#here to revive this dead blog hi

[hyukascampfire]

THE TERRIBLE HALF-TRUTHS OF THE UNDEAD ҜING

⠀(🍂 ) 𝓡EVENANT in folklore, a revenant is a spirit or animated corpse that is believed to have been revived from death to haunt the living ... ( 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 )

1︎5.5k revenant!yeonjun · ƒ ! r ft. soobin ⸺ ✴︎ 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗒 ... smut, violence, angst, death, animal death & vivid descriptions of animal death, major character death, unprotected sex, cumming inside, dry humping (because bring it back), biting, dom yeonjun sub reader, mentions of death in childbirth, reincarnation, teasing, breast worship, yj calls reader ‘my love’, def some typos

🪶 ⦂ how fun is this collab? :,) this fic was so fun to write. i personally believe that tsfawc enjoyers will love this one,, but you'll have to read it to confirm that, right? hehe. and of course, go read everybody else's if you love this one! they're all set in the same world, and everybody worked so hard on these fics. send some love their way!

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

𝒪𝑁𝐶𝐸 𝒰𝑃𝑂𝑁 𝒶 𝒯𝐼𝑀𝐸, in a land far, far away, where the treetops touched the soft clouds of the sky and the water sparkled under the glowing sun, where mountains rose high, and long, deep caves ran through them, where the sea met shore in collisions of swirling, foamy punches, where the undead walked among the living, where the winged flew above the finned, there was a land where things beyond reason and rhyme existed perfectly true. Among those strange beings and within the veils of Aethera, there was a girl loved by death. 

He sits on your shoulder, a dark, boding shadow and glared at those around you with promise in his eyes.

That’s how it seems, anyway. That’s how everybody looks at you. They dodge you, whisper about you, evade your gaze as if he might reach his claws for them next if they linger for too long.

Crows with dead eyes arrive at your doorstep like some lover’s cheeky gift, other poor creatures like fat grey mice are left to rot in the wheatfields, and yarrow stocks wilt outside the wall of your room. If Death thinks that you are flattered, he misunderstands you. You are terrified of nothing more than dying. The first time, it was a sly joke. Then it happened again, and you watched their eyes change. And it happened again and again, and your people are a suspicious type. Something can only be a coincidence so many times.

When you began to sneak into a little shack with a village boy, you thought that maybe, somehow, this would all pass. He died too. There’s really no coming back from that, is there? You don’t blame them. You’re not the freak that they all believe you to be—none of them get close enough anymore to know that, though.

The wickerbasket’s handle creaks under your fist. You usually only forage along the shallow line of the forest; you pluck from bramble bushes topped with plump berries that crawl between trees during the summer, and when the crab apple tree’s branches hang heavy with the fruit, you snatch those up too. You’re more useful to your family out here, in the woods that they deem just as cursed as you. Where you won’t be their burden.

Crisp autumn leaves crunch under your boots. You scan between them—more grey and rotted this late in the season than fresh and orangey—for the edible mushrooms and roots that you usually forage at this time of year. The basket’s already pretty heavy with a variety, black morels and sorrel and burdock, as you bend down to pull a truffle from the dirt against a tree.

You drop it down with the rest of your finds. The basket smells like earth, no doubt your hands do too. You dust your palms off on your skirts and go to rise back from your squat.

A deep, billowing horn pierces the forest’s silence. It’s both far away, wiggling between the whispers of rustling leaves, and much too close. It draws out. Long. Bone-chilling. You freeze, scanning between each tree trunk and praying that you won’t find what you fear you might.

You are much deeper into the woods than you usually are. Than you ought to be. And you know what that horn means—you know that it means something far worse than what you’d been afraid of, coming into these woods. Much more primordial than the hide-behinds you were scared you might find this deep, much less avoidable than the faerie rings you stepped around.

Why would The Wild Hunt be here? A shudder runs down your spine, and you curl your fingers into your skirts and lift them as if to prepare to run, but you don’t. Your feet find root in the forest floor and all you can do is stand terribly still in catatonia. Their horn sounds again, and a procession of wicked whoops and howls follow. Wild hoofbeat rumbles under it all—the hunt and their rides. You hope that they’re just passing through, and you won’t so much as see one of those wild riders. There were plenty of folktales that the matrons of your village would bolster to terrify you as children, but you knew even then that their stories of the riders, with their flesh falling away from them and their pale or beady eyes and their gnarled maws and frightening figures as they rode on the backs of equally terrible steeds, were not fabricated. They are not a bogeyman or a wailing banshee; they are death made in the flesh, and they are here. In your forest. 

