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catsteeth · 10 months ago

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The Caged Bird & The Leashed Dog

Sandor Clegane x reader

+:✿ Chapter - 9 ✿:+ Moon Tea.

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Summary: You are the daughter of Jon Arryn, you and your father travel to King's Landing with the intention of arranging a marriage for you. You catch a glimpse of The Hound during your first night in Kings Landing and it creates a mutual fascination even if he won't admit it.

CW: MDNI, NSFW themes, VIOLENCE, misogyny, angst, forced use of a contraceptive, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, mention of death, blood, threats of violence, mentions of arranged marriage,

Word Count: 3851

✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊ ⊹˚✧ ‧˚₊ ❆ ‧ ₊

As the Hound lounged on the Hog farmers' stolen wagon as he ate a pig's foot. He looked over to the Stark girl who’d been peering over towards the Twins every five minutes.

The Hound huffed, “It’s not going anywhere.” He said as he took a large bite of a pig's foot.

“I know that,” Arya said, almost as if she were offended, still not taking her eyes away from the Twins.

“You keep looking back at it… like you’re afraid of it’s going to disappear.” He said going back to chewing on the fatty meat of the pigs feet.

“I’m not afraid.” She said, turning her pointed and angry attention towards him.

He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing, a knowing smirk slightly appearing. “Yes you are, I know the look. I’ve seen it a lot. The closer you get the worse the fear gets.” He spoke almost from experience.

Arya turned to face him completely, her eyes hateful “I know what you’re afraid of… You’re afraid of fire.” She stepped closer, “And I know why too, your brother pressed your face to the fire like it was a nice juicy mutton chop.” She smiled slightly, mockingly.

The hounds' cold demeanor buckled from under him. “Your cousin tell you that?”

“She never talked about you.” Her brows furrowed, confused by the question. His predisposed feelings of betrayal went away.

He shrugged, going back to the pigs feet in his hand, “That give you some ideas?” He asked in a gruff tone.

She turned away from him, “Might do.” she said stoically.

He scoffed, “Go ahead then. You might even make it there on your own. It’s just over the river. Closest you’ve been to family since Illyne Payne snipped your daddy’s neck.” He said mockingly, his best way of deflecting any kind of pain.

Arya turned back to him, stepping closer. “Someday I’m going to put a sword through your eye and out the back of your skull.” Her eyes emotionless, her voice cold.

The sudden, abrupt, and seemingly not empty threat made him halt his chewing. He stared at the girl with eyes of shock.

He could see you in this girl somewhat. Stubborn and willful. But with this one it was more annoying, and less forgiving of his shit attitude.

He huffed, and went back to eating as the girl went back to staring at the river that divided them and her family.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Petyr about the killing of your aunt.

That morning you felt sick, sicker than usual.

You had grown to appreciate the gesture of murdering someone who posed a threat to you. But with him it didn’t feel as unconditional as when your dog did it. When he did it, he did not want something in return. He did it because he wanted- no he needed you safe. With Petyr it felt as though it was something he would use, a new string tying to a limb of a puppet.

You spent most of your time avoiding him, in the high tower where the falconers keep their birds.

There were less birds than when you left. But your favorite was still there, Lenarea. The one your mother gave you.

“A hawk, a beautiful creature isn’t she? “ Your mother said, as she pointed to the flying creature, soaring above you.

“Yes, she is.” You said, somewhat disinterested, staring off at the falconers who were teaching their birds to hunt.

“A hawk is a forgiving animal. You could make mistake after mistake and she’d forgive you at the end of each day because she knows you’ve chicken feet in your pocket.” Your mother said, petting your hair. “A falcon however, doesn’t forgive so easily. She remembers what you did. and she’s not keen on letting you forget either. No matter how many chicken feet you try to shove at her.” She said as she poked at your nose, making you giggle. “So, what bird should you start with?”

“A hawk, but I want a falcon.” You said with no second guessing, you always knew what you wanted.

“You’ll have many birds, sweet dove. But your first should be one of a forgiving nature.”

“I won’t make a mistake.”

Your mother giggled, “You are a stubborn thing aren’t you? Alright then.” She said, just as she began to lead you to the high tower you were in now. There was a beautiful falcon whose chicks had just hatched. You pointed to the one you wanted.

As she placed the babe within your palms you caressed it, feeling its warmth as it chirped in your hands. Her feathers still fluffy, sparse, and white.

“Lenarea.” You named her quietly.

The memory soon faded from your mind.

Memory is merciless, ruthless. And this white prison evoked so much of it.

You put on that thick leather gauntlet, and you took Lenarea out of her cage. Her black eyes examined you fondly. You smiled at her. Until you saw the reflection of a short pale black haired sickly looking boy in her glassy eyes.

“Sister,” He said, his voice shaky.

“Hello Robin.” You said, turning to face him, “I am sorry about your mother. I was only a little older than you are now when mine died.” You said, you weren’t sorry for her, but for him.

“You hated mother,” He said, slightly confused.

“Even still, you shouldn’t feel pain. Too young for such pain.” You said, petting Lenarea’s shining feathers with your finger.

“My mother said, when you marry the baby man and I get old enough, I'll be lord of the vale.” He said childishly,

“I didn’t marry Lord Tyrion. I won’t be marrying him… ever.” You spoke to him with an intensity you wouldn’t normally speak to a child with.

“So, what will that mean?” He was confused, uncertain, as he was with most things now.

“Robin, you and I share blood. That means a great deal to me.” It did, somewhat… “I know you don’t care about what i am going to say but it would be wise for you to listen to it and remember it. I was born with this land as a promise. I was born with the titles of Lady of the Eyrie, Warden of the East, Defender of the Vale, Keeper of the Moon Door, and Head of House Arryn. I was born to it. And at certain moments of my life I would have given it to you. But I made a promise to my own mother. To keep this house safe.” It was somewhat a threat, but not quite.

“My mother said-” He began as Lenarea let out a short but sharp and shrill chirp.

“Your mother did not understand me well. I hope you do.” You said coldly, not proudly.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As Sandor rode the cart up to the entrance of the Frey’s gates. The men surrounding drinked and shouted, He stopped a man walking passed.

“You, have the Starks arrived?” He asked gruffly, Arya looked at the man with hopeful eyes

“Oh yes they have,” The drunken man said, smirking and letting out a devious chuckle. The man began to walk passed when Sandor reached out and grabbed the man by the arm stopping him.

“What of any Arryns?” He asked, a bit more gruff than the last question. Arya raised a brow at the question.

The man looked at the Hound's hand on his arm, surprised by how large it was “No Arryns here, big fellow.” The drunk man said with a hiccup as the Hound let him go.

He rode on, further up to the gate's entrance. He and Arya were stopped by the Frey’s guardsmen.

“Hog meat for the feast.” The Hound said, tilting his head towards the cart behind him.

“Feasts over.” The Guard said,

Hound looked over to the men singing and celebrating, “Doesn’t sound over.” He said looking back

“It’s over when I say it is.” The man said gripping onto his swords handle,

The Hound huffed and looked back at Arya only to see she was gone.

By the time the Hound was able to abandon the cart, and finish unhitching Stranger from it the loudness of the bannermen grew.

It wasn’t celebratory, no this was victorious, and brutal. A battle, he knew it well.

His thoughts immediately went to you, but satisfied with that drunk man's answer to his question earlier his mind went to Arya.

He couldn’t let her die, not when he knew how much she’d meant to you. Also the money. And he could try to deny he didn’t care for her even a bit but he did… only a bit.

As he hit the guards man hard, partially to move him out of the way and partially for his tone earlier.

Once inside he saw Arya, about to run into the wedding, as if the little girl could do anything.

“It’s too late.” The Hound said harshly, grabbing the girl by her shoulder.

Arya tried once more to run inside, unwilling to let her take her chances in a room full of savage, drunk, stark hating men, he hit her. Hard enough to knock her unconscious. He picked the girl up, tossing her over his shoulder and carried her to Stranger.

The Hound grabbed the Freys Banner as he rode on, to better disguise him and the girl he carried. Soon the banner men’s war cries rang out throughout the courtyard, Sandor held the unconscious girl close to his chest. The cries grew louder and louder, until a crowd emerged from the Freys gates. As Sandor looked closer at what they were dragging out behind them he felt something he didn’t often feel.

Disgust.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

As your dreaming ended, you opened your eyes as a cloud passed your window bringing the sun, filling your room in its warm light. Its warmth cutting through the cold air of the mountains.

It shined in your eyes, you winced as you stretched your limbs and breathed in deeply.

You averted your eyes from the sun, directing them towards the dagger Sandor gave you. You kept it on a small table by your bed. Now that your bruises were beginning to fade it was the becoming the only thing you had to remind you of him aside for the memories that haunted your dreams.

You reached over and grabbed it. You held it in your hand, the handle had a weight to it. You ran your fingertip over the engravings on the handle. You kissed the tip of it, the way you would have if it were his cock.

You closed your eyes, and imagined as if it were. You imagined his groans that he’d let out. Deep and low, so low it’d rattle in his chest. And you imagined his teeth biting down on your sides, on your breasts, your neck.

You ran your fingers down to your cunt. You played with your clit the way he did, circling and rubbing your clit. You used two fingers, which was almost the equivalent of one of his.

You remembered the way his hands would grasp your thighs when he pushed inside you. How the heat felt pouring out of him and into you. You pressed two fingers inside you, using your palm to tease your clit. It was not nearly as satisfying or fulfilling as his cock but it was enough for now. You began to moan out, breathlessly. Wanting nothing more than to feel his hot breath against your neck, his beard against your skin. His tongue in your cunt.

You were closing in on your high, when suddenly-

“My lady-” Ser Cole said as he opened your chamber door, He saw you, with your hand in your small clothes. He turned his body away instantly, “My apologies.” He blurted out

You reasonably startled, removed your hand, sat up in your bed and covered yourself with your blanket, “Men should not sneak into a ladies' chambers!” You spat at him.

Still not looking at you, “Of course not, please, I beg you to forgive my rudeness. It is only I’ve a message of critical urgency.”

“Then tell it quickly!” You said, furious. Sandor would have taken this man's eyes, maybe hanged him by his guts as he liked to threaten often.

He began to turn back towards you, “Your aunt, Catelyn, and your cousin Robb. They were murdered last night.” His voice sorrowful

“What?” You asked softly, in disbelief.

His eyes finally fell on you, cautiously, “The Frey’s massacred them at the wedding of your Uncle.” He looked at you, waiting for a response “My Lady?”

“Leave me.” You said, stoically.

“My lady” He began

“I said leave me!” You commanded, and finally he left.

Alone, alone in your room, and alone in this world now finally. The last remaining bit of your family that weren’t political hostages were murdered. And your one chance at regaining your birthrights without an arranged marriage along with them.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Later that morning, you hadn’t washed, or changed. You found little point in it.

You began to walk down the marble steps of the Eyrie as Ser Cole stopped you, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from the stairs.

Assuming he was going to beg for forgiveness for catching you with your fingers in your cunt you pushed away with a huff, “Please, I do not need any more apologies-” You began before he pulled you into a hallway and covered your mouth with his hand. You began to struggle when you heard a familiar voice coming from the throne room.

“My condolences. Lady Lysa was a woman of strong character.” Tyrion said, you could tell it was disingenuous. Your heart dropped to your stomach, and you felt yourself tense. Your eyes went wide, as Ser Cole pulled his hand away from your mouth.

“She was. My own condolences of your own lady.” Petyr said in response. You listened intensely.

“condolences are not needed.” Tyrion said, offendedly.

“Of course,” Petyr said, pretending to be sympathetic.

“She's not been found, is all.” Tyrion said, uncomfortably.

“It has been many nights.” Petyr began “You’re a smart man, you are aware of the terrible things that happen inside castle walls. Half her family was killed within them. Your walls and the Frey’s. And you know the kind of world that lies outside of castle walls. You know the terrible things that could happen to a girl-”

“(Y/N) Arryn is a woman of great intelligence, strong will, and a clever nature. I believe she’s alive, taken, but alive.” Tyrion stated, with confidence. The same confidence he always had.

“Another theory.” Petyr said, as if he were tired of hearing his constant wailing about you.

“She’s my betrothed. It is my duty to see to it that she is safe.” hearing him say those words made you feel sick. Or at least you thought it was those words that did it.

“It hasn’t crossed your mind she’s fled. Escaped upon her own free will?” Petyr said, why would he say that? You thought.

“It only crossed it for a moment. I’d be a fool not to consider it, but I would be a fool to consider it longer than a moment. She’s no reason to want to flee.” Tyrion was sweet to be so unaware of how disloyal you were to him.

“She didn’t?”

“She doesn’t.”

“Betrothed to the least desirable Lannister. A man accused of murdering her father-“

“Ah yes, and thank you for informing her of that.”

“You’d have rather kept her blinded to the truth?”

“There was no truth to the accusations. Only thing to come from such knowledge would be pain.” Tyrion stopped himself, taking a breath and reminding himself of what he came to the Eyrie for, “I want to ally our forces, The Knights of the Vale should be searching for her. She is their Lady-“

“They are looking for her. You act as though we want her gone.” Petyr acted like he was offended.

“You don’t? It would be convenient.” Tyrion's tone was pointed.

“I love my niece,” Petyr said and you felt vomit begin to rise in your throat.

“We all know that. You ceaselessly reminded her father of your affections when he rejected your proposals.”

“This is not about me, or you. I am willing to join our forces with one another. Though I believe it is wise for the both of us to anticipate… disappointment.” He talked about you like you were dead. It calmed you somewhat, “It has been how many days since she was seen alive?”

“I say that Dog took her.” A man's voice said, and you recognized it, the cut throat that Tyrion paid as his own bodyguard. Your body tensed, and you felt a wave of heat crash against you.

“Enough,” Tyrion said, tired of his words, as if he’d heard this theory before.

“I mean really, am I the only person with two eyes who could see how cunt struck that bloody dog was?” The cut throat said, it made the vomit rise even higher. You pressed two fingers to your lips to keep them shut.

“I said enough.”

“A theory you don’t like?” Petyr questioned.

“A theory not worth considering. It is blood and ash in my mouth. There is no reason for her to have left with him, no reason for her to have left me willingly.” Tyrion tried so hard to defend what he thought was your love for him. You felt the guilt in your stomach mix with the nausea.

“I’m not saying she went with the fucker smiling. Can’t imagine any lass especially one like her going with a man like that. That fucker never cared if anyone but the king lived or died. But the fucker went against his own king to save that girl from the riots.” The cut throat’s words only pushed you to gag slightly. You covered your mouth with your hand fully.

“There is a bounty on his head and people looking for him. But we are here to discuss (Y/N), finding her.” Tyrion said as a final and swift effort to shut the man up.

“We will ally our efforts to seek her out. They will work in tandem under the one objective of finding her.” Petyr said

With your hand covering your mouth you pushed Ser Cole away with your other hand, walking passed him. Lightly, making sure not to make a sound as you rushed towards the privy as you vomited.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

You hadn’t left your chamber all day. That night Petyr came in. He had a tray of dinner for you. And a tea.

“You’ve not dressed at all?” Petyr asked, concerned. You looked back at him with tear stained cheeks and annoyed eyes. “I am sorry. What the Frey have done…”

“I don’t wish to discuss it.” You said looking over at the food on the tray. You pulled it towards you and began to eat. Your stomach was empty from the sickness earlier.

“I believe we’ve matters of importance to discuss.” Petyr said softly as he watched you eat.

“The killing of my aunt?” You asked sardonically.

“Your aunt had made some worrying allegations against you, my dearest one. And the cut throat that accompanied your betrothed raised an interesting theory.” His eyes were filled with concern.

“You believe them?” You asked stoically

“I don’t know. That’s why I am bringing them to you. For your answers. I could bring you to a Maester and have you checked, but I don’t wish that for you. Nor can we afford the risk of any more people knowing you are here.”

“Lord Tyrion did not touch me. I’ve said it already-“ You began, sneeringly.

“I am not concerned with Lord Tyrion.” Petyr said, it made all the words you’d planned vanish. “Ser Cole might have found you alone but that doesn’t mean you were. It would take a great deal of protection to make it that far on your own.” His accusations were heavy but his voice was nurturing.

“I am intact.” You spoke like a mouse.

“Even still, I’ve prepared a tea… or rather a maester has upon my command.” He picked up the chalice and handed it to you.

“Tea?” You smelt it, it smelt bitter and ugly.

“Only to be sure. It will rid you of any unwanted consequences.” Petyr said as he petted your hair, it reminded you of your mothers touch, your eyes stayed on the tea and away from him. You pretended that it was.

“Moon tea. I know it.” You said, nodding. Your voice was raspy.

“If you are intact, as you say you are, there will be no effect. However, if you are not, and if you are with child, it shall save you the shame.” He continued to pet your hair,

“You don’t believe me?” You still didn’t look at him. You sniffled, your face heating up, eyes watering.

“It doesn’t matter what I believe, or what you say. What matters is that you drink this.”

You felt tears coming, you knew that feeling well… sorrow. “Will it hurt?” You felt submissive, that was new. Even when you had no power you knew a way to find your own power. But not here.

“Drink it, my dear.” He commanded softly.

“As you command it.” You said as you drank it. All of it, within one gulp. It was revolting.

“You are not as good of a liar as you might think, my dear.” Petyr said, he pulled you into a hug, you closed your eyes and pretended it was your mother, and hugged back. “Do not lie to me again, there is no need for it. I am your only ally now.” He threatened you sweetly, and softly. You hated that he was right.

He left you.

You thought about what Sandor would do. You thought about that often but right now you really wanted him. Not for his violence, but you wanted his touch. His arms around you. You wanted him to hold you.

But you didn’t have him, so you held onto your stomach, feeling the possibility of what could be slip away. You’d not know for certain if you were, or were not with child but now it was certain you were not. You day dreamed so often of what could have been. But now no more.

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

Sandor had seen every kind of brutalization. There was little that ever shocked him, even littler things sickened him. But what he saw that night truly did.

The Frey’s are animals…

It was early morning as Sandor sat beside a dying fire with the Stark girl still sleeping, his thoughts only turned to you.

Where the fuck were you?

꒰ ୨୧ ─ ・┈ ・ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ─ ・┈ ꒱꒱

NOTE:

Hey all you cool cats and kittens,

I’m sorry that this chapter took so long (again lol), but I aced my finals!

