soft mattress in frustration. "more like a curse. i was doing so good, it's been so long since i'd just... straight freeze up and chicken out, and that's exactly what i did."

mingi churns out a low hum, "no other way else to do it. what? you were gonna shake hands and play catch up with him? asked him what he did after he fucked you over and broke your heart?" he quips.

"well, no," you reply, reframing from growing irritated at your friend for his snarky remark during a time when your ovaries are about to explode. "i just thought i would've handled it a lot better. it's been five years and i haven't thought of him in so long, but one sighting of him and i'm already starting to question all the progress."

the recollection of earlier so vivid, you can almost feel the same sensation of shock and confusion as it numbed your entire body, just standing there like a little deer caught in headlights.

as if time throwing you back to the age of eighteen, still so easily starstruck and defenseless when it came to the charming boy who knew all the right things to say and do but never meant any of it.

who, told you right in the face he didn't want you--which was probably the only time he was being sincere.

last you heard, he had left the country. you didn't know where to exactly, but knew that he left.

you remember hearing about it from mingi the first time, that strange melancholy washing over at the news even though in theory, you should be happy.

mingi said he debated on telling you, having heard it from a friend of a friend, but succumbed eventually because he thought you would like to know, despite the pain and hardships san caused you, there's a part of you the revelation would bring relief to.

you won't have to worry or fret about accidentally running into him anywhere and go through that stage of grief all over again. and most importantly, it might in some ways, make the healing process easier.

"y/n," mingi snaps you out of it, that stern accent in his voice that indicates he's about to go off, "just because you're experiencing strong emotions again doesn't erase all of the progress you've made. you've seriously come so far, so don't undermine it."

"of course you're gonna feel some types of way at seeing san again. you said it yourself that he's someone special because he took so much from you. what matters is how you handle it now, and i know my y/n won't even give him the time of day or entertain his ass, right?"

you take in mingi's words and he's absolutely right. you're overthinking and giving yourself too little credits when you know that there's no way--

"right?! bitch, you better answer."

you roll your eyes.

"i love the faith you have in me," you say sarcastically.

"girl, i love you but that was a rough time."

because you lied and betrayed him the most during your time with san, and now, you just let him make all the jokes and snarky comments he wants. you're all over it.

"no but forreal that was actually kind of eye opening. if this teacher thing doesn't work out, you should totally go back and expand on that psychology degree."

he blows from the other line and you can picture an unamused expression on his face.

"nah, fuck that. i'm done with this school shit for life."

you let him ramble some more about why, no matter how much he enjoys the subject, the life and longevity of being a professional in the field just not for him (or the extra years of schooling) before he brings it back to the initial discussion once more.

and you promise that you won't fold so easily and pathetically ever again in the face of choi san.

you're familiar with how sometimes, by strokes of bad luck, you'd just be having shitty events happen one after another in a single day.

well, you're not gonna risk it and let it be this day, the top of your head peeking out to check the hallway before your entire body is scuttling into the elevator not taking any chances.

fate is already so cruel in placing the man who broke your heart and all, just a few doors down, and if it wanted to smack you right in the face with his chest or broad shoulders, it would've had you not left so quickly.

arin isn't there when you set foot into the office, her cubicle vacant and you continue to yours, sitting down to login and access your email, looking through the files the other team had sent of confirmed products that are soon gonna be launched and on the website a few months from now.

"good morning," your friend's greeting make you turn around, a sweet smile on her face like always, but yours still holding that same silently petrified expression of yesterday.

"hey."

her heels clink the carpet tiles walking closer, brows creasing into a look of sympathy as she asks, "you feeling any better?"

you nod, a barely audible hum leaving to accompany.

"should we talk about it? at lunch?"

because as much as you don't say, she knows there's something in your throat dying to just get out, and she's as equally curious to know.

"after work. we can grab something to eat."

you just don't think it's possible to summarize it all in thirty minutes; the history between you and san, and why you slightly want to pull her hair out because her boyfriend just has to be his friend.

it wasn't her fault, of course. but you're still kind of mad she tried playing cupid again and found the worst possible candidate.

you consider arin one of your best friends and she's told you on plenty occasions the same in return, but you did meet her after everything.

your fall from grace, that is, and quite possibly the lowest point in your life. so it just never came up, despite the impact it had on your growth, you didn't exactly expect you'd have to explain to her why her boyfriend's friend makes you want to hit your head against a wall.

"what? no way!"

your friend's embarrassingly loud volume echoes the whole restaurant and you have to deliver a kick to her leg under the table for the girl to calm with a light flush on her cheeks.

but you suppose there's no other way to react; finding out you too, were in love once and isn't completely the anti-romantic she was gonna write you off as.

"yeah..."

"i'm sorry. i truly am. from now on, i won't do it anymore," the girl swears, having seen it enough for herself at this point how her schemes despite having good intentions, always brings you the worst luck.

and though you've barely just scrapped the surface with san, your reactions were so strong when you saw him again, there's no doubt the guy put you through some fucked up shit.

"it's not like you knew or i ever told you, but yeah, it would be nice for you give up this whole matchmaking gig. you're horrible at it," you tease your friend, a laughter bubbling out when she rolls her eyes in response, quick to jump right back into asking questions.

"but you're okay now?"

"yeah. it's been years. just the shock of the first meeting in so long, i guess."

she nods, her mouth clamped shut because she does feel a little bad even if she didn't know, thinking the chances is crazy.

"he won't be here for long. as far as i know, it's only for a couple days until he finds a place or move elsewhere," she assures, bringing up what she heard from dinner last night because it might make you feel better.

"oh," is all that leaves, not that you're not relieved to hear it, but because there's something else you want to ask. questions lingering in your mind ever since 24 hours ago when you saw he was back.

it's not that you care, but it's really more out of curiosity.

"do you know how yeonjun and him met? or why he's back?" it slips out either way. but he could've been around for a while--the country at least, and last night was just when you so happened to see him.

"they met back in the states, when yeonjun was studying in new york. he haven't told me a lot about it either but i'm guessing it's something to do with his dance studio."

ah, so that's where san moved... new york.

"i see," you simply reply and leave it there, unwilling to ask any more or show the slightest interest in san's whereabouts even if you are intrigued because you know how much yeonjun lives and breathes dancing.

he even managed to open up his own studio, and you may not know a lot about san now or how much he's changed, but you remember his answer whenever you'd tell him to pursue his interest.

you never thought you'd see san and dance in the same sentence ever again.

you try to not let the threats of him distract you, but you still can't help but watch your back and surrounding everytime you leave into the hall, so fearful you're gonna smack or run into him and be left with nothing but the choice to face the ghost of your past.

you're not gonna let him have the power he once had over you, but that doesn't mean you're not dreading seeing him.

he's always been perfectly sculpted and too handsome for his own good, the last few years turning him even more menacing in terms of appearance, it's annoying if anything.

it doesn't have the same effect it used to, your eighteen year old self would've fallen to her knees and make an offering, but now, you can admit he looks good and just move the hell on.

but you still don't want to see him.

a few days of sneaking and hiding around like you're a spy in some undercover movie, you think you've officially lost your mind.

that maybe the universe's done enough damage and has taken a backseat, all your fear and paranoia all for nothing because there's no way you're gonna have to face san.

there's no way that on the day you finally decide to let your guards down and admit you're being overdramatic that you're gonna--

the sound of a door opening just as you close yours pick your head up in that direction, and out of every neighbors it could possibly be, of course it's san because why wouldn't it be?

he has a trash bag in one of his hands just like you and you can't help but to curse yeonjun's name for not taking out his own shit.

the world once again stops spinning and time stands still as both of your gazes burn into each other, his slightly hesitant eyes to your dull ones, just hoping he gets the fucking message.

that it's gonna be fucking awkward and since he still has his door opened, he can go the hell back in. act like this never happened because under any circumstances, you're not gonna talk to him.

you're also not gonna go back in now that it is what it is. you've already come so far and it's been years, it's about time you show than just tell.

show that he no longer has a hold over you and that you're not gonna cower like the once timid person you were.

you start by breaking the staring contest, straightening your posture and begin walking, not bothering to spare him another glance even as you pass right by him.

that it's more than enough signs and he'll just let it go. but it's san after all, and why would you ever expect him to do anything right?

"can we please--"

"--no," you cut him off so fast, his words more triggering than predicted and you can't really believe he's even trying.

"i know that--"

"i don't want to hear it!" you finally turn to him, all kinds of anger and disbelief coursing your face as tears threaten to pour and making your eyes red.

don't want to hear about the heartbreak and lies all over again; how and why you're not the one, and relive the miserable days once more.

"i don't care what you have to say because i don't want to hear it," you go on, voice and legs trembling but persisting nonetheless, "what happened between us is over. it ended, so i'd like it if you can keep it that way because there's nothing else to talk about."

and with that, you're walking away. you don't bother to wait for his response and you don't care to, but the silence protrudes until you hear the door shut behind.

~

"so you're not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?"

"no."

"or what he's been up to?"

"why the fuck would i be?"

"because you gave your pussy to him and he made your heart flutter like no others."

"what the fuck, mingi," you hiss into your phone, "weren't you the one preaching about not even giving him the time of day?"

"no no, of course, fuck that guy. i'm just saying that if he has something to say, aren't you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don't you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?"

you raise an eyebrow, replying with a perplexed but definite "no."

"okay, i'm proud or whatever," he says nonchalantly, and you can't tell if he's being sarcastic or not.

"there's no need to hear him out and even if he is sorry, i don't care. i'm over that shit and i'm over him."

"yes! so don't let me find out otherwise," he snarks, and you hate that he can't be serious for a second unless you two are at each other's throats and about to start yelling.

"you're annoying. bye."

you hang up, throwing your phone aside and eyes glued to the white ceiling that suddenly has such an entrancing pattern.

surely, you don't care. what he's been up to the past five years, or why he decided to come back.

there's also no reason to hear him out; the last conversation between the both of you more than enough to sum it up. he's hurt and used you beyond belief and that's that.

“i-i just feel like you never tried enough. maybe i’m not fond of who you are currently, but i could learn to–”

“please don’t make it any more harder than this, y/n. you don’t get with someone hoping you can learn to tolerate them… that’s not how it works.”

“you’re a nice girl, y/n. you really are so sweet, and i can see myself with you someday…” he says with a distraught look you will forever remember given how his words make your heart thump, only to then shoot it down, “but not right now…”

you cringe at how pathetic you were, so desperate for his reciprocation as if it was the sole thing keeping you alive and breathing.

but you've been fine and haven't moped about him in probably three years, so you will continue to be fine, whether or not you'll really hear from him, all the things he's been waiting to say.

"any plans for tomorrow?" you casually ask arin during break, your focus on the laptop and skimming through the drafts you've written, you don't catch the very moment she just freezes up tight-lipped.

"i'm going to see a movie," she answers.

"oh?" you nod it off, unsuspecting to the tension uprising and going on to ask in a cool tone, "what movie?"

it's not like you want to be invited; you and arin are perfectly fine being apart and doing your own things from time to time, but it's lunch and it's where you and her usually engage in topics and conversations of all kind just to pass time.

"the new superhero one." she lets a few seconds go by before adding, "with yeonjun."

you freeze in position then, though missing her nervous and anxious tone from before, it all makes sense.

she's gonna be with yeonjun, and with yeonjun comes someone else. she was afraid to bring it up; knows almost everything between you and san by now and knew you were most likely to reject the offer to go to the movie if he's gonna be there.

even if she loves going to the theater with you, the rants and comments after about what you both loved or hated the best part of the entire experience, but she was afraid.

"oh, i see," you dismiss, relaxed tone and a smile like it doesn't affect you. "heard lots of positive reviews about it, you guys are going to enjoy it for sure."

you try not to let the thought bother you for the rest of the day, but it does.

not of arin because you know she's sweet and kind and even asked again before she went home if you're okay with it, and you assured her you are.

she and yeonjun can't possibly cater to you and san just because you both happened to have some intertwined history they weren't even aware of beforehand.

no. you can't stop letting san fuck with your head. surprise?

can't stop overthinking and being spiteful that he was the one who fucked you over, yet you're the one having to accomodate while he's still shameless after all these years.

so he still has some effect on you, but you bet they're not the ability to summon butterflies or make you pink in the cheeks, maybe just red in the face.

because on top of learning to not let everyone step all over you, you also picked up on how to be a bit of a bitch. not your proudest accomplishment but a much needed one for survival.

you shouldn't have to step aside for him, tell him you don't want to talk, or run away as if he's the plague. it's been years, you said it yourself, and there's no reason to not hang with your friend or go see a movie you're interested in just because san is gonna be there.

you roll around in bed until landing in a comfortable position, eventually going to sleep with the thought.

~

"are you sure?" arin asks once again, the soft concerned accent in her voice.

"yes."

you've made your mind overnight, that you're not gonna run or cower. he no longer has ownership over you and you're gonna go see the movie.

"alright. if you really are sure, pick you up at four."

you get ready around three, do your hair and dress up a little just to look somewhat presentable and wait until there's a knock at the door, arin having texted thirty minutes ago you'll all be going in her car since the theater is closer to the complex.

somehow, you're not dreading or feeling even the slightest nervous at having to share a car ride with san or spend two hours at the cinema with him just a couple seats down.

when you do see him out in the hall, his freshly showered hair still wet and he has on a matching grey set of joggers and hoodie, his hands buried inside the pockets of his pants as he lasers you a look of surprise.

he didn't think you'd come because you most likely knew he's gonna go.

the ride down the elevator and most in the car thankfully drowned by arin's and yeonjun's constant chattering, talking like they're never gonna run out of topics.

but it makes the situation all more better and less awkward considering you're sitting in the backseats with san, but your attention out the window the entire time, mind either occupied with their conversation or the low volume music.

"y/n, i heard you got employee of the month again."

the call of your name pulls you away and to yeonjun's eyes as he looks over his shoulder before he blinks and turns back.

"ah, yes i did."

your friend has a habit of telling other people your business, but in her defense it's only because she wants to show you off since you're so great--taken by her word for word.

"arin's told me a lot about your writing," he casually adds, seconds before your friend starts doing what she does best.

"she's the best!" she squeals, and you have to hold back a snicker.

"how'd you get into it? your friend hasn't told me that part, shockingly," yeonjun says, amusement in his tone and taking the chance to tease his girlfriend.

"i--" you start but arin beats you to it.

"she started with a journal or notebook first, i think!"

you don't know whether to find it annoying or endearing, your eyes rolling but lips pulling into a smile.

"yeah," you let your friend have it, but the smile soon fading when you can feel the pair of eyes on you burning from the side, though you won't dare check it for yourself.

you also won't tell them why you started it in the first place, or how much the boy sitting next to you played a part in it.

"we're here!" arin announces, pulling into a parking space.

going to the movies also follows a routine; purchasing the tickets, getting a drink and popcorn if you're up for it, then going to find your seats.

san is seated next to yeonjun, and you next to arin, your eyes occasionally batting from the screen to your friend as she passes comments to her boyfriend when she'd have something to say about a scene.

the situation all too relaxing and calm, just exactly what you need for your mind to destress and just focus on what's happening; whether the characters' motivations or the great worldbuilding.

no need to worry about anything else, your stomach and chest still relaxed, nothing like the situation after the premiere that constricts the both of them as a wave of uneasiness wash over.

now regretting not following after your friend and just lying about having to use the restroom as well, because if you did, you wouldn't be stuck waiting in the hallway with san.

he's standing a feet from you, you can't really tell. but your gaze is nothing but trained on the restroom's doors wishing for either arin or yeonjun to finish fast enough.

but at least you're both kept company by the exit of other people leaving their auditorium, and the ones trying to find theirs.

you think you've done enough of a good job in letting san know you don't want anything to do with him, especially when it comes to compromising or making amends.

that he'd get it by now you don't even want to talk. after this, you both can go back to living separate lives and put on the act of not knowing each other the way it's been.

"congrats on getting employee of the month."

the voice makes you shudder, the reaction you want to give bordering annoyed and angry.

"i already told you i don't want--"

"i know. i know you don't want to hear any of it, and i won't try it now. but i just really wanted to tell you that because you deserve to hear it."

you fume through your nose, not wanting to have to look him in the eyes or give into his attempt at starting a conversation, but you can feel him looking you down, if the uncomfortable ting from the side of your face means anything.

"thanks, but i've heard enough from others to know i deserve it," you reply, your delivery sharp and straightforward, and san can't help but to smirk at that.

he knows he doesn't deserve to be heard; get the chance to explain himself and all the mistakes he's made because then it would be unfair to you.

calling them mistakes would be downplaying all the hurt and pain he's put you through, because at the time, it was his choice to make them. his choice to deceive and lie to you when he never had any sincere intentions.

he isn't proud of them, but that was who he was, and he owns up to the fact he was so horrible back then. undeserving of sympathy, affection, or being loved, and yet, you still gave him all three with your entire heart.

he can't say he deserves it now either despite some life altering decisions and soul searching, but he can say he's less of a shitbag to some extent.

still, your forgiveness is something he don't think he'll ever rightfully deserve.

another thing still the same is how much he likes everything about you, and seeing you again after all these years; after how much you've changed, he might like you even more.

no longer the soft spoken and afraid girl always holding back, but now with a sharp tongue and snippy attitude that speaks her mind.

who, different from the last time he saw you years ago, has on a new distinct style to complement the woman you've become--your hair always perfectly curled at the tips, your makeups more bold and edgy, and you don't shy away from showing any skin.

you walk around with more confidence without coming off arrogant, san still able to see the sweet and kind girl even through all the changes because that will always be who you are at the core--someone too easy to fall for and like.

"i have to apologize for the inconvenience, but just one more day and you won't have to worry about running into me anymore. i'll be staying somewhere else until i get approved for a place myself," he announces to utter silence, you standing there and not knowing what to say.

when the tense air stretches on, he speaks again, "also, i hope you'll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that's all."

you open your mouth, another dismissive comment about to slip about the wrath of being arin's and yeonjun's friends unavoidable but a buzz in the pocket of your jeans cut it short.

your eyes widen and lips pulled into an amused smile at the person who finally texted back, san catching the displayed name just right before you put it away at arin's return.

kang yeosang: hey, i'm so sorry for not answering sooner. i keep knocking out after school or work 🤦 but i'm doing great actually lol, and i hope you are too. would you like to meet up tomorrow? i'll finally be off and will have some time.

you've been here a couple of times, the cafe with a warm toned brown as its primary color, and menu and size two times bigger than the smaller one back at university.

you don't come often, but you do always feel welcomed. the aesthetics pleasing to the eyes and the staffs always friendly with warm smiles.

yeosang is seated at the corner, a small two person table, and his smile at the sight of you also makes you feel so warm.