Your legs won’t work. You curl your clammy fingers tighter around your basket and lean into the tree beside you. How deep had you wandered into the forest? Hopefully not too far; when you gain the courage to run, you hope that they do not send their hounds to snap their foul breath on your heels. Maybe just standing here and blending into the trees is best. The Hunt would love a chase, and you don’t want to become their next.

The next call comes and you throw that all to the wind. Your heart pounds against your ribcage as you let your basket clatter to the leaves and you take off. You fly over roots and shrubbery and between the trees, your blood roaring in your ears faster. You’d oblige if you could.

Above the loudness of your frantic mind, the harrowing whinnies and The Hunt’s ruckus dulls until it’s faraway again, and then it’s gone. Well, you don’t stop to check if they’ve really passed through the forest. You just run.

“There you are, love.”

His voice cuts through your frantic escape and stops you dead in your path. You almost go crashing down over the ground with the force that you dig your heels into it. Though the voice is non-threatening, you don’t turn to face the source.

He speaks again. You already know who it is. He, old as the earth you stand on itself, leads that band of wild riders. Is the king of the undead, collects souls for reaping.

And he’s the one who’s plagued you with his attention. Death.

“Why do you keep your back turned to me?” he says. “I frighten you. That hurts.” His voice lilts with amusement and sharpness. “I wish that you would face me.”

You’re not fond of the way that he speaks to you with a familiarity. But then again, you’re not fond of dying, either. Your legs are boneless beneath you. Turning, you slowly indulge him, though it takes a great amount of willpower to not run again like your jittering jaw and trembling hands ask you to.

The King of Death stands tall and utterly preternatural, leaned against a crooked tree in the woods behind you. His smile cracks across his face in a jagged way that suggests he finds you amusing, but none of that meets his eyes. They’re the color of the greyish, rotted leaves beneath you. The dark shadows beneath his eyes are the only thing belying the weight that his infinite life might have on him. That, and the hollowness that rings from him.

And though he sounded entirely playful, you are shaken by the sorrow that you find in him now that you’ve turned. Even more so, you’re not sure why you feel it echoed somewhere in the hollows of your bones. “I’m sorry,” you say. It trembles terribly. You want to say that you’re sorry you caught his attention, but it seems you’ve always had his attention. It’s more that you are petrified down to your marrow that the time’s come that you face this… strange infatuation. Here he stands: the one who leaves hollowed out husks of creatures at your doorstep. Should you run or thank him? Is Death as prideful a creature as the other kinds that inhabit Aethera? “I don’t mean to…”

He pushes off his tree, fixing his cape that cascades over only one of his shoulders. It’s tattered and falling apart like the rest of his clothing, though you think that the bronze stitching and swirling oakleaf patterns in the black say that they might have been immaculate at some point. Or maybe they weren’t, and they had started that way. He is Death, anyway. “You’re sorry?” he says. “Why are you apologizing to me? You’ve hardly done a thing to warrant it.”

Faltering, you wet your chapped lips. You’re not really sure. Holding back another apology for fear that you’ve offended him and he’ll now strike you down for it, you say, “I thought that, maybe the hunt was…” Wow, you sound stupid. You can see in the sly smile his lips form that it amuses him. That’s almost worse than angering him: intriguing him. What you really should be doing is boring him so that he’ll find you a waste of his time. Then, maybe, he’d give up haunting you.

“After you?” he finishes. Shaking his head, he says, “My hunters only answer to me.”

“Oh,” you say plainly. Part of you wants to ask why that should comfort you, especially when you’re the one that he sends little bits of death to, but rationality keeps those words in the back of your throat. You don’t really want to know. “Why are you passing by here?”

Something akin to old longing passes through those witty eyes, and then he eats up the distance between you with languid steps of his long legs until he’s nothing more than one last step in front of you. The closeness consumes the air in your lungs, leaving nothing for you but short and shallow drags. The forest has gone dead silent aside from the sound of it. His voice is even more magnetic now that he’s so close.

You recoil when he brings a hand up to brush the pad of his thumb over your cheek and then cup your jaw, as if afraid that he might snuff you out here and now. His fingers are softer than you thought they might be, and the lines of his face sharpen into what you think is hurt. Hurt that you flinched?