Also I wanted to tease that these two are probably going to be crossing paths again soon…

K love you, xoxo

Bambi

Beloved Tags: @dontfollowjuststuff @helpmeescapethisreality @merfic @broadsdrinkwhisky @the-queen-of-sorrows @eddiesbongwater @not-neverland06 @symonedoesart @wyvernnest @bdudette @frosch-thefrog @patrick-hockstutter @drymushroomfics

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spxllcxstxr · 7 months ago

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Being Eddard Stark’s Second Wife • Headcanon

(Gif not mine)

Request: Eddard Stark second wife headcanon? ❤️❤️❤️ -m — anon

Warnings: fem!reader, heavy canon divergence, mention of dying in childbirth (not reader, no other mention of pregnancy/having children), assumed age gap? Ned stark being THE man <3

A.N: I feel like these are a little short but I actually like this one! I love Ned so much so these were also just fun to write…I hope you like them! :) also I always struggle to find more diverse gifs along these romantic lines and I’m so sorry about that, my works are always inclusive

•

You marry Ned Stark after Catelyn dies delivering Rickon, her youngest

Ned certainly did not believe that he would marry again, he was incredibly heartbroken by the death of his wife

Additionally, he now had to look after 6 children and be the Lord of Winterfell

Even though he had servants and teachers and maesters to look after his children and keep them preoccupied, he was still stretched very thin due to stress and lack of sleep

You had been a close friend to the Starks even before Robb was born; some daughter of a lesser known Northern house who had come to Winterfell for a change of scenery

Despite your lower ranking, Ned and Catelyn became close friends of yours

When Catelyn died Ned’s grief almost consumed him; but you were his light in the deep and dangerous darkness that had fallen over his life

While throughout the many years of knowing Ned you occasionally felt a spark, not love, but it certainly wasn’t platonic, you pushed it down, never rushing anything that would harm your friendship and Catelyn in particular

Becoming Ned’s second wife is a gradual process

Ned comes to you almost every day, whether it is due to his grief or to ask your opinion on something, you become even closer than you were before

It takes maybe around 2 or 3 years of mutual pining for the two of you to really acknowledge what’s going on

Robb, Jon, and Arya definitely have a hand in this, they’re old enough to see what’s going on, they certainly drop hints to the two of you

“Tell me, my Lady, why I cannot stop thinking about you…”. He takes off his gloves, just to place his rough palm gently on your cheek. “You are the first thing in my mind when I wake, and the last thing when I finally succumb to sleep.”

“Ned…”

“If you do not feel the same tell me now, before I kiss you,”

The kiss is obviously what starts it, and the wedding comes very quick after that

Ned is very protective of you

With anything

He knows how harsh the Northern wind is, so he makes sure you have the finest furs and the warmest boots

Even if you say you’re fine he will insistently add another layer onto you

He does it with a grin on his face and a kiss on the forehead

Ned loves you so much

He will also teach you how to defend yourself

He is already teaching his children so training you isn’t a problem, he doesn’t like to think about it, but he knows there might come a day where he may not be able to protect you from the evil things of Westeros (or beyond)

His kids are mostly used to you before you end up marrying him

Sansa is really the only one to have a bigger issue with her father taking a second wife but she quickly warms up to you

You know you aren’t their mother and you try not to smother them like you are, but you are protective of them as if they were your own

Ned loves watching you help them with their studies or their interests

He’s seen you sneakily teach Arya how to punch properly

And Sansa’s needlework has improved since you moved into the castle

He adores how you treat Jon no differently than the others, Catelyn always did. He doesn’t blame her, he had to lie to her, but it warms his heart to see you act so kind to him

Ned is a loving husband and he shows that to you every day

He’s always gentle towards you and respects your opinions and what you have to say

He’s truly #NotLikeOtherMen lmao

•

#game of thrones #got #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #eddard stark #ned stark #Eddard stark x reader #Ned stark x reader #Eddard stark x you #Ned stark x you #game of thrones Headcanons #Ned stark Headcanons #Ned stark fanfiction #game of thrones fanfiction

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daenerysstormreborn · 10 months ago

Text

Time to ramble. I’m thinking about the way Arya and Sansa fans seem to get into this debate about who was more lonely and neglected in Winterfell. Which is kind of funny because then the arguments get totally reversed when debating other aspects of the characters. But anyway. The general arguments seem to be:

1. Arya was clearly the neglected outcast. This is clear in the meta narrative because of her connection to Jon and the fact that she doesn’t look like her true born siblings. The more direct evidence comes from the way Sansa and Jeyne teased her, the harshness of Septa Mordane, and Catelyn’s exasperation. It can be inferred that Arya feels a sense of insecurity wrt to her family ties as she wonders if her own mother would want her back after everything that happened. It can be assumed that she was a bit of an outcast based on her disinterest in the things expected of her as a girl, and we see the way many characters look down upon non-conforming women and girls in-universe. Sansa, on the other hand, receives praise from her mother and the septa and has two named close friends in Winterfell. She happily conforms to what is expected of her as a highborn girl and we can assume she would fit in in Winterfell.

2. Sansa was clearly the neglected outcast. This is clear in the meta narrative because she is the only one to lose her direwolf, which is the family symbol. The more direct evidence comes from contrast with Arya, whom Sansa observes can “make friends with anybody,” seemingly in contrast to herself. Ned agreed to kill Lady despite knowing she was innocent and indulged Arya’s interest in swordplay whilst being unenthusiastic about indulging Sansa’s interest in tourneys. Arya is demonstrated to be beloved by Ned’s men in a way we do not observe with Sansa. We can assume that Sansa didn’t feel like she belonged because of her interest in sothron culture, something none of her siblings share. Arya, on the other hand, is extroverted, makes friends easily, is northern in appearance, and has no interest in sothron culture, so we can assume she fit in in Winterfell.

I actually don’t think a lot of the points in the two arguments is mutually exclusive. We also have to remember POV bias. Arya doesn’t reflect on Any friends her age she had at Winterfell (I am not including Mycah because I am under the impression they became friends on the way to King’s Landing), but Arya is not one to reflect and reminisce. Sansa notices that Arya can make friends with anyone, but she doesn’t experience Arya’s inner world. What does Sansa mean by making friends? Does she see Arya having fun and being at ease talking to anyone and feel envy, since she herself feels like is performing, always minding her manners, when she’s socializing with most people? Could it be that Arya is friendly but struggles to find long term close friends like Jeyne and Beth, attributing this disparity to Sansa’s “ladylike” interests? Could it be that being teased by Sansa and her friends and scolded by Catelyn and Mordane has made Arya assume that other girls wouldn’t be interested in close friendship with her, causing her to be friendly but keep a certain distance? (**please note I am not trying to make a case for nlog Arya. I think keeping a distance because you assume you’ll be rejected is different and does not require that she looks down upon other girls, because there is no evidence for that here**)

I don’t have a good conclusion I just think it’s interesting that this is something that gets debated because the truth is probably somewhere in the middle. We can’t know because we get very few flashbacks and the story picks up when their normal lives in Winterfell end. I can’t speak to George’s intentions but if we pretend they’re real people I’d speculate that both would have felt misplaced within Winterfell at times, envying certain traits about the other

#asoiaf #valyrian scrolls #valyrianscrolls #arya stark #sansa stark

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g0lightly · 4 months ago

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i saw a screenshot reposted on twitter of a j0nsa explaining how to find j0nsa “foreshadowing” and genuinely at first i thought it was a parody of how some j0nsas post on here because it was so …💀

i’m not sharing the screenshot here bc no one deserves harassment or to feel bullied for what they ship. however, seeing that post helped crystallize a long-held observation of mine about a ship that i do not like yet cannot fully avoid due to the fact that it is one of the biggest in the fandom and it involves one of my favorite characters. no hate no shade to my j0nsa mutuals, my filters and i love you for tagging your posts (and also for not posting weird murder fantasies about dany!).

because j0nsa is so popular, it can set the tone for discussions about sansa on here. often times that tone comes across … god how do i say this nicely … weirdly gender essentialist. this is an observation that i’ve struggled to articulate for a while but the post in question inadvertently helped me put my finger on the reason why i am so put off by these theories (and the ship in general if i’m honest).

basically, the post claims that there is a pattern of opposite-sex characters around jon and sansa that have the traits of the other. jon and sansa are both kind of the traditional fantasy hero/heroine ideals so like … of course sansa is going to encounter men who are conventionally masculine in the same way that jon is and of course jon is going to encounter women who are conventionally feminine in the way that sansa is. and of course they'll meet people who aren't that feminine/masculine ideal. the post also says that it can still be j0nsa foreshadowing if the person in question had “opposite” traits from jon or sansa — apparently jon thinking about arya means he’s actually thinking about sansa? uh… i think you just made up circular logic so that you can claim every woman jon interacts with or thinks about is a sansa stand in and vis-versa!

in the actual text, meanwhile, jon finds himself drawn to warrior women like ygritte. in a way, sansa is too – she seems to have a fascination with mya stone. an actual parallel between jon and sansa is the fact that they each have a fascination with a dark-haired androgynous bastard of their same sex that they call pretty in their respective remote snowy locations (satin and mya). they also both remark on the beauty of the lannister twins — only, jon remarks on jaime’s beauty and sansa remarks on cersei’s beauty.

now, these examples are some of the reasons why i personally read jon and sansa as characters who are likely queer in some capacity. frankly a lot of sansa’s thoughts remind me of myself as a closeted preteen. because i read both characters as not straight, however, i find it especially restrictive when the conversation around these characters is reduced to how well they fit their masculine/feminine ideals and why that means they must be soulmates. it doesn't give them room to defy the gender ideals that define them in some fans' minds. in a series about subverting conventional tropes in fantasy, i just don’t believe that the feminine ideal girl and the masculine ideal boy are going to ride off into the sunset together.

yet, you could use the same passages from the text to say that jon and sansa’s admiration of cersei and jaime means that they’ll also do sibling incest (i don’t care that they’re cousins by blood, they were raised as siblings). jon comments on the fact that jaime looks the way a king should and sansa looks up to cersei because she wants to be queen one day – again, you could also use this to argue jon will be king and sansa will be queen. i mean, i would disagree with you, but it still makes a hell of a lot more sense than reducing every woman jon interacts with into a sansa stand-in and reducing every man sansa interacts with to a jon stand-in.

#anti jonsa #sansa stark #asoiaf fandom meta #could also be deemed #asoiaf fandom wank #queer asoiaf #jon snow

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agentrouka-blog · 1 year ago

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Dany fan here: I think other Dany fans think Jonsas are over the top with Dany hate because of pol!Jon. I follow many Jonsas because I’m perfectly fine with Jonsa. It’s not for me but I see the vision. That said I’m a bit of an unusual Dany fan in the sense that I’m a big fan of the Meereenese Knot essays and think the interpretation of Dany presented there is pretty spot on. I personally think Dany has a good heart but that circumstance and experience and terrible coping mechanisms have led her to act in villainous ways and whether or not a character is a villain is determined by their actions regardless of whatever goodness is in their heart. But anyway I do not like the pol!Jon theory. I think it’s out of character for Jon and needlessly cruel to Dany. I think it’s possible that he ultimately kills her and that could be fine and I don’t reject that theory, but I think the idea of Jon deceiving and sexually abusing Dany and then killing her for the sake of Sansa is what Dany fans think of when they think of over the top hate because they assume every Jonsa shipper also believes in pol!Jon.

I do understand why people thought Jon was deceiving Dany in the show though because their relationship was just so poorly executed and Kit and Emilia had no chemistry on screen. Imagine fucking up your show’s romance so badly that people think the script confirming that the love was mutual must have been tampered with.

Hi there!

(I think Dany is a compelling tragic villain, and it's lovely seeing someone loving her for it!)

I do think that pol!Jon (under duress, esentially) is a not unreasonable theory that grew out of the way the show presented their relationship. If there was sexual abuse I think it's fair to say it was in the hands of the more powerful party, though.

That said, I don't see it happening that way in the books at all and I think all characters will be better off for it. I agree it wouldn't feel right.

Certainly not in a punitive "you thought he would love you but he really loves Sansa, now die!!!" way. That cheapens jonsa as much as it cheapens the complexity of the conflict between Dany and Jon.

It's just a deeply uninteresting way to explore their existing conflict or their respective strengths. Not to be a hater but it's not exactly riveting literature watching Dany be manipulated by Daario and it's unlikely to be more so in a repeat performance with Jon who isn't even her type. Same as watching Jon go through a repeat of the abusive Ygritte plotline would be less than compelling.

We'll have instances of romantic manipulation. Littlefinger is practically begging Sansa to use his own obsession against him, and Arya gives us a preview when she lures Raff to his death wearing "Mercy's" face. That's been set up since the first book, and it works as a satisfying response to the way everyone has been telling Sansa how weak and simple she is. It's very personal, very steeped in their respective histories, very poetic.

But for Jon and Dany I think we can expect something more universal and even-handed than that. They are both at varying points manipulative and earnest, highly clever or unexpectly outmaneuvered. And neither will be in this conflict all alone and without advice. Not to mention, we have both of their POVs and watching one just miss all the clues of the other manipulating them would be flat. This only ever works with one POV withheld. The show tried that with Jon Snow live on the screen, to disastrous results. No way is that GRRM's plan.

I'd rather watch two clever adversaries play a big game of chess. And given GRRM's love for that game, I am certain it's also what he would prefer to write.

#anti jonerys #jon snow #anti daenerys targaryen #<- for filtering #jonsa #rouka ask

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nessataleweaver · 4 months ago

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FIC: You and I are like the ink staining all the other pages (Game of Thrones, Jon/Sansa)

RATING: Explicit (m/f sex); step-incest; possible dubious consent; underage sex

SUMMARY: (modern AU) Step-siblings Jon and Sansa have been in denial about their mutual attraction for a long time. When the Stark-Tully kids head out to the Halloween carnival, Jon is the only one willing to go through the ‘lame’ Ghost tunnel with Sansa. But they don’t know it’s been re-purposed from a Tunnel of Love, that’s been given an extra kick via magic...

PROMPT: For jonsa-halloween for their 2024 event, using the October 30th prompt ‘Magic’.

NOTE: I originally had this idea for ‘curse’, but that would have involved Joffrey being stupid and vengeful, and I don’t really want to give his royal skidmark any page time, so I switched tracks somewhat. While doing so, I realised I was actually writing a prequel to one of my stories from the 2020 event, ‘What you are in the dark’. So to clarify: this is a modern AU, where the Starks are a blended family. Jon and Arya are Ned’s children, while Robb, Sansa and Bran are Catelyn’s kids. Rickon is theirs, and is still a toddler. Theon, Robb, Jon and Sansa are all in high school. Arya and Bran are thirteen and twelve.

Can also be read on AO3

ONE YEAR EARLIER

“Agatha... what are those symbols you’re painting?”

“You seriously don’t know?”

“Well, from here they look like several examples of ‘surrender to your desires’, ‘increase affection’, and ‘increase libido’.”

“So why did you ask?”

(sigh) “Agatha, I was asking with the sub-text “Why in Hecate’s name are you painting magic symbols inside our carnival attraction, which we will be exposing many members of the public to?” Do you want us to get sued? Or called in by the Misuse of Magic Office?”

“Don’t be silly! It’s not mind-altering or anything, it’s just giving things a little... push. This is going to be a ‘Tunnel of Love’, so the couples that go through it will come out feeling lovey-dovey and horny. Just think about the Yelp reviews we’ll get!”

“And what about people who aren’t couples, who are just going through it for laughs? Or people who are going on this because they get sick on other rides, and who’s significant others are on the coaster? Or tweenage girls going through with their besties because it’s so romantic?”

(eyeroll) “It’s like you think I’m stupid or something. All the boats are floating on water, so the customers won’t be around any of the symbols long enough for anything to happen inside the ride. If anything, their partners will have a good time when they get home, or they get to discover the joys of masturbation. Honestly, the worst that will happen is that a few of the security guards might bust some couples fucking in the parking lot because they don’t want to wait to get home. So what?”

(deeper sigh) “If something goes wrong, I’m throwing you off the flying carpet.”

“Fine, Miss Scaredy-cat! And when we get asked to hire it out all over the North, I get all the bragging rights!”

ONE MONTH EARLIER

“Agatha, did you hire out our Tunnel of Love to a Halloween carnival?”

“Yep! Their Ghost train got derailed somewhere in the Neck, and they’re paying us triple the usual hire fee plus ten per cent of the gate! It’s easy to re-decorate – the whole tunnel looks like a cave anyway. We put Halloween costumes on all the dummies, add in a few fake coffins and bubbling cauldrons and maybe put in a mad scientist lab or zombie graveyard to replace the masqued ballroom? We hang fake spider-webs and black drop-cloths from the ceiling with ghost outlines, and instead of the love songs we play spooky sound effects over the sound system. We haven’t painted the spare set of boats yet, so we make them black and use stencils for skulls and bones over that. Hey, if we keep them that way maybe we can add a pirate cave option?”

PRESENT DAY - LAST FRIDAY BEFORE HALLOWEEN

“Sheesh, Sansa, you’re such a scaredy-cat. We wait any longer to hit the really good rides, we’ll be stuck in line for ages. All the college students will hit the carnival soon – trust me, I know.”

“I’m not scared, Arya,” Sansa told her step-sister. “I just get motion-sick easily, remember? I ride the roller-coaster, the Hurricane and the Zipper within an hour, and I’ll be bringing up dinner with a vengeance. Just go without me.”

Arya made an expressive face. “I forgot about all those meds you had to take for our family honeymoon. But seriously, what was the point of getting to leave Rickon and the parentals at home if not to go on all the rides?”

Jon ruffled her hair affectionately. “You can still go on all the rides. At least the ones you’re tall enough for.”

Arya scowled and hit her older brother in the side. “I haven’t had my growth spurt yet! That’s why Sansa found me these platform combat boots.”

Jon smiled, not even feeling Arya’s punch. While Sansa had corralled Arya and Bran through the shooting games and stashing Arya’s armful of prizes in the car, Theon had split a joint with him and Robb. As a result, Jon was feeling as chilled as a capybara.