"hey," you greet, pulling the chair as you take a seat.

"hey," he returns, unable to help the giggle that follows after, finding something so amusing about finally seeing each other again after four months despite being the only two still in the same city.

there's not a lot about him that has changed, except he's risen higher than any of you, but he's still just as handsome, welcoming, and obviously meant for bigger and better things.

but with yeosang, it is always so pleasant and safe.

in another reality; an alternate universe somewhere out there, you think yeosang might've been the one for you. even if he's too perfect for his and your own good, you'd come around to the idea that you do deserve someone like him.

someone who was such a mystery at first and had you believing he was the biggest asshole to walk the planet only to completely prove you wrong.

someone who showed patience time and time again that he was willing to wait, because he had so much love and sincerity to give if you were to accept his heart.

it was the perfect enemies or friends to lovers, and oh... it would've been so beautiful. it was quite close to the kind of fairytale love you always imagined; something too unrealistic and borderline delusional, but yeosang was real and ready to make it happen.

you never did give him your heart, though there was no rejection or denial. it just happened...

he waited for you, never pushy or pressuring, always so understanding of the fact you were healing and needed time. admitted to having a 'little' crush on you and whenever you were ready, you could consider.

you kept it in thought, then a month turned into three, and three turned into six, then a year, and suddenly you realized you had put it on the back burner for two years already.

it's not that you didn't like him. of course you like him, but you just weren't sure if you liked him like that.

so when he started acting off; not cold or indifferent, but actually smiling more and his head always somewhere else, it all made sense when a new face started to show at the pc shop on the regular.

yeosang met someone else.

and truthfully, you couldn't be any happier for him, because he deserved someone who wanted to be with him and who will love him in that moment.

every time your two best friends asked why you let a man of yeosang's caliber slip right out of your hand, you were never able to give them a definite answer, unsure of it yourself.

you guys were great friends and meshed so well together even without all the budding romance, and you didn't see why that needed to change--you suppose.

you had assured him it was all good and fair, that it is so natural for feelings to develop and for some to die out, especially over a long period--he needed to just go for it.

you like to think you earned another lifelong friend, even if he's busy most of the time and you'll be seeing each other at most only four times a year.

"want to order something first?" you suggest, quirking an eyebrow.

he hums with a nod, arms crossed in a relaxed manner.

you both order no more than two cups of americano, the taste of the black style coffee something you used to dislike because of the lack of sweetness, but yeosang got you growing fond of it after a while.

"how's everything?" you start again, "the job? school? other things?" you let just the faintest smirk cross your lips, much to the mirth on yeosang's.

"i want to say good but it's all really just a pain in the ass. the job and school, that is."

you snicker and he does the same, your frame slightly leaning over the table before passing a comment, "at least other things are going well."

"yeah." he smile. "but school will be over soon and that'll be that. the lead in my department likes my work enough so hoping for a promotion around the corner."

"you'll get it. for sure."

you both thank the waiter after the drinks' arrival, one of your hand fidgeting at the handle of the cup watching as he takes a sip.

"but i'm excited to be seeing everyone else the next month or so," he says, his turn be the one to watch.

"me too. we'll do karaoke, play stupid games, and maybe just drink a little."

you were also never great with alcohol but you've built more tolerance for it over the years given how your friends are.

"yeah, a little," yeosang quips, and you both giggle, knowing it's never just a small amount with mingi and yuna before they'd want everyone else to get as equally wasted.

"and you? anything new?" he asks, much to the fall of your expression as you begin fighting with yourself internally.

decide on whether you should or should not tell him of the tragedy that struck just a couple of days ago; the one that sent you five years back and to a place so dark.

but it's yeosang, and he will understand. he always does.

"i uh, i ran into san again," you break it sharp and quick, his relaxed face and posture tensing up.

"oh? what the fuck."

"yeah. he's friends with arin's boyfriend and it's an unbelievable amount of fuckery."

"thought he was being a dickhead somewhere else, and not in the country," yeosang takes a jab, always squeezing in the opportunity to do so, because he really does think san is such a horrible person.

he don't know how much the man's come to grovel, but for one to act like that and hurt another the way he did, it takes some malice at the core.

"he did meet her boyfriend while somewhere else," you enlighten, the fact not one you're happy to know about or tell.

yeosang quiets for a second, asking hesitantly, "did he tried talking to you?"

you nod, much to his expectation.

"yeah. but i shot him down the first time, and the second... i don't know. we talked but he didn't try apologizing or anything."

“also, i hope you’ll be willing to hear my apology out even if just once. not for me and all my excuses, but because you deserve it. that’s all.”

"and do you want him to apologize?" he asks, his voice stern and serious.

you freeze up at the question, all this time talking so big about not wanting to hear from san or whatever because he's hurt you enough, but you really don't know.

it's been years and you've moved on, but you do acknowledge the part of you that reserves a special place for him; him who was your first love and was once something you held on a pedestal.

"it would take a lot more than an apology for what he did," you answer, lacking just the smallest confidence.

"no, of course it's gonna take more than an apology. he did a lot of shitty things to you, but you shouldn't hear him out for the purpose of forgiveness, but because it's the least he can do for the hurt he's caused you. the apology isn't about him, but you."

yeosang's words stays with you for the rest of the day, and it doesn't get any better--mingi's also comes back as a haunting, making you turn and toss in bed.

“so you’re not even a little bit curious in what he has to say?”

“no.”

“or what he’s been up to?”

“why the fuck would i be?”

“no no, of course, fuck that guy. i’m just saying that if he has something to say, aren’t you just the slightest bit curious what it is? don’t you want to hear about how pathetic and miserable he was during the time apart, or how sorry he is?”

then what san said back at the theater also makes a reappearance, each of them taking turn to mess with your head and rethink: are you okay with never knowing what san was gonna say?

maybe it isn't gonna be as deep or remorseful as you hope, but he very clearly wants to say something to you, and you have to make a choice between finding out what it is or live your life with the mystery in mind.

you hate to say it, but you think the latter might be more painful, your mind always so itching and curious.

you might need to talk to him tomorrow, for just one last time.

you wake up way too early for your own good, not even urgent to get ready for work for another hour.

but you need to talk to san. make it quick and over with, then go on your own way like it's been.

you're barely a step out, the door not even closed yet when you can feel something under your slipper, glancing down to see you've stepped on a white envelope... addressed to you and from san, the date almost from a year ago.

you open it, seated on your couch and with a racing heart.

dear y/n,

i am finally writing this letter. i’ve sat down many times attempting to do so, sometimes barely able to get through the first line and sometimes i’ll read the first paragraph i wrote only to throw it away, completely unsatisfied. but it’s been four years–at least at the time that i’m writing this–that i’ve last seen you. four years since we saw each other and we probably won’t for a very long time, if ever.

it would be a miracle for me if i was to ever cross paths with you even just one more time, but it would be a tragedy for you because i’d like to think fate wouldn’t be so cruel to put you through that. so i write this letter with the thought that you would most likely never see it, but i did promise myself that if fate really is that cruel and we were to cross paths again, i would give it to you. it’s a bit selfish of me, but it’s because i know the chance of ever seeing you again is close to none. but it’s also everything i’ve ever wanted to tell you; say to you. i want to apologize sincerely, even though it’s a little too late. in a way, this letter is also an outlet for me and my thoughts.

it’s been about a year since i’ve graduated and around this time of the year, i always get a little sentimental. could be because i’m so far away from home so it’s only natural, but i know it’s because it’s summer and i tend to associate the season with you. we did a lot together and you opened some parts of me i couldn’t say or admit at the time.

you would always used to tell me to just try whenever i didn’t see the worth in doing something and i honestly just dismissed it because it sounded silly and quite cliche. i thought it was ironic coming from someone so shy and timid who always looked at the world with so much fear in her eyes. now, i’m starting to understand the amount of courage it must’ve taken you to even go out of your comfort zone. i realized, i was so much of a coward in comparison despite thinking i was the hottest shit at the time.

i always ran, but you never did. i was so scared of anything new and unfamiliar but you always faced them even when there’s a likely chance of failure. i treated you like shit and you still wanted to love me. i think about it often… why are you this way? but i won’t ever know because i never put in the efforts to get to know you beyond what you could offer me. you always asked about me but i never did the same in return.

if i could redo everything, i would want to hear your story. i would love to read anything you write. i said i would, but i never did.

i’m in the states, i’m sure somewhat and somehow you probably already know that (or you probably don’t because you don’t care anymore, which is fair). i left right before the start of the second semester during sophomore year. it was a big decision for sure, but i needed the change. things were already getting stale and repetitive, and you know me… i am not one to stick in one place for too long. i will always run, and so i ran to the states to live with my sister.

other than the fact i was born there and half of my family resides there, at that point, there was nothing left for me in korea. i didn’t have much to lose if i were to fly across an ocean and start anew.

wooyoung had already cut contact with me by then and any friends close to genuine i’ve ever had were all from associations with him. soon after, i realized anyone i still talked to were all phonies who i only hung around during parties and stupid rendezvous, with the exception of jongho. he got into yonsei, by the way. if you didn’t see him pestering you on campus, you probably already picked that up. he sent me a message a few months ago to come back and attend his graduation but i told him to fuck off because he didn’t attend mine either. good for him, though. he’s a smart kid.

but yeah. wooyoung’s a good person even if he grew up privileged. it’s what makes him such a people magnet. he was the most genuine friend i’ve ever had and the one who stuck by me for the longest. i really took him for granted and it only hit me when i lost him.

you are fortunate to have someone like mingi and yunho who seems very protective. i was a little scared when wooyoung warned me about mingi because he threatened to knock me out if he ever sees me. he’s much taller than me, so i don’t doubt it.

i know i sound miserable so far, but i am actually doing pretty okay… unfortunately. you probably don’t want to hear that and wish i was suffering, but i’ve suffered for maybe two and a half years before i finally felt somewhat content and okay, if that will make you feel any better.

the states is different and the people are as well. i’ve got to experience a lot of new things for a change.

when i transferred, i still didn’t know what to do. the clock was ticking and there was only so little time before i had to pick a field. i ended up going into dance performance, and of course i thought of you. when i found a passion for it again, i thought of you. and when i graduated last year with a fine arts degree, i thought of you… all because i knew you would be the happiest to hear about it.

whenever anyone asked me why i don’t want to come back home, i would always tell them what i told you: because there’s nothing left there for me. but one of the biggest reasons why i didn’t want to come back was because it reminded me of you too much. that, coupled with other factors, just makes it so much harder for me to want to return. it feels like reopening old emotional wounds that i have no one else to blame for but myself.

but my junior year, i met someone named yeonjun because we shared the same major. i get nostalgic sometimes because he often reminded me of wooyoung. speaking of wooyoung again, i sent him a similar letter but in email form a while ago, though not as long, and he said he was happy to hear from me again. i wasn’t sure if he was going to reply at all because it was an old email and i assumed he probably wanted nothing to do with me and that was official. but he replied pretty fast and said if i ever returned to korea, he doesn’t mind catching up. he went into business and said it’s something he actually really enjoys.

yeonjun is cool though, and like a less annoying version of wooyoung. he was also a transfer but had been here longer than i have. he met his girlfriend online who’s living in south korea and so after he graduated, he went back right away and said he was going to attempt to open his own studio. just about a month ago, he called me and said it’s almost done and he would be recruiting. he wants me to come back and help him and i’ve been giving it some consideration because i’m not doing much here back at the states either.

i was hesitant at first, of course. all for the reasons i’ve already stated, but all i ever do i run and even i’m growing tired of it. no matter how many bad memories the place holds, it is still home and my motherland after all.

anyways, i apologize for rambling. the letter is getting way too long, but my point is, i might’ve started liking you at one point. not in the casual way that our relationship was, but actually really like you. i don’t know. now that i’m older, it’s true that the love you’ve given me was something i was not ready for at that time and age. and now, it’s everything i wish i have. funny how time really does change a person.

i hope you are doing good for yourself, and i’m so sorry if you ever get the chance to read this letter.

– choi san

you don't even register you're crying despite the burning in your eyes until a lone tear stains the last page.

your heart and emotions so conflicted but also whole, unable to help the warmth and love that wraps your body even for just a moment.

because san felt something. through all of the lies and deceit, there were some sincerity, because an even bigger question you had all these years was whether he ever meant any of it.

when he kissed you, fucked you, and looked at you, you always wondered if there was something else behind his actions--if even the smallest of liking you--not for what you could offer him, but for being yourself.

your weakness always having been too easily touched and moved, particularly when swayed by the name of choi san that you're already at yeonjun's doorstep with the letter still in your clutch.

your beating heart still loud but ready to face him with everything.

"oh, hey."

it's yeonjun and he's both surprise and happy at the sight of you, but definitely questioning of the puffy red eyes.

"i-is san here?" you ask in the most vulnerable tone he's ever heard from you, raising an eyebrow in return.

"he left just a while ago."

yeonjun doesn't get to interrogate the reason why you're asking or is at his door so early in the morning looking like you just had a breakdown, only watching in silence as you scuttle into the elevator.

you don't know how long he's been gone exactly (you really should've asked), but there's a chance he might not have gone far; you might still catch him if--

you thought you were prepared and ready, but when you actually see him, your body just kind of goes into shock.

he catches your nervous gaze, so scared before but relieved the instant he sees you--standing up from where he was waiting as you walk over.

the lobby still with some people and their chitters, but the air around both you and san so thick with a silence that you're desperate to break.

"yeonjun told me you left a while ago... i thought you were most likely gone," you speak, so shy and nervous all of a sudden, but determined nonetheless.

"yeah. i-i was going to, but i told myself if i don't see you within the next hour, then i'll really go. forget all of it."

it might be the first time he's ever stuttered in front of you, your heart once again somersaulting knowing he was waiting for you.

"oh..."

as much as san's gotten better, he will always be a little selfish. he knows he absolutely does not deserve your forgiveness or even to be talking to you, but you are someone special to him.

someone he didn't even think he'd get to ever meet again unless by some miracle, and for it to actually happen, it must be some sign.

that he at least need to try and fight before completely giving it up. just one hour, and if you didn't show, he'd let it be. take that as an answer and leave you alone forever.

"w-where are you going to be staying?" you attempt to carry a casual conversation.

"wooyoung," he answers, mouth forming into a smile you love all too much. "he said i can stay for a month before he'll kick me out."

you giggle and he does so, too, your eyes meeting momentarily as another silence fly by.

"i got your letter," you finally say, the one thing that was sitting on your chest so heavy.

he only nods, posture and everything about him so awkward, because it is.

admitting to your own fuck-ups is never easy, and especially when those fuck-ups messed with the lives of people. he is ashamed and embarrassed, to say the very least.

when he doesn't say anything, you try again, only getting as far in your sentence at the first "i'm..." before the emotions get the better of you--the crack in your voice and the waterwork.

san's hands are on you that instant, his hands wiping at your tears, and you think you're going to cry even more at the proximity; he's so close and it feels so wrong.

"i'm... i'm just so happy," you let it out, your gaze holding his and at the way he softens, you think you could die.

not just that he's incredibly handsome, but it's always been so easy to fall for him and want to give your all. like you can understand why your eighteen year old self wanted him so bad.

"i'm so happy that you liked me then," you finish off, a tad dramatic but thankful there isn't a lot of people in the lobby so early in the morning.

"i still like you now, y/n," he replies almost immediately, so much passion and sincerity in his voice, because he wants you to know that. he does like you.

"i was so stupid and immature and a complete dick. i am still a lot of those things, but god... you were amazing. you still are. and i had it so good and took it for granted. i just want to say, i am sorry... for everything. i already wrote it in the letter, but i want you to hear it, too, that i truly am so sorry."

the way you look at him the entire time too endearing; something he used to hate. your gaze always so attentive as if he holds the stars in them.

your lips are slightly pouting and if he was the man from before, he would've already kissed them. take them for himself and not care whether you wanted it or not.

but he already swore that he will no longer be crossing boundaries or doing anything just for his own self fulfillment.

you're about to say something but is cut off by the ringing of his phone, greatly saddened when he takes his hold off your face to fumble his pocket, taking a single glance at it.

"it's wooyoung. probably to complain because i told him i would be coming like twenty minutes ago."

you nod in understanding, mumbling, "you can go."

he exhales and looks down at you.

"i know this wasn't the best time and place to talk, but... if you want, just if you're okay with it... maybe we can talk again another time? no pressure, of course."

he waits for the stoic expression on you to turn into a smile as you respond with a soft, "i would love that." pausing just before adding, "my number is still the same."

"got it," he says, trying the hardest to hide a smile you can still see. the both of you just waiting in spot after because it's hard to leave.

"are you still gonna come visit yeonjun?" you suddenly ask, much to san's amusement, he can't help the smirk.

"yeah."

"okay, cool," you reply nonchalantly, acting the most aloof as your eyes shy away from his.

"then can i also ask you something?"

"go ahead."

he clears his throat, taking the shortest pause.

"are you seeing yeosang?"

you pinch in your brows at the question, puzzlement all over your face before breaking out a chuckle.

"no."

and if you are to ask him, he probably will never admit to the uneasiness ever since he saw yeosang's name pop up on your phone.

yeosang's a great guy and a perfect fit for you, but dare he say it, san would be heartbroken.

"okay, cool," he mimics you, eventually rubbing at the back of his neck, "gonna head out then. i'll see you."

"yeah. i'll see you."

you watch as he disappears into the distance, sparing another glance at the letter still in your hold, only shaking your head going back up the elevator to get ready for work.

damned choi san and the hold he still has over you.

a/n: dksdskdjfksi it is finally over!!! truly ty to everyone who stuck around even with all the bullshit bc i couldn't make up my mind half of the time. i did the yeosang girlies the dirtiest but believe me when i say we were SO CLOSE to a yeosang endgame. if anyone is interested in that, i would be happy to respond in an ask or reply. but they did have so much potential, i'm sorry sdlksijdkjsdl

again, ty 4 reading and have a wonderful rest of your day/night! onto better things, we go.

taglist: @sorryimananti-romantic @revehosh @cookiechristie @avantalem @atiny68 @sannwa @shibera @mochibabycakes @justineasian @eastleighsblog @baguette-atiny @crimson-mia @yeosxxx @sleepychimm @atz-diary @diorwoo @naiify @becauseiloveyunho @damagelove @softie00 @s-nsanshine @atinytinaa @moonseonghwa @lemontreefantasy @wooyoung4eva @yeosangsbiceps @likexaxdaydream @knucklesdeepmingi @barbielibra @tmtxtf @brown88 @harusoraa @frankenstein852 @yujispinkhair @mermaid17venus @nolxverlikeme @writersun @kkayfan @wooyoungjpg @galaxypox @byunniebaekhyunnie @vixensss @interweab @svintsandghosts @moonchele @atinyluv238

[yellowocaballero]

Ashen Wolf Byleth & Teen Dad Yuri

The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly.