“We go here and there,” he says, “but it’s been a very long time since we came here.” There’s a certain thickness to his words; a certain tension coiled over them from something that you’re not privy to. And yet, there’s a farawayness, too. You bet he’s full of a lifetime of secrets. Lifetimes of secrets. “But I think I’ve found myself a reason to finally return.”

Breathy and still struggling to flatten out your breathing, you ask him, “Why?”

The Undead King’s smile turns wicked once more, and he doesn’t answer you. It’s awfully eerie.

“Do you have… business here?” you try again. It’s a roundabout way of asking, do you have someone to take away?

“I have business wherever the living go,” he says, letting your face go but not giving you any more room. You narrow your eyes. He’s quite good at non-answers. “Nothing is more certain than that I will greet every living thing eventually. I’ll come to take you, too, when the time comes.”

Your mouth dries up. The entirety of your home, all the people you’ve ever known, fear you for all the death you bring. Not one of them fears it more than you do. You’ve seen it enough to fear its frightening finality.

The drop of your face must’ve told him how much that scared you. “Dying is not such an awful thing, love. Living pales in comparison.” Searching your eyes, he adds, “But I’ve not come to take you.”

That’s easy for him to say: that death isn’t something to fear. His words don’t calm your thundering heart, but you offer him a, “Thank you…” It trails off toward the end when you realize that you don’t have his name. If he has one, anyway.

“Yeonjun.” He tilts his head, strands of sparrow hair brushing over his watching eyes. “Most don’t know it, but you’re not most people, are you?”

Your breathing had just begun evening out. It’s a shame, the way that it kicks back up at the way he looks at you. “What do you mean?” you say, but of course you know. Nobody else is given dead things like you. It’s not like you yourself are very strange; you like pretty dresses and sharing gossip with friends just as much as any other girl your age.

Giving you another one of those knowing smiles that he uses just like words, he steps back. “I’m sorry that I scare you how I do.”

You don’t answer him. What could you say to that? That he doesn’t? That would be a lie, and he would know it.

Yeonjun’s eyes flit over your face, over your cheeks made pink by the autumn cold, lingering on your lips for a few unexplainable beats, and then landing on your eyes where he searches and finds something that sends his throat bobbing with a thick swallow. “I don’t mean to be your monster. It’s only that…” He steps back again. “You remind me a terrible amount of someone I once knew.”

“Who?” Though your shoulders relax a bit with some distance between the two of you, you do your best to not let your guard down. All the stories that you recall being told, all those cautionary tales passed down through word of mouth around a fire, end with some stupid girl thinking that the monster could be changed or tricked. You’re willing to bet that the man in front of you, no matter how human he looks or how enchanting his words are, could be neither.

That doesn’t explain the ache in your chest when he holds your eyes for too long. But you shove that feeling way, way down. It’s nonsensical.

His voice takes on a parting tilt when he says, “It doesn’t matter anymore. Death takes us all.” Yeonjun dips his head at you. His smile wavers. You’d think that crooked smile on his mouth was indelible had you not seen it twitch down at the corners only for a moment. If you’d have blinked, you’d have missed it. “You think I’ll hurt you,” he says, “well, don’t let me stop you. Go ahead, run. I apologize for your basket.”

Death takes us all. You’re not sure what that’s supposed to mean, coming from him, but it sends a cold wind up your spine and goosebumps crawling over your skin.

He watches you go. You don’t look back when you do, but his gaze sits on your back until you’re sure you’re out of his sight. When you return to your home, your mother asks where the basket full of ingredients for supper went.

You imagine what her face might look like if you told her the truth. But that was impossible, so instead you tell her some stupid story about a wolf that startled you so bad that you ran home paying no mind to where your basket was. It’s close enough to the truth.

༺ ꘏ ༻

It doesn’t matter what you do; you can’t get his face out of your head. While you cut butter into flour and then roll out dough, simmer fruits over flame and you slice cheese off blocks, you replay that meeting in the forest. The memory spins and turns over no matter how hard you try to put it away from your thoughts.

It’s not every day that somebody meets the likes of him. You can’t blame yourself; he had such captivating eyes. Dark, playful, and endless. There they are again. You sigh and dust your hands off. Maybe you are just as strange as they all think that you are. Morbid curiosity is like that, though. Taking the most normal of us and making you wonder what you absolutely should not wonder about.

And you absolutely should not wonder about him.