“Robb and Theon are coming back now,” Sansa pointed down the midway. “Robb loves those rides, too. If he hesitates, tell him it’ll be a sibling bonding moment – that always gets him.”

Bran snickered. “Sansa, the mastermind. But seriously, Theon loves the arcade but hates admitting it. I’ll ask him to go through it with me and that’ll leave Robb for you.”

Sansa grinned. “That leaves Jon to go through the haunted house with me.”

“No it doesn’t! I want to go through the haunted house too!” Arya protested.

“And me!” Bran added. “What about the mirror maze, or the Ghost Tunnel? I think you’re the only ones who wanted those.”

“Um, maybe not the maze,” Jon mumbled. “Reminds me of my ex.”

“The one who shot you with an arrow or the one who’s now running that cult?” Sansa asked.

“Dany,” Jon replied. He hadn’t even told his best friend Sam, or Robb, that his narcissistic to the point of God-complex girlfriend had once hired out the entire mirror maze for an hour so she could make him fuck her while she watched their reflections in about ten different mirrors. There were reasons he’d stayed with her as long as he had - almost all of them sexual.

“Ghost Tunnel then?” Sansa asked brightly.

“Sure,” Jon said agreeably. “It hasn’t been here before, so I’m up for the new experience.”

Leaving their younger siblings in Robb and Theon’s sometimes-capable hands, Jon and Sansa headed across the fairgrounds.

Sansa looked up at the night sky, and smiled. “I love full moons, and this one’s special, did you know?”

“Wasn’t Bran talking about this at breakfast the other day?” Jon asked. “It’s a blue moon, yeah? The second in a month?”

“Exactly. It’s very good for charging spells and ceremonies.”

“You don’t talk much about your magic studies,” Jon remarked curiously. “Even when I helped you study for the botany section.”

“It tends to upset Mother. I inherited the talent from her, but she’s so devoted to the Seven she always refused to do anything with it. At least she’s never tried to keep me from it. Though I think it’s partly because Uncle Brynden and Aunt Lysa had a discussion – the kind with a capital D - with her about it when I was younger.”

“So you’re not doing any of those spells or ceremonies?”

Sansa shook her head. “My mentor’s doing something tomorrow, but as a solo practitioner I’m not at the stage yet where it would be useful for me. At my level, without a circle or coven, I might even do myself some damage.”

Arriving at the head of the line, Sansa and Jon tore some tickets off their pre-bought roll, and handed them over to the attendant, dressed in what looked like a Shakespeare heroine costume with a fake vampire bite dribbling down her throat and pale sparkly face paint.

“A water ride? I haven’t seen one of those in a Ghost tunnel before,” Sansa remarked, as Jon handed her into the boat. She stashed her messenger bag in a cage underneath the prow, before she settled into the seat.

The boat’s shape forced them to sit very close together and it took several attempts to find a comfortable position, Jon having to put his arm around Sansa as they headed off into the dark.

A lifelong connoisseur of haunted attractions, Sansa murmured comments to Jon as they slowly floated along.

“Glow in the dark paint usually looks a bit tacky, but these ghosts are painted really well.”

“Oooh, that’s a lovely effect on those floating candelabra! Maybe there’s some actual magic being used here?”

“I wonder why there are no scare actors? There should have been at least one by now if this ride has them.”

“Can you hear a crackle? You think there’s a set-piece up ahead with lightning effects?”

Just as Jon muttered his agreement, they rounded the curve and saw a large alcove holding what looked to be Frankenstein’s laboratory, complete with a semi-covered body on a lab table, and even a pseudo-skylight above showing lightning constantly flashing. Their boat settled to a halt, either to change passengers at the beginning or to let them admire the showpiece, when a particularly large thunderclap made them jump.

Then the already dim lighting went out, leaving them in pitch darkness.

“What the hell?”

Silver runes glowed at several points along the wall, and Sansa exclaimed, “So they are using real magic!”

A soothing voice echoed through the darkness. “We are currently experiencing a power failure, and are working to restore the lights and movement of the boats. In the meantime, we are providing an alternative soundtrack.”

Piano music echoed in the tunnel, and Jon absently identified, “Tchaikovsky. Kind of romantic for a haunted tunnel.”

“Still better than the creepy sound effects, given the situation,” Sansa murmured.

Sansa wasn’t sure how long they floated in the dark, before she found herself snuggling closer to Jon. His arm tightened around her in response.

“Cold?” he asked quietly.

“Not exactly.”

Actually, she was feeling quite warm. Sansa opened up her zippered hoodie and pulled her sweater out from the waistband of her short skirt. She turned her head sideways to bury her face in Jon’s neck. He smelled really good, and Sansa absently pressed her thighs together, enjoying the sensation.

Jon rested his head on top of Sansa’s, as his hand curved around her hip, his thumb at just the right angle to dip under the hem of her sweater to stroke her soft skin just above the waistband of her skirt. It felt really good, holding her close; her slim form fit perfectly into the angles of his own. He felt her lips on the sensitive skin on his throat, and bit back a groan as his cock stirred. Now was probably a bad time to remember all the times he’d fisted his cock to thoughts of his lovely step-sister. Even if those pretty tits of hers were pressed softly against his chest, and he was fairly sure that he could feel her hardened nipples through her sweater and his shirt.

Sansa could admit to herself, here in the dark, that her panties were wet and her breasts ached with need. That she wanted to be even closer to Jon. She wanted to feel his bare skin against hers, and to wrap her arms and legs around him. Her heart pounding, Sansa let her hand drift along the contours of his torso and down, until she could feel the hard bulge between his legs. She sighed as she curved her hand around it, then gasped as she felt Jon’s lips against her ear.

“Let me,” Jon murmured, his voice almost soundless as he brought his free hand down to cover the fingers rubbing at him through his jeans. He moved them aside just enough to undo the button and zip, and groaned in relief as he parted the slit in his boxers to free his erection. Had Theon added something to that joint? He was so horny he was pretty sure he could hammer nails with his dick.

Jon couldn’t see Sansa’s fingers gently, tentatively wrap around his rampant cock, gingerly fisting and stroking him, but it was really working for him. The hand he’d latched around her hip slid up and under her sweater, until he could feel the lace of her bra. He ran his fingertips along the curve of her breast until he found the hem of the cup, gently tugging until her now-exposed breast fell into his palm, where his fingers could rub and flick at her nipple. She was half-way in his lap, her knee hooked over his thigh, and Jon used it as a guide for his other hand, gliding his fingers along her inner thigh until he found her mound.

Sansa whimpered as he stroked and rubbed her pussy through the soaking wet fabric of her underwear, but he wanted more. Jon pulled and fumbled until he felt her bare folds, and expertly found her clit. Sansa moaned, and Jon’s cock all but jumped in her grip in response.

Sansa’s head was spinning, and in the dark she was blind to everything but Jon. His touch on her breast and between her legs, and the hot throbbing rod of muscle in her hand. She felt so good, and she loved it. Why had no one ever told her she could feel so good? She moved her hips against Jon’s hand, and his thick fingers slid in her slick folds until one slipped right inside her. She felt herself squeeze down on him in reaction.

“More. Jon, I want more,” she whispered. Another finger pushed it’s way inside her, and they both wriggled and curved, and when Jon touched a certain spot Sansa slammed her hand over her mouth as she shivered and writhed through her first climax.

Jon had never fucked a virgin before, but Sansa was so tight around his fingers he was sure he was about to. She was so wet she was dripping onto his hand, and he wouldn’t have any issues working his dick into Sansa’s cunt even though he was on the larger side and she was so tight.

“You need to sit on my lap,” he murmured. It took some manoeuvring, untangling their legs by feel, but both Jon’s hands latched on Sansa’s hips, and he pulled her body flush to his with her knees bracketing his hips. His cock rubbed against her soaked underwear, and Sansa sighed and rocked her pelvis to increase the friction. Jon could already feel the pressure building along his spine; he needed to move quickly. “Sansa? If I lift you up, can you put me in the right place?”

Sansa reached down and gripped his cock in answer. He felt her pull her underwear aside with one hand as the tip of cock brushed against her folds. As it notched into her opening, Jon eased Sansa down, groaning as he sank into her tight, slick cunt.

Was it her delectable pussy that felt so good, or was it because he’d never fucked raw before? Either way, Jon was pretty sure he was having the best sex of his life.

“Your thing is inside me!” Sansa whimpered. “It’s so big, I’m so full.”

“Are you hurting?” Jon rumbled softly in her ear.

“Mmmph, ah! It feels really good, though,” Sansa gasped. She wriggled and squirmed, not sure whether she was trying to get Jon deeper inside her or find a position that didn’t feel like she was going to burst. She pushed her sweater up to her armpits, and wrenched at the front hooks of her bra. As Jon’s grip on her hips urged her to rock back and forth, Sansa slid her arms around his neck and rubbed her bare breasts against the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“Lean back a little,” Jon ordered.

Sansa arched her back, mourning the loss of stimulation to her breasts, but Jon somehow shifted his hips, changing the angle of his hardness and Sansa yelped as he rubbed against the place inside his fingers had found earlier, making her feel like a lightning-bolt, sizzling and ready to strike. He did it again and again, and Sansa felt herself explode.

“That’s it, sweetheart, clench down hard on my cock,” Jon growled in her ear, and Sansa convulsed, her inner muscles trying to squeeze the delicious intrusion that already stretched her open without remorse.

Jon moved his hands to her tits, just the right size to fill his hands, and clutched them as his own climax slammed into him.

“Ah! I can feel your hot stuff coming out, it’s squirting inside me,” moaned Sansa.

Thing? Hot stuff? In the fragment of his mind that wasn’t drowning in pleasure, Jon wondered just what version of The Talk his stepmother had given the girl taking his dick like she was made for it. At least he could cum inside her without reservation; having helped Sansa study for her herbalist lessons, he knew she was licensed to brew moon tea.

Sansa pressed her forehead against Jon’s as she gasped for breath, and his tight grip on her breasts softened, gently cradling them in his big hands.

The rattling of chains broke their silence, and the boat jerked. Sansa sat bolt upright as the boat started to move.

“Fuck, we’re moving! You need to get off me!” Jon yelped.

Sansa nearly fell out to the boat, trying to disentangle herself from Jon and sit back down while shifting her panties back into place. At the same time, Jon was cursing beside her; Sansa caught a glimpse of his still-hard cock as he pushed it back into his jeans, and a swift after-shock of need ran through her. The dim light grew brighter, and Sansa gave up fumbling with her bra to yank her sweater down, hurriedly zipping up her hoodie, glad she’d borrowed it from Jon earlier in the evening and it was thus two sizes too big.

Their boat cruised through a curtain of strings of moss, and bumped into the dock. Blinking away after-images of the bright carnival lights, Sansa ignored the ride attendant’s droning voice.

Looking down at the bottom of the boat, Sansa’s eyes widened in horror at the obvious stains surrounding Jon’s fly. His leather jacket wasn’t long enough to cover them.

“Hang on, I need my bag!” she exclaimed. Bending forward, half-over Jon’s lap, Sansa groped for her messenger bag with one hand. With the other, she passed her fingertips, faintly glowing river-blue, over Jon’s crotch while she whispered a key-phrase.

Jon had to help her out of the boat, too – her legs could barely hold her up.

Jon’s fingers circled her wrist, as he led her away from the ride, the attendant’s smirk not hidden by the fangs of his B-movie Dracula costume.

“There’s bathrooms under the stairs to the grandstand, hardly anyone should be there until it’s time for the fireworks,” Jon told her. “Meet you outside once we’ve both cleaned up.”

Keeping his body turned away from the man at urinals, Jon shut himself into the farthest cubicle with a sigh of relief. What in the seven hells had Sansa been playing at, fondling his crotch like that in front of that vampire jerkass?

Jon grabbed a fistful of toilet tissue and looked down to assess the damage. In the bright light of the bathroom, he could see no tell-tale stains. Looking in the direction of the ladies’ room, Jon sent a mental apology to Sansa. She’d been using her favorite cleaning spell; if he’d been paying attention to her words instead of her touch he’d have recognised it. She’d certainly used it on Arya and Bran to help them avoid Catelyn’s wrath enough times.

In the only available stall in the ladies’ room, Sansa hung her messenger bag and hoodie on the hook on the back of the door. Reaching underneath her sweater, she pulled the cups of her bra back into place but couldn’t quite fasten it. With a sigh of exasperation, Sansa pulled off her sweater, static electricity making her hair crackle, and shrugged out of her bra.

Standing topless in the small concrete-walled building, Sansa felt her nipples harden again from the chilly air as she inspected her bra. She’d somehow managed to pop the stitching that kept the hooks in place. It would be quite uncomfortable if she tried to wear it now and she was sure to lose at least one set of hook-and-eyes. Folding the garment carefully, Sansa slipped it into the laptop sleeve of her messenger bag. Sitting down on the toilet, Sansa needed three lots of tissue to clean Jon’s spend from between her legs, and two castings of the ‘neaten-up’ spell to make her sodden panties wearable again.

Dragging her sweater back over her head, Sansa inhaled sharply as she tugged it into place over her hips. The soft wool felt so good against her still-sensitized breasts, and the place between her legs ached with longing. Even though she was sore down there from being forced wide open, she missed the fullness. Shrugging on the hoodie, she left it open. After washing her hands at the communal sinks, Sansa settled the strap of her messenger bag in a cross-body position between her breasts. Looking at her reflection, Sansa could see her hard nipples ever so slightly distorting the surface of her sweater, her unencumbered breasts framed by Jon’s hoodie at the sides and the bag-strap pulling the wool flat between them and taut across them. How easy would it be, for Jon to slide his hand under the hem of her sweater and feel her bare breasts?

Sansa smiled at her reflection as she smoothed the static from her hair.

When they met outside the bathrooms, Jon and Sansa were almost as immaculate as when they went into the Ghost tunnel. Maybe Jon’s curls were a little wilder, and Sansa’s lips were so red it looked like she’d been drinking the smoothie van’s ‘Bloody Brew’. But so what?

Jon’s eyes traced along the curves of his step-sister’s breasts, which he was certain were bare beneath the jack-o-lantern patterned sweater. He had to fight the urge to drop to his knees and bury his face between her thighs. He’d come inside her fifteen minutes ago, and all he could think of was getting Sansa somewhere private enough that he could see her naked before driving balls-deep inside her.

Sansa licked her lips as her gaze flickered from his eyes to his crotch and back, and Jon knew without a doubt that she wanted the exact same thing.

“We could say that you’re not feeling well. Theon can fit everyone else into his Rover, and we can take the car and find somewhere to park on the way home.”

Sansa shook her head, her face regretful. “If I’m sick, Robb would insist on taking me home himself. We’ll have to wait.”

“How long?” Jon asked, his voice gravelly with need.

“I’ll get Theon to invite Robb to stay over, so we can drive Bran and Arya home. Once they’re in bed, come to my room. I can close the curtains around my four-poster so no one can see in even if they open the door.”

“Keep the curtains open to the window,” Jon ran his eyes slowly, deliberately over her breasts, tracing every covered curve with his gaze. “I want to see you naked by moonlight.”

Sansa moved closer, until he could feel the heat of her body against the bare skin of his hand.

“Same here.”

ONE WEEK LATER

“I have to admit, Agatha, that ghost caves idea made us a mint. Maybe we should look into leveling up the spooky decorations, and offering it as a permanent alternative option? Could be in more demand than the Tunnel of Love for things like school carnivals.”

“Ha!”

“Agatha, what are you doing?”

“I’m doing the ‘Agatha was right and she’s telling you so!’ dance.”

“Well, could you please point your booty that way,” (point) “before you shake it?” (mutter) “Like I don’t see enough of your ass during sky-clad ceremonies.” (paper rustling) “The switch from romance to spooky takes, what, a day? And that’s mostly covered during set-up anyway. The only thing I don’t have a cost breakdown for is the spell-paint and spell-removal.”

(full-body pause) “Spell-removal?”

“Yeah, what did it cost to erase the lovey-dovey and horny spells? And what will it cost to re-apply them for the Tunnel of Love? It’s not like that shit works off decals.”

(silence)

“Agatha... you did remember to remove the lovey-dovey and horny spells, right?”

“Um...”

“RIGHT?”

DISCLAIMER: Neither Kathryn Hahn or Elizabeth Olsen were fan-cast in this fic. Aubrey Plaza maybe.

Title comes from the song ‘Counterpane’ by The Birthday Massacre; mostly because I didn’t like the original title, and I was listening to the song during final edits.

#jonsa halloween #jonsa halloween 2024 #jonsa fic #my fic #jon snow x sansa stark #though here it's Jon Stark x Sansa Tully

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alinaastarkov · 3 months ago

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Just some speculation. I think it's possible that George is positioning Arya to be the person who helps Jon deal with the post-resurrection period and will be the one who will bring hope and warmth back into his life. Jon already associates many positive emotions with her, such as warmth, home, love, and happiness. He smiles a lot in her presence. And wish to meet and comfort her in adwd, the desire to save her ended up leading him to death, etc. Since their relationship is built on mutuality, he could help her to restore herself definitively. And welcome her after all the odyssey (They maybe have some Odysseus and Penelope themes, right?) to get to him. And it makes sense that this would happen between them because there is no greater or more unconditional love than theirs in asoiaf. Their reunion will be a cathartic event. And it will bring peace of mind to both of them. Considering that undead characters in the narrative so far have shown a certain type of hyperfocus or even obsession. It's fair to assume that he may also suffer from something similar. The revived Jon will be a darker character and potentially with his flaws amplified, like his anger, stubbornness, and his ambitious side. I believe to emphasize the impacts of the resurrection, Grrm will extend moral questions to him as well. Jon exhibited some fits of blinding rage, and after going through betrayal, death and resurrection, he’ll be more ruthless and imo obsessed with saving Arya. He makes multiple plans for her during adwd, even before he finds her, so I think she’ll live in her head 24/7 bc he died with her in mind. On the other hand, her biggest loyalty is to him. And, as much as she exhibits protective behaviors with her pack. Jon is a special case; above all, he is her pack. She wouldn't betray him, not even to Ned, whom she also loves deeply; she doesn’t accept him being insulted either. When she finds out he’s alive and after almost losing Jon. She’s going to be so fiercely protective of him too. No matter what, I feel Arya will play a crucial role in his life/resurrection. I also don’t think that he scrapped Jon and Arya’s storyline, since it’s essential and very groundbreaking for their arcs (and a plot twist that most readers will not see coming or think was discarded lmao). This could also bring some drama with the dynamics of the Starks and even fuel some bitterness between Bran and Jon. Also, it parallels with the accident. I always wondered if the whole: having paths in institutions that expected them to be detached from the past was part of the setup for them to be even more attached to each other. By making Arya a almost faceless men, and resurrecting Jon, Grrm puts both characters in very vulnerable positions, where they would be even more afraid of losing each other, and at the end of the world, this would only increase feelings and theirs are already too intense... Since after all they’ve been through, they will have only a little. Maybe Grrm just tones it down. It was supposed to be a tortured romance and not necessarily something initially happy. That's exactly why I feel like he's still going in that direction. It's the kind of controversy that he prefers to explore. Twisted, complicated, messy romances, where ppl don't have the luxury of choice; they're put up against the wall, and it happens: inevitably and irreversibly. It's irrational. And most of the romances he favors and romanticizes are those anw. Not cute stories that make sense or are comforting, easy to digest or arranged marriages. A big chunk of fandom simply underestimates the themes he enjoys exploring and why would he come to this, but that's their fault for refusing to engage with the text presented and distorting dynamics to favor other characters.