I need to update Weekenders but there's about twenty reasons why I haven't done it yet. But while I've been posting it I've been writing a shitton of other stuff, only some of which is decent, so I thought I'd post the beginnings of this story while I finish up the New Game+ Claude POV fic. This is most of what exists so far, and I probably won't finish it. Writing Dimitri's POV actively made me feel more insane as a person.

TW for references and flashbacks to Yuri's canon past. Around 15k of an absolutely demented Dimitri, a deeply smarmy Claude, a disturbingly feral Byleth, and a Yuri who is just doing his best under the cut.

i.

Dimitri was rapidly growing obsessed with the beautiful ghost. 

He tried to confess to his colleagues in the Blue Lions, but they just gave him sympathetic eyes and confiscated his training sword. A typical lack of faith in their leader, but Dimitri had to accept that it was well deserved. He was perfectly aware that Felix, Sylvain, Dedue, and Ingrid didn’t believe in ghosts, much less beautiful ones. Mercedes, Ashe, and Annette believed whole-heartedly in ghosts, but they thought he was being weird about it. So Dimitri was silenced, ostensibly for his own good. It was for his own good - future kings couldn’t exactly run around talking about beautiful ghosts - but it still felt like an odd form of betrayal. 

And he still couldn’t get her out of his mind. If only he had proof, Sylvain would make fun of him just a little bit less. All he had to do was be patient and wait for his time to come. Sylvain would see. They’d all see. 

The time came sooner than expected, with unexpected company. Dimitri and Claude were walking back from an important (Edelgard’s words) and mind-numbingly boring (Claude’s words) administrative meeting when he saw her again. They were walking a side path along the very edge of the monastery, using it as a shortcut between the main building and their own dormitory, and in the thick night their solitude was complete. Complete save for a shadow in the distance, darting from the forest and across the path like a minnow in a stream. 

Dimitri dropped his books in shock. Claude stopped short, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“What’s -”

“It’s her!” Dimitri cried. “That’s her! Hey - miss, please wait!”

The books and company were no longer important. Dimitri set off after her at a run, only barely aware that Claude was hot on his tail. As always, the ghost disappeared almost instantly - she crossed the path and dove into the tall shrubbery against the stone walls of the monastery, where she disappeared. Dimitri had seen her appear from the ground and disappear into walls before, only barely visible from the corner of his eyes, and every time she slipped like water from his fingers.

This time was no different. Dimitri skidded to a halt at her disappearing point, pushing aside thick branches in a desperate search for terrestrial beauty. There was nobody and nothing - the girl had walked straight into the monastery walls. Foiled again.

“Dammit!” Dimitri yelled. Claude’s eyebrows jumped up. “I was so close that time!” 

“You know curse words? I owe Hilda a hundred gold.” Claude poked his head over Dimitri’s shoulder, watching his desperate search without helping whatsoever. “What was all of that about? Did you see someone?”

“Didn’t you?” But Dimitri already knew the answer, even as he said it - nobody ever saw her but him. “I’ve been seeing this girl since I arrived at Garreg Mach. She appears from thin air and disappears into nothing. I suspect she may be a ghost. I’ve searched high and low for her, but I haven’t been able to find her. And she slips through my fingers again!”

Claude hummed, scratching his chin. “Now that you mention it, maybe I did see a figure…”

Dimitri rocketed upwards, snapping several branches. He whirled on Claude, who took a large step back. “You did? Was she short, wearing silver clothing, unmistakably beautiful?”

Claude held up both hands in a plea for innocence. “...it looked kind of humanoid?” Figures. Dimitri turned back around, scanning the area again. If he could just follow her trail - maybe there would be a scent of death? Of ozone? Of the unknown? “Hey, if it matters that much to you then I’ll help you look. Can’t afford to rule anything out - even ghosts.” 

“You’re a true friend, Your Grace,” Dimitri said seriously. Claude nodded back, equally seriously. “And even if she isn’t a ghost, an unknown person at Garreg Mach is highly suspect. She doesn’t seem to wear a habit, armor, or a uniform. It’s our responsibility as leaders to investigate mysteries like this.” 

“Uh huh.” Claude slipped into the thicket with him, easily fitting into the barren spots where Dimitri already accidentally snapped off all the branches. Dimitri was already seriously knocking on the castle walls, searching for secret passages or weaknesses. “But not to tell a staff member?”

“I decided a while ago that I could handle this on my own,” Dimitri said stiffly. Wasn’t like anybody was willing to help him, anyway. “Some endeavors are personal.”

“I know that feeling.” Claude hummed, and Dimitri heard the distinct screech of metal scraping on metal. “So are you this invested because of the ghost thing or the beautiful thing?”

“With the potential non-invited guest at Garreg Mach thing, Your Grace.” 

A terrible grinding sound split the night, and Dimitri winced. He was a bit sensitive to unexpected loud noises. Felix knew, and liked to sneak up on him and yell in his ear. “I’m a future duke and you’re a future king, Your Highness, I think you’re meant to speak less formally to me.” 

“We’re both future leaders of our respective countries,” Dimitri said seriously. “Isn’t that more important than a discrepancy in titles? I’d like to show respect to you as it befits your station, not your title.” 

More awful screeching filled the air, accompanied by a final grinding scream and a muffled thump. “Is that why you’re the only person who calls Petra ‘Your Highness’? I think that’s why you’re the only guy in this school she approves of.” 

“Really?” Dimitri asked, pleased. Politeness always paid off! “I simply think it’s disrespectful to treat her as anything less than royalty simply because she is here as a political hostage - an outdated practice that I believe - I’m sorry, what’s that sound?”

“Oh, just opening a secret passage.” 

“I see. I just think it’s an outdated practice that ought to be illegalized, and just between you and me I actually highly disapprove of - I’m sorry, a what?”

Dimitri turned around from his fruitless inspection of the wall for the first time and saw Claude squatting nearby. He had cut away the brambles surrounding the area with the tip of an arrow he pulled from somewhere, and a large manhole was resting on the grass next to him. He was currently sticking his head down a dark hole of indeterminable depth. Dimitri hadn’t even noticed a manhole! 

Well. If the beautiful woman was a beautiful ghost, then she had undoubtedly gone through the wall. But if the beautiful woman was an everyday extremely attractive girl, then the manhole might be how she had escaped so quickly. 

Finally, a lead! A path towards her! Dimitri did not know why he was a little disappointed. Was he secretly hoping she’d be a ghost? That would be a little impractical. Maybe he was just upset Claude had found it?

Claude popped his head back up, upside-down braid swinging back against his cheek. “Now isn’t this interesting?” For the first time, Claude seemed invested. “The sewer system doesn’t run underneath this path. So what’s an access point to the sewers doing right here?”

“...why do you know the sewer layout of Garreg Mach?”

“I’m a fan of a good mystery,” Claude said, completely ignoring the question. Perhaps. “How do you feel about a little exploration on this fine moonlit night?” 

Oh no. Dimtiri abruptly felt a little anxious. “Your Grace, I don’t believe students are allowed in the Garreg Mach sewer systems.”

“What if it’s not the Garreg Mach sewer system?”

“That may be less allowed.” A little awkwardly, Dimitri added, “And I really wouldn’t want to accidentally break a rule and get in trouble.”

Claude gave him a look of blatant disgust. Dimitri hung his head in shame.

Finally, Claude took pity on him. He sighed and clapped Dimitri’s shoulder - once in camaraderie, twice in sympathy. “Your Highness. Are you really going to let some little rules get in the way of you and your soulmate?”

Dimitri perked up. Putting it like that…and he really didn’t want to look uncool in front of Claude, who was probably the coolest person at the school… “I suppose Lady Rhea would understand if it’s for the sake of love…”

“Attaboy.” Claude shoved roughly at Dimitri’s shoulder, pushing him into the hole. “Now let’s dive into the sewers. Lords first!”

Thankfully, Dimitri wasn’t obligated to fall down a hole face first. There was a wooden ladder descending downwards, warped and fragile from the damp air, and although Dimitri descended into the dark with no hesitation he had to force himself to move slowly and grip the fragile rungs with utmost care. 

The darkness was absolute, and Dimitri and Claude navigated by feel. They climbed for what felt like ages, and Dimitri’s absolute concentration made the period of time span even longer. Claude prattled on above his head with some random thoughts and observations, but Dimitri was focusing too hard on the ladder to register what he was saying. 

A boot knocked him on the head. Dimitri’s hands spasmed, crushing the rung into splinters, and his grip was completely lost. Dimitri bent backwards a terrifying foot before he righted himself and regained his balance, grabbing the side of the ladder and swinging himself heavily downwards. Of course, that broke the side of the ladder, and suddenly Claude was yelling a great deal of expletives as one side of his ladder began to slide downwards. 

“Let’s readjust our approach,” Dimitri said mildly. He changed his grip to grab the two sides of the ladder, his metal gauntlets digging into the wood. “Get ready to slide, Your Grace.” 

“Are you nuts -”

Dimitri kicked off, taking his feet off the rungs and loosening his grip on the sides. His slide downwards was alarmingly fast, and he could feel the musty air rise up to meet him. Claude was still yelling, his voice echoing up the empty tunnel, and a familiar wave of adrenaline rose to wash Dimitri’s mind clean.

He couldn’t help but grin. The wind tousling his hair, the swooping sensation in his stomach, the possibility of death and the high probability of injury - a recipe for excitement. Dimitri’s favorite sort of excitement - the sort that cleared out all of the nasty little thoughts that clouded his mind day to day, that made him forget all of his problems and memories and wounds and that focused him onto the present moment. It was a thrill that conquered all ills, and it was more or less the only time that Dimitri was ever happy. 

His professor didn’t like that about him. Before Garreg Mach, Felix was the only person who was aware of Dimitri’s little addiction, but the Blue Lions professor had sniffed Dimitri out fast and never stopped giving him a hard time about it. Dimitri honestly didn’t think it was the professor’s business, but he knew they did not agree regarding that fact. It didn’t matter - Dimitri wasn’t about to change.

A light sprung from the darkness, and Dimitri immediately kicked his heels against the ladder and slowed his descent. The light brightened as Dimitri fell, and he was able to make out a hard-packed dirt floor just in time to bend his knees and soften his landing. The impact still rattled his legs down to the bone, but he hadn’t sprained anything.

Dimitri immediately jumped backwards, watching Claude come to the same conclusion and slow his descent. Unlike Dimitri, he didn’t stick the landing - he fell in an ungainly heap on the floor, gasping for breath and groaning. His hair was wildly mussed, and he looked a little green. His cape had ripped off his shoulders, and was currently hanging like a defeated flag several feet above their heads.

“What is wrong with you.”

Goddess, they’d be here all day. “You’re the one who kicked my head.” Dimitri wiped the splinters off his gauntleted hand, extending it down to Claude. Claude squinted at him in increasingly ill-hidden hatred. “Come on, have a little adventurous spirit. I thought you were here to explore the unknown?”

Claude pushed himself upwards, and Dimitri silently curled his hand and returned it to his side. Figured that Claude wouldn’t want to touch him. An expected reaction, honestly. “Sure I am. Now our way out of here is unknown too. Guess we have no choice but to press onwards.” 

“I’ll lead the way,” Dimitri said - perhaps betraying the fact that he had no intention of going backwards. “I believe we’re already out of the woods. Look yonder - see the exit?”

There was, indeed, an exit. They had landed in a narrow rectangular room, and there was clearly a door at the far corner where the right wall intersected the back wall. Light shone from within, and Dimitri eagerly led them forwards towards the light. 

He could even hear sounds, signs of life - the distant coursing of a river, and a familiar quiet symphony of sounds. They were the sounds of life - a soundscape of an ordinary day at the marketplace at the base of Garreg Mach, marked by shuffling feet and quiet voices. 

“Is that people?” Dimitri whispered, excited. “What are people doing this far underground?”

“Is that people?” Claude whispered, incredulous. “Does Rhea know about this?”

“Perhaps they’re ghosts!”

But Claude just shook his head, and for the first time he seemed a little grim. He sped up, walking briskly until he overtook Dimitri. Dimitri fell back, letting him take the lead, and listened curiously as Claude muttered under his breath. Dimitri couldn’t make out the words at all - too quiet, perhaps.

“Ghosts!” Claude hissed. “Perhaps they’re ghosts, that’s fun, not dangerous -”

“Maybe they’re an army of ghosts,” Dimitri volunteered. Claude hissed something that sounded suspiciously similar to the Almyran term for the Fodlan ethnic group. He probably mishead. “Honestly, Claude, what happened to your thirst for adventure -”

“I thought I would get to see Dimitri Blaiddyd stomp through some sewers for an hour! I didn’t expect to stumble into real life people!” Claude stopped at the entryway, peering forward into the cavernous expanse beyond them. Dimitri stopped too. Quite involuntarily. “Holy - that’s a settlement! What is a settlement doing underneath - that’s a village! There’s no way Rhea doesn’t know about that. What else is that woman hiding?”

Dimitri coughed, frozen perfectly still. Cold steel kissed his neck. “Ah. Er. Some help?” 

Claude ignored him, steadily working himself up. Dimitri had never seen Claude actually unbalanced before. It was unsettling. “Just when I thought I had five percent of that woman figured out, she pulls the rug on me again. I’ll never get anything good out of her this way. Can’t believe I’m saying this, but I might have to fall back on the B&E plan -”

“Some help, Claude!”

Instantly, Claude said, “What B&E plan?”

“Don’t move,” the beautiful ghost said. 

Claude turned around. 

Dimitri had to assume it was the beautiful ghost. The sword was raised against his neck upwards, showing that the wielder had to significantly lift her arm to hold it. The voice was unmistakably a woman’s, light and delicate and young. It wasn’t ethereal - rather, it was solid, as solid as the steel against his skin - but there was still something otherworldly about it. 

Claude stared at Dimitri, wide-eyed. His eyes traveled downwards - yes, the ghost had to be short - and he froze just as solid as Dimitri for a flat second before he relaxed. Over Claude’s shoulder, Dimitri could see the settlement stretching out before him - at the lean-tos and tents and shacks, at the people in rags milling about who were already beginning to stop and stare. The underground people were dirty, and the underground village was filthier. Dimitri immediately saw some elderly hugging the walls, and more foreigners.

Undoubtedly, Claude had seen what Dimitri saw. Claude was currently ahead of him - he was staring at the beautiful ghost with mouth agape, eyes wide. A hot flash of jealousy burst in Dimitri’s chest. Claude got to see the ghost’s face before he did! How incredibly unfair! 

“Hello, there. Sorry for…uh, dropping in.” Claude slowly raised his hands, showing himself unarmed. Dimitri wondered where he had stashed his extra arrows. “We…come in peace?”

The sword at his neck flashed. It was well-kept, but clearly old and cheap. “Who are you with.” 

“We’re not with anybody!” Claude said hurriedly. Bizarrely, he had immediately adopted an accent - a thick, regional Almyran accent, coarse and rough. “Please, ma’am, stay your sword. Don’t you have any idea who you’re holding hostage? He’s a very important person. If he goes missing your entire house will be endangered. It’s safest for everybody if you just let him go.”

The blade stilled. “...is he rich?”

“Oh, very! I know people who would pay thousands for his safe return!” 

“What did I expect,” Dimitri muttered. 

“And who are you?” the beautiful ghost asked. “Are you rich too?”

“I am but this man’s humble aide!” Claude said instantly. He bowed flamboyantly, with a distinctive Almyran flair. “A loyal and devoted servant am I, to His Royal Highness! My ten brothers and sisters wouldn’t have two coppers to scavenge together to pay a ransom, honest! Tell you what, tell you what - let me help!” Claude straightened, pulling out his most roguish and charismatic smile. “Let’s be friends, Fodlan beauty. Give me your demands, and I’ll deliver them straight upwards all the way to the top. I’ll be back with thousands! You can give the pale boy back later. If you want. How about it?”

The sword wavered. The ghost spoke again, her voice laced with doubt. “You’re both wearing the Academy uniform. Brother did say that the prince was attending school this year.”

“Beautiful and good intel sources! Surely you’ve heard of me, the Almyran vassal that follows around the prince and attends school with him?”

Dubiously, the ghost said, “Brother says that the vassal’s Duscuran…”

“I am disappointed that your brother cannot tell the difference between the Duscur and Almyran people!”

“It’s not like that…”

Claude promptly said something in - Almyran? When did Claude learn Almyran? The ghost said something back in Almyran, undoubtedly dubious. Claude pointed at Dimitri’s shoulder, showcasing Dimitri’s fine cape, and then at his own - and the distinct lack of yellow cape, which was probably still pinned to the ladder. The beautiful ghost murmured in assent - obviously Claude was a poor vassal, not a rich king, see his complete lack of cape. 

The beautiful ghost said something, and Claude’s eyes sharpened. He grinned and bowed even lower - a vassal to a princess. 

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “Then His Highness and his loyal vassal would be honored to hold an audience with the lady’s esteemed brother.” 

“You talk stupid.” 

“You would really get along with my best friend, my lady.” 

“I’m not your anything.” The blade fell, and the beautiful ghost stepped away. “We don’t like surface people here. If you two are plotting anything, I’ll kill you.”

She said it so simply and easily, as if Dimitri’s death would be the work of nature or the Goddess and not her own two hands. Dimitri turned around, heart jumping into the throat, and met the eyes of his beautiful ghost for the first time.

The girl was solid, real, and around his age. She was wearing a strange, bastardized version of the Academy uniform, silver and embroidered with a strange symbol over the heart. Her hair gleamed navy blue and her lace stockings barely hid her defined thigh muscles. Her grip on her sword was excellent and her stance spoke of barely restrained power. The woman could kill him in a flash, and the stroke that cut his throat would shine like moonlight.

Like Dimitri loved a long fall and short impact, like he loved the light at the end of the tunnel, like he loved betting all in on the longest chances, Dimitri fell in love instantly. 

“Night night,” the love of Dimitri’s life said, before hitting him on the back of his head with the pommel of her sword, drawing black curtains over Dimitri’s eyes. 

__________

Dimitri sat in an office. A rather inauspicious turn in this kidnapping saga. 