The sun has begun to hang high in the sky, but the breeze that crawls through the window you pulled open before you got to work is a crisp one. Autumn’s really come, now. Outside the window, a huddle of children play around in the leaves that you’d raked up. You’ll have to rake those back up, but you hardly have the heart to tell them to take their playing elsewhere. Their giggles and small voices waft in with the breeze, and a traitorous part of you yearns for a family that you know you’ll never have. No man would risk that fate, not after what happened to the last man who paid you any attention. You grit your teeth at the memory.

Having a face for the thing that’s made your life the way it is is strange. Seeing him in the flesh, with handsome eyes and a taunting mouth, looking something near human, you think you’ve come to resent him for it. How dare he ruin your life? He, more than anybody, should know how fleeting life is. What is in it for him to deface what little time you have? You keep going back to that thought: why did he ever even appear to you in that forest? There is not one story in which you remember Yeonjun showing his face to those he hasn’t come to claim. Death makes his visits swift and purposeful.

Moreover, why on earth would he even look your way? You wish there was a plain way to ask him why, or even to plead with him to stop. Whatever it is he’d ask of you, you think you might give him. To get back to living, you would.

A deep, familiar voice from behind you gives you pause. “Want some help with that?” Soobin says. He stands  in the doorway, his head nearly brushing the top of the frame. It’s made too small for him. Most things in your tiny village were made too small for Soobin. There had been a time where you’d been taller than him, that had hardly lasted long enough.

“As if,” you dismiss and gesture at his dirty hands. He’d no doubt been out working his family’s field, his tunic sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  “Cow shit isn’t an ingredient.”

Anybody else might’ve scoffed or taken offense, but he just laughs and invites himself in anyway. It never fazes Soobin. He doesn’t let you push him away.

It’d be better if he did. How long before he ends up dead, too? Alive one moment, and then a husk without a soul next. You don’t think you could handle seeing cold, dead eyes where the annoying, warm shine should be. Of course it would be better if he stayed away, if he had half the mind to. Even most of the children have heard enough from their mothers to stay a healthy distance. He’s not too much better than a child, though.

“Isn’t it?” he says. His cheek is smudged with whatever sort of dirt he’s got on his hands and under his nails. “I’m done with work for the day. Want to go out to the field?”

You two have always ran off and avoided your life in between willowy, flaxen wheat stocks. They were just tall enough at this time of year to hide you away. But, for some reason, your stomach does a quick flip at the thought of being outside. It’s silly; couldn’t he find you here, too? “I’m busy,” you say. You’d already kneaded this roll of dough plenty, but you dig your fingers into it and begin again.

“Busy?” he scoffs, “Since when are you too busy to get away from work?”

Gritting your teeth, you let the sounds of your kneading answer. Now, more than ever, he should keep his distance. You know one thing that you’re sure nobody else does: Death’s come to visit. 

His brows shoot up in your peripherals. “I don’t get answers today?”

“I’m sorry,” you say, giving up working the over-kneaded dough only because your arms ache. “Why don’t you go talk off the ear of some other poor village girl? I’ve heard as much as I can handle today. And then when that one’s tired, you can bother the next, I’m sure.”  You soften the words with a quick smile his way. No matter how many times you say something sour in hopes that it’ll send him away, as soon as you glance up at his face, you reel it in.

His company is all you’ve ever had. The least you can do for him is make sure he doesn’t end up like carrion, even if he chooses to take that risk himself. You don’t know why he does.

Voice playful, he says, “I’m glad to hear that you believe I’ve got ladies falling at my feet, but I’d rather not annoy a pretty girl, so you’re my only option.” He pokes at the sleeve of your simple cotton dress. “Should I drag you out of here? Don’t your arms hurt doing all that?”

“Oh, you are a refined man, aren’t you?” you say, shuffling out of his reach. Damn him, he makes it difficult. “Well, I am a pretty girl, so you should take yourself elsewhere.”

Soobin smiles easy. “I’m bored out of my mind. You’re just going to let me suffer?”

“That’s not my issue.”

“I’d argue that it is,” he says. “Come on. Why are you giving me a cold shoulder?” Leaning, he tries to get a look at your face. “Did I upset you? I wasn’t aware that you cared much about what I thought.” When you spare him a sharp glance, he says, “I think you are very, very beautiful. Would you stop ignoring me, now?”

You wish you could fall into the easy banter that comes with being around Soobin, but you can’t. You can’t let him be around you. “Soobin, stop it,” you say, draining your voice. You don’t look at him while you say it.

Going quiet, he seems to notice that today’s different. His gaze is heavy as he stares at you for a few long moments. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asks, “What happened?”

You swallow. “Nothing. I’m just doing something.”