I think you are absolutely right, anon, and this scenario has already been set up and foreshadowed. We know from Beric and Lady Stoneheart that people who die come back changed, find it hard to settle or find peace until they have achieved the last goal they had in life. This goal becomes a fixation, an obsession: Beric's was to help the Riverlands smallfolk and bring the Mountain to justice; Catelyn, her and her son murdered and betrayed, is one of revenge and finding a head for the northern crown she has in her possession. And Jon Snow's?

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell… I want my bride back… I want my bride back… I want my bride back… "I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said. Jon fell to his knees. He found the dagger's hilt and wrenched it free. In the cold night air the wound was smoking. "Ghost," he whispered. Pain washed over him. Stick them with the pointy end. When the third dagger took him between the shoulder blades, he gave a grunt and fell face-first into the snow. He never felt the fourth knife. Only the cold… — ADWD, Jon XIII

His last goal was Arya. I think it's safe to say he won't slow down or stop until she's back with him again. George has said all the main characters will be getting darker in TWOW, and unlike some fans selectively believe that will include Jon. Though I think both will reunite with others before they return to each other (Bran, Sansa, Rickon are all options for Jon, Catelyn and Gendry for Arya) neither will be fully reconciled with themselves until they see the other. Here is where the original outline could come into play too, as Jon's behaviour may alienate his other family members (not permanently and probably not fully) but not Arya. We know both also think of the other as their home, her laughter warmed him on the long ride north. There's only one person who can help him find peace (and if we follow the rule of three and George's outline then unlike Beric and Stoneheart it won't be death that grants that for Jon) and it's Arya. And I love that you mention Penelope and Odysseus cause that's a perfect example. Jon isn't the only one finding peace here, Arya needs it after her time wandering. She needs to find her home again and that's with him (also the image of Jon battling off suitors until Arya shows up on a wolf wearing a crown like a typical fantasy prince is just too good).

I am also of the mind that he has not scrapped the outline. A lot of it has still happened in the series, even if the exact details have changed. Though Bran has fewer chapters, he is the main magical hero and the most magical character in the series, and the other 4 of the key 5 all have the most chapters. He's definitely struggling with the lack of 5 year jump, but nothing's impossible and you're right, it's one of the twists that most people won't see coming (cause they're wilfully blind imo) but which is clear if you look at the signs. I am also of the mind that wargbowl and a Stark succession crisis is still coming and Arya's divided loyalties (as the de facto Lady of Winterfell, possible de facto QITN and with her own faction of supporters) will be key. By all accounts, she will probably be looked to by the northerners and whoever she supports they would through their weight behind and no this is not just me begging george not to waste this chance and give her a taste of the political power she could have as a lady.

As for their respective institutions, that's absolutely why, emphasising their attachments to their friends and family as a whole but also to each other. For a start, their vows are extremely similar:

"Night gathers, and now my watch begins. It shall not end until my death. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall wear no crowns and win no glory. I shall live and die at my post. I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. I pledge my life and honor to the Night's Watch, for this night and all the nights to come." (AGOT, Jon VI) "The price is you. The price is all you have and all you ever hope to have. We took your eyes and gave them back. Next we will take your ears, and you will walk in silence. You will give us your legs and crawl. You will be no one's daughter, no one's wife, no one's mother. Your name will be a lie, and the very face you wear will not be your own." (ADWD, The Ugly Little Girl)

But ultimately, they cannot stick to these. Arya has been given chance after chance and still refuses to give up her whole self. Jon's third and final test came and he failed, choosing Arya over his vows. GRRM definitely has a message of people sticking together in the face of the ultimate threat. I agree that nothing will happen, at least not without some kind of time jump/epilogue situation, but their bond is there and will be a focus and you're right, they are the exact kind of tortured romance George loves. They are a resurrection of Rhaelya, Bael the bard and the Winter Rose, Aemon and Naerys, even Jaehaerys and Alysanne (as much as I hate the man). It is irrational and will cause controversy, but they won't care and that's the point. George hates soft and easy, sensible, practical (NedCat is his only exception). Most theories for *cough* other ships rely on "well, they didn't really think of each other as siblings (not true) and weren't close so it'll be easy for them to get together" and that's apparently why it will happen. This is actually the very reason it will not happen; George wants his characters to struggle against themselves and decide to go for it anyway. And he doesn't just turn around 6/7 books in to invent a relationship when there are ones that have been set up the whole of the previous 5. Besides, George already told us how he writes:

“The only thing worth writing about is the human heart in conflict with itself.”

He may have just spoiled the ending for us right there.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #jonrya #jon snow #arya stark #needleheart #i really don't care what people's shipping preferences are ship what you want as long as you don't steal from other characters #but george doesn't care either #he won't care that it's too controversial if he's still working towards this ending he'll keep going #this is how he writes these are the themes he enjoys and he's spent the better part of 5 books setting it up #god the payoff is gonna be excellent tho

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stheresya · 1 year ago

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i think it’s a little bit of a stretch to say that sandor is in love with sansa? like, he’s definitely attracted to her! but we don’t have enough material to label his feelings as "love"…

indeed we don't have enough material to state such a thing for certain. and i believe that what both sansa and sandor feel for each other right now hasn't quite matured into our notions of "love" because neither were in the right headspace to think of each other in a self-acknowledged romantic way, with sansa still being a child living in difficult circumstances and sandor having a lot of issues of his own to deal with. however, it's known that their dynamic is meant to play heavily into the beauty & the beast motif, with sansa as the beauty that inspires sandor who's been animalized his entire life into making himself a man again. if the batb trope being romantic in nature isn't enough, sansa and sandor's dynamic on its own also has romantic elements that one can't simply ignore: the cloaking symbolism which is the most important element of wedding ceremonies in westeros, or the fact that sansa remembers a kiss between her and sandor that never happened, or that she sometimes likes to compare men around her with sandor as if he is the standard, or even that sandor is the person with whom sansa has some of her most emotionally charged interactions. as to sandor, well, we don't have access to his thoughts but we know that sansa has made a great impact in his life, she helped him come to the realization that he deserved dignity, that there were things worth fighting for in the world other than himself. in the arya chapters that he appears in asos it's quite clear how much sansa is often on his mind in the way that he's always talking about her. even his dying thoughts are about her so...

is sandor in love with sansa? not quite, yet. at least i think he hasn't rationalized his current feelings for her as "love" with a capital L. his memories of her are too riddled with guilt for him to think of anything beyond how much he failed her in king's landing. but the seeds have been planted. it's undeniable that his knowing her has shifted the course of his entire life, and i've said before that he had a sense of devotion to sansa that he never had for anyone else, not even joffrey. so considering all the mutual impact that sandor and sansa had on each other, and the romantic trope that their dynamic is meant to play into, all that's left for us is to wonder if the author plans on doing something with that. maybe they'll reunite and their relationship will fully develop into romantic love, maybe they never meet again and sansa will only have the memory of his protection and a kiss that never happened to hold on to. i guess we'll see.

#sandor clegane #sansan #my asks

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fromtheseventhhell · 3 months ago

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They're so twins-coded

#don't mind me y'all my childhood love for Hinata just came rushing back STRONG and I love connecting my favorite female characters #the gag is they actually have a lot of similarities when you think about it...#love my low self-esteem girls who feel like outcasts in their own families because they don't fulfill a role correctly 🫶🏾#(including a difficult relationship with a sister fostered by unfair comparisons)#Hinata standing up to Pain to protect Naruto...Arya standing up to Joffrey to protect Micah...it's all connected 😁#hell you could even compare hinata/naruto to arya/jon because they're all outcasts with mutual respect + support for the other #also funny that Hinata gets hate for being too /feminine/ and weak-willed while Arya gets hate for being too /masculine/ and strong-willed #cause female characters truly can't win and will get misogynistic hate that people love to justify regardless of how they're written #my girlies are really tethered! we love iconic female characters who make insecure losers upset!#now that I'm thinking about it Arya with the Byakugan + her canon skillset would actually eat so bad omg #I just know they'd get along well and be besties 🤭 they'd train together + help encourage each other...bring real sisterhood back!#born to be twins forced to exist in separate fictional universes 😔#Hinata being a side character will always gag me because her development is better than some of the characters with double her screentime #no wonder she became one of the most iconic/popular characters of the series...see what happens when you're that girl? 🤭

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horizon-verizon · 2 months ago

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Every year that passes, Dany/Jon feels like a relationship we’re told to believe in rather than one we could truly feel. I just don’t see it happening. I’m okay with the idea of them achieving a common goal and then going their separate ways, Dany prioritizing Essos and Jon focusing on the North/Beyond the North. That might be one of the bittersweet endings George has in mind. But I can’t even picture a meeting between them that feels genuine or meaningful. Most marriages or romantic relationships in ASoIaF aren’t exactly happy. Even the ones considered great loves, like Jaehaerys and Alysanne, Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones, or Naerys and Aemon, are steeped in dysfunction or tragedy, often coming at great personal or political cost. If that’s the standard, I’d honestly prefer Jon and Dany not to have a romantic relationship at all. Given how little emotional groundwork exists between them, it would just feel hollow. Jon/Dany feels even weaker when compared to Jon and Arya’s connection. Arya matters greatly to Jon, and he matters just as much to her. Their shared history, emotional bond, and mutual understanding make their future/possible reunion feel meaningful. Jon breaking vows for her, or Arya returning to Jon, feels earned because their connection has been present from the beginning. Even if it was foreshadowed, Dany/Jon feels distant or maybe even forced? For Dany, Jon is little more than an abstract idea, a potential ally or obstacle. For Jon, she’s even less. Add to that, there doesn’t seem to be a clear pattern with resurrections, except that people seem to come back with an obsession, so who knows what FrankenJon’s will be? It’s hard to imagine how their dynamic could develop into something believable, let alone romantic, especially when Jon’s interest in Dany seems tied more to her dragons and army than to her as a person. * maybe Baelon and Alyssa could be the exception? But she dies quite young

Most marriages or romantic relationships in ASoIaF aren’t exactly happy. Even the ones considered great loves, like Jaehaerys and Alysanne, Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones, or Naerys and Aemon, are steeped in dysfunction or tragedy, often coming at great personal or political cost. If that’s the standard, I’d honestly prefer Jon and Dany not to have a romantic relationship at all.

Ironically, these are the type of relationships (not Jae and Aly--I acknowlede they loved each other in a particular way, I just dislike Jae) I am most attracted to under the right circumstances & for te most part ASoIaF brings up tose "right" circumstances for me. Ironic bc I don't disagree with you when it comes to Dany. Precisely bc of te sort of story se has, wat sort of power/authority se's creating for herself or is capable of. And i also would be okay and kinda prefer a little they go their separate ways just to preserve Dany's trajectory.

#asoiaf asks to me #jonerys #asoiaf shipping #shipping #daenerys targaryen #daenerys stormborn #jon snow #asoiaf #agot

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vivacissimx · 2 years ago

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well anyway i don't see adwd!theon's time in winterfell as a reckoning to the tune of too late does this heedless villain see the error of his ways or any such narrative justice. personally i find it the most thematically interesting and, stay with me here, hopeful of theon's three "returns" i.e. his return to pyke, his acok return to winterfell, and finally the adwd return in question. this probably hinges on how of late i've grown more comfortable identifying winterfell as a decimated metropolis, yet a thriving necropolis—a place where the dead have been dead longer than the living have been living. without getting too much into that, i'll leave it with how siri hustvedt paraphrases lewis mumford: "people want to live close to the burial places of their ancestors, to whom they are drawn with mingled feelings of worship and dread, and that is how the city is born."

in acok, winterfell died when it was divested of starks (a symbolic death of winterfell as there are none left to inherit it) and burnt to the ground (a physical death). my point in all this is to say there is mutuality, a symbiosis that characterizes theon's third and final "return." he comes as reek, horrified to hell by ramsay and roose. theon's dehumanization has taken from him both a physical identity—his looks have changed so drastically that he is unrecognizable—and a metaphysical one—he is no longer afforded even the nominal identity of theon greyjoy. the reason i keep putting return in quotes, which i will now stop doing, is because obviously that's a myth. in reality, return occurs in the memory, and if memories contradict then returns cannot happen even there. theon cannot go back to a time prior to his torture. on pyke his family rejects him ("your blood and your heir." lord balon grunted. "we shall see."), in acok winterfell refuses any memory of him in lieu of classifying him as an invader (she gaped at him as if he were some stranger), and in adwd he remarks that winterfell is no longer "the castle he remembered from the summer of his youth." there are no homecomings.

however, a big thing that occurs in adwd is that we see both theon and winterfell being raised back to life. these two plots are connected or perhaps even the same. reek is forced to reclaim theon greyjoy in order to renew the stark claim via jeyne-as-arya. by doing this, by becoming theon, the stark return is recognized, and winterfell is revived. the proof is in the pudding: winterfell rapidly becomes a site of conflict thanks to it's value being restored. we see that jon is unwilling to renounce his vows in order to be named lord stark until the situation with ramsay and jeyne-as-arya comes to a head. elsewhere in the north, it's suddenly time to dust off those banners and rescue valiant ned's precious little girl. wyman manderly makes his way to winterfell only after sending davos on a quest to retrieve rickon stark. in each case, it requires a living stark to make winterfell any sort of prize.

back to theon. thanks to a nifty sidequest with barbrey, theon is also the one to find the entryway to the crypts, which represents a limb of sorts to the structure of winterfell. he is the one the heart tree speaks to. two bodies destroyed yet they know one another / know each other's names. what does the beating heart of winterfell say to him? "theon." what does he say back? "the old gods... know me." okay. self-recognition through the other. love it. love it so much in the face of that whole spiel tyrion once gave:

Tyrion had only the vaguest memory of Theon Greyjoy from his time with the Starks. A callow youth, always smiling, skilled with a bow; it was hard to imagine him as Lord of Winterfell. The Lord of Winterfell would always be a Stark.

He remembered their godswood; the tall sentinels armored in their grey-green needles, the great oaks, the hawthorn and ash and soldier pines, and at the center the heart tree standing like some pale giant frozen in time. He could almost smell the place, earthy and brooding, the smell of centuries, and he remembered how dark the wood had been even by day. That wood was Winterfell. It was the north. I never felt so out of place as I did when I walked there, so much an unwelcome intruder. He wondered if the Greyjoys would feel it too. The castle might well be theirs, but never that godswood.

so yes. i am contextualizing theon's final return as a rebirth, actually. worship and dread.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #theon greyjoy #winterfell #winterfell crypts #acok #adwd #text

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hwangspages · 1 month ago

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HIS SILENCE AGAINST HIS SHARP EDGES ˒˒ 황현진

❝ɪɴ ᴡʜɪcʜ 𓈓 hyunjin's life of a college student moonlighting as a dealer is nothing but sharp edges – fast deals, blurred lines of righteousness and danger around every corner. he has never much questioned the decisions that have defined him, but when his friend's quiet and soft-spoken sister comes seeking what he offers, everything changes. drawn to her calm presence yet desperate to keep her away from his world, hyunjin's life presents him with a choice. in silent understanding and stolen glances, their connection grows – but can someone like him ever offer her anything more than heartbreak and a joint to lessen the pain?

‎ᴘ ⸝⸝⸝ 스트레이 키즈 drug dealer! hwang hyunjin × arya raven ɢ ‎⸝⸝⸝ neutral, angst 𓂃⊹` ⋮ dark and mentally difficult themes ( insecurity, depression, anxiety, feeling like not being enough etc. ), drugs, mention of drug consumption, smoking, language, hyunjin is lovesick, mutual pining, feat. han jisung ( who is a menace, especially to hyunjin, i apologize ) ── .✦ ( 𝓂. list ) 𓂃✷⋆⸜ [ 16.3K ] ⋆˚࿔╰› 𝓅laylist ⸝⸝

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

❝THE USUAL TONIGHT @ 10?

hyunjin stares at the message, his phone hot in his hand. he blinks at the blaring light of the screen before typing up a quick reply consisting of sure. he sighs, throwing the phone on the couch among the mess encompassing crumpled hoodies, packets of weed and joints, and a bunch of papers with his scribbles in various stages of preservation and finalization, which has all accumulated there in the past week. he grabs the hoodie haphazardly lying on the backrest of the small sofa and throws it over his head.

one look at the clock ticking on the far wall tells him he still has a few minutes to spare, so hyunjin rolls one joint for himself. just to put his mind at ease, he tells himself. holding the rolled paper between his lips, he lights the end and breathes in, dragging the piney smoke into his lungs. he closes his eyes and rests his head against the front of the couch from where he's tumbled on the floor.

behind his closed eyelids, he sees the remnants of a small smile, which is then quickly replaced by hands running through silky dark waves. swearing under his breath, he quickly finishes his smoke and gets up, brushing off his jeans and banishing the visions and the sound of her voice from his head.

picking up one pack of weed and one pack of already rolled joints, he stuffs them both into the big pocket of his hoodie and, tucking his phone into his jeans back pocket, heads out.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

firing a message to jisung to let him know he's at his front door, hyunjin lets out a breath and tries to act as normal as is possible for a college student. with his hands in his pockets, the hood over his shaved head and his body rocking on the balls of his feet in the cold night air, he hardly looks like someone out of the ordinary in this neighborhood.

after a few moments, hyunjin checks his phone for a response. he furrows his eyebrows when there's none. pocketing his phone again, he muses whether he should knock or wait a few moments longer. just when he made his decision and lifted his hand against the wood, the door swings open. hyunjin's breath whooshes out of him and he freezes on the spot. his friend's sister stands in front of him in nothing but an oversized graphic t-shirt and thin shorts, her hair perfectly tousled over her shoulders in lazy waves.