He was sitting down because his head still hurt. He wished he was standing and showing his future brother-in-law the respect he deserved, but his future brother-in-law insisted that he tend to his probable concussion and sit. Dimitri wanted to protest - the man had already personally healed him, and his head didn’t hurt any more than usual - but the man seemed stressed enough, so Dimitri sat obediently in front of his desk. In an office. In an underground slum funded by the church. Which existed. Was that what taxpayer money was going towards?

Yuri explained the entire situation to him and Claude as he healed the bump and gash on Dimitri’s skull. For a given value of ‘entire’ - so far, Dimitri mostly just understood that the church organized a homeless encampment underground that accepted any members unconditionally and functioned roughly like its own little nation. The main encampment of Abyss was Garreg Mach itself - a basement floor of the monastery that had sunken into the ground after some unfortunate geographical events around seven hundred years ago. Dimitri wanted to ask if it was a possible problem that Garreg Mach was located in a sinkhole, but Yuri didn’t leave much time for questions.

The name of the slum was Abyss, and its inhabitants had little contact with the outside world. There were children in Abyss who had never stood in the sun, and infirm who hadn’t felt the sun’s warmth since they were well. Apparently the few inhabitants who regularly left Abyss used one of a series of secret passages in Garreg Mach, with entrances and exits that spanned the width of the monastery. These secret passages were very well-hidden, and an Abyssan well-versed in their usage could disappear and reappear throughout the monastery like…a ghost. 

They didn’t have visitors very often. Not many people knew about Abyss, and strangely enough the people in the loop didn’t care to visit a damp, filthy underground slum. They had even fewer Academy students fall down manholes and stumble into this inverted land of wonder. Hence why the sight of Dimitri and Claude caused certain Abyssans to panic. With their swords. 

These Abyssans were named Byleth, which was a lovely name. Potentially alliterative, too. 

“Your Highness.” Yuri was gritting his teeth together. “I am…so sorry.” 

“No harm done,” Dimitri said instantly. He wanted to express to Yuri that it was actually a great honor to be harmed by his sister, but he didn’t know how to say that in a normal way. “We were the intruders, after all. Byleth was just defending her home.” He turned to Byleth, who was standing stiffly behind her brother in a perfect match to Claude’s stiff stance behind Dimitri. Dimitri had barely taken his eyes off her, and yet she had failed to make a single facial expression. Fascinating. “Your swordplay was incredible, by the way. The way you held that sword to my throat was impeccable. I assume you’ve been professionally trained.”

“Here and there.” Byleth looked pleased, making Dimitri feel like a star. She pointed awkwardly at the silver sword at Dimitri’s hip. It was the same old sword Dimitri always had - some antique of the royal family, passed down from generation to generation. “I like your sword.”

Instantly, Dimitri said, “Thank you! Do you want it?”’

Byleth hummed. Yuri’s eyes widened a fraction, and Claude stifled a groan. “My sword is pretty old…”

“Here, take it.” Dimtiri immediately undid his belt and handed the sword over to her, belt and sheath and all. She held it up and admired it, testing its weight. Yuri’s jaw clenched. “Consider it my apology for following you uninvited into your home.”

Byleth nodded, twirling the sword easily in her hands. It was tremendously attractive. “Apology accepted. We’re even.” Her mouth twitched infinitesimally into something that may be loosely deemed a smile. Yuri’s eyes widened severely. “Thank you.”

Dimitri looked away, coughing. His face felt like it was going to melt off. “You’re welcome. It - ah, it suits you.”

“Do you think so?” Byleth asked, pleased. Perhaps. It was very hard to tell. Her voice was in a very strict monotone, but their deep spiritual connection meant that Dimitri could vibe these things out. “It does match my outfit.”

Dimitri would never be able to think of silver again without thinking of her. “I’m hono -”

“Your Highness.” Yuri’s voice hadn’t changed; nor had his words. His expression didn’t seem any different and his body language hadn’t shifted. But something about him was far now far less welcoming - something was different, all the same. “We’re very grateful for your gift, and for the forgiveness you’ve extended towards us regarding what happened. But it would be highly irresponsible of me to keep you here any longer. Abyss isn’t safe for somebody like you and your…vassal.”

“Khalid, sir.” Claude winked loudly at Dimitri, making absolutely certain that Dimitri understood that Claude was giving a fake foreign name. Yes, Dimitri picked up on that. “Really, wonderful place you have here. Very chic. Couldn’t possibly be that unsafe - if we had a good tour guide.”

Frostily, Yuri said, “I’ll have some scouts escort you back topside immediately. I’m certain Lady Rhea is looking for you.”

“It took her three days to notice that I tossed Lindhardt into a well, so I’m certain we have at least that long.” Claude leaned forward eagerly. “Who founded this place? Whose idea was it? Why is it underground?”

“Somebody who is no longer with us,” Yuri said, curt and even. “I’m the leader of Abyss now. And as the leader, it’s my responsibility to get future leaders of Fodlan back to their cozy beds.”

Claude flapped an easy hand. “Sure, let’s get the future leader of Fodlan back to bed. But this humble vassal’s awfully interested in this operation you’re running. Don’t suppose you could allow me to run around a bit? Check some things out? See your tax records?”

“I think even vassals have someplace to be, Khalid.”

“Why are you saying his name like that?” Byleth asked Yuri. She paused a beat. “Never mind. I don’t care.”

“There’s a great deal of places this vassal should be,” Claude said cheerfully, “but I think there’s only one place where I have to be.” He easily slid into the unoccupied chair next to Dimitri, leaning forward and folding his hands on Yuri’s desk. He had to nudge apart several scrolls of parchment and pieces of paper to do it - the man’s desk was stacked with forms, work, and quills. “Let’s put our cards on the table, huh? There’s a lot the church doesn’t tell us peons, Yuri. I’m willing to bet you know a lot of it. So in exchange for you telling me what you know, I don’t tell Lady Rhea what I know about a certain somebody trying to lop off the head of the future king of Faerghus. Sound good to you?”

Yuri crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, one thin purple eyebrow arching. “You have a lot to learn about the art of the deal, kid. What will Rhea say when she learns that Prince Dimitri and Duke Claude were out past curfew skulking around slums?”

“Duke Claude’s happily asleep in his warm bed, and every member of his House is sufficiently paid to corroborate that story.” Claude smiled winningly. “Khalid is a humble vassal interested in touring your fine slum. Khalid might also have some other gossip that you might be interested in.” 

“Like what, kid?”

Claude’s grin widened. “I might tell you tomorrow morning. After my visit.”

Yuri was silent. His eyes flickered to Dimtiri, then to Claude. He glanced at his sister. “By, wait outside?” 

Byleth nodded and exited the room. Dimtiri yearned for her achingly. But Yuri just straightened, face as blank and unreadable as his sister’s, and said something to Claude in Almyran.

For the first time, Claude was struck off balance. He looked at Dimitri, eyes wide, then back at Yuri. He said something empathetically, shaking his head, but Yuri just responded curtly.

In the Fodlan language, Claude said, “On the honor of my father and mother, no. I’m not trying to -”

“Really?” Yuri said. “You’re a novice at this con artist thing, kid. You’re too rich to do it well. Word of advice - don’t smile like you’re hiding something, smile like you’re keeping a secret.”

Claude pulled back a little, and Dimitri saw that he was almost pouting. “You don’t know me.”

“I know things about you that you don’t know about yourself.” Yuri looked at Dimitri, expression gentle and soft and bland. Like sheep’s wool, or dandelion fluff on the breeze. “Do you want to hang around Abyss a little longer too, Your Highness?”

Images of Byleth wielding his silver sword, flicking the blade in a deadly dance, spun through Dimitri’s mind. If he left Abyss now and never saw her again he would lose what little scrap of will to live he had left. Dimitri couldn’t keep losing good things. He was running out.

“Yes!” Dimitri said - a bit too quickly, a bit too empathetically. He coughed, forcing himself to settle down. “I mean - yes. As a future ruler, I should see how the other half lives. It’s important for a ruler to understand the needs of all of his people.”

It was perfectly true. It wasn’t what he was thinking, but it was perfectly true. Dimitri had the faint notion that perhaps he and Claude were missing the point of something important, something much bigger than them - than Claude’s secrets or Dimitri’s love story - but the allure of secrets and love was fairly overpowering at the moment. 

Easily, as easily as he said everything else, Yuri said, “My sister’s not on the market to entertain you. I can steer plenty of other lovely ladies or gentlemen your way, but she’s a little busy with her own work.” Yuri tilted his head, looking at Dimitri through half-lidded eyes. Dimitri flushed a little. “If you insist, I’d be happy to spare some time for you. But I’m afraid my sister is just too busy.” 

Claude stood up, chair skidding against the hard stone. “I just put my family’s name on this! As -” Claude said something quickly in Almyran, which completely flew over Dimitri’s head. “ - I am vouching for Prince Dimitri. I wouldn’t even say that for me, but I can sure as hell say it for him. You can trust us.” 

Yuri’s face was unchanged. “I’ve heard that one before.” 

And although Dimitri didn’t understand half the conversation - although he knew that there was subtext he wasn’t getting, that there were things about the world he just couldn’t see - he understood the right thing to do well enough for now. Standing in the midst of Abyss, it was clear.

Dimitri stood up, bowing low at Yuri. “I apologize for our intrusion. I see that my classmate and I have overstayed our welcome. I have no desire to add to the heavy burdens you and your village already bear. Please, if you can help escort us back to the surface, we’d be very grateful.”

When Dimtiri straightened, he saw a peculiar look on Yuri’s face. It was a little thoughtful, and a lot of another foreign emotion. “What will you do now that you know we’re here?”

“Ask Rhea how we can help,” Dimitri said immediately. Left implied: and confess to our wrongdoings, like good children. “Or you, if you’re amenable. Abyss is not located within my lands, but I am aware that many places like Abyss reside in the darkness of Faerghus. If I can do anything for you now - learn what you can teach me - then I consider it education on how to provide for my subjects in the future.”

“He’s sincere,” Claude said firmly. He stood up too, thumping his heart with a closed fist. “I haven’t been sincere since the poisoned fig incident, but I can swear too. We just want to help. So let us help - it can’t be every day you have two future leaders of Fodlan asking you what we can do for you.”

Yuri stared at them for a long few seconds, expression glazed smooth and unreadable, before he finally sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “And I suppose you want my sister as a tour guide.”

“You just said she’s busy,” Dimitri asked, tilting his head in confusion. “I assumed she wouldn’t be available to show us around.” 

Yuri narrowed his eyes - damn, the man was impeccable. Dimitri had attempted one subtle fib and he was caught out immediately. But the lie served its purpose, and something subtle in Yuri’s shoulders untensed. Dimitri hadn’t realized that they were tense at all.

Yuri opened his mouth and said -

“Boss! Did we really kidnap the prince of Faerghus?”

The door thumped open with such immense force that it smacked against the far wall. A truly giant man strode inside, followed closely on his heels by a blonde woman wearing an unsettling smile and a short dark-skinned woman picking at a cuticle. On the tail end of the party was Byleth. She nodded at Dimitri, who nodded back in a daze.

“I told them you were busy,” Byleth said serenely. 

“Yeah, busy with His Royal Highness!” The large man stopped in front of Dimitri and carefully scrutinized him from head to toe. Dimitri allowed himself to be scrutinized. “Damn! What are they feeding you Academy kids these days? You’re solid muscle. Not as much as me, but not bad either!”

Dimitri fought the urge to sweat. The women flanked the big guy, blinking at him curiously. “I train frequently.”

“Really? Guess Bye-Bye’s found another freak.” The dark-skinned woman yawned, nodding at Byleth as she stood at her brother’s side. “You should hang out. Hit each other with swords or whatever.” 

“Greetings to His Royal Highness and friend!” the blonde woman yelled, almost at the top of her voice. She put her hands on her hips, lifting her chin in the air. “Welcome to the home of Constance von Nuvelle! Our decor may be lacking, but our hospitality is second to none!”

“Really?” the other woman drawled. “I think the rats add some pizazz.”

“Silly Hapi! The rats are disgusting!”

“Bye-Bye eats garbage too, but we don’t give her a hard time about it.”

“Hospitality, huh?” Yuri smiled, and for the first time it seemed a little real. “Balthus, obviously you don’t have anything more important going on. Can you host our two noble young visitors? Who we didn’t kidnap?”

“We were a little kidnapped,” Claude said. 

Balthus grinned, propping a hand on a hip. “I dunno, are you paying me?” 

Quickly, Dimitri added, “We’ll compensate you for your efforts, of course.”

“Wait,” the dark-skinned woman asked the room, “are we holding you hostage? Because it sounds like we’re holding you hostage.”

“Sold, kid!” Balthus thumped a friendly hand on Dimtiri’s back. He didn’t stumble, which seemed to shock Balthus before he withdrew his hand and quickly covered up the motion. “You look like a good hand with a weapon. Not you, Almyran guy, you look like a wimp.” Claude narrowed his eyes, but Balthus just looked backwards at Byleth. “You should spar with our new friend, Byleth. I’ll finally get to see you knock a different musclehead on the ground!”

Constance squealed, clapping her hands. “Byleth and the new children can play together! Oh, how heartwarming! Socialization is a rare opportunity for Bylie indeed!” She looked at Yuri and stage whispered, “We cannot afford to lose this chance, Yuri!”

“Byleth doesn’t know a lot of kids her own age,” the dark-skinned woman told Dimitri and Claude. “She’s…a little awkward.”

Byleth blinked at them.

“Wow,” Claude muttered, “you don’t say.”

“I forgive you for holding a sword to my neck,” Dimitri said earnestly. “You were doing the right thing.”

“Seriously, are we holding you hostage or not?”

 Yuri’s eye twitched. But his posture had fully loosened, and the presence of the strangers seemed to make him breathe a little easier. “We aren’t. And Byleth isn't a puppy we need to socialize, Hapi. You know how noble boys are.”

“Noble boy and his loyal vassal,” Claude added quickly, sticking stubbornly to the bit. Dimitri had no idea why, but Claude rarely vocalized his reasons for doing anything. “What do you think, Byleth? Want to hang out with us, or want to stay with your brother?”

Byleth stared at both of them unblinkingly. Finally, after a long few seconds of thought, Byleth said, “I want to train with Dimitri.” 

Hapi shot a canny look at Yuri. “Balthus’ll supervise. Connie and I too, if you want.” 

For a long second Dimitri thought Yuri was going to say no anyway. Dimitri would have accepted it. It would have robbed Dimitri of the only good thing left in his life, but he would have accepted it. Good things came and left all of the time, and part of life was learning how to deal with that. Dimitri liked to fancy himself an expert in it. He could lose one more thing - one flash of hope. 

But Yuri only sighed. “Alright. Supervised. Now get out of my office, all of you, I’m far too busy to juggle nobility on top of everything else.” Claude perked up. “All of you. You want to talk about Rhea - we’ll do it after dinner.” 

“Understood!” Claude bowed at Yuri again, and Dimitri hastily copied him. “You won’t regret opening your doors to us, sir!”

“Uh-huh.” Left unsaid - he definitely already was. “Out of my office, then. I’ve been away for too long and I have a lot of work to catch up on.”

Byleth tilted her head, a frown tugging at her lips. “You should leave less often. Your work piles up. It stresses you out.” 

Yuri gave her a big smile, as if he was keeping a secret. “But if I don’t leave, I’ll never experience the joy of seeing you again.” 

“You’re corny, Yuri.” 

“Love turns even the best of us into cornballs.” Yuri and Byleth shared a look, empty and opaque, but in that blankness Dimitri saw something far deeper than he had ever experienced. “Just look at Constance. Every time she looks at herself in the mirror she gets sillier.” 

“Excuse me, my sweet Yuri -”

“You’re excused, my darling Constance.”

“Must we fight,” Hapi panned, monotone and disinterested. “We’re a family. Look. You’ll make the baby cry.”

Byleth blinked at Hapi. “But I can’t cry.” 

“Look. You’ll give the baby psychological issues.” 

Balthus laughed again, cracking his knuckles with a pop that echoed throughout the cramped office. “This’ll be fun! It’s been a while since we’ve had a good adventure, eh Yuri?”

“Yes,” Yuri said, “that’s altogether what I’m afraid of.”

Truthfully, at that point Dimitri was no longer listening. He was just looking at Byleth, the girl who could not cry. And Byleth looked back at him, the boy whose heart was always crying. They saw each other, the heart-burdened and the heartless, and something in one reached out to balance the other.

And although the weight of the world above them crushed Dimitri’s shoulders, although they stood within damp and filthy slums tucked into the bowels of the planet, for those precious few seconds Dimitri and Byleth existed in the world with no obligation to anybody but each other.

_____________

ii. 

Yuri was sitting in this bathroom fruitlessly scrubbing blood out of his one good outfit when he received word that Lady Rhea was requesting an audience. Because it was Rhea, he also received word that she was already waiting for him in the destroyed classroom. 

Damn it! He had just returned! And he didn’t have anything to wear!

In the end, he was forced to keep Lady Rhea waiting another fifteen minutes because he had to dig out an older, rattier outfit and re-do his makeup. Approach: ‘I’m in my twenties, my stare is cold and piercing, and damn it I belong in this conference room’. Then he had to waste another five minutes because his hair was a wreck and his hands still smelled like blood. By the time he finally speed-walked down the halls and skidded to a stop in front of the classroom doors Yuri was twenty minutes late and already fighting the urge to freak.

As always, he halted at the doors. He took a deep breath in, then out. His outfit was dingy, which made him feel like crap, but the power makeup helped pick up the slack. He inhaled, exhaled, shook out his limbs, and entered the classroom. 

Rhea was standing in front of a blackboard, her back turned to the door. She was dressed in an old brown cloak, but with the hood down and her beautiful green hair left to flow over her shoulders the figure was unmistakable as Rhea. She was writing in beautiful and flowing script on the blackboard with a piece of stubby chalk, and speaking in a low voice to the child standing next to her. The child was staring up at her, eyes wide, chewing on a knuckle. Th child’s dark blue hair was pulled into a stubby ponytail, and she was wearing only a tattered black dress and swimming in a brown jacket sized for a large adult man. 

“ - your name. See, this is the B…like ‘bye’. Can you say ‘bye’?” The child blinked owlishly up at Rhea. “That’s alright. You’ll get it. You’re doing a great job already.” 

Yuri coughed, and Rhea quickly turned around. With a strange start Yuri noticed that she was dressed down even more than usual, her face plain and wearing only a simple white dress underneath the cloak. Without her own makeup, she seemed tired. She smiled wanly at Yuri, who bowed back. The child turned around too, gnawing fastidiously at her knuckle. 