“Oh, alright,” he says, tone inflicting in a way that says he doesn’t believe you one bit. He pushes off the counter. “I’ve put up with you pushing me away for years. You think I don’t know what you’re doing?”

“Soobin,” you warn. If you look at him, you fear you’ll be forced to watch the only one who never cared much what a risk it was being around you leaving. So you don’t.

Your friend raises his hands in the air defensively. “Okay, then.” He makes for the doorway with languid, lingering steps. As if he doesn’t want to leave. “Tomorrow..”

That’s both a threat and a promise, knowing him. Sighing and watching the rowan tree out your window sway, you bid him a curt goodbye.

If only that jerk took offense to things. It would make things an awful lot easier for you.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Being out in the wheat fields brings you peace when you’re alone, but you find it to be terribly lonely. The earthy, sweet scent of it wraps around you, and the stalks whisper against each other in a soothing way.

When you look beside you, the patch of wheat imprinted with the shape of your bodies is empty on his side. You are quite weak; it makes you want to go knocking at his door for his company. But that would be the selfish thing to do, so you card your fingers between the golden straw instead.

A chill trickles down your spine. You feel his presence before you even see him; it’s a feeling that you used to get fleetingly, as if something far away was tugging at you. But then he became real, a living thing in front of you that can touch, and that is much different.

“Why is it that I always find you out in the wilderness?” Yeonjun says. His voice comes from behind you.

Has he been watching you? You stand and dust your bottom off, heart kicking to life. “It’s nice out here,” you say. In truth, you haven’t come outside since that day. You’ve dodged Soobin and made a million excuses as to why you won’t go anywhere past the fences of your home. “I like to… watch people go about their days. It’s interesting.” It’s true—you always watch from afar how the village folk interact. How groups of girls your age link arms and whisper to each other, how neighbors come together to fix up a shoddy fence. You watch them be a community that you are not a part of. Watching it tastes bitter sometimes, but mostly you take pleasure in imagining yourself there with them. You’re not sure why you try making small talk with him, but what else? Should you go running again? If you were to listen to your pattering heart, maybe that’s what you’d do. He’s hardly shown you any bad will, though, and he’s the one that’s come to you. Maybe it’s silly to wait until something bad happens to be cautious.

A thousand pounds in stones sit at the center of your chest, though, and his voice makes them feel lighter. Why on earth that is, you’re not sure. It’s a nice relief regardless.

He smiles. It's different from the ones he showed you before. It’s knowing; more sweet than cracking over his face like the smile you would expect from the likes of him. What use might he have in being sweet? “Could I join you?”

Blinking dumbly at him for a second, you nod. “Oh, uh… Yeah.” Settling back down into your spot, you spare him a few curious sideways glances.

The breeze billows over the gold stems, moving them like gentle waves over the ocean and blowing your hair in it too. The flattened bits rustle under his weight. He doesn’t even turn his face toward the village; instantly, his gravitational eyes are on you.

“Do you come here often?”

“I do,” you answer. Mostly when you and Soobin have too much to do and not enough will to do it. “It’s nice. The village doesn’t like me much, so it’s easier out here.” You don’t mention that mostly you don’t come here alone.

Yeonjun’s face becomes far away. It looks strikingly like somebody forced into an old, unpleasant memory. “Don’t like you?” he asks, “What reason would they have for that?”

“They fear me. Things go wrong around me, that’s all.” You pluck at the hay absentmindedly. “Things die. They’re smart to stay away.”

The hay whispers much louder for the long moment he remains quiet, digesting what you’ve said. Maybe deciding what to say, considering that it’s his fault.

“Die?” he asks, voice inflected with surprise.

Turning to him, your brow creases. Shouldn’t he know? He’s the one that’s done it to you. “Everything that gets too close ends up dead. Everything,” you say, resting your temple on your knee. “So, I guess, I just keep it all at arm’s length.” You look back at your tiny village, a collection of familiar, un-familiar thatch-roof homes. 

Continuing to blink at you, his eyes narrowed in a strange grimace, Yeonjun says, “Death follows me, too.”

What? A laugh of disbelief bubbles up in your chest. Of course, death follows him. You cover your mouth with a hand to obscure your laugh, but you just giggle at him harder.

A laugh twitches at the corners of his mouth, too. “I mean it,” he says. The lines of his face become distant again, eyes both trained on your face and melancholic as if the sight reminds him of something.

It ignites a question in your mind about something he said in the forest. “You said that I reminded you of somebody,” you say, testing the waters. “Who?”