❝hi.❞ arya's voice is raspy, as if she has just woken up from a nap. hyunjin blinks and, her hair has grown longer since the last time he saw her. for a single moment, he wonders if there is someone that ran their hands through the waves while she took that nap. shaking those thoughts out of his mind, he clears his throat. ❝your—your brother called me over...❞

hyunjin feels his cheeks heat, and suddenly he's glad for the darkness and the cold temperature of the autumn night. a delicious shiver runs down his spine when arya softly pulls at her bottom lip with her teeth.

❝i know,❞ she starts, jutting her chin out, ❝he asked me to get it for him.❞

involuntarily, hyunjin huffs out a laugh. jisung would never let his little sister get weed for him. hell, he would never have told her he was smoking weed if arya had not walked in on them sitting in the midst of their smoke and sporting joints in their mouths. those months ago and with his mind delightfully numb from the drug, that was the first time hyunjin met his friend's sister ( something jisung has been adamant about not happening because of the.. nature of hyunjin's business ) and even through the haze, he saw her as clearly as if she were an angel standing in front of him. even now he remembers the dark oversized t-shirt and light grey washed jeans she wore and how wildly his heart was beating against his ribcage.

with a smile playing on his lips, hyunjin's voice is a little shaky when he replies: ❝no, he didn't.❞

arya takes a sharp breath, her nostrils flaring and bottom lip deliciously jutting out. she raises her eyebrows at him. ❝how would you know?❞

❝i know because, if everything went according to your brother's plan, the two of us would never have even met.❞ as much as it pains hyunjin to say it, it is the truth.

arya sighs and lightly, almost inperceptibly, slumps against the door in defeat. her hand curls around the bottom hem of her shorts and hyunjin suddenly has the urge to take off his hoodie and cover her bare legs with it. he resists the impulse.

❝fine,❞ she states, crossing her arms over her chest, ❝he didn't.❞

hyunjin cocks his head to the side, his hood slipping from over his forehead and uncovering a patch of his shaved head. arya's eyes travel to it before settling back on his eyes and he can't help but feel bare under her gaze.

a bang suddenly echoes from the house, followed by what hyunjin recognizes as jisung's voice: ❝arya? who are you talking to?❞

❝shit.❞ hyunjin has a second to watch her velvety hair moving as she whips her head toward the dimly-lit staircase behind her before she shuts the door in his face. he stands there for a second, rooted in plae. reeling from what happened and trying... and failing to navigate his heart from his stomach back to where it belongs.

he wonders if she'll open the door again and if she'll grant him another glimpse of her lustrous eyes or rosy cheeks. could she have texted his from her brother's phone? if so, why? does she want to see him? why?

hyunjin's heart gallops in his chest. he swipes his sweaty palms down the front of his jeans and settles on the porch, turning his back toward the door. the packs in his pocket rustle with the movement, and hyunjin becomes hyperaware of the situation. he pulls the hood further over his eyes.

suddenly, the door opens again, but hyunjin refuses to turn around and come face to face with a furious jisung. instinctivelly, he hides further into the comfort of his hoodie.

the pair of bare legs that come into view in his periphery, however, do not belong to jisung. arya plops down next to him, far closer than hyunjin's heart finds acceptable. hardly calmed, it once again begins pounding against his ribcage in a wild rhythm. this close, he catches the vanilla scent of her fragrance and his mind spins with it.

❝do you have it?❞ she speaks after a few moments of silence without looking at him. and suddenly, hyunjin understands. his throat closes when his delirious fantasy that maybe, just maybe, she wanted to see him, is replaced by the eye-opening realization.

he looks at her then, and her profile briefly catches him off-guard before he gets his bearings. ❝i—absolutely not.❞

❝what? why?❞ she turns to look him in the eye, momentarily stunning him. if it was anything else she would be asking of him, he would be incapable of saying no to her. he shifts, slightly turning his body in her direction and taking a deep breath despite her caramel eyes studying him.

❝i'm not selling weed to you, arya.❞

❝why not?❞ she asks again, her eyes searching his face, ❝it's what you do.❞

hyunjin curses under his breath. of course that's what he does.

a gust of wind ruffles her hair and he sees goosebumps raise on her bare arms. he doesn't dare look at her legs and again disregards his urge to wrap her in a warm blanket. ❝yes, but—❞

❝i'll pay you.❞

❝it's not about that.❞

❝hyunjin, please..❞ his stomach flips at the syllables in the form of his name coming out of her mouth.

shit.

the way she says his name.

hyunjin has only ever heard her say his name thrice, but he would give anything to hear her say it again and again until he's sick of it.

he runs his hand under the hood on his head out of habit. and curses internally when he remembers he chopped all his hair off and no longer needs to push it back from his face. he drops the hand on his knee and drags his gaze back to her. he finds her already looking at him with something dangerous that resembles desperation glittering in her eyes.

❝why?❞ it's her turn to look away. she drops her head and fiddles with her fingers in her lap. her hair falls off her shoulder and obscures hyunjin's view of her face. as much as he adores her shiny waves, in this moment he would much rather toss them to the side.

❝i—❞ she starts, but shakes her head, ❝it's complicated.❞

he waits for her to say more, but she doesn't. ❝whatever it is, arya, i'm sure it can be solved without... well, my assistance.❞

❝you don't understand.❞ she says quietly. so quietly hyunjin almost doesn't hear her. but the wind diligently carries her soft voice to his ear, as if it knew how much he cherishes the sound.

no. he doesn't understand because he doesn't know. what she's experiencing is happening in an area of her life he's not privy to.

but in his own way, he does understand. the desperation to escape from it, the choices it pushes one to make. he understands that, and he wishes he didn't.

they sit on the cold porch for a few moments without either of them saying anything. the cool night fills the silence with leaves rustling and crickets chirping. arya turns back to him when another burst of cold wind rattles her bones. he's sure she's barely keeping her teeth from chattering now.

❝so you won't sell me anything?❞

❝no.❞ his voice projects the confidence he doesn't feel.

she just her chin defiantly again, and hyunjin has a second to worry what she'll say next before it's out of her mouth, ❝i'll buy it from someone else then. bet they'll be more forthcoming.❞

his eyes widen, but he sees it in her stare, the determination. she won't back off.

❝shit.❞ he curses, knowing very well other dealers would trip over themselves to sell her anything, especially when she shows up to the deal looking like this. and damn him if he ever let that happen. he may not be the nicest person, but he refuses to let her wander into such dark corners of the city looking to light a joint.

❝shit, arya.❞ he curses again. at her, at himself. at the situation. shaking his head, hyunjin pulls out the pack with ten rolled joints from his pocket. arya's lips part slightly when she realizes she's got him cornered, and she rushes to take her money out of her shorts. fighting another shiver, she thrusts it at him with shaking fingers and stares at him expectantly. her eyes follow his hand when he tucks the cash into his pocket, maybe expecting him to count it first. he doesn't.

❝you have to promise me first,❞ she nods, locking her eyes on his. hyunjin stumbles over his thoughts for a moment, ❝that after i give you this, you won't search for anyone else.❞

❝i promise.❞ she agrees without a moment's hesitation. still unsure of his decision, hyunjin hands her the pack. her fingers brush against his when she gingerly takes it into her hands, and hyunjin feels electricity zap through his veins. he takes the time in which arya stuffs the pack into her shorts to collect himself.

he shoves his hands into his hoodie pocket and clears his throat, ❝if your brother finds out about this, he'll strangle me.❞

❝i won't tell him, i swear.❞ when she looks at him again, now with a small smile tugging at her lips, he sees her nose and cheeks are pink from the cold. his fingers twitch in his hoodie, so he occupies them by clutching the other pack he still has stuffed inside. ❝thank you, hyunjin.❞ she says his name in that soft voice of hers again, and hyunjin's heart skips a beat again.

smiling, she stands up from the porch and rushes back inside, leaving hyunjin at war with himself, pondering whether he has made a good decision. anyhow, it would irrevocably destroy the friendship with jisung were he to find out what he just did. but he reassures himself again, maybe uselessly, that arya would be in a much greater danger has he not given in to her request.

he looks behind his back and only now notices the ridiculous reindeer slippers she wore, tucked to the side of the small welcome! mat in front of the threshold.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

the skatepark slowly quietens as the night approaches. more and more skaters head toward the warmth of their homes, leaving the area almost deserted. hyunjin sits at the edge of the ramp, sketchbook in one hand, pencil in the other, and hums a tone to himself. a lit cigarette rests next to him, barely smoked.

he focuses on the stokes he makes on paper, each one deliberate yet somehow coming together to form a messy portrait. the third one of the day as hyunjin desperately tries to materialize his thoughts that always seem to revolve around the same person in these past few days. and they're always accompanied by a pang of guilt, which he does his hardest to ignore.

as if in trance, he perfectly shapes the long wild waves around the caramel eyes that seem to follow him every time he closes his eyes. he knows he will never be able to accurately replicate the arcane look in them, but he tries to, if only to calm his churning mind.

❝i didn't think i'd find you here.❞ her voice tugs him out of focus. for a moment, hyunjin thinks he might have imagined it, but then he looks up and there she stands in front of him, wearing a loose-fitting leather jacket over another oversized t-shirt with black ripped jeans. stupidly, he blinks at the vision. but she doesn't disappear like visions do.

he doesn't say anything, too taken-aback to formulate a response, and arya adds, ❝thought you'd be somewhere.. darker.❞

she watches him quietly clear his throat. ❝somewhere darker? what, like a drug den?❞

❝not what i meant..❞ she subtly shakes her head and hyunjin's insides warm when he sees the ghost of a smile tugging at her mouth. tentatively, she sits down next to him on the ramp, keeping enough distance between them. as if she knew what her presence does to his poor heart. ❝you just... don't seem like a skatepark type of guy.❞

❝guess not every dealer likes hanging out at dens.❞ he chuckles and arya places her hands in her lap. quiet falls on them like a blanket when she doesn't respond.

❝what are you doing out this late, anyway?❞

instead of replying, she rummages in the pocket of her jacket. after what feels like minutes, she finally pulls out a familiar-looking pack. gingerly, she places it on the ramp between them, right next to hyunjin's unfinished cigarette. ❝returning something i don't need.❞

hyunjin stares at the pack, dumbfounded. doing a quick count, he confirms for himself that all ten joints sit untouched in the plastic bag. when he looks up, he finds her already looking at him.

❝you didn't...❞

❝no, i didn't.❞

for a moment, he's unable to find words. he breathes out a sigh. the relief that takes over all his senses feels overwhelming, but he refuses to show it. instead, he thinks back to what she said and slightly furrows his brows. ❝why buy it, then?❞

❝impulse. stupidity. desperation. i don't know.❞ arya shrugs and averts her gaze, ❝guess i wanted to feel something.❞

❝yeah. i get that, i guess.❞

❝do you?❞ she turns to him again, her eyes burning into his like molten copper. ❝is that why you sell it?❞

❝i sell it because it's easy. because it pays the bills and college, and because...❞ hyunjin trails off, fumbling with his words. with whether to say them or not. he takes a moment to think if it's a good idea to say them before he actually says them, ❝because sometimes it feels like the only thing i'm good at.❞

arya tilts her head, studying him. the quiet is deafening to hyunjin's ears before she breaks it with a simple: ❝that's bullshit.❞

❝is it?❞ he snorts, but it's absent of humor.

she notably gestures at the sketchbook still resting opened on his thighs. ❝to me, it doesn't seem like that's the only thing you're good at.❞

he glances down at the half-finished sketch, suddenly self-conscious and wishing he would have just closed the damned notebook right at the start of their conversation instead of admiring her overall complexion. could she recognize her own face staring at her from the page? if so, arya doesn't comment on it and hyunjin decides to carry on as smoothly as possible.

❝drawing's just... something i do. it doesn't mean anything. it's not...❞ he trails off, playing with the rings on his fingers.

❝it means something if it's yours.❞ arya mutters as she leans closer to see the sketch. hyunjin panics. partially because she'll think him a creep if she recognizes herself in the sketch, which is very possible with how intently she's staring at it, and partially because of their sudden proximity that lets him know she's wearing the same vanilla perfume she was wearing that night a few days ago.

taking a deep breath that only drags her alluring scent further down his throat, hyunjin focuses back on the conversation. ❝it doesn't pay the bills, though.❞arya looks like she wants to say something, but he continues, suddenly desperate to get those words out. ❝sometimes i wonder what the hell i'm even doing. like... how i got here. and why. i had so many chances to be normal and i screwed every single one of them.❞

❝normal's overrated.❞ she replies after a beat.

hyunjin scoffs, ❝says who?❞

❝me. you don't have to be normal to be worth something. or to be enough.❞ arya says, and her eyes hold an emotion hyunjin feels too cowardly to decipher.

❝you think i'm enough?❞ without hesitation, she nods, her silky hair bobbing with the motion, and he stares at her, caught off guard. ❝you don't even know me.❞

if hyunjin's words affect her, she doesn't show it. instead, she seems to brush them off like all of his previous concerns and excuses as she shrugs again, ❝maybe not. but i know what it's like to feel like you're not enough. and i know that it's not true, even if it feels like it.❞

arya's gaze briefly falls on hyunjin's lips before returning to his eyes again. she bites her bottom lip, much like she did those few nights ago, and now it's hyunjin's eyes that follow the action.

❝why are you here, arya? really?❞

❝well, i came to return what i shouldn't have taken from you in the first place,❞ she starts, ❝but now i'm here because i think you need someone to remind you that you're more than this.❞ she gestures at the plastic bag and the cigarette laying between them.

❝and what if i don't want to be more? can't be more?❞

❝then i guess you stay here and feel sorry for yourself and what could've been. but that'd be a damn shame.❞ arya stands up and brushes her palms down her legs, dusting off her jeans. hyunjin watches her take a step away from him. and then another. and then he decides he doesn't want her to go.

❝i wanted to be an artist once...❞ he calls after her. his voice is soft and almost desperate and he hates it. but it makes her pause. she stops in her tracks but doesn't turn around to watch him, for which he's glad. ❝i wanted to put my thoughts on paper, paint my emotions, make something that mattered. that's why i went to college..❞ he pauses, voice lowering, ❝but now.. now i don't know who i am anymore.❞

at last, arya twists to look at him, watching his slumped form still sitting on the ramp. her face softens and hyunjin wonders if she'd put him together if he breaks in front of her.

❝it's still not too late to be that person, hyunjin.❞ her voice is like a gentle caress down his spine.

he laughs quietly, the sound bitter and harsh in the night's silence. ❝what if it is? what if i've already thrown it all away?❞

❝then pick it back up. no one's gonna do it for you, but that doesn't mean you can't do it for yourself.❞

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

even though rain in autumn is common, it still takes hyunjin by surprise. the sky has been a little overcast during the day but there was no indication of a storm. it came suddenly and in heavy sheets, drenching the pavement and blurring the streetlights into hazy golden orbs in a matter of minutes.

hyunjin shoves his hands deeper into his jacket pockets, his sketchbook tucked awkwardly under one arm beneath the jacket. a shiver runs down his spine at the cold drops falling onto his shaved head. spotting a bus stop, he rushes towards it in hopes to wait out the storm before heading back into the suffocating silence of his apartment.

he ducks into the protection of the bus stop, cursing when he takes a look at his absolutely drenched and dirty shoes. but as he gazes up, his breath catches in his throat when he spots her. arya is already looking at him from her seat on the bench, a notebook balanced in her lap, raindrops glistening in her dark hair like tiny diamonds. she smiles at him and her eyes sparkle. ❝and we meet again.❞

he suddenly remembers the bright smile that split her face as she enthusiastically waved at him from a café shop a few days ago, making her friends turn his way. and he remembers how he froze on the street mid-step, stunned that she chose to acknowledge him in public. hyunjin kept his wide eyes on her even as her smile fell and she slowly dropped her hand.

even those he makes deals with choose to act like they don't know him outside of their business, and it doesn't surprise him. his reputation might precede him, even when he doesn't want it to. and that's all right. he can deal with what he's already used to. it's finding himself in situations like these makes him fumble.

even though he could not fathom for the life of him the motive behind her kind gesture, he gave her a small wave back. and just like that, he returned the smile on her face like a magician. and he would be no liar if he said a chamber in his heart lighted up from the brightness of her warm expression.

before hyunjin can stop it, he lets out a quiet chuckle and wipes the rain from his face. ❝that we do.❞

suddenly, her words during their last encounter echo in his head.

it's not too late to be that person, hyunjin.

oh how badly he wants to be that person, a better self, if just for her. instead of telling her so, however, he gestures towards her notebook.

❝you... bring that thing everywhere with you, too?❞ when she looks up, he points at his own sketchbook tucked under his arm. she laughs quietly and returns her gaze to the page.

❝it's a habit, i guess. thoughts come and go. if i don't write them down, i'm afraid i'll lose them.❞

hyunjin ponders that for a minute, leaning against the side of the bus stop. he startles when a raindrop splatters on his forehead and decides to head further under the roof. ❝sound exhausting. having so many thoughts.❞ he says, wiping at his forehead with a damp sleeve, smearing the water all over his face.

❝maybe. but it's worse not to feel anything at all. at least my thoughts keep me company.❞ she looks at him again, and hyunjin awkwardly lets his arm drop. she gestures to his sketchbook, ❝what about you? what do you draw all the time?❞

instinctively, he closes his jacket around the book but his hands let go of the lapels when he tells himself it's just arya. the same arya who has seen one of his most secret drawings of herself and didn't judge him. ❝nothing, really. just lines, shapes... faces. it doesn't mean anything. just keeps my hands busy.❞ catching a breath, he turns back to the street. the rain has eased up a fraction already and it's not lashing down like there's no tomorrow anymore. ❝this view would make a beautiful cityscape.❞

❝you should paint it.❞ he turns to see arya not taking her eyes of her notebook, as if she has mumbled the words under her breath despite maybe not wanting to. even then, he feels as if she's watching him, waiting for him to reply with bated breath.