“Yuri. I’m sorry to call upon you again so quickly after your return. Did all go well?”

“The job was done.” Deepen your voice, sound older - sound disaffected, yet sincere. Yuri wondered if he would ever live long enough that he could stop pretending to be older. “The deceased is no longer a threat to the church.”

“He was a threat to the safety of Fodlan,” Rhea said firmly. Yuri wasn’t sure about that one, but he did appreciate Rhea’s conscientious efforts to only toss absolute bastards into his pen. “I’m afraid I must ask something of you yet again, Yuri. This is important. I cannot fully disclose to you why this mission is so important, but please trust me when I say that this is a matter extremely close to my heart.”

Yuri straightened, folding his hands behind his back. He wanted to die a bit. Another important mission? As if managing Abyss, captaining his rogues, and assassinating bastards weren’t enough missions? 

How long would she keep punishing him? 

But Yuri just bowed. It was no effort at all to keep his expression placid. “I can accomplish any mission you give me, my lady.”

“I know. That’s why I’m trusting you with this.” Rhea put both hands on the girl’s shoulder and squeezed. The girl squirmed uncomfortably. You and me both, kid. “Yuri, this is Byleth. Byleth, this is Yuri. Why don’t you say hi?”

Byleth stared at Yuri, gnawing on her finger. Somebody probably ought to slap those knuckles with a ruler. She wasn’t a young child - twelve or thirteen, perhaps - but the habit and the wide eyes made her seem younger. 

Yuri gave her his special ‘talking to vulnerable kids’ smile. “How do you do, my lady?”

Byleth stared at Yuri. A theme. 

Rhea frowned, squeezing Byleth’s shoulder one last time before dropping her hands. “She hasn’t talked much since it happened. She…doesn’t seem to remember anything.”

“Anything about what happened?”

“Anything at all. She can’t seem to recall anything about her family or her life. Darling, you ought to get your knuckle out of your mouth.” Rhea ducked her head, staring steadfastly at Byleth. The girl slowly dropped her knuckle from her mouth, looking a little spooked, before Rhea lifted her head again. “Byleth here was kidnapped. There are…some forces in Fodlan that place great value in Byleth. I don’t know how they learned about her, but they haven’t left her in peace since they found out. They’ve tried to kidnap her several times, but their latest attempt was successful. The Church knights were only able to rescue her two days ago. The knight who rescued her brought her to me immediately, and now I must bring her to you.”

“Have you spoken with Aelfric about this?”

“Of course. He’s already given his consent.” Rhea’s eyes glimmered strangely in the light. Sometimes the only emotion from that woman Yuri could truly understand was the dark depths of her sadness. “Discretion is of the utmost importance. The people after her will not give up.” 

Ah. Yuri understood. “Does she have a valuable crest?”

Rhea put a hand on Byleth’s head, slowly stroking her hair. Byleth went cross-eyed looking upwards and gawking at the hand. “Byleth is a very special girl.”

Alright, so don’t tell him. “You want to hide her and her family in Abyss?” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression mournful. “Byleth is an orphan. She will be alone in Abyss. That’s why I must ask for your help, Yuri.”

In the girl’s big dark eyes Yuri saw only trouble. Abyss sheltered plenty of people in hiding, but the people after Byleth seemed to be on a different level. If hiding the girl here brought danger into Abyss, then…

Then she was still a girl who needed help. Yuri would deal with any danger as it came. 

“Madame Birch will be happy to take her in.” Yuri smiled at Byleth again, taking care to crinkle his eyes and gave it positive energy. “My friend Madame Birch takes care of kids just like you, Byleth. She’ll be so excited to meet you. I know some girls her age in your house who’ve been begging me for another friend.” 

But Rhea just shook her head, expression somber and firm. “The forces after Byleth are powerful. I need to place her with the strongest person in Abyss - the person most able to protect her. That’s you, Yuri. Please take her yourself.”

Ah. What?

For the first time, Yuri had to fight to keep his expression and tone still. “My lady, my workload frequently takes me out of Abyss.”

“Then I can reduce your workload.”

That perked Yuri’s ears. He was a fool for not recognizing it immediately. Rhea was desperate. Her emotional involvement in this was far greater than keeping a tool out of the hands of the enemy. Byleth had to be family somehow - maybe even a secret daughter. Having a secret daughter of Lady Rhea in Yuri’s back pocket…under his exclusive supervision…

It was a death knell if anything happened to the kid. But the leverage was too good to pass up.

Fuck, he could even negotiate right here and now. He ought to send Byleth out of the room for this, but it was important that she understood what was happening and why. As much as she seemingly could - the girl may be a little touched. It didn’t matter, obviously, but it would necessitate a change in approach.                 

“Well,” Yuri said slowly, “the greatest distraction from Abyss would be my jobs. I would like to stay in Abyss full-time. Give her a more consistent upbringing.”

Rhea’s eyebrow quirked upwards, but Yuri was unrepentant. She knew what she was doing by looping him in. “I’ll reduce the quantity of jobs I assign you.”

“To once every four months, perhaps.”

“Once every two.” 

“That would be highly detrimental for Byleth’s childhood development.”

Evenly, Rhea said, “Going forth, I will give you a job every three months at maximum. Is that a deal?”

That was fucking fantastic. Yuri was almost lightheaded, but he pressed on. “Sounds like a deal. But raising a child is no simple matter, my lady. Child-proofing the environment, educating her, feeding her…Abyss is run on a razor-thin budget. The expenses concern me.” 

Rhea sighed. “I will funnel more money into your personal budget to compensate for the expense.” Yuri waited patiently. “And into the Abyss orphanages. Anything else, Yuri?”

She could be such a sucker sometimes. Sometimes Yuri wondered if she let him do it. Definitely not. Probably not. 

“I’m satisfied. You’re as generous as always, Lady Rhea.”

“This is in exchange for Byleth’s safety.” Rhea’s expression sobered, the soft silk solidifying into stone. “In exchange for what I’m giving you, I need her safety absolutely guaranteed. Nothing can happen to this girl.”

“No need to fret, my lady. Abyss is the safest place in Fodlan. Nobody even knows we exist.” Yuri bent down a little, smiling at Byleth. She had regained access to her knuckle, and was chewing it fastidiously again. “What do you say, Byleth? Want to go home with me?”

If the girl wasn’t touched, she must have understood. She must understand that the woman who would not admit to a relationship with her had just bartered for her residency with a teenage assassin, den mother, and prostitute. All things considered, the price had been insultingly low. 

Byleth just stared at him. Alright, maybe she didn’t understand. That would make this harder. Yuri really should have asked for more money. Teach the girl the first and most important lesson of her new life: that you should never sell yourself for less than what you were worth. Or market value, if you couldn’t get any buyers otherwise. Maybe this was just market value. 

Smile, Yuri. Smile. “I think we’re going to have a lot of fun together, Byleth.” 

Byleth blinked. At least she was a quiet child. This would be easy. 

______________

This was impossible.

This was shit. Absolute and complete shit. Why wasn’t she like Bernadetta? Yuri had thought she would be like Bernadetta. All Bernadetta did was nap, read, exhaustively detail the plot of her book, and cry. Byleth couldn’t even read. Apparently, when children couldn’t read, they decided to follow you around instead.

Everywhere. She followed him everywhere. When Yuri sat in the small storage room he co-opted as an office she crawled underneath his desk and swiped at his ankles. When Yuri visited the rogue’s encampments and gave the leadership its newly tightened security measures, she ran around the training field and started waving wooden training swords around. It took three rogues to wrest a sword from her. When Yuri made the rounds of Abyss and talked to its citizens, hearing every problem and offering every condolence he could, she hovered at his heels and gawked at every conversation with wide eyes. 

It was like having another googly-eyed shadow. Yuri didn’t have five seconds to himself anymore. He couldn’t even visit the tavern and unwind by flirting with one of his regular hook-ups - something about having a thirteen year old (twelve? Fourteen?) hovering at your elbow really killed your game. This must be what the older girls used to refer to as cockblocking. 

Byleth still hadn’t said a word. She observed, but never really listened. Still couldn’t read or write. She could catch the rats scuttling around the gutters with her bare hands. The girl may be touched. Which, again, didn’t matter - but it made it extraordinarily difficult to convey to her the importance of ‘me time’. Or ‘don’t eat that’. Or ‘put down that sword’.

It was official. Byleth was a demon. Figured that the wolf in sheep’s clothing would spawn a feral little wolf cub. Yuri should have charged more. 

At least Aelfric had his back. The cardinal had little time to sneak down into Abyss, but he had begun sparing whatever time he could towards playing with Byleth. Aelfric practically begged Yuri to allow him to spend time entertaining Byleth, saving Yuri from the effort of begging Aelfric to take her. Last time Yuri checked, Aelfric spent their time together teaching Byleth her letters in the destroyed classroom. And thank the goddess for that. 

“I don’t understand why she didn’t ask me,” Aelfric said, for roughly the hundredth time. They were sitting at a stone desk in the classroom, eating a coarse but filling breakfast. Byleth was cramming a hunk of bread the size of her face into her mouth. “I have my duties, but I would have gladly forfeited them for the sake of this child. You’re barely more than a child yourself, Yuri -”

Yuri couldn’t help but bark a sharp laugh. “You do realize that you and my mother are the only people who have said that in a decade.”

“That doesn’t make it untrue,” Aelfric said gently. Yuri ducked his head, focusing on pressing a napkin into Byleth’s hands and directing her to wipe her own face. There was no way this girl even knew how to do her makeup. Ridiculous. “Rhea shouldn’t have put this responsibility on you. I don’t know what she was thinking, honestly.” 

That made Yuri feel a little defensive. Byleth pushed away her plate, gnawing on her final hunk of bread, and Yuri pulled over her writing tablet. Aelfric had even sprung for a few pieces of paper and pencils dyed bright colors. Yuri hurriedly placed the paper and pencils in front of her. Last he remembered, drawing was an activity favored by younger children, but Byleth couldn’t exactly partake in the age-appropriate activities of gossiping, bullying other girls, sewing, or reading. Goddess, did she even know how to sew or embroider? Yuri would have to teach her.

“I could beat anybody in Abyss in a straight fight,” Yuri said. He hoped his defensiveness didn’t show. It was a little harder to hide with Aelfric. “Even you. More importantly, I know how to be stealthy and hide myself and others. I know the Abyss system like the back of my hand. As far as Abyssans go, I understand why Lady Rhea thought I was the best choice.”

“I’m not doubting your talent, Yuri,” Aelfric soothed, “I just don’t understand why Rhea couldn’t have put Byleth in the care of an adult. You have enough responsibilities of your own without adding another one on the heap.”

Yuri bristled. “I’m almost eighteen.”

“Eighteen with the burdens of a thirty year old.” Aelfric sighed, and Yuri guiltily subsided too. It wasn’t right to get defensive at Aelfric. After everything the man did to help him, he at least deserved the benefit of the doubt. “I just want you to enjoy what remains of your youth. There’s a sweet nun volunteering at the orphanage -” Yuri groaned. “Yuri, why can’t you hear me out on this?”

“You’re always going on about finding a nice girl, Aelfric -”

“Because you’re re-traumatizing yourself with all of these men,” Aelfric said patiently. Yuri looked down at his hands, restraining himself from picking at a manicured cuticle. “Look at you, Yuri. You haven’t changed any of your habits. You’re still trying to appeal to men. You have to begin to heal.”

There was something heavy and old in Yuri’s chest. It was a burden that never grew lighter - a pain that never retreated. The best he could do was ignore it. But Yuri kept picking at it all the same. “It’s not my fault that men continue to approach me.”

“But it’s your responsibility to turn them down. And men wouldn’t approach you so often if you didn’t wear all that makeup.” 

When Yuri spoke, his voice was quieter than he expected. He had wanted it to be louder, stronger. But something had cut it down. “It’s not for them…”

A small, bony finger poked Yuri’s side.

He looked over at Byleth, who was staring at him with her usual wide, serious eyes. She picked up her picture and presented it to Yuri, who took it and inspected the image carefully. 

It was of them. The girl was a far better artist than he expected, and although the proportions were a little wonky Yuri could clearly recognize all three of them. They were sitting on crates outside of a tent - a tent that resembled the ones in Abyss, but was more reminiscent of a standard issue mercenary’s tent. Yuri was drawn with great care, sitting straight backed on the crate and staring straight at the viewer. His makeup was exaggerated and poorly applied. Aelfric sat on Yuri’s left, wrinkles clearly outlined and his blood-red habit engulfing his figure. The red lines on the habit seemed closer to bloodstains. 

In comparison to the rest of the drawing, Byleth’s figure was remarkably undetailed. She only drew the faint outlines of herself, with a few expressive lines demarcating an abstract face. The greatest level of detail was in the giant brown jacket she never took off - the careful impressions of its stitches and metal buttons were a strange contrast to the ghost wearing it. 

“This is excellent,” Yuri said, genuinely impressed. Sometimes it was easy to think of her as younger than thirteen-or-so, but at other times her true age was perfectly obvious. Even the ghostly Byleth felt more like an artistic choice.  “I like your usage of color. It’s very powerful.” He pointed at a spot in the upper left of the page, tucked in the corner closest to Byleth and furthest than everybody else. It was just a tight swirl of green pencil - the gradient of density between the thick middle and loose outsides giving the green a strange halo-like impression. “Is this the sun?”

Byleth gave him a disgusted look. Yuri could guess: ‘the sun isn’t green, moron’. Potentially: ‘what sun? What’s a sun? I know only the Depths’. 

“Then what is it?” 

Byleth tugged the drawing away from him, replacing it on the table and attacking the page with a pencil. Chewing the edge of the pencil, mind working furiously, she carefully wrote out a word. She stared at the word, scratched it out, and then tried again. She put down her pencil, nodded in satisfaction, and showed it to Yuri again.

He squinted at the page. In messy, juvenile script underneath the halo - with an arrow carefully drawn towards the halo, in case he missed the reference - she had written ‘SOHTHESE’. 

“Sohthese?” Yuri asked, hiding confusion. “Is that a friend of yours?” Byleth shook her head. Then she nodded. “Is…that a yes or no?”

“She’s making great progress, but her spelling needs work. Let me see.” Aelfric held out a hand, and Yuri silently passed him the page. Aelfric took one look at the page and his eyebrows jumped. “I think she means ‘Sothis’. Is that correct, Byleth?” Byleth nodded vigorously. “Where did you hear that name, Byleth? I don’t think I ever told you that.” 

Wait. That name was a little familiar. “Is that the name of a saint?” Yuri asked. “I didn’t know you were giving her catechism classes.”

“I’m not. And it’s the name of the Goddess herself. It’s not very well used - typically only scriptural scholars use it with any regularity.” Aelfric frowned down at Byleth, and for the first time his expression seemed troubled. “Where could you have heard that word…?”

“Wow,” Yuri panned, “I wonder where the secret daughter of Lady Rhea heard the name of the goddess. The world may never know.” 

“Please, Yuri, be serious.” Aelfric was still frowning, staring at the paper intently. Byleth gestured for him to give the paper back, but he didn’t seem to notice. He just stared and stared at the paper, walking mental paths far beyond the provincial little world of Yuri and Byleth. 

“Aelfric, I think she wants the paper back.”

“What? Oh, yes.” Aelfric looked up, still somewhat dazed. “Could I potentially keep this, Byleth?” Byleth shook her head no. “I see. That’s alright, then.” He passed it back, and Byleth tugged it firmly out of his hands. She replaced it on the table, smoothing it over carefully. 

“I didn’t figure you for the religious type,” Yuri told Byleth. Byleth shrugged. “Are you going to become a nice nun too?”

“There’s nothing wrong with marrying a good woman and settling down,” Aelfric scolded lightly. “A home and a family is the greatest joy a young man can have. If you don’t change your behavior, you’ll never find happiness. I’m only worried about you.”

An extensive, agonizing rip split the air. 

Byleth was holding up the carefully constructed drawing in clear view of both men. Making direct and unblinking eye contact, she looked at Aelfric and ripped the paper straight down between Yuri and Aelfric. Yuri and Aelfric stared at her in shocked silence as she finished cruelly ripping Aelfric from the paper, balling up his figure in one clenched fist and carefully replacing the cropped page on the table. Yuri, Byleth, and Sothis looked very happy together. Aelfric’s face was split in half. 

Silence burdened the room. Aefric and Yuri gaped at Byleth in pure shock. Byleth happily took a blue pencil and began threading in streaks of blue in the green halo. 

A bark of laughter escaped Yuri’s chest. His chest was light and full, and the thick iron bars that held his broken pieces together loosened and allowed him to breathe. Another burst of laughter escaped the abandoned prison, then another, and then the inmates began running the asylum. Yuri began wheezing, clutching his own stomach as he laughed uncontrollably. 

Then Byleth laughed too, a light and ugly snort. It was the only sound he had ever heard from her. After weeks, the first and only sound Yuri had ever heard from Byleth was laughter. No tears, no screams of pain, no words begging for help, no moans for food - just laughter. A small smile painting the face of the girl as silent as death.

Yuri and Byleth, two prisoners unrestrained for the first time that they could remember, laughed together in defiance. 

In the end, Byleth had given the picture to Yuri. She had forgotten about the whole incident after a few months - a few years later, when prompted about that picture and the Goddess, Byleth would just stare blankly in confusion. She didn’t remember those days well.

Yuri remembered them. He remembered the picture too. He had placed the picture between two pages of a book and hidden it inside a desk. It remained in that desk for a very long time, and nobody but him ever knew it existed.

_____________

And then he lost her. 

He lost her. Aelfric asked if he could babysit her for the day, and because Yuri was tired and wanted some time to himself and to actually go on a freaking date for once he said yes, and when Byleth’s curfew at 2100 passed she and Aelfric still were not home. Aelfric knew to get her home by curfew. He knew that Byleth had to stay in Abyss for her own safety. He knew.

Yuri combed all of Abyss, top to bottom. Images of Aelfric and Byleth floating face down in the canal flashed throughout his mind. But a rogue stationed at one of the entrances from the monastery into Abyss said that he let Aelfric and Byleth through the entrance only a few hours ago. Apparently Yuri had asked Aelfric to take Byleth to the chapel to pray. The guard hadn’t thought twice about it. Yuri was Byleth’s guardian, but it was Aelfric. Some people were above suspicion. Some people could take children wherever they wanted. 