❝i don't... i'm not that good.❞ hyunjin stammers, then hesitates. he gestures vaguely, partly at himself, partly at the whole world. ❝besides, who would care about what little i have to say on canvas?❞

❝i would.❞ she has paused her scribbling and is now studying him. hyunjin's eyes widen and he startles back a step, but arya continues softly, as if speaking to a spooked animal, ❝i think you have more to say than you give yourself credit for.❞

he runs a hand over his shaved hair. instead of replying, he huffs a sigh. desperate to change topic, he focuses on her notebook again, ❝what are you writing?❞

❝just... thoughts about the rain, mostly.❞ she closes it gently, giving him a secretive smile.

❝thoughts about the rain? really?❞ hyunjin raises a brow and if he didn't know himself, he would say he threw her a teasing glance. but he does, and he knows it's his attempt to keep his cool and pretend to be casual when he feels anything but. his heart is beating in his ears and the butterflies in his stomach are throwing a party.

❝yeah. it makes me think of new beginnings. as in... the rain washes everything clean so it can start over.❞ she shrugs, and pins her gaze on him again. ❝do you ever wish you could start over, hyunjin?❞

❝all the time.❞ he says it quietly, before he can stop himself. unable to take it back, he clears his throat instead and changes the subject again, pointing a finger at her journal, voice lighter, ❝can i see?❞

arya leans back in her seat, resting against the glass of the bus stop. without a word, she hands him the book and hyunjin gingerly takes it in his hands, secretly grateful and amazed at how easily she lets him have possibly her most prized possession. he has a second to wonder about the fact that he has maybe, somehow, earned her trust, before he banishes the thought out of his head.

too complicated. he'll work on the tangle of his emotions and the screams of his thoughts later in the suffocating silence of his messy apartment.

when his fingers brush against hers, he swears he hears arya let out the barest gasp before it's drowned out by the rain.

as gently as he can, hyunjin opens the notebook and is greeted by pages and pages of verses and paragraphs. the first thing he notices, however, is her breathtaking handwriting. she only laughs when he tells her as much, and hyunjin's toes twitch in his soaked shoes at the calming sound. he scans the most recent page and the words she jotted down.

the rain is very calming. even though it's pouring and freezing, i'd still like to stand under it and get drenched. but maybe i'll leave that for summer when it's actually enjoyable. until then, i'll be happy with the smell of fresh beginnings.

❝it's stupid, really. some stuff that i've written... but i try to capture the beauty of the moment and my feelings. they say it's good... when you do that.❞

❝no, it's really good.❞ he shakes his head, thumbing through the filled pages. when he gazes up at her, the look in her eyes disarms him. leaning close, she's looking at him as if she's seeing him for the first time, expecting his reactions. does he look like that each time she gives hope to his dreams and silences the raging storm of his mind? ❝you're really good.❞

she drops her gaze, and hyunjin watches peachy color spread across her cheeks. his lips part and his hands tighten around the journal, as if they wanted to reach out and cup her face in his palms on their own. he lets out a shaky exhale.

suddenly, hyunjin gets the urge leave a trace of himself in her work. taking out his pencil and intentionally ignoring arya's curious eyes back on him, he decides to doodle a small rose in the margins. it's shaky and unbalanced, the lines criss-crossing one another at weird angles, but it's spontaneous, and hyunjin worries his burst of confidence will disappear as soon as it came if he takes time sculpting each petal perfectly. adding finishing touches to his messy drawing, he wonders if she'll be reminded of him each time she opens the notebook on this page. will she trace her fingers over the pencil strokes as her pulse quickens, or will she erase it, whether to have more space to write or just to forget this encounter? forget him?

pocketing his pencil, hyunjin hands her the book, ❝now you'll need to write something about roses in there.❞ arya's gaze switches from the page to him, then to the page again. she doesn't respond, but he takes the small smile lighting her face as a good sign. will she write something about him? would she even mention someone like him on a page full of her tender emotions and memories?

all at once, reality crashes over hyunjin like a sharp and merciless boulder, splitting him open. it's a brutal reminder of the two different worlds they come from. him — sharp-edged and frayed, surviving in the shadows just to make it through another day. and her — soft-spoken and kind-hearted, yearning to bask in the light he's always avoided and thriving in it despite the odds. yet somehow, she ignites a spark within him — a faint, stubborn flicker of the person he once dreamed of becoming, long before the world forced him to surrender to its harsh truths.

but that spark, no matter how warm or persistent, is fleeting. it can never survive in the cold, suffocating dark when he resides.

her world doesn't have space for someone like him — someone who has made his home in the cracks and shadows, who has learned to become numb just to survive. she shines too brightly, and despite his heart telling him otherwise, he knows better than to pull her into the darkness with him and dim her light. the truth is that arya deserves someone who can meet her light with a light of their own, and there is no version of reality where someone like him could ever be deserving of someone like her.

the thought wraps around his mind, cold and suffocating, sinking deeper with every passing second. even if he wanted to change, to be better, what would it matter? the filth of all his previous decisions is already carved into his soul like scars that no amount of time could erase.

every moment hyunjin spends around her feels like both a blessing and a curse. her softness chips away at his carefully constructed walls, leaving him raw and exposed. her kindness only makes him feel the depth of what he's not — and what he could never be.

the best thing he can do for her, he realizes with a sharp intake of breath, is leave. pull away before he does any more harm and his darkness seeps into her life, tainting it.

he doesn't belong in her world, and she doesn't belong in his.

even if part of him selfishly wants to stay and savor the quiet presence of her silence, he knows it's not right. yet, there's a sharp ache in his chest when he stands up from the bench and wordlessly steps back under the relentless rain. a small, desperate part of him wants to cling to her words and the fleeting moments they've shared — the way her voice soothes his frayed nerves or the way her presence feels like a brief reprieve from the chaos of the mess he's gotten himself into, even though she makes color raise to his cheeks and panic grip his heart in a vice grip.

hyunjin desperately wants to believe in her encouragement as much as she believes in him. but, deep inside, a part of him knows that no matter how hard he tries, he'll never be good enough for her and he has to let go before she pulls him closer and becomes more than just a quiet light, a beacon in the foggy distance.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

despite his efforts to stay on his own side of the world, hyunjin still keeps seeing arya. maybe he's just become more attuned to her presence and notices her where he hasn't before, even though she was there then, too. or maybe it's some cruel joke of the heavens to play with him and not give his aching heart any reprieve, as if the universe was deliberately making fun of him. mocking him for his lack of courage.

he sees her in the mornings when she's waiting for a bus to university, her cheeks and nose colored from the brisk cold of the autumn weather and her hands stuffed in the pockets of her oversized leather jacket in an attempt to keep them warm. he watches her converse with her friends, smiling and laughing and animatedly explaining herself to them. and he watches as she bounces on the heels of her feet, impatiently waiting for the bus and the warmth it brings with itself.

she doesn't notice him once, though. hyunjin watches her from around the corner of the street, briefly thinking himself some kind of a creep, before her bus arrives, she and her friends get in and he can walk down the empty road.

he also sees her in café shops, in university halls, in parks, in his dreams. however much he tries, she doesn't leave him alone. as much as it tortures hyunjin, he's also grateful for it. her presence, even if it's just in his head, makes the space around him feel calmer and less suffocating. the voices in his head naming his every failure quieten, as if scared of her tender but firm character.

however much he complains about the visions, he cannot doubt that her echoing presence in his head has brought him some semblance of clarity. it has got some elements in his life make sense.

but it has also returned that dim spark into his heart, whispering in his ears about dreams, and he hates it. he hates how often he's replaying her words over and over, dissecting them like a surgeon and musing over them like a philosopher while lying in awake bed, unable to sleep. he hates how many times a day he's considering quitting everything and just starting over, giving himself a chance at new life.

and most of all, he hates how scared he is. scared that, even if he rekindles his passion and determination to make his dreams come true, it could never work. scared that he can never get himself out of his side of the world. scared that he's not strong enough, not smart enough, not quick enough. just not enough.

he thinks about that even as he's walking down the street on market day, weaving between people that stop and stare at every stall. for a brief moment, hyunjin wishes he had their fascination of small, every-day-life delights and occurrences.

with his hands in his pockets, he deftly sidesteps an older couple that abruptly stops to gawk at an exposition of pale ceramic mugs, the wife tugging her husband closer by the crook of his arm.

❝hyunjin! hi!❞ the voice stops him dead in his tracks and he does a double take, sure he's just imagining her sweet voice calling out to him in the middle of the market's buzz. but no, he sees her next to a stall with books, waving at him with her beautiful smile. she has a book in one hand, which she places on the table and steps out into the street.

faster than his brain can comprehend, his feet react, taking him in her direction. with just four big strides he's facing her, staring into her mesmerizing caramel eyes framed by long, thick lashes.

❝hi!❞ she moves to embrace him, wrapping her arms around his middle. hyunjin freezes. a waft of her vanilla perfume reaches his nose, and he gulps down a mouthful of air. he gathers his courage to hug her back but she's already pulling away before he can do so.

❝i didn't think in a million years i'd see you here.❞ she says as she takes the book she previously placed on the table and puts it neatly onto one of the stacks. ❝looking for art supplies?❞

he blinks at her and shrugs. ❝no. just... passing through.❞

❝sure you are.❞ she gives him a cheeky smile, as if they now share an unspoken secret. ❝let me guess, you don't read either?❞

❝what gave it away?❞

she smiles, a small tug of the corners of her lips upward, and walks back to the threshold of the shop. there she kneels in front of several boxes of more books and rummages through one of them. it takes her a while, but she finally finds the one she's been looking for and gets up with a satisfied huff.

❝here.❞ she thrusts the book at his chest. ❝start with this. i promise it's not scary.❞

hyunjin glances down at the book title. the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde. yeah, definitely not scary. he scratches the back of his head, but takes the book from her hand anyway, albeit reluctantly and after arya's reassurance that oscar wilde nor dorian gray do not, in fact, bite.

❝you really think a guy like me has time for this? for... books?❞

she grins wider. ❝you should make time. everyone deserves a break from reality every once in a while.❞

he's about to protest further, but he notices a figure behind arya. out of the shop steps her brother, his friend and client. jisung. once he notices hyunjin, he sidesteps arya to stand next to her and his eyes darken, even though he dips his head in greeting. hyunjin does the same, and jisung notices the book in his hands. he glances between his sister and him and puts a protective arm over her shoulders.

❝whatcha doin' here, mate?❞ his words are harmless, but they carry a sharp edge he's not sure anyone except him would notice. not even his sister. hyunjin repeats what he told arya a few moments ago, and jisung takes a moment to study him.

right as he's about to say something more to him, though, an older man steps through the threshold of the shop and onto the street. both siblings turn to face him and hyunjin lowers his head in greeting.

❝arya, darling, won't you help me with those boxes? they won't stack themselves up.❞

❝sure, pops.❞

with arya going back to those boxes and hauling multiple books out at once to bring them over to the table, jisung now openly shoots hyunjin a glare. he walks up to him and puts an arm over his shoulder, much like he did moments ago with his sister. however, his grip is stronger as he grabs the back of hyunjin's neck and halfway hauls him to the side.

❝why are you here?❞

hyunjin clenches his jaw. ❝relax, dude. i'm not causing trouble.❞

jisung exhales and meets hyunjin's gaze. there's something wildly assertive in his eyes that makes hyunjin's throat close up. ❝i'm serious, hyunjin. stay away from her. she doesn't need someone like you messing up her life.❞

for hers and his own sake, hyunjin refrains from telling him about the time she bought drugs from him. and even if she didn't use them, she felt the need for them in one moment. he might not belong into her world, but there's something that also doesn't belong in it and has forced its way in either way.

sooner than hyunjin can come up with a reply, arya's there, glaring at her brother from behind his back. gently but firmly, she pries his arm off hyunjin's shoulders. ❝he's not messing anything up. i waved him over and struck up a conversation. let it go, okay?❞

reluctantly, jisung steps back but his eyes never leave hyunjin.

❝i'm sorry about him.❞ arya's eyes are apologetic as she shoos her brother in the way of the table with displayed books. there's now a customer picking through them, probably looking for a specific title he has in mind.

❝would you like to stay for a while? i can make you a coffee or tea, whichever you'd like. i'm sure grandpa would also like to meet you.❞

hyunjin's heart thuds in his chest at her expectant gaze. he wets his lips with his tongue, and arya's eyes follow the action before settling back on his eyes. it takes no more than a second, but hyunjin is alarmingly aware of it.

❝i...❞ he clears his throat, glancing behind her and receiving another nasty glare from jisung. ❝i think i should go. sorry.❞

he quickly turns away and walks down the street with the picture of dorian gray in his hands, before he can see her beautiful face crumble and the pleasant sparkle in her eyes dim.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

the library is quiet except for the turning of pages as hyunjin focuses on his sketch. it was already late evening when he came in, hoping the room would be almost empty and no one would witness him giving his dreams a chance, and probably failing spectacularly at it.

for the past two weeks, arya's words have been echoing in hyunjin's head over and over again, her gentle but firm voice repeating those encouraging words in his mind like a mantra.

it's still not too late to be that person, hyunjin.

who would care about what i have to say on canvas? i would.

i think you have more to say than you give yourself credit for.

do you ever wish you could start over, hyunjin? all the time.

before he could think better of it, he grabbed his sketchbook with a pencil from his overflowing nightstand and made his way to the campus library, sitting in the far corner of the room to be as unnoticeable as possible.

he doesn't know if it's just his attempt at trying to prove himself and arya wrong, that he could never be who he once wished to be, or whether it's his attempt to start over and give the possibility of change a chance.

these thoughts come and go as he draws, but hyunjin refuses to delve further into them and look for answers. his other thoughts are already too burdensome to even pay attention to, and tonight he just wants to unwind and feel like the person he could have become had he only a little more courage and a stronger voice.

that is, at least, until someone quietly rumbles a cart full of books down his aisle and stands on their tiptoes to reach the highest shelf. instinctively, hyunjin looks up from his sketch, and his heart jumps in his throat.

arya is reaching for a book sitting on the top shelf, her whole body stretched as much as it would go until she finally gets a good grasp on the book and tugs it down. hyunjin's face heats when he notices the patch of pale skin peeking from her clothing, her side exposed from when she raised her arm. she tugs her top down to cover it as soon as she places the book into the cart. hyunjin breathes out, lowering his head back into his sketchbook as he wishes for her to quickly move on to the next aisle.

but to his dismay, she rummages in the cart and starts pulling out books and placing them on individual shelves. hyunjin's heart rate speeds up as he feels her presence drawing near. if she noticed him, she doesn't show it. hyunjin keeps his head down, hoping to keep it that way.

he himself hardly understands his actions when it comes to arya. as much as he would love spending time with her under any other circumstances, he desperately wishes to avoid her in this lifetime where he has nothing to offer her except another rolled joint.

the fact is, however, that as much as she makes him nervous, gets his palms sweaty and brings color to his cheeks and ears, she also calms him like no one else. she doesn't have to crack her flimsy jokes, throw little teasing comments at him or give him words of reassurance; just her being the way she is gives his unceasing thoughts a brief pause.

hyunjin's heart hammers as he unwillingly realizes what should have been painstakingly obvious weeks ago. as much as he hates to admit it and wishes to use terms like casual infatuation or unreasonable obsession to diagnose himself, he knows they're not the right terms to label what he feels.

because slowly but surely, he's falling in love with her.

with each passing day, the feeling becomes more and more suffocating and his desire to see her and draw out one of her lively laughs or at least coax out one of her disarming smiles wars with his instinct to stay away from her for both of their sakes.

but, as is becoming more and more habitual for him, he stomps down on the thought with all his might in a feeble attempt to prevent it from spreading and growing. instead, he focuses back on the opened sketchbook and the unfinished drawing staring back at him. gripping his pencil tighter in his hand, hyunjin resumes outlining the figure and her thick hair flowing freely down her back, not forgetting adding small details he already knows by heart. like a mischievous sparkle in each eye. or the slight curve of her lips in a cheeky smile.

occasionally, he can't help but glance up and lock his eyes on arya. he tells himself it's for inspiration, and to make sure she's not toppling down with an entire bookshelf. which could be entirely possible, judging by how often she needs to stand on her tip toes to reach the upper shelves.

he studies the gleam of her beautiful dark hair in the dim light of the library and tries to render it into his sketch as best as he can. maybe if he gets every detail of hers perfectly onto paper, his confusing feelings might pour out onto it as well, leaving him hollow once again. and then he would be back to where he's been used to find himself comfortable for years.

❝you've been staring at me for the past twenty minutes. should i start charging you for inspiration?❞ arya speaks without turning around, sliding a book onto the shelf. her voice is light and carries the thread of teasing. she pulls another book from her cart and places it on the shelf.

for a moment, hyunjin startles, his pencil freezing mid-stroke. ❝i— i wasn't—❞ he stammers, cheeks flushing as his wide eyes land on her. he quickly lowers his gaze to the sketchpad in an attempt to regain his focus, but his hand tightens on the pencil.

arya turns around at last and leans against the bookshelf with a small cheeky smirk. ❝relax, picasso. i'm kidding.❞ she crosses her arms against her chest, her curious eyes watching him. in them he also finds a hint of a challenge, as if she's daring him to respond.

❝i wasn't staring.❞ hyunjin mumbles and pointedly looks down at his drawing, but his voice betrays him — it's soft, unsure, and the words are barely audible.

her grin is still in place as she steps closer. ❝if you say so. but whatever you're drawing must be pretty interesting if it's having your eyes flicking up and down so much. ❞ arya says playfully. she leans in then, trying to get a peek at his sketchbook over his shoulder, but he closes it with a snap and instinctively angles it away from her.

however, she's not deterred. she pushes on teasingly, but not unkindly. ❝c'mon, what are you working on? is it a masterpiece? if so, i want to be credited. imagine my name on the label next to your art. woah.❞ she gestures wildly with her hands while talking, and hyunjin feels a flicker of amusement at her exaggerated antics.

❝it's nothing. just... practice.❞ he shakes his head, fingers tightly gripping the edge of the sketchbook.

❝practice, huh? can i see?❞ she takes another step closer and now she's standing directly next to him, and hyunjin freezes. from this close, he scents the sweet aroma of her vanilla perfume again. it spins around him, his head spinning with it.

he panics and his eyes flicker over the library. the lighting in the room is dim, the only glow coming from the few lamps that the remaining students have turned on.

❝it's not finished.❞ he squirms in his seat nervously, ears unceremoniously red.

arya studies him softly, tilting her head. seeming to sense his distress, she ponders her answer for a moment. when she speaks again, it's much more gently, the teasing replaced by something softer. ❝okay. i'll wait until it is then.❞ she takes a step back, giving him space, and hyunjin takes a deep breath. he feels like it's the first one he's taken in a while. her eyes linger on him, like she's trying to puzzle him out.

for a while, there's silence between them. hyunjin worries his bottom lip between his teeth, desperately wanting her to go back to shelving the books. or desperately wanting to come up with a conversation topic that would keep her from leaving.

to his relief, or disappointment, she returns to her book cart and takes another book out, this one a scientific manuscript, and places it on the very bottom shelf. when she doesn't turn to look at him after getting up and instead dives right into the cart again, hyunjin gingerly opens his sketchbook again and picks his discarded pencil from the table. he peers over his brow to make sure she's not watching him, and drags the graphite over the paper.

in the blink of an eye, he becomes immersed in his work, focusing on drawing each line with precision so they come together perfectly to form a soft, feminine figure. he's so focused on his sketch that he doesn't notice arya's eyes flickering back to him every now and then. he barely registers someone sit in the chair next to him. but when he glances up, he finds arya looking at him with her chin propped on her hand. immediately, he turns to a blank page and starts another random sketch with a haphazard line, albeit maybe already too late.

❝you're an interesting one, you know that?❞

hyunjin pauses, his pencil hovering over the page. he doesn't look up. ❝i'm not.❞

❝you sit here sketching, on a friday night, in the quietest corner of the library. you avoid everyone's eyes, and then you won't even let me see what you're working on. sounds pretty interesting to me. mysterious. reserved. girls love that.❞

do you? he wants to ask. instead, he just hums out what he hopes is a response. he focuses back on his drawing and, fuck, is she the only thing he can draw? unnoticed by any other eye but his, he traces the outline of her shining long hair he's starting to bring to life on the page.

❝you're quiet today.❞

briefly, he glances up. ❝i'm always quiet.❞

arya smiles that cheeky smile of hers again, tilting her head slightly. ❝yeah, but today it feels like... like you're too in your head.❞

hyunjin doesn't reply immediately, his attention shifting back to his sketchpad. arya doesn't push him to answer her, letting the silence between them stretch. he scrutinizes the drawing long enough to eventually need to avert his gaze from the page and take one deep breath to collect himself. even without knowing it, she's unknowingly made herself home in so many parts of hyunjin's everyday life and his experiences. her eyes are in the warm coffee he drinks every morning, her waves in between his fingers when he sleeps, and most importantly, her strong and confident presence shows itself in all of his drawings.

❝it's just... i didn't think you'd be here.❞ he eventually stammers out, his cheeks flushing in color again. he's once again grateful for the dim light of the library and hopes arya doesn't notice.

❝why not? i work here.❞

❝it's friday night. also, you're... distracting.❞ finally looking up, he notices her peering at him with a raised brow. she blinks as soon as his words register, taken aback by them. then, a slow grin spreads across her face. she leans closer and hyunjin's breath hitches.

❝am i distracting you? that sounds like a you problem to me.❞ her tone is teasing with a playful edge and hyunjin's lips twitch in an almost-smile. but it falters as soon as it came, and he lowers his gaze to catch sight of her glinting earrings. two stars on each side, one small and the other a fraction bigger.

❝you know...❞ his eyes return to her face, and he curses himself when they stop at her lips before meeting her eyes. by the quiver of the corner of her lips, she has definitely noticed that small motion. ❝you don't have to be so careful around me. i'm not going to break.❞

hyunjin stiffens slightly, his hand tightening around the pencil he has not noticed he's still holding. ❝it's not about you.❞

❝then what is it about?❞ she says, resting her chin on her hand again.

he doesn't answer, afraid of what might come out if he speaks. his jaw tightens together with his hold of the poor pencil which he presses harder against the paper. he nervously bounces his leg beneath the table. arya's hands reach out, her fingers brushing against his wrist to still him. the touch is light, but hyunjin feels it all the way down to his toes.

❝hyunjin.❞ gently, she pries the pencil out of his white-knuckled hand and sets it next to his sketchbook. her voice is soft but firm, pulling his attention back to her. ❝whatever it is, you can tell me.❞

hyunjin stares into her bronze eyes and for a moment, the weight of everything else lifts off his shoulders, just enough for him to breathe. leaving just the two of them. but then the tension creeps back in, breaking the spell, and he shakes his head slightly.

❝you don't understand.❞ he speaks, barely above a whisper.

❝then explain it to me.❞ arya's voice is so stern but also gentle, as if she were softly commanding him to do so. there's also something else in her voice; as if she were desperate to get his answer, to understand him more. the vulnerability of it cuts through the defenses he's been trying to hard to keep up around her.

the air between them grows heavier, and hyunjin leans in slightly, as if drawn to her by some invisible force. arya notices the shift and instead of pulling away, she leans in, too, head tilting just enough to mirror his. hyunjin's unable to take his eyes off hers as the distance shrinks.

he expects the words will catch in his throat, but to his surprise, they make it out and into the silence. they don't exactly explain anything, but they're the only ones hyunjin can think of.

❝your brother..❞ he says so quietly he's sure she cannot hear them, but by the flutter of her lashes and the glint in her eyes, she's heard them as clearly as if he has shouted them.

he thinks she'll roll her eyes at his excuse, or curse him out for being a coward. instead, her mouth twitches as she smiles a lopsided smile. hyunjin blinks once at her reaction and swallows hard.

❝what about him? i'm an adult and i can make my own choices.❞ she doesn't break eye contact as she speaks, only shakes her head a fraction, dismissing the problem of her brother entirely. ❝you don't have to worry about him.❞

his hand trembles beneath her touch on his wrist, but he doesn't pull away. doesn't dare to. instead, he leans in just a fraction more and she mirrors his action. his eyes flicker to her lips again before darting back only to find her looking at his own lips. hyunjin's breath hitches in anticipation as the last sliver of space between them disappears.

for a heartbeat, it feels like time has stopped and it's just the two of them drifting in space, without any burdens or differences weighting them down.

arya's warmth is so close, radiating off her in waves and seeping into his skin throughout his clothes. his pulse races in his ears. her pulls is magnetic, tugging at his core and unraveling the walls he's spent years erecting. in arya's presence, he allows himself to drift out of his shell and accept the possibilities and the what-ifs he otherwise doesn't let himself think of.

he glances at her lips again, pillowy soft and just barely parted.

he wants to. god, how much he wants to. the craving to press his own lips against hers is almost unbearable, shadowing every other thought in his mind. the ache throbs through every fiber of his being, and it's not just about her beauty or personality. it's deeper than that — something that he feels in every beat of his heart and can barely put into words. the way she looks at him like he's not a mess of sharp edges and mistakes, but someone whole. someone who's not just a sum of pathetic things he's done or the shadows he carries, but someone that's worth something.

she makes him feels seen.

and the way she slowly and deliberately leans in as if inviting him into her light makes him forget, for a fleeting moment, why this is wrong.

but the weight of reality creeps back in, as it always does, heavy and suffocating him. she doesn't belong in the mess that is his world, one in which even he can't pretend he isn't drowning.

hyunjin's hands tremble against the table as he fights the urge to close the gap between them. she deserves someone better — someone unbroken, someone who's not pretending not to be the bad guy in everyone's story. not him. never him.

arya is bold, confident, and so full of determination that she practically glows. he's none of those things. he's quiet, wary, reserved, and messy. trapped in the shadows of his own making. she deserves better than to constantly brighten the darkness and scare someone else's shadows away.

he can only ever long for her in the darkness of his room, and that will have to be enough for him.

but still, hyunjin can't move. his resolve is crumbling under the unwavering warmth of her nearness and the careful study of her gaze. if she's afraid of what she might find within him, of the swarming darkness of his soul that even he's scared to closely look at, she doesn't show it, and that terrifies him more than anything else.

he's not sure how much longer he can hold himself before he snaps and acts on the thoughts screaming to close the gap between them and kiss her. every nerve in his body is ready to give in just this once, but he grits his teeth and does what might possibly be the hardest thing he's ever done. he forces the thought down together with all the possibilities of what might have been.

this can't happen. he doesn't know what they are, or what they could become, but he knows it can't last. even if he tried more than ever before, he would eventually ruin it. ruin her.

so just before her lips can reach his, hyunjin shuts his eyes like it's the only way to stop himself and pulls his chair back, the legs loudly scraping on the floor. arya blinks her eyes open and confusion arranges her features into a frown.

❝hyunjin—❞

but he's already standing, snatching his sketchbook and pencil from the table as he cuts her off. ❝i can't.❞ his voice is trembling with want, restraint, and longing. he takes a shaky step back and wobbles on his feet a little. ❝i'm sorry.❞

before she can say anything else, hyunjin rushes out of the library, the door swinging shut behind him, leaving arya with her hand still hovering over where his wrist was. his chest feels tighter than before, and the library feels emptier than before.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

the alley stinks of damp concrete and cheap beer, a suffocating reminder of what hyunjin's life looks like. he leans against the cold brick wall as puffs of cigarette smoke leave his lips and tangle with the crisp autumn air. no matter how many times he's done this, nervous and hesitant, tonight doesn't feel right. but for once, it's not the risk of getting caught or the deal going awry that's bothering him — it's the gnawing thought of her and what he almost let happen, or more precisely, what he thankfully made sure didn't happen.

he's mulled over every single one of their actions that evening and how those let them get so close to each other without them realizing it. each night for the past week, he's lied in his bed, wide awake and thinking of what could have been if he gave in and kissed her. or what he could have said or done to avoid the outcome.

his heart still aches at the reminder of her soft lips being so close to claim, but hyunjin stays true to his decision. what almost happened was wrong, no matter how right it felt in that moment.

huffing out another breath, hyunjin checks his phone. the meeting was set, and the buyer's late. taking another long drag of his cigarette, he lets the smoke fill his lungs entirely before expelling it all out in one long exhale. his hand itches in his pocket, fingers curling around his lighter like it might soften his jagged edges.

suddenly, hyunjin hears shoes scuffle over the concrete. multiple pairs of shoes. turning around, he can just about make out the shapes of two guys making their way toward him. one is tall and wiry, built like a lamp post. the other one is a few inches shorter with wider shoulders. they both have their hoods up and their hands stuffed in their pockets.

bouncing his shoulder off the wall he's been leaning against and stubbing the cigarette under his boot, he walks up to the pair. up close, he notices that the first guy is not much taller than him, only beating him by maybe two or three inches.

❝ya got the stuff?❞ he asks, voice low and raspy, like he's trying to make himself sound deeper. ignoring his failed attempt, hyunjin nods once, taking the pack out of his pocket and holding it out for him. his hand twitches toward it, but hyunjin doesn't immediately let go. a faint smirk tugs at the corner of his lips and without further hints, the guy hastily reaches in his pocket and pulls out the requested amount of money. the shorter one watches as they exchange cash and packages from hand to hand, something hyunjin has already done more than a few dozen times. it's muscle memory at this point — hand in the goods, take the cash, and leave before anyone starts asking questions.

he quickly counts the amount, just to be sure, before stuffing it into his pocket, mirroring the taller fellow. as hyunjin's about to turn and leave, he catches sight the shorter guy bumping his shoulder into his companion and throwing him a grin with an eyebrow raise. hyunjin lifts his head and his brows furrow a fraction. are they laughing at him?

the skinny guy looks over hyunjin's shoulder and chuckles. then his gaze settles on hyunjin again, staring him down still with the dangerous glint in his eye.

❝that your girlfriend?❞ he jerks his head behind hyunjin. he glances over his shoulder, and that's when he sees her. his heart plummets like a stone.

arya stands about ten meters away from them, with her neck buried in her collar and her hands in the pockets of her leather jacket. she slowly paces around a lamp post but her eyes flicker back and forth to the trio of them, no doubt closely following the interaction. internally, hyunjin curses her and her confident stupidity.

❝she's pretty. let us have a share, won't ya?❞ one of the guys says, and they both snicker. hyunjin's head snaps back in their direction as panic settles into his bones. the shorter one licks his lips, and hyunjin's face scrunches in mild disgust.

squaring his shoulders, he feigns the confidence he doesn't feel. instinct overrides logic as hyunjin's only thought becomes keeping these two's eyes away from her. he takes a deep breath through his nose, his eyes like hot coals as he glares at them. ❝you're here for the deal, not her. let's not mix things up.❞ his tone is calm and yet unyielding, projecting a tranquility and control he doesn't feel. and as if an afterthought, he adds, ❝she's got nothing to do with this.❞

❝relax, man. just admiring.❞ the shorter one shrugs, with a smirk still plastered on his irritating face.

❝yeah, no harm in looking. or are ya scared she'll trade ya up?❞ the wiry fellow mocks, his grin spreading across his face. hyunjin's jaw tightens in annoyance, but his heart is still beating wildly in his chest.

❝i said, focus on what you came here for. the deal is done. you can leave now.❞ he keeps his voice low and calm but laced with steel. secretly, he's grateful the inner trembling he starts feeling doesn't show in his tone. his gaze hard and unrelenting, the guys hold their hands up in mock surrender.

❝alright, alright. didn't mean to hit a nerve.❞ they start backing off, their greedy gazes once again landing on his arya. hyunjin shoots them another nasty glare and they at last slink away with final snickers. he hears the shorter one with broader shoulders murmur something under his breath, which sounds a lot like so protective and for what, just wanted to play, but he doesn't flinch. he's already turning around, eyes set on arya as he storms toward her.

when she sees him approaching, she straightens and opens her mouth to say something, but hyunjin's already cutting her off, his frustration combined with worry and panic for her bubbling over. he stops abruptly once there's only inches separating them, and arya instinctively steps back, as if taken aback by his sudden proximity. if hyunjin was thinking clearly, he would also be appalled at his courage and his spine would tingle from the force of standing so close to her.

❝what the fuck are you doing here?❞

arya appears completely undeterred by his sudden outburst, crossing her arms over her chest. ❝well, good to see you, too, hyunjin.❞

❝i'm not joking arya. do you have any idea how dangerous this is?❞ he snaps, meaning to run a hand through his hair, but forgetting about his shaved scalp. instead, he simply runs his palms over his head, the thick short hair prickling his skin. angrily, he throws his arms back down by his side. ❝what were you thinking, coming here in the middle of the night?❞

❝i was thinking about you, okay?❞ she snaps back as she leans forward, ❝the day at the library... you just—left. avoided me for days. i didn't know what...❞ she trails off, her voice softening. hyunjin flinches at the indirect mention of their almost-kiss.

❝this isn't about the library.❞ he glances around nervously. his voice drops, almost pleading. ❝you shouldn't be here, arya. go home.❞

she's having none of his preocupations, standing before him with her arms crossed against her chest and a stubborn gleam in her eye. ❝maybe i wouldn't have to be here if you'd actually talk to me instead of disappearing at any minor inconvenience.❞

hyunjin freezes, guilt briefly flickering in his expression before he schools his features back to unreadable. he looks down, his voice barely above a whisper. ❝you don't belong here. in my world.❞

❝and yet, here i am.❞ she spreads her arms wide, gesturing at their surroundings. for a moment, none of them speaks. the tension between them is palpable, both their worlds, their past decisions and their unspoken emotions hanging over their heads like rain clouds.

finally, hyunjin turns away, shaking his head. ❝you need to go. before this gets worse.❞

❝before what gets worse? you're not scaring me off, hyunjin. you're just making it harder to help you!❞ her voice cracks and her brows scrunch up, but she straightens her posture and regains control of her expressions in less than a heartbeat. hyunjin exhales sharply, closing his eyes for a brief moment, fighting an internal battle.

❝who says i want help?❞ his words hurt him as he speaks them, and he knows they find their mark when arya visibly flinches. ❝you wouldn't like what you found if you kept trying anyway.❞

arya's hurt flashes across her face and, in that moment, hyunjin hates himself more than he ever has. more than when he screwed his only chance at normal life up and became who he never thought he would be.

she steps back, still holding his gaze. but hyunjin can see the gleam of unshed tears as they pool in her eyes. arya, however, resilient as always, refuses to let them fall.

❝i don't need to like it. but i'll find it, whether you want me to or not.❞ she walks away with her head down, angrily wiping at her eyes. and hyunjin stands there, washed over with guilt, anger and disappointment — at himself. always at himself.

everything they've slowly been building over the past few weeks, everything that has been blooming between them — their shared thoughts, lingering looks and unspoken trust in each other; hyunjin irrevocably shattered all of it in a single evening. and now he's afraid he'll never be able to put it back together like it once was.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

the setting sun stretches its long shadows across the grass and concrete, painting the skatepark in hues of gold and orange and complementing the colors of changing leaves. the faint hum of distant music and the occasional sound of skaters grinding rails fill the air as hyunjin walks down the main path of the park.

he's not sure what has drawn him here — it's more muscle memory than intent, as he spends so many of his nights here either sketching, dealing, or just having a smoke. but as the weather's getting chillier and the nights are getting cold to sit on the ground as he usually does, he's decided to venture out for a stroll sooner, as a way to get some fresh air and make order of his mind.

breathing in the crisp air, hyunjin keeps replaying those few moments that so quickly changed the dynamic of his and arya's relationship — if one can even call it that, in his head over and over again. he doesn't regret what he said, but how he said it. he was scared for arya, frightened even, but he now understands that there were more than a handful of ways he could have delivered his lines that were not so clipped and disdainful toward her.

he keeps seeing her glossed eyes as her tears threatened to escape, and hyunjin's heart breaks again and again each time he remembers how her voice broke. he hurt her, and he's so fucking sorry for it. he wishes he could tell her, but would the words come out exactly like he wants them to when he eventually spoke?

it is moments after that thought when he spots her, as fate would have it, sitting on one of the benches along the main path, the notebook he's held in his hands a few weeks ago balanced on her knees. her pen moves in sharp, eager strokes, pausing every so often as she stares ahead, lost in thought.

he freezes in his tracks about twenty meters from the bench she occupies. she hasn't noticed him yet, her focus entirely on her journal.

in a split second, he thinks about leaving. just turning around and disappearing before she can see him. but something keeps him rooted on the spot when that thought passes through and he considers it. his hands are shoved deep into his pockets to keep his hands away from the biting cold as he wars with himself.

eventually, he decides to step forward tentatively. taking one step after another, he's soon standing in front of the bench. when arya's gaze lifts, it lands on him immediately. her hand stills and for a moment, neither of them moves. she doesn't give him her signature grin he's already gotten used to. she doesn't even offer him a small lift of the corner of her lips, her face remaining completely unreadable.

then she looks back to her notebook without a single word, and hyunjin lowers his head. he knows he doesn't have the right to expect her to treat him like she did before, but her silence is still a punch to the gut.