Yuri sprinted back to his room and threw on his spare pilfered Academy uniform, stolen from the closet of a noble boy who should have known better. He pulled on the jacket as he ran, feet thumping in time with the omnipresent dripping of water and the squeak of rats, and his mind was nothing but blaring static as he unscrewed the entrance to one of the least-known entrances into the monastery. 

He climbed the ladder at top speed, stopping only to grab the stone handle at the very top of the chute. He pushed full force against the handle, and after a second he heard the hard grind of stone on stone as the mechanism was activated and shifted the statue of Saint Cethlenn to the side. It was one of the finicky trapdoors that was almost impossible to access from above ground, but relatively easy from below. Yuri often had morbid daydreams about Garreg Mach falling under attack and how he would evacuate the entire population of the school out through the tunnels. 

Yuri clambered out of the tunnel, hoisting himself into Seteth’s office. He looked around - empty, but the sound of voices echoed from the adjacent room - and quickly stood up so he could push the statue back into place. The voices were Rhea’s familiar cadence and another unfamiliar deep male voice. In any other circumstance, Yuri would have cared about revealing himself in front of a stranger.  Today, he barely thought about it. Yuri burst out of Seteth’s office and skidded into the main chambers, ignoring Seteth’s cry of alarm and the rustling sounds of the guard’s armor. Yuri only halted when he was directly in front of Rhea, looking up into her alarmed green eyes.

Yuri bent double, leaning on his knees and gasping for breath. Rhea leaned over him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. The other man in the room was absolutely huge, with big hair and bigger muscles. If it wasn’t for the Academy student’s uniform he would have assumed the man was in his thirties.

“Whoah,” the big guy said. “Where the hell did you come from?”

“Where,” Yuri gasped, hard and heavy, “is Aelfric?” 

Rhea paled, eyes widening. Fear. Why fear? “He told me he was visiting you today. What’s wrong?”

“Sounds great! So it’s official that nobody knows where Father Aelfric was, then?” The big guy waved around a thick folder of paper, one hand propped on his hip. “Because I hung out in his office for an hour waiting for him to show up to our appointment. He said it was important, too! All this stuff about helping save me from expulsion. And the guy can’t even show up? We’re talking about my future here!”

“Our guard saw him taking Byleth to the surface!” Yuri cried frantically. The big guy’s brows furrowed, but Yuri couldn’t be assed about him right now. “I can’t find Aelfric or Byleth anywhere in Abyss! Lady Rhea, you have -”

But Rhea was already straightening and turning to the guards. In a tone he had never heard before, she said, “Find Cardinal Aelfric and bring him to me immediately. Shut down the monastery until he and Byleth are found. Nobody in or out.” 

“I know where he might have gone.” The big guy flipped the folder open, flashing messy stacks of paper and ripped pages from books. “I got bored waiting around for him, so I went through his desk.” No wonder this guy was about to get expelled. “Never knew one guy could get so into his ancient mausoleum hobby. Would you happen to know anything about this, Lady Rhea?”

Lady Rhea was silent. Yuri was still shaking. He should have been shocked, he should have been horrified. But he wasn’t. Yuri knew. Yuri had always known, he just hadn’t wanted to see it. 

“This is all my fault,” Yuri whispered. He wanted to throw up. He knew this sort of nausea - the kind invoked by visceral disgust at something you found within yourself. “I let him take her. I let him run off with her. This is all my…”

The way Aelfric looked at her. The way he was constantly volunteering to babysit or entertain her for the day or homeschool her. Yuri had given him everything he wanted - every unsupervised visit, constant knowledge of her location, everything. Because Yuri had trusted Aelfric. 

Trusted. He could be doing anything to her right now, because Yuri had trusted.

Hands, unimaginably large and hairy. Sagging flesh pressing against his own. Was this how Byleth felt right now? Were big hands on her chest? Awful pain, burning like fire. What did Byleth look like when she was in that pain? Did she make the same sounds he had? The squeals and moans. Did they like hearing them from her too? 

“Yuri. Yuri, you have to breathe.” Lithe, strong hands enveloped Yuri’s hands and squeezed tightly. The melodic sound of Lady Rhea’s voice barely permeated the haze. “You’re at Garreg Mach, Yuri. You’re in the home of the Goddess. You’re seventeen. I’m here. Nothing may harm you so long as I’m here.” 

“This is my fault,” Yuri gasped. “This is all my fault.” 

“No, Yuri. Look at me.” Yuri shuddered a final breath before looking up at Rhea. Her expression was intent, but she was still so calm and composed. Yuri couldn’t say the same at all. “This is my fault. I didn’t share my suspicions with you. I’m the one who encouraged you to trust him. This was - this was all me.” 

It was? 

Rhea had known? Rhea had known that Aelfric wasn’t honest? She had known that Aelfric would take Byleth and she hadn’t said anything -

“I know.” Rhea’s expression creased, and a deep pain surfaced in her features. “I just thought…he loved her mother as I once did. Surely he would feel the same as I do…but I suppose not. People still disappoint.” 

Yuri tugged his hands out of Rhea’s, and she let them go. He scrubbed at his face, constantly fighting to keep hold of his breaths and sanity. He was not about to have another stupid flashback. He wasn’t. Not in Garreg Mach and not in front of the stupid Archbishop. He wasn’t going to catastrophize. Byleth was fine. He had fucked up and failed her and it’s all his fault that terrible things are definitely happening to her right now, but it was fine.

“I hate men so damned much,” Yuri muttered miserably. Some part of him was appalled that he had cursed in front of the archbishop, but every other part of him was far more concerned with far more important things. “I’m never trusting a man again. All men do is make children suffer.”

The big guy laughed awkwardly, passing the file folder to the somber Rhea before scrubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “On behalf of men, I guess I have to apologize. I like to think we’re not all that bad…not that I can blame a - um, you, for how you feel. Tell you what, alright?” The big guy flexed an arm, as if he was at a bar trying to impress Yuri, and clapped his hand on his admittedly impressive bicep. “I’ll save this little girl myself! I’ll chase down Father Aelfric, kick his ass, get that little girl safely home, and redeem men in the eyes of women and - ah, you, everywhere! Or my name ain’t Balthus von Adalbrecht!”

A von Adalbrecht. Great. Yuri couldn’t repress the sneer. “Your uncle yells the name of his wife’s brother in bed.”

Balthus stared at Yuri blankly. “How do you know that?”

“How do you think?”

“Oh. Oh! Oh, gross! Why’d you have to say that, man!”

“Blame him,” Yuri snapped. “I don’t need the help of some meathead nobleman. I’ll rescue her myself.” 

But Balthus just shrugged - as if this really was such a simple thing. “Why can’t we both rescue her?” 

“Because I don’t know you!”

“I just introduced myself. Balthazar von Adalbrecht, call me Balthus.” Balthus stuck out his hand, waiting expectantly for a handshake. “And who’re you supposed to be, kid from nowhere?” 

“I’m nobody. You ought to forget you ever saw me.” Rhea was already going to give him an earful over allowing himself to be seen. But Balthus was standing so expectantly, and despite that awful little trivia Yuri just shared he was still looking him in the eyes. “What do you even want from me?”

“What, you think that just because I want to help it means I want something from you?” Yes, that was exactly what Yuri thought. He wasn’t stupid. “Listen, pal. Even nobodies need some help here and there. I’m not exactly a saint, but any half-decent person would want to help you out. Since I’m the strongest, coolest guy in Garreg Mach, that means I have to help. It’s not exactly complicated.”

“There’s no such thing as decent people,” Yuri said sourly. 

Balthus whistled. “You’re a regular beam of sunshine, aren’tcha?”

“I haven’t seen the sun in weeks.”

“You haven’t what now?”

“Take Balthus with you, Yuri.” Lady Rhea’s tone brooked no argument, and Yuri had to give up. It was always a waste of time arguing with a noble. They would just take what they wanted anyway. “You two will take our elite church knights and rescue Byleth. I can lead the way - I think I know where Aelfric and Byleth are.” Rhea’s expression darkened, sending something crawling up Yuri’s spine. Seeing a dangerous expression on her felt…well, it felt more dangerous than usual. “I suspect he is desecrating a corpse right now.” 

“Wow,” Balthus said, impressed. “What the hell did I just walk into?”

“Captain Jeralt will arrive with the forces soon. We’ll leave then.” Rhea turned around, and Yuri and Balthus exchanged troubled looks. Her voice was poisonous. If she sounded like this, what expression was she hiding so carefully? “Aelfric will learn what Byleth’s true family is capable of.”

“Hell yeah!” Balthus cried, pumping a fist. “Go, fam!”

“We aren’t fam!” Yuri snapped. “What does that even mean?”

“But Lady Rhea just said that the bad guy’s gonna learn what -”

“That doesn’t make you fam.”

“But I’m on the team, and the team’s fam, so -”

“What is fam!”

At the time, Yuri’s only consolation had been the fact that he wouldn’t have to deal with Balthus for very long. He was a strong fighter with a compassionate heart, but if Yuri never saw another wealthy and spoiled nobleman again it would be too soon. Yuri hadn’t noticed when Byleth entered his heart, but that final and disastrous kidnapping session had proven it - whether they wielded the weapon or were the weapon, the people closest to you always hurt the most. Better to close your heart.

There were a lot of things Yuri hated about himself. The list was too long to count. But there was always one thing about himself that Yuri hated the most. One thing he just couldn’t stand.

Yuri just couldn’t close his heart. He just couldn’t do it. Every time he failed, and every time he had regretted it. There was no benefit to letting people in. He just couldn’t stop.

But Balthus had saved Byleth’s life that day. So maybe there was a benefit or two. Every once in a great while. 

If you were lucky. 

_________

Three days after Yuri and a moron saved a little girl from a bastard, Abyss received a visitor. 

Yuri received him outside the ruined classroom. It would probably be more professional to bring him to Yuri’s office or something, but Yuri frankly intended to get rid of him as quickly as possible. Team up with the church knights once and suddenly they think that they have the right to go stomping all around Abyss. But you couldn’t exactly tell the captain of the church knights to get off your lawn, so Yuri told Byleth that he would be back in a few minutes and stood outside the classroom in increasingly frustrated wait. 

Byleth had made big eyes at him. She obviously hadn’t wanted him to go. Ugh. He really hoped that this wouldn’t turn into a surprise administrative meeting that took five hours and never accepted Yuri’s input into anything. Yuri was re-teaching Byleth poker - she had undoubtedly already learned before she lost her memory, which was another strike against the ‘secret lovechild of Lady Rhea’ theory that had been admittedly punctured by the corpse of her mother - and she was unsurprisingly excellent at it. Girl was a genius in math.

But Jeralt didn’t show up wearing armor. He was wearing casual, battered furs, leather, and a familiar canvas jacket. Surface people were always tense and anxious in Abyss, expecting to get mugged by rats with daggers at any moment, but there was a different quality about Jeralt’s anxiety. He seemed as if he was steeling himself for something. 

“Yuri.” Jeralt’s voice was always attractively husky, but it was closer to hoarse now. “Doing well?”

Yuri bowed, noting the bandage on Jeralt’s temple. “Yes, sir. All healed up. And you? That hit you took looked nasty.” 

Jeralt huffed a laugh, rubbing the bandage. “I’ve taken hits from bigger monsters. Don’t worry about it. I would have come to visit earlier, but they only let me out of bed this morning.” Jeralt cleared his throat, shifting on his feet. “Ah…is Byleth doing alright?”

“She’s been having nightmares, but she’s fine.”

“She is?” Jeralt looked unreasonably alarmed. “Is she waking up at night? What are you doing to help? Tea -”

“She’s been sleeping in my bed the past few nights, so I’m keeping an eye on her.” Yuri eyed Jeralt, suspicions only growing. There was something off about this conversation. “Can I help you, captain?”

“Right. Ah, right.” Jeralt shifted again and coughed. Mysteriously, he took off his cap and held it tightly. “I was hoping to drop in and say hello. See how she is.” 

Like hell he would.

“Byleth is busy doing her schoolwork.” Yuri’s voice could have frozen a flame. “You’ll have to come back later.”

“We don’t have to talk.” There was something old and weary in Jeralt. His husky voice was more of a rasp. “I just want to see her.”

Before he could restrain himself, Yuri snapped, “And why do you want to see her so badly?”

Snapping at the captain of the church knights. Fantastic. This was how you protected people - by alienating everybody else who wanted to help. That would do it. 

Jeralt did want to help. The man had been withdrawn and quiet during their rescue mission, but he had been the first to rescue Byleth’s mother’s corpse and prevent it from melting into the monster. He probably would have been the first to rescue Byleth if Yuri hadn’t gotten there first - if Yuri hadn’t used a careful vein of magic to swap positions with her. Byleth had landed safely near the entrance and Aelfric had found a nasty surprise when he turned to look down upon a girl laid out on an altar and came eye-to-eye with Yuri’s dagger. 

But that didn’t mean anything. Aelfric had helped Yuri and Byleth too, and look where that got them. Yuri didn’t know anything about Jeralt. He could have ulterior motives. He worked closely with Rhea, who was nothing but ulterior motives. The only person Yuri was certain didn’t have ulterior motives was Balthus, who was just clearly too stupid. 

Jeralt didn’t grow angry or defensive. He just looked a little sad. Yuri crossed his arms, fighting the urge to bristle. “How are you holding up, kid?”

“I wasn’t the one who was kidnapped.”

Jeralt huffed a small laugh. “It ain’t exactly easy on the onlookers, either. It’s alright if you’re not alright.”

“I’ll persevere somehow.” Yuri was quickly losing track of this conversation. Why was Jeralt asking about this? “Did Rhea tell you to check up on us?

“Rhea doesn’t know I’m here. She’s…strongly encouraged me to stay away from Abyss.” Jeralt’s mouth twisted unhappily. “She’s right. I really shouldn’t be here. I just…wanted to see her.” 

“And why is that?”

For a long, long moment, Jeralt didn’t answer. Great. He couldn’t even think of a good lie. He couldn’t even say that he wanted to make sure she wasn’t injured, or assure himself that he had gotten her out of there intact - Yuri would have even believed those bland excuses. But he had nothing to say for himself at all. How suspect. 

The door creaked open, and Yuri spun around just in time to see Byleth poking her head out of the classroom. Yuri opened his mouth, ready to reprimand her and shuffle her quickly back inside where no suspicious men resided, but he was too slow. The second Byleth saw Jeralt her eyes widened, and Yuri saw her eyes light up for the first time. 

“Jeralt!” Byleth cried. 

She dived forwards, and Jeralt automatically crouched down to accept the hug. They squeezed each other tightly - Byleth hanging on for dear life, Jeralt fighting shuddering breaths. His hand pressed on the back of her lead, warm and protective. 

So she could speak. Yuri had been wondering. Her first word of her new life was…Jeralt. That was fine. Good for her. And Jeralt.

“Hey, kid,” Jeralt rasped, throat thick. “How’ve you been?”

Byleth patted the top of his head. 

Alright, that was enough. Yuri took the white collar of Byleth’s neat little navy blue dress, pulling gently until he reeled her back away from Jeralt. The effect was somewhat like a scruffed kitten, but whatever worked. Yuri’s carefully tied puffy twin pigtails didn’t help the kitten impression. 

“Don’t run towards strange people,” Yuri scolded. “This is why you keep getting kidnapped.”

Byleth wriggled around until Yuri finally sighed and released her. Jeralt slowly rose, but Byleth ran back towards him and tugged hard at his jacket. Jeralt raised a patient eyebrow, watching Byleth carefully. 

Yuri had distantly noticed it before, but now that Byleth drew attention to the jacket it was obvious. It was a very familiar jacket. Not identical to Byleth’s old one - the giant canvas jacket that she never took off - but it was similar in fit and cut. 

“What do you need?” Jeralt asked. Byleth tugged harder at the jacket, as if she was trying to pull it off him. “Use your words, kid. You can do it.” Byleth heroically attempted to rip the jacket from Jeralt’s body. Yuri made a strangled noise, but Jeralt didn’t blink. “You have to start speaking up sometime. I bet Yuri over there wants to hear your voice too.” 

Byleth’s eyebrows ticked together, but she finally released the jacket. She stared fixedly at Jeralt, who amicably allowed himself to be stared at. Finally, she said, “Aelfric lost jacket.” 

Automatically, Yuri corrected, “Aelfric lost my jacket.”

“Aelfric lost my jacket,” Byleth parroted. She poked at Jeralt’s canvas jacket again. “I want the jacket again.”

Turned out that there was one way Byleth could be even more trouble - opening her mouth. Yuri sighed, already regretting his life. “Byleth, you’re being incredibly rude. You can’t just ask adults to -”

But Jeralt was already shucking his jacket, with no hesitation or thought, and passing it to Byleth. She brightened, clutching the thick material tightly and burying her face in it. She smelled it deeply, making Jeralt’s expression crease into something absolutely unfamiliar to Yuri, before swinging the jacket on and allowing it to swallow her up yet again. This edition went to her knees, looking far more like a baggy coat than anything else, but she beamed up at Jeralt in absolute joy anyway. She turned to Yuri, spreading her arms out and silently bragging about how great her new jacket was.

Something that should have been obvious weeks ago suddenly became extremely obvious. “You’re the one who gave her that first jacket. The one she never took off.” 

“She never took it off?” Jeralt smiled a little, but the weight on his shoulders only seemed to grow. “I gave it to her after I rescued her from her kidnappers last time. She was - ah, she just seemed cold. I assumed she had thrown it away or something.”

“You’re the one who rescued her?” Hadn’t Lady Rhea mentioned something about this? “Wait - are you the one who brought Byleth to Garreg Mach?”

“Yup. It’s why I wanted to see her again.” Jeralt patted the top of Byleth’s head, who swelled her chest in pride. “She’s picked up a habit of getting into trouble.”

That did explain it. No wonder he was invested. After so much work invested in keeping her alive, Yuri would want to check up on her too. Why couldn’t he just say that?

Byleth looked seriously up at Jeralt. “Thank you for the jacket.” 

“I knew you had manners in there somewhere.” Jeralt crouched down again, looking just above Byleth’s head. Yuri had noted weeks ago that she didn’t like eye contact, but it seemed that Jeralt knew that too. “Try not to lose that one. But if you do, come right back to me and I’ll give you another one. Alright?”

Byleth nodded. 

Jeralt sighed. He put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. Byleth leaned into the touch a little. “Be more careful from now on. Your world will only grow more dangerous as you get older. You have to be ready, so train hard.” Impulsively, he took the cap off his head and placed it on her own. It fell over her eyes immediately, far too large for her, but she hurriedly pushed it upwards. “Listen to that brother of yours. His life looks hard enough already, so don’t make it any harder.” 

Byleth’s eyes widened. “Brother?”

“Brother?” Yuri squawked. “Please, Captain, Rhea hired me to supervise her. This is just an arrangement.” 

Jeralt shifted to look at him, and Yuri saw flint in his eyes for the first time. “We need to separate Byleth from her past life even further. We don’t know if Aelfric told anybody about the identity of Byleth’s mother. Connecting her to you is safest for both of you. Guess I should have asked first, but it’s a matter of her safety.” 

“This is an arrangement.”

“Then arrange a fake relationship. You need some excuse for why you’re joined at the hip. Pretend she’s some orphan you took in under your wing - it’s not even a lie.” Jeralt straightened, turning to look at Yuri for the first time. His expression was somber and serious, but he looked smaller without his jacket. “Look, kid. I admit I wasn’t happy when Rhea passed her off to you. Rhea has her own reasons for everything she does, and you’re…” 

He trailed off, clearly struggling for political correctness, before Yuri took pity on him. “An ex-whore who moonlights as Rhea’s lackey?”

“Saints, kid, that’s not what I was about to say -”

“What’s a whore?” Byleth asked loudly.

Yuri looked down at her. “Somebody who’s so good at something that they never do it for free.” Byleth nodded sagely, and Yuri looked back up at Jeralt. Jeralt didn’t seem happy, but Yuri wasn’t paid enough to entertain him. “And even if you weren’t crass enough to say it, it’s the truth. You don’t trust Rhea and I do whatever she says. Trust me, Captain, I wouldn’t be happy either. You don’t have to cozy up to me.”

“I wasn’t happy because you’re seventeen years old,” Jeralt said firmly. Yuri rolled his eyes. Not this shit again. What was with adult men always reminding him that he was in his teens? Did they get off on it or something? “I knew Rhea would put her with somebody she trusted absolutely. I just didn’t want that person to be you.” 

Of course he didn’t! Who the hell would? Yuri was beginning to have a sneaking suspicion about Jeralt’s relationship to Byleth - nobody else would have thought to rescue a corpse before an imminent battle - and no self-respecting father would want their daughter around somebody like Yuri. Byleth was pure and innocent. As innocent as a thirteen year old could ever be - wiped clean of her old life, completely noncognizant of the world around her. How often had she seen the sun since she met Yuri? She hadn’t even spoken before now. The girl had a damned imaginary friend, for heaven’s sake. Byleth was innocent in every way, and Yuri was filthy.

“Saints, kid, don’t give me that face. It’s not because of your background. It’s just obvious that you have more than enough on your plate. Don’t you have a city to govern? Evil errands to run for Rhea? I just don’t know how the hell you have time.” 

“Do you think I can’t do it?” Yuri snapped. “I have more than one skillset, you know.”

Jeralt exhaled heavily, scrubbing his face. “You are the least charitable - never mind.” He was uncharitable? Maybe he just didn’t buy stupid lies. “None of this is coming out right. What I’m trying to say is that you need whatever help you can get. Calling yourself siblings would make your life easier. But I’m hardly going to force you into it. Do whatever you want, kid. I’m not in charge of you.” Slightly quieter, he said, “I’m not in charge of either of you.” 

Yuri wanted to call Jeralt a bad father. He knew already that Jeralt was probably the best father he’d ever met. Taking up a job with somebody he clearly hated for the sake of staying near a daughter he was barely allowed to see. Who he couldn’t even claim, because some mysteriously evil people were after her and she was safest in complete anonymity. Some fathers would cheer at the opportunity to ditch their daughters, but the pain in Jeralt’s voice was real. And yet he wanted to tie her to Yuri. 

It would only contaminate her. He was already ruining her. Yuri had to stay away, he had to keep her out - if only for her own sake. To protect her from Yuri, and to protect Yuri from the world. Yuri couldn’t let anybody else inside. Too dangerous for everybody.

But refusing Jeralt’s proposal wouldn’t protect her from the world. And maybe a father was thinking about a factor that Yuri had missed completely. 

The fact that her mother was a shockingly well-preserved corpse and her father had to disown her. Rhea was somehow related to her, which was bad enough, but she couldn’t claim her either. Even Yuri had a mother. To the world, Byleth was alone. That was…

“Fine.” Yuri had lost this battle. He had probably also lost the war. Whatever. He fought for his own side anyway. “But I won’t force her to call me that. She’s not terribly attached to me.”  

It was the rational thought. Yuri had repeatedly left her alone with a freak and allowed her to get kidnapped again. It was a miracle her real family hadn’t fired Yuri the second she got kidnapped. 

But Byleth’s brow furrowed in outrage. Yuri fought the urge to startle - he had almost forgotten she was there. “I like you.”

The words stopped Yuri short. He wasn’t sure why. They weren’t strange words, were they? 

His hesitation must have been obvious, even to Byleth, because she promptly grabbed him in a giant hug. It was small, comforting, and warm. Her small body fit nicely next to his, and when he folded his arms over her he could almost envelop her. 

Jeralt just gave him a wry grin. “I guess you were too far away to hear. Remember how I was right next to you when you swapped positions with her?” Yuri nodded. “When she appeared in your place, I scooped her up and put her on my horse immediately. I think she knew what had happened. She called out your name. Damn near tried to jump from my horse and run towards you too.” 

That didn’t seem right. But she had hugged him after the fight, hadn’t she? Balthus had called it adorable. Come to think of it, Balthus had asked if Byleth was his sister too…Yuri hadn’t known what to say. He didn’t know what to say now.

Jeralt propped a hand on a hip, smiling. “You see that, Byleth? Yuri didn’t know you liked him. From now on you’ll have to speak up and tell him you like him a lot.” Byleth nodded fastidiously. “Attagirl. Hey, can you take that book from the inside pocket and pass it to your brother? It has something he might want to see.” 

Byleth eagerly separated from Yuri and completed the errand, pulling out a small book from a jacket pocket and passing it to Yuri. Yuri opened it and began flipping through it, just barely catching scraps of documents and notes that came slipping out. 

“Check the last few pages,” Jeralt said. “We found it in Aelfric’s things. Actually, that klepto student found it. Is that guy a friend of yours or something?”

“Or something,” Yuri muttered. 

Byleth stared up at Jeralt. “Is Balthus my brother too?”

“No,” Yuri said.

Jeralt shrugged. “If you want. He’s rich, so maybe you can fleece him.”

“I already tried,” Yuri said distantly, flipping through the book. Something about four crests…notes on a very familiar crest. Balthus’ pilfered paperwork had already revealed that Aelfric had targeted him for his crest. That had burned. Yuri was trying not to think about it. “He’s broke and only attracted to older women.” 

Pity, too - Yuri could have had an excellent sucker on that reel. He made his move during the ‘post-rescue a little girl drinking party!’, but Balthus just pointedly pretended he didn’t pick up on what Yuri was doing and started talking loudly about how Yuri reminded him of a hypothetical younger brother. It was frustrating. Yuri still didn’t know why Balthus had helped him. There was probably a secret motive that Yuri just hadn’t picked up on yet. Or maybe Balthus actually -

Yuri stopped short. This page was about Balthus. About the von Adalbrechts, and some sort of mysterious crest in their family legend. Right alongside a personality profile on Balthus…notes on his attendance and conduct issues…character notes…records of meetings and conversations with Balthus…lists of broken school rules…apparently psychologically unstable…

Yuri flipped a page backwards. It was on him. He caught a few paragraphs on his history before he quickly flipped forward. He didn’t want to know what Aelfric thought of his personality. Probably just called him a slut for two straight pages. Definitely marked him down as psychologically unstable.

But there were people besides Yuri and Balthus in the notebook. Right after Balthus’ incomplete profile, there was another name and short descriptor. Constance von Nuvelle. Another rich bitch noblewoman. Current student of the Fhirdiad School of Sorcery…extremely high grades for her first few years at the school before they plummeted half a year ago. Now at risk of dropping out. Extensive record of conduct issues, same as Balthus. Aelfric made note of…severe psychological instability, whatever that meant. And a certain crest…

Yuri flipped through Constance’s profile until he found another. Hapi, no last name - a commoner. Extensive hypothesizing on the power of her crest and little information about her. Current resident of a church in the middle of nowhere. Psychologically unstable.

“This explains why Aelfric was having those private meetings with Balthus,” Yuri muttered. “I guess we both have powerful crests. These two women must also have powerful crests…but why keep tabs on them specifically? Why keep tabs on all of us?”

“Aelfric talked about blood a lot,” Byleth said seriously. Yuri really shouldn’t have left him alone with her. 

“I should contact Lady Rhea about this,” Yuri said. He continued flipping through the book - going through Yuri Leclarc, Balthus von Adalbrecht, Constance von Nuvelle, and Hapi’s profiles again and again. Four strangers placed right next to each other, thrown together by fate. “She’ll definitely be interested in learning about Constance and Hapi.” 

Byleth peered over his arm, trying to take a glance at the book. Yuri let her. She could barely read. Maybe secrets would incentivize her to keep learning. “Are they important?”

“Probably not,” Yuri said. 

But even then, he had lied. Even then, he had already known. 

Call it intuition. 

[sl-walker]

Preview--

--from the next yet-unpublished chapter of Stardust.

--

"If only I wouldn't feel like a dirty old woman," Linda lamented, as she came back up beside Ted and offered him a cup of hot, mulled cider; over in the grass, Booster still had Noah on his shoulders and was entertaining the hell out of a bunch of kids ranging somewhere between preschool and second grade, while a bunch of older kids hung around the periphery looking like they wanted to de-age themselves and join in.

Ted figured it wouldn't be too long before Booster roped them into it, though. He could schmooze a reporter in one breath and charm the socks off of civilians across just about every age range the next. Even Ted, who thought he was a pretty personable guy, couldn't really match that charisma, which looked (and genuinely seemed to be) effortless.

It made the invisible divide between Booster and the majority of the hero community even more baffling, certainly.

"Oh, come on. You're definitely not over the hill, I've seen you dance," Ted said back, saluting her with the cider. "Thanks."

"He's what— twenty, twenty-one? Definitely not twenty-five." Linda sighed, though it was clear from the expression on her face that she was teasing, tongue-in-cheek. "I'm thirty-eight. He's probably closer to Noah's age than mine."

"Twenty," Ted said, smiling. "Almost halfway between you and Noah."

"Almost," Linda echoed, leaning over and bumping her shoulder off of Ted's companionably. "Besides, I'm not about to step in on your territory, Blue Beetle."

There was a half-second there where Ted felt the jolt of being caught, but it was frankly ridiculous; how he felt about Booster was something he was still figuring out how to define, and yeah, he occasionally did get a little thrill of possessiveness in his gut and spine — especially around Guy, who Booster had flirted shamelessly with in the past when the mood suited — but at the end of the day, he didn't have any more claim on the man than anyone else did. And Booster could do way worse than a relationship with a woman like Linda. "Not my territory," he said back, with a rueful half-smile. "We're not together."

Linda looked over at him like he— well, like he was standing in a botanical garden dressed like a giant blue insect on Halloween, except if that was actually even more absurd than it sounded. "Does he know that?" she asked, one eyebrow up under her bangs.

"I'm sure he does. We're not dating or anything." Ted didn't think it would make things less complicated to say we do cuddle all the time, and I'm happiest next to him, admittedly. He rubbed over the bottom half of his face, since he couldn't get to the burst of heat in the rest of it under his cowl. "I know, I know, the hero-watch blogs think we're a thing, but…"

Linda clucked her tongue at him, patting him on the back. "I don't follow those things. They're a half-step up from a tabloid. I just mean— he always looks back to you. Like you're— I don't know, like you're the celestial body he's orbiting."

Ted scrambled mentally for a second there before quipping, "You think I have a celestial body?"

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "I have eyes, Ted," she said, after a glance around to make sure they weren't being observed closely enough to be overheard. "Both of you are dishes. But you know what I meant."

Noah was talking excitedly, joined by the rest of the gaggle on the ground, while using Booster's hair as a grip and eliciting a few winces when enthusiasm got the best of him and he started pulling; Ted watched, just— touched, maybe, by the scene. It was getting into twilight, the best part of Halloween, and between Wally's glowsticks and Jaime's LED Blue Beetle keyrings — which Ted was still feeling super emotional about — the sight of children running around lit up and having fun just made him feel like he did in the beginning of his own career: Winning Chicago's heart by offering a not insignificant part of his own.

Then, as if proving Linda's point for her, Booster looked over at them; he had a quick grin for Linda, but the smile he gave Ted right after was—

Familiar. Soft. Ted couldn't be sure, but he suspected it was a smile reserved specifically for him; he'd never seen that particular smile offered to anyone else.

And that made his heart jump, both the fact of it and that realization.

Then Booster went back to entertaining his gaggle of children and parents and Ted got rushed by the next group coming through; just before he got into the pack of pokéballs and pokémon cards to give out and ramp up the entertainment, though, Linda turned and caught him by the bicep and leaned into him.

"You know, you always look back to him, too," she said, gently, looking him in the eyes.

Then she kissed him on the cheek, let him go and headed over to presumably rescue Booster from her highly enthusiastic little boy, leaving Ted with that dancing around on his heart.

[flameohotwife]

So I always thought the canon pairings in AtLA had good writing/development but all the Aang and Mai bashing has made me decide to rewatch the series because shippers of a certain other ship called them "abusive" and Aang sexist. But honestly, I love how Mai calls Zuko out on his jealousy and possessive behavior in "The Beach" and Aang is always supportive of Katara's dreams, even refusing to be trained by Pakku because he's sexist to Katara. I like that Sukka teaches kids watching the show to treat women with respect but also Kataang and Maiko in the examples I mentioned above are also good examples of feminist moments in the show too.

YES! Anon, say it louder for the people in the back! There are so so SO many amazing feminist moments in this show and honestly I loved watching it with my kids (multiple times, haha) for that reason. I don't remember growing up with media that showed SO may instances of how girls/women could stand up for themselves in those types of situations. I love how Katara stood up to Pakku (with Aang's support! His little "Go, Katara!" makes me smile every time) and also how she CONSTANTLY takes boys on in fights, from pirates and Rough Rhinos to the taunting kids that subsequently get frozen where they stand ("oh, a girl has her ways") and anyone who insults Aang. How SHE is the one to defeat Azula in the end. How the WHOLE SHOW starts with her rant against Sokka's sexism. How Suki finally put's Sokka in his place. How Toph had to be played by "a really BUFF guy" in EIP because the Fire Nation couldn't admit to being bested by a tiny, 12-year-old girl. How Mai won't let Zuko treat her like a possession with no agency of her own. How she is the one to save HIM in the end at Boiling Rock (how's that for a damsel in distress?). How Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee are trusted by the Fire Lord to perform tasks even the highest generals can't achieve. How the show is relentlessly turning sexist stereotypes on their heads and making viewers question what they think they know.

Beyond the feminism (which you all probably already know I adore so much), I love that each of the leading boys has learning experiences wrt less-than-ideal behaviors towards girls/women, because in real life boys (and girls, too!) are GOING to make mistakes as they're learning and it's important to show how they can move beyond those mistakes and not forever be defined by them. Zuko learns not to be a possessive asshat like he is in The Beach (at least, we don't see him act that way towards Mai again--he might as well have broken up with her via text and not given her the option to follow him to the "good side," but he never acts possessive again. Baby steps). Aang learns he can't just solve their relationship problems by kissing Katara when she's confused. He gives her space and she clearly thinks he's learned from it by the end (really, by the next episode). Sokka learns not to be sexist and that sometimes girls are going to be stronger/better fighters than he is AND THAT'S OKAY. Good, even! It doesn't make him "less of a man" or anything like that, and we don't hear those sexist ideas come out of his mouth again. ALL of these make great talking points for parents watching the show with their kids, too.

Kids make mistakes. They lean on stereotypes or prior experiences and sometimes that bites them in the butt. AtLA shows that we can teach kids hard lessons. Not only can we fight back against injustice but we can improve ourselves when we've been the ones to mess up. And I really think that's something special.

Thanks for sending in your thoughts, anon! You're so right.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: Princess Azula

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

This is one of those characters I should’ve done a long time ago, but just never got around to because I felt it was just way too obvious. I mean, come on, Avatar: The Last Airbender is considered one of the greatest works of western animation. Everyone and their mother has talked about this show at some point, so what could I even add?

Well, as it turns out, the way people talk about Azula is exactly what inspired me to write this! I have never seen a character so completely and critically misunderstood! Hell, this is a character that people like to disregard the core themes of the story to talk about! Discussion of her online made me so genuinely angry that I decided fuck it, it’s Azulain’ time! So here we go, my 200% anger-fueled analysis and review of the mentally-unstable Fire Nation princess who terrorized the Gaang!

Motivation/Goals: Azula has basically made it her life’s mission to be the ultimate tool of the Fire Nation, and specifically her father Fire Lord Ozai. To that end, she does basically whatveer he tells her to do? Kill the Avatar, conquer Ba Sing Se, take out her brother and uncle… So long as what she does has a net benefit for the imperialistic goals of her country, she’s down for it, and doubly so if she thinks it will get her even a little crumb of daddy’s attention.

Performance: Superstar voice actress Grey DeLisle of Literally Every Fucking Cartoon Ever Made fame lends her voice to the crown princess of the Fire Nation, and her smug, condescending delivery really sells Azula as a manipulative schemer who is constantly playing 4D chess to outmaneuver her opponents. I think I might even go so far as to call this one of DeLisle’s finest performances ever, for reasons pertaining to her delivery of lines in certain parts of the story that will be described below.

Final Fate: Azula’s fate is a perfect example of the show’s excellent writing because it robs us of catharsis in an extremely narratively satisfying way.

Throughout the finale, we watch as Azula’s mental health rapidly declines as literally everything in her life spirals out of her control for the first time. This is a girl who has defined herself as always being two steps ahead, always having everything firmly in her grasp, and yet her brother has run off with the heroes, her two best friends “betrayed” her, her father gives her the throne but only because he is crowning himself the Ultra Super Cool King Deluxe, and she is constantly grappling with feeling as if her mother viewed her as a monster while also subconsciously knowing that Ursa did truly love her. Keep in mind, all of this is happening to a teenage girl, so is it any wonder she completely and totally snaps?