❝well, are you just going to stand there?❞ he lifts his head up at hearing her voice, neutral, but sharp and pointed.

❝i... didn't mean to interrupt.❞ he awkwardly bounces on the heels of his feet.

she loudly snaps her notebook shut and sets it aside. ❝you didn't.❞ gesturing to the space next to her, she adds, ❝sit, if you want.❞

hyunjin hesitates but eventually takes a seat at the far edge of the bench, keeping a cautious distance between them to accommodate their unspoken tension.

for a while, neither of them says anything. the silence feels heavy as it weights on them like a blanket made of everything unsaid.

❝i'm sorry for how i spoke to you..❞ hyunjin at last breaks the silence, his voice quiet and remorseful as his head hangs low. he refuses to look at her, his eyes fixed on a crack in the pavement. ❝i didn't want to fight with you.❞

arya scoffs. ❝funny. didn't feel that way.❞ she reiterates sharply and her words cut through him like knife through butter. he winces, finally turning to meet her gaze. the first thing he sees in her eyes is hurt, but there's also something else — something resembling betrayal.

❝i was trying to protect you.❞

she raises an eyebrow. ❝by pushing me away?❞

❝by wanting to keep you away from what i do!❞ hyunjin raises his voice, the frustration bubbling to the surface despite his best efforts to keep it down.

arya throws up her hands. ❝but i don't want you to! i've told you before. so why do you still do it? why do you always push me away?❞

❝because i care about you!❞ he argues back, the words registering only after he's already said them. but he can't stop and more pours out of him, ❝i care about you.❞ he repeats, this time more calmly, ❝more than i'm willing to admit. and i want to keep you safe and away from all of this, because...❞ because if something happens to you by a fault of mine, i'll not only lose you, but myself as well.

❝hyunjin...❞ the sound of his name on her lips is quieter than the rustle of the falling leaves.

when he finally looks at her again, arya's expression softens as she takes his confession in. the look in her eyes disarms him. she leans forward slightly, her voice quieter and gentler now. ❝why is it so hard for you to believe that i'm here because i want to be? that i care about you, too?❞

❝nobody cares about me.❞

❝i do.❞

hyunjin's breath hitches and he runs his hand over his head, staring at the ground again. ❝you shouldn't. it'll only get you in trouble.❞

❝maybe it's time for you to stop deciding for me. and, what do you know, maybe i'm looking for trouble.❞ her voice is firm, leaving no place for argument. when he finds her face again, there's a small smile tugging her lips upward, and it takes hyunjin's breath away. a few minutes ago, he didn't feel deserving of it and thought he'd never see it again.

she reaches in the space between them and gingerly holds his hand in hers. ❝i see more than you think i do, hyunjin.❞

hyunjin's breath catches in his throat as she inches closer to him. his mind screams at him to pull away and stop this before it can go any further, replaying over and over again why this is wrong. but his resolve is crumbling, and his heart tells him that this is right with every steady beat. his carefully constructed walls around it are breaking apart under the weight of everything he feels for her.

his other hand twitches at his side, aching to reach for her, tuck her hair behind her ear or hold her closer to him, but he's frozen, caught between his desire and ever-present his fear.

❝arya...❞ hyunjin's voice trembles, but the fight in him is gone, rapidly surrendering to the blazing fire of his heart's making.

their noses brush, and he closes his eyes, breath shaky. for a moment, the world fades away — the park, the skaters, the terrible music echoing from the skating ramps, the topic of danger still lingering between them. it's just her. just his arya. and he wants this more than he's ever wanted anything.

but then his fear claws up his throat to the surface and he pulls back, just the barest inch, but breaking the moment nonetheless. arya blinks, startled by his sudden distance. a milder version of hurt dances in her eyes when she realizes he's done it again, pushed her away once again.

❝hyunjin...❞

❝i can't.❞ he whispers, his expression pained and mirroring hers. but this time, arya doesn't let him get away. she squeezes his hand that she's still holding, and the look of determination returns into her eyes.

❝why not? give me one good reason.❞

hyunjin doesn't want to admit it, but it takes one look into her eyes and he's suddenly letting all the words out of his mouth. ❝because if i let myself have this — have you — i don't think i could stop. and i'm sure i can't give you what you deserve.❞

he expects her to pull away and drop his hand, but her gaze is unwavering. she runs her thumb over his knuckles as her face softens.

❝then stop thinking about what i deserve and for once start thinking about what you deserve, hyunjin.❞

her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. he looks at her, and something in him shifts, the meaning of them sinking in. he turns his hand palm up and grips her fingers tightly, not wanting to let go. his eyes travel to her lips and he leans in.

the world feels like it's tilting on its axis when hyunjin finally presses his lips against hers. the touch is soft, tentative, yet full of emotions and rawness. a ringing echoes in his head as the years-lasting walls around his heart shatter, leaving him bare and vulnerable before her. for a split second, his mind stills, silenced by the closeness of her — close, but not close enough. the faint scent of her perfume and the cooling air of the skatepark envelope him and for once, he's not running. he's not hiding, nor pretending.

for such a long time, he has convinced himself that arya deserves someone better — someone whose shadows aren't trailing his every step and being a danger to her brightness.

but now, with her hand in his and their lips pressed against each other, he can see another angle he's never allowed himself to explore. the shadows are his to command; they've been with him long enough and have given him a long time to learn how to control them. if it was anyone else, they would overwhelm him, but for arya he'll make sure to hold them at bay, like his old friends and companions that are slowly but surely biding their time.

she leans into him and deepens the kiss.

hyunjin tentatively rests his palm against her chilled cheek, his thumb running over the soft skin. the weight of her faith in him, her trust, washes over him like a tidal wave. it feels so undeserved, so impossibly generous, that it almost makes him pull away again from the sheer amount of emotions he's unable to comprehend bubbling in him.

but arya's fingers ghost over his cheeks and the side of his jaw, settling at the back of his neck. in this moment he knows that he'll do everything to be deserving and feel worthy of her trust, of her softness, of her silence, of her.

arya's touch whispers reassurance into his ear and suddenly, his doubts don't feel so insurmountable. they still linger, of course; they always will, but no more are they loud enough to drown out the frantic beat of his heart under his jacket. a heart that has always been neglected but is now thudding in time with the quiet echo of her words in his mind.

for once start thinking about what you deserve, hyunjin.

for so long, he has believed he doesn't deserve anything at all — no happiness, no second chances, and certainly not someone like her. but now, with her in his arms and her warmth breaking through the coldness he has wrapped himself in, a new thought creeps in.

what if he could become someone that is deserving of her? and not only of her, but of all those things he's never let himself have again after losing them.

he doesn't need to be perfect, nor polished — only better. stronger. more resilient. someone who doesn't just drag himself through shadows but fights his way toward something brighter each day.

the kiss softens, turning slower and more deliberate. still passionate, but also filled with longing and fondness. their mouths move in soft strokes, silently telling a story words can't begin to explain.

tilting her head up with the hand still resting on her cheek and angling her face to better capture her lips, hyunjin realizes something that steals his breath. it's not just arya. it's also her words, her persistence and perseverance that have gotten through to him and have planted a seed in him — an idea, a dangerous spark, that he could be more, not just for her, but for himself, as well.

after all this time, he thought he has buried his desires and passions — his sketchbook left unfinished or filled with frustrated scribbles and torn-out pages, his art supplies collecting dust in the bottom drawer of his drawer, his dreams abandoned.

but they've been waiting for him all this time, their spark not dimming despite how long they've been uncared for.

and for the first time in years, it doesn't feel so impossible to pick them back up.

hyunjin pulls back just enough to catch his breath and presses his forehead against hers. their breaths mingle in the cool air and the new reality stares at them from the glow of the setting sun. his heart hammers against his ribs, but, for the first time, not because of fear. because of hope.

❝i'll get there.❞ he murmurs, voice thick with emotion. his hands tremble as they hold her face and one of her hands close to him, as if afraid she might disappear if he lets go. ❝i'll be better... for you. for... me. i promise.❞

arya's lips curve into a small smile, her hand gently wrapping around his wrist as she tilts her head to meet his gaze. ❝i know you will.❞ she says simply, but the words are filled with a steady stream of confidence and certainty he's seldom been able to muster for himself. ❝and i'll be here.❞

the weight of her words settles over him, but he smiles. he wants to believe her, wants to let himself fully trust this fragile thing they've created together. he wants it so much, but he knows it will still take him a while to get to that point. there are still many obstacles before him, and darkness waiting to creep in at the first sign of weakness. instead, he lets himself appreciate this moment and the feeble hope that's taken root in his soul and makes him feel like he can fight. for her. for himself. for the future that doesn't feel so impossible anymore.

as arya's lips find his again in a kiss that tastes like silent encouragement and unspoken promises, hyunjin lets himself believe. for now, he allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be enough.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

hyunjin's head whips in the direction of his front door at the sudden knock. he startles, the coffee in the mug in his hand sloshing dangerously close to the edge and spilling. his first thought is trouble. in his world, unexpected visitors rarely bring anything good. but again, he's slowly putting that world behind him now.

cautiously, he pads over to the door, his socks muffling the sound of his footsteps. for a brief moment, he considers not opening it, but the knock comes again — gentler this time, almost hesitant.

when he opens the door, the breath catches in his throat.

arya's standing before him, wrapped in a thick coat and a giant woolen scarf drowning out her neck and chin. a few stubborn snowflakes hold onto her hair, glinting in the dim light. a smile pulls at her lips, her eyes kind and familiar. her pink cheeks from the cold outside warm his heart.

❝hi!❞ she exclaims and shows him another one of her grins, her voice cutting through him like a gentle ripple. in her gloved hands is a box wrapped in christmas paper, and hyunjin's eyes travel to it briefly before meeting her gaze again.

❝arya... what are you.. what are you doing here?❞

she tilts her head slighty, her smile widening just a fraction. ❝what does it look like? i came to see you!❞ he blinks, and before he can protest, arya's already moving past him into his apartment, hanging her coat and scarf on a hanger, getting out of her shoes and yelling a child-like, excited merry christmas!

she always has a way of catching him off guard, especially with her simple, matter-of-fact answers. it leaves him completely disarmed but also oddly comforted at once.

❝you shouldn't...❞ he speaks, closing the door behind him and meeting her in his kitchen. he sees her eyes snag on the copy of the picture of dorian gray laying on the kitchen counter, surely remembering the moment when she gave it to him. ❝it'll be dark outside soon.❞

❝i'm fine.❞ she shrugs and waves a hand once she tears her eyes off the book, dismissing his concerns. ❝besides, i didn't come all this way to get scolded.❞

his lips part to protest but before he can say anything, she's placing the wrapped box on his kitchen island and pushing it toward him. it's not anything fancy — just a regular wrapping paper with a wild pattern, tied with a thin string and a bow at the top. but the care she's put into preparing it is evident, and it warms his heart when he thinks of her sitting on the floor and wrapping up presents.

her smile is cheeky as she pushes it onto his side of the island. ❝this is for you.❞

hyunjin quietly stares at the gift. for him?

his hands hesitate at his sides, unsure whether to take it or push it away. he's unused to receiving attention or anything other that even distantly resembles it. he hasn't gotten a present in years; not even for his birthday.

hyunjin looks at arya, trying to find the meaning behind the gesture in her eyes.

she sighs, slumping her shoulders and rolling her eyes. shaking her head with an amused smile, she puts her hands behind her back. ❝relax, it's not a bomb.❞

hyunjin gives her his best no-shit look, but the corners of his mouth twitch despite himself. ❝what is it?❞

❝open it and you'll see.❞

tugging at the string, he carefully unties the bow at the top and peels the wrapping paper away, revealing the contents inside. his breath hitches when he sees it — a set of brushes and paints, neatly arranged in a small wooden box. the sight of them hits him harder than he expects, the familiar shape of them stirring something deep inside him. they stare back at him, pristine and untouched, waiting to be used in order to bring his visions to life.

❝i just... i thought maybe you could use them. you know, when you're ready.❞

for a long moment, hyunjin doesn't move, doesn't speak. he just watches the utensils, convinced they'll disappear with a puff like a dream if he blinks. the weight of her gesture presses down on him — but not in a bad, burdensome way. it reminds him how fare he's already come in the span of a few short but tiring weeks, and how much further down the path he still has to go.

hyunjin's mind flickers back to the last few months and to the chaotic blur of everything that has happened between them. from the moment she first texted him pretending to be her brother, to all the times she has shown up in places she shouldn't have, stubborn and reckless and always unafraid, and always for him. she wasn't scared to meet him where he was — darkness, shadows, sharp edges and all. she has seen the ugly parts of him as well, especially the ugly ones, and hasn't flinched.

his fingers brush down over the smooth wooden handles of the brushes. he sketches quite often, sure, but he hasn't painted in years — not since he has given up on the boy who once dreamed of creating art that could make people feel something. that boy has been buried under layers of dirt, darkness and guilt, locked away behind walls so high he could not begin to scale them.

but now hyunjin's slowly letting him out again, tentatively allowing him to see the beauty of the world with his big, curious eyes and willing to help him start the slow crawl toward something better.

his gaze shifts to arya, who now has a sheepish smile on her face, her eyes wide and expectant of his reaction. ❝i...❞ his voice is rough with emotions, and he clears his throat, hoping to push them further down as they claw up his throat. ❝thank you.❞

the words feel small compared to the grandness of the gesture and the gratitude swelling in his chest, but they still conjure a big smile on her face.

❝don't thank me. just... use them. if you want. if you're ready.❞ she says softly, fumbling with the bottom hem of her sweater. ❝you still owe me my name on the label, you know.❞ at hyunjin's furrowed brows, she lets out a dramatic gasp, clutching at her heart. ❝don't tell me you forgot! you have to make me a star, hyunjin! the label with a description of me next to your art is waiting for me!❞ she touches the back of her hand to her forehead in a theatrical impression of dizziness. unlike himself, hyunjin barks out an unexpected laugh at her antics. somehow, she always knows exactly what to do to lighten the mood when she's with him.

his grip tightens on the box, his heart swelling. he wants to tell her how much it means, how much she means to him, but the words still stick in his throat when he tries to speak them. another day, then. he'll wait for another day. someday, he's sure he'll finally be able to tell her.

instead if speaking, he looks at her, hoping she can see all of it in his eyes for now — his feelings for her, and his quiet promise that he'll try. for her, himself, and the boy who once used to dream big.

arya's smile softens, and she moves around the kitchen island, coming to stand beside him. ❝i should get going, jisung's waiting for me. i just wanted to drop this off.❞

hyunjin's eyebrows fly up at the mention of her brother. the last time he saw him, he warned hyunjin to stay away from arya so as not to mess her life up. looks like he also underwent some kind of change of heart, and hyunjin's almost entirely sure she has something to do with it. the corner of his lips twitches briefly at the thought, but it's replaced by a slight frown when her words fully register. his chest tightens at the thought of her leaving, but he forces himself to nod.

arya reaches out for his hands still poised over the box, holding them in her own and caressing his knuckles. hyunjin stands starstruck and frozen, unable and unwilling to move. she pushes her weight against him, standing on her tip toes to reach his face and give him a small peck on the cheek. her lips are gone as soon as hyunjin feels them on his skin.

❝remember that i'm always here.❞ she murmurs, giving his hands a final squeeze, and pulls away, leaving hyunjin unmoving in the middle of the room. she walks back into the foyer and quickly puts her shoes and coat back on. she's already reaching for her huge scarf when hyunjin becomes aware of himself and every single nerve in his body once again.

❝arya,❞ he calls out before he can stop himself.

she pauses wrapping the scarf around her neck, glancing back at him with a raised brow. ❝yeah?❞

for a moment, he fumbles with what to say. he starts to thank her for the gift again, but stops himself. his mind scrambles for the right words, something to express even a fraction of what he feels right now. but in the end, all he manages is, ❝be careful.❞

her eyes soften, and she nods. ❝always.❞

with that she's gone, leaving hyunjin with the faint scent of her vanilla perfume and a heart that feels just a little lighter than it has before her visit.

his apartment feels quieter than ever, but it's not the suffocating silence he's grown used to. in its place is a peaceful, steady kind of quiet. a reflection of the person who's brought him to this point.

hyunjin lets his gaze linger on the box and what's inside again. the colors seem to glow under the dim light of winter days, vibrant and alive, ready to be used by him. it's symbolic, in a way — bright colors to represent his new reality and the life that begins anew, on a blank canvas. he's not naïve enough to think the darkness is gone. no, it's still there, lurking at the edges of his consciousness, waiting to pounce and take over at tje slightest sign of weakness.

but he's not afraid of it anymore. he's learned that he doesn't have to fight it alone.

for the first time in years, hyunjin allows himself to hope. to believe that maybe, just maybe, he can create something beautiful out of the mess he has been given. make his story beautiful it an ugly, raw and true way of expression.

he will stumble along the way, but this time he will keep going. he'll fight for the future he's only recently started envisioning again, and for the person he wishes to become.

as he picks up one of the brushes and gingerly holds it in his hand, he lets a small smile tug at his lips. arya's words echo in his mind, quiet but insistent.

for once start thinking about what you deserve, hyunjin.

starting now, he will.

｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡｡ [ おしゃれ ] .ᐟ

#hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin imagine #hwang hyunjin imagine #hwangspages

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