Her final Agni Kai with Zuko during the height of Sozin’s Comet is epic, but it’s the conclusion where she is defeated by Katara and left as a sobbing, flailing mess that really knocks Azula’s character arc out of the park and cements her as the ultimate antithesis of Zuko. He had the guidance of a good, kind father figure, while she was stuck with Fire Hitler; he had a group of friends to love and support him, while she only had companions who put up with her out of fear and turned on her when they finally had enough; he was able to come to terms with his past traumas and grow to be better because of his numerous support systems, while all she had were toxic influences that led to her essentially collapsing under the weight of her internal conflict. She is what Zuko could have been if no one lent him a helping hand… and it is soul-crushingly tragic. The last we see her, she is a broken mess of a person, someone who has literally lost everything in their life, had the sole purpose of their existence stripped from them, and has just been reminded that she lost because she is a lonely, miserable, pathetic individual without any friends.

After her being on top for almost the entire show, this should feel like a triumph! But it’s not. It’s sad. It’s tragic. There’s no joy to be found. And boy oh boy, is it fucking powerful.

I’m just going to ignore what happens to her in the comics. It’s better that way.

Evilness: So here’s where things get really interesting, because while Azula does some truly evil things throughout the show, there is a tendency to exaggerate just how awful she is because most of her evil actions are just things she says she wants to do/has done. Combined with her smug, arrogant demeanor and it’s easy to believe she would do these things, but we don’t actually witness them. To wit, while she taunts Sokka about torturing Suki to the breaking point, when he finally reunites with her she sure doesn’t seem as cripplingly broken as Azula implied. I think it’s important to note that, as Azula is a massive liar, if we don’t actually see her do something (even something she’s threatening to do), it’s not really a mark against her. She’s a cunning manipulator, after all, conquering an entire city without lifting a finger.

On that note, though, she does have plenty of wicked moments under her belt. She conquered Ba Sing Se for the Fire Nation, she constantly tried to kill Aang and her brother while they were on the run in the Earth Kingdom, she had her friends locked up for defying her… Like she’s one messed up daddy’s girl. Even taking into account the inherent tragedy of her character and the fact she’s a teenage girl, she still kind of steps up to crossing the moral event horizon. She’s very much the product of grooming in an environment meant to espouse the joys of fascism and imperialism, and since she never had a strong guide like Iroh her moral compass is busted.

With all that being said, I think she’s a solid 5/10. She does some really nasty things, but at the same time a lot of what colors the perception of her is stuff she only implies. Also I’m not considering any of her pre-breakdown fights with Zuko as truly evil; this is just how siblings are. You bet your ass sibling squabbles would look just like that if they could shoot fireballs from their hands.

Best Episode: For all her badass moments, awesome schemes, incredible fights, and powerful moments… “The Beach” might be her best episode. This might sound crazy, but I stand by it; I think showing us an awkward, human side of her really helps to sell that Azula isn’t actually some unstoppable force. She’s just a teenager who has no social skills and can’t exist outside of the confines of being a royal or a warrior without looking like an absolute weirdo.

Best Quote: After outmaneuvering season 2’s arc villain Long Feng, who concedes to he rand says she’s beaten him at his own game, she flippantly replies, “Don't flatter yourself. You were never even a player.” I don’t think even Jet got so brutally murdered. It’s the sickest burn in the series aside from Zuko’s scar.

Final Thoughts & Score: The whole reason I even wrote this Psycho Analysis is because the constant and critical misunderstandings of Azula I see online constantly piss me the fuck off.

There is a subset of Avatar fans who completely and steadfastly believe that Azula is in fact an irredeemable monster, a complete sociopath with no redeeming qualities who needs to suffer and die. They reject any attempts at assessing the character in a more nuanced light, because “why can’t villains just be evil?” They treat her as if she’s some sort of pure evil being instead of an emotionally stunted child.“She’s crazy and she needs to go down” might as well be the mantra of these media illeterate Avatar fans, parroting opinions that mirror the words of Iroh after Azula almost killed him but ignoring that crucial context as well as Iroh’s entire character. Like, do these people actually pay attention to the core themes of the entire show? You know, mercy, redemption, humanity, the importance of all life? Did they miss the part of the finale where these core themes were cemented by Aang removing Ozai’s firebending with energybending, or were they too busy bitching about it being a deus ex machina to realize it’s thematically appropriate?

Like they want Azula to just be this evil, unredeemable cartoonish villain in a show that explicitly says no one is like this. There’s even a point in the final episodes where it’s pointed out that genocidal colonizer tyrant Ozai was once a sweet, cute little baby, and didn’t just spring forth as a fully formed Red-Hot Hitler. Azula is a person groomed by an unrepentantly evil father to be the Fire Nation ubermensch, the ideal tool for the conquest of the rest of the world. She was never allowed to have a normal childhood, as evident by her awkward behavior and social ineptitude when she’s actually allowed to cut loose and be around people her own age in a relaxed setting. Everything that she is—a liar, a manipulator, an attempted murderer, an egomaniac—are all the result of Ozai’s upbringing, being entrenched in the propaganda of her nation, and a lack of authority figures with a moral compass in her life. She didn’t have an Iroh to guide her, all she had was Ozai. In this sense, Azula is as much a victim as she is a victimizer.

But she is a victimizer. She is still consciously making bad decisions, she is still doing evil and sometimes appearing to enjoy it. There’s no reason to believe she couldn’t turn things around if given a helping hand like her brother was (though there would need to be a lot more effort due to her being in Ozai’s company unimpeded for way longer than Zuko), but she’s not some innocent little bean who’s being persecuted by others. Azula is still a villain, and viewing her as just a mere victim is a disservice to the character just as much as painting her as an inhuman monster. She is a very nuanced character, but she never gets the sort of POV work Zuko does to fully flesh out what’s on her mind and let us see the world through her eyes so the work done for her is more subtle, at least until her final breakdown. At that point, the show is literally beating you over the head with the fact she is an incredibly tragic character whose entire existence is pitiful and broken, and who lives as a mirror to Zuko, showing him a dark path he could have walked down if he didn’t receive love, support, and compassion.

Ultimately, Iroh wasn’t wrong when he said “She’s crazy and she needs to go down,” but I take it with emphasis on and. Azula is, in fact, crazy. She is incredibly mentally disturbed, her mind warped and molded by her father to the point she breaks if she starts to lose control even a tiny bit. And, as an antagonistic force working against the heroes, she does indeed need to go down. I’m sure he wasn’t too happy with his near-death experience, but you will not convince me that the sweet old Iroh, who himself changed and redeemed himself after being a fucking war criminal who nearly conquered Ba Sing Se, could not see the nuance in the Azula situation and genuinely saw his niece as some beast to be slaughtered.

But that’s enough with the ranting, let’s get to the actual final thoughts and score for Azula. She is one of the most engaging and magnificent villains in animation, a real firebrand (heh) whose numerous schemes are gripping to watch, building her up as someone you want to see finally get defeated only for the writers to pull the rug out from under you and remind you just what Azula really is. Avatar had no shortage of brilliant and subversive writing, but I think Azula’s ultimate arc is an unsung masterpiece among it. The character is so mired in discourse these days it’s easy to forget it, but she genuinely is a grand character.

For her score, I’m gonna say she gets a 9/10. She’s easily the best villain on the show, far outshining her rather generic father, the deliciously hammy but ultimately rather shallow Zhao, and the scheming but relatively minor Long Feng (to say nothing of the numerous minor villains that range in quality from wastes of time like Combustion Man to genuinely amazing and horrifying like Hama). I think the only thing holding her back from a perfect score is that sometimes it feels like things fall into place a little too perfectly for her, and she doesn’t face setbacks too much until the very end, but considering the immensely powerful culmination it’s nothing that ruins her. Azula is a character just as rich and deep as anyone else from the show, and I really wish more people looked at her with nuance.

I also wish the fucking comics didn’t exist. Maybe I’m asking for too much.

[writerbuddha]

I watched a video on YouTube and it said Anakin and Padmé's relationship in The Clone Wars tv show showed signs of abuse. Do you think that was intentional at all by the writers?

I think that in Star Wars: The Clone Wars:

Anakin Skywalker does exhibit controlling behavior

Controlling behavior is when a person attempts to conform another person to their own needs or desires and trying to get their way by some form of manipulation. It's the outsized desire for control, and it's unhealthy, unhelpful, and may create relationship conflicts, but it's not always abusive. Controlling behavior becomes abusive when it is coercive (threatening). The Clovis Arc of Star Wars: The Clone Wars reveals that Anakin Skywalker exhibited non-coercive, thus, as far as the definition goes, non-abusive controlling behaviors, leading to relationship conflicts with Padmé Amidala. Let's examine them.

In Senate Spy, Anakin's fear of losing Padmé manifests itself in him trying to prevent her from fulfilling the Jedi Council's request to spy on Rush Clovis, "Because it's going to be dangerous. Whoever takes this mission will be putting their life at risk." Padmé, however, points out that she is perfectly capable of taking care of herself: "I've been in many tough situations before. It never seemed to bother you." Anakin ends up declaring: "I'm not gonna let you do it." But in the same time, it's very important to realize that Padmé immediately sets out and defends her boundaries, she repels Anakin's attempt to control her: "You're not going to let me? It's not your decision to make. It's mine."

In The Rise of Clovis, Padmé is asked by Palpatine to "work closely with Rush Clovis" to expose the corruption plaguing the Intergalactic Banking Clan. Anakin is unhappy about this, as he is not trusting him. Padmé tells him that he must trust her judgment on the matter. It should be noted that this time, Anakin's concerns are more founded, but his answer, "Like the last time, hmm? When you almost ended up dead?" is twisting the facts: first, Padmé knew that Clovis is a traitor and that she is risking her life by trying to expose him, second, even as it's true that she was poisoned during the mission, that was the result of Lot Dod tried to force Clovis to comply with his demands. Furthermore, adds, "Or how about you just getting arrested, and it was me who had to bail you out?" Which shows that in his mind, if Padmé chooses to do something risky, it's a poor and unintelligent choice. He ends up saying: "As your husband, I demand that you tell the Chancellor you are stepping down." Once again, he attempts to control Padmé, this time clearly showing that he views their marriage as a bond that supposedly gives him some control over his wife.

NOTICE: The Clovis Arc showed that there is a recurring unhealthy pattern in the relationship between Anakin & Padmé, showing that something must change. All the conflicts between them are arising from Anakin's fear of losing Padmé, which results in him attempting to control Padmé's decisions. In the same time, this behavior is not feeding into a pattern that extends to, and therefore defines every aspects of their relationship. It should also be acknowledged that Padmé is not allowing herself to be controlled and she successfully protects her boundaries and independency. Her reaction to Anakin's controlling behavior clearly tells us that he is not behaving in a way that she is used to, warning him, "we've been over this before." In other episodes, Anakin takes no issue with Padmé participating in the battle on Mon Cala, or with she sneaking to the capital world of the Separatists, thus, it seems that his outsized desire for control flares up from time to time, but it's not defining their dynamic.

Anakin Skywalker is jealous and is distrustful

Jealousy is a negative emotion and attitude focusing on our partner and a third person, in which we resent that person for appearing to take away or being likely to take away the affections of a loved one. Basically, we are scared that we will lose our special relationship to the third person, and as a result, we become intolerant to any rivalry or of possible unfaithfulness. It's not unnatural to experience jealousy in a close relationship, however, it's crucial to be able to manage it.

In Senate Spy, Anakin's attachment and the fear of loss flowing from it causes him to be distrustful and jealous toward Rush Clovis, as he realized that he and Padmé were involved romantically years before. Although in order to fulfill her mission to expose him as a spy, Padmé needs to seduce him, Anakin, disguised as a Naboo pilot, clearly tries to sabotage that. Later, he walks into the room in the moment when Padmé throws herself into Clovis' arms in order to distract him. He is flooded by jealousy, staring at her with anger and in pain. She signals him, revealing that she is actually hiding the data they need. When Padmé and Anakin are leaving with the evidence, Padmé tells him, "I'm sorry", since "I made you doubt me." Anakin answers he "never" doubted her, but this is not exactly true: there was a moment when his emotions clouded his judgment and let them to make him jump to the conclusion that he is losing Padmé to Clovis.

In An Old Friend and The Rise of Clovis, Clovis is back, and so does Anakin's jealousy and insecurities, and this time, they're manifesting themselves more clearly and more disturbingly. He claims, he doesn't want Padmé to work together with Clovis because he is worrying for her safety, but there is more to that: his fear of losing Padmé feeds into anger toward Clovis, who is, in his mind, a threat, both to Padmé and to their relationship, which feeds into burning hatred toward him. When they're together in Padmé's apartment, Clovis makes advances on her, but she firmly turns him down. He is frustrated, asking, "It's that Jedi isn't it?" Padmé insists "there is nothing romantic between" her and Anakin. Clovis says, "Then there is absolutely nothing to stop us from doing this", taking her and leaning in to kiss her, and Anakin enters in the exact moment she utters, "Clovis, no!" Anakin is mortified and snarls, "Get away from her!" Startled, Clovis backs away from Padmé. Anakin grabs him with the Force, he strangles him and slams him against the wall. Drawing his sword, he is marching towards him. Padmé is in shock, crying, "Anakin! No!" She is ignored by both Anakin and Clovis: Clovis invites Anakin to fight, "like a man without your Jedi tricks", something that Anakin gladly accepts. During their fight, Clovis sarcastically asks Padmé, "I thought you said he didn't have feelings for you?" to which Anakin reacts with staring at her, shocked and hurt. The two are beating each other up in a fist fight, and when Padmé screams at them to stop, Anakin yells at her, "you don't have a say in this!"

There are some who would insist, the scene shows Anakin gallantly saving Padmé from the man who is harassing her sexually - however, this interpretation is seriously problematic. The first thing to note is that Anakin attempts to explain his actions by saying, "I'm so sorry, Padmé. I don't know what came over me." and "It's just when I saw you about to kiss him..." Not "he was about to kiss you." Padmé tells him, "I regret that, but it was not what you thought. And you must know I don't care for Clovis." To which Anakin reacts with asking her: "Don't you?" Anakin's reaction - outrage, demanding Clovis to get away from Padmé then attacking him - was entirely the result of him perceiving the situation as Padmé kissing Clovis, and his reaction would've be the same if Padmé would've been a willing participant in the kiss with Clovis, because as he said, "you don't have a say in this." Which means, whether or not Padmé wants to be kissed by Clovis is irrelevant to him, what matters is that he doesn't want that to happen. Then, he accuses his wife with being unfaithful. This scares Padmé and it also hurts her, and she is explicitly telling him, "This marriage is not a marriage, Anakin, if there isn't any trust."

NOTICE: Anakin is not portrayed to display habitual behaviors of distrust. The core of his issues, harming his relationship with Padmé is his attachment to her and also his inability to be mindful of his emotions. Emotions are not bad at all, but when they awake as a response to our perception and understanding of a situation, they usually make us to stop thinking: we respond immediately, without any conscious thought, pushing us to act upon them and we're driven by them. To be mindful of one's emotions is to be conscious and aware of them. By bringing our emotions into the space of our conscious and passive, i.e. non-judgmental and non-reactive awareness, with calmness and inner peace, their power to kick us out of the driver's seat, to narrow our perspective and distort our perception of reality falls away: we can find the gap between the moments of our experience and the reaction, the response, where we can appraise the situation accurately, rationally. His distrust in Padmé lacks any rational basis - it's the result of him not being able to deal with his fear of loss, which drives him to act negatively.

It should be noted that Clovis' attempt to kiss Padmé has the potential to be read as sexual misconduct, thus, Padmé telling Anakin that she "regrets" what happened can also be read as her apologizing for Clovis grabbing her and then trying to kiss her, and this leads to the notion that Anakin blamed Padmé for being assaulted.

Now, it must be taken into consideration that Star Wars is not a "may I have your expressed verbal consent to kiss you?" type of romance, instead, it follows the "kiss borns out spontaneously from the situation" style, so Clovis (just like Han and Anakin in both trilogies) going for a kiss is not exactly out of place. The difference here is that Padmé clearly doesn't want to be kissed by him, but there is nuance to this. Clovis is leaning closer to her as she is telling him, "Clovis, no!" and she is drawing back to avoid him. As we cut to Anakin right after she says "no", and as she is finishing the sentence, they're both in the middle of movement - Clovis is leaning closer and Padmé is leaning backwards. Because we cut to Anakin, we don't see if Clovis was still going after the kiss after Padmé declared that she doesn't consent, or did he stop after that. When we cut back to them, Clovis is still holding her, but they don't appear to be closer to each other than before, so if he didn't move closer to her within the (roughly) 2,5 seconds during we were shown Anakin, it seems safe to conclude that he did stop. This is supported by the fact that neither Anakin or Padmé registered his behavior as assault and that Padmé makes no attempt to tell him that Clovis was actually forcing himself onto her, ignoring her protests. It's more plausible that what Padmé expresses "regret" over is that she didn't resist physically, only verbally.

In Conclusion

In Star Wars: The Clone Wars, it's very clear that Anakin and Padmé were written in a way that it showed Anakin's attachment and his struggle to keep the anger, hate and aggression coming from that fearful grasp on Padmé, under check. This is undoubtedly intentional - George Lucas initially planned to hint their issues, mainly Anakin's jealousy, in Episode III, which was cut from the final script but was clearly introduced in Clone Wars:

However, based on my own limited knowledge, this is not enough to call their relationship abusive. An abusive relationship will involve one party using their power over the other party to prevent them from doing anything except what the abusive person wants - one party controlling the other’s thoughts, feelings, or actions. Some conflict is normal in any relationship, healthy relationships involve two people who are both free to disagree, debate, and have their own opinions. Anakin clearly tries to control Padmé, which leads to conflicts, but Padmé is not allowing him to do that. Anakin is clearly unhappy with this, but he actually backs down once he meets resistance. There is a power struggle, which is never healthy, but no power imbalance.

There were unhealthy patterns there that needed to be healed, but unhealthy patterns and patterns of abuse are not the automatically the same. If you experience unhappiness in your relationship because of the behavior of your partner, something must change and if it cannot be changed, then the relationship must end. No one has a license to make you feel unhappy.

But although an abusive relationship is always unhealthy, an unhealthy relationship is not always abusive. There is just no attempt on Anakin's part to monitor her communication, to isolate her or to try to control her financially, to coerce her and there are expressions of anger and frustration, but I can't recall one that could be called an attempt to manipulate her emotionally and obviously, there is no physical violence (in Episode III on Mustafar there is, but that's a totally different context). So, I would say that what we can see on the screen can be called "signs of abuse" only if we assume that we're outsiders observing a relationship, because we can easily suspect that the behaviors we see are feeding into a larger pattern. But a fictional couple doesn't have a life "behind closed doors", we have all relevant information about their relationship.