A muscle feathers in his jaw. He looks away, as if he can’t look at you while he says it. “I loved a girl from this village once. When I was human, no less than you.”

You falter, mouth falling open to ask all the questions that flurry through your thoughts. You settle on one. “You were human?”

“I was,” he says ruefully. “And I had everything. I had the love of my life. I think that even the most bitter of creatures on this island had envy for our love. She would braid dandelions into my hair, and then I’d braid them into hers.” He swallows thickly and pauses, as if the wound was still festering and fresh. “And then she died. She died starting our family. She died because of me, in my arms.”

You don’t know what to say, so you just look into his shining eyes as if that’ll help. You’re not very useful with people, much less comforting them.

“I couldn’t accept that. I wouldn’t. So I went where I shouldn’t have gone, and angered something much bigger than myself. They thought it would be a fitting punishment for me to live an eternity, the King of Death who could not bring back his dead lover.” The harrowed look that he gives you, only briefly, has your chest heavy all over again. “They have a sense of humor, the forces.”

You imagine what it would’ve been like for him to lose his lover in that way. How far he’d gone to try and have her back, but death does not give back. Where had he gone to have been turned into this? An immortal thing, forced to roam the world and scoop up the souls of the living for an eternity? To be bound in ancient bones and made to remember forever how you had lost your lover?

The grandness of what you want to say is too big, but all those words feel pitying and patronizing in a way that you don’t think will actually bring him any comfort. Rather, you doubt anything you say will be able to patch up a wound older than you could imagine. Simply, you offer him a raw, “I’m so sorry.”

Yeonjun lets a crooked smile replace the trembling at his lips. “As long as I live, so too will she,” he says, placing his palm over his heart. “Death doesn’t so much happen when we leave behind our bodies, but when we’ve left the minds of the living.” Narrowing his eyes at you, he brushes hair behind your ear with his knuckles. “I know she lives on, somewhere out there. Somewhere. I’ll find her.”

That intrigues you. “Is there some way that you could bring her back?”

The grim light in his eyes tells you his answer. “My curse is to take life,” he says, “not to give it. But the one who made me this, he is cruel in a twisted way. If I were to find her, as a human or an animal or a blade of grass in the forest, only then could I rest.”

It is cruel. “You’ve been searching, then,” you conclude. “When you find her, you’ll both be able to rest.” But how could he find her, if as he says, she could be any living thing? Where would he even begin?

Slowly, he shakes his head, throat bobbing. “Death needs a farrier.”

She would become what he is. You swallow thickly. Was it not him who caused the deaths that follow you? Or, at least, it was not on purpose?

Opening your mouth, you go to tell him that you’ll help him look. You’re sure you’ll be of no help. He’s spent an immortal lifetime searching, and he still hasn’t found his dead lover. Nobody would know better than him where to look.

The ground shakes beneath your palms with impact, and something cuts through the wheat. The noise of its bleating becomes nearer until the both of you scramble up to find out what’s in such distress.

A deer stumbles around wildly. It looks lame, but you don’t see anything wrong with its legs. Your throat tightens at the awful sound, piercing and sad. Frozen, you watch it try to stay upright before it finally collapses down, legs still kicking as though it still wants to run but its body has begun weakening on it. “Oh my god,” you say, stumbling back. The sounds; its sounds are awful, echoing in your bones and constricting your thoughts until they’re a pinched panic.

There’s an arrow lodged into its ribcage, deep and at a terrible angle. You already know that it’s pierced some vital organs, if not its heart. It continues to writhe on the ground, not ready to give up. You’re not sure if you should approach it—you don’t want to scare it, and you can tell by the look in its wet eyes that it already wants to be away from you.

Or, maybe it had come to you. How else had it found the two of you in the middle of this field?

Yeonjun’s already on it. He puts his knees into the dirt and dried wheat to kneel by it, running his hand over the beast's pelt in long strokes. The small buck flinches at first but relaxes once he learns that his touches are gentle, not the gnashing of hungry teeth ready to make him a meal.

Blood runs like lead through your veins. You say, “Can we help it?”

He shakes his head. “He’ll die.”

Whip-lashed, you swallow thickly. He says it so unphased, and you’re sure he is. You can hardly make yourself mirror that serenity that he exudes as he runs his hand over its flank, but you get on the ground beside him anyway.

The buck’s breaths slow to desperate drags for breath. For a few long minutes, the two of you sit in silence and stay with him until he no longer fights, until his breaths are ragged. You feel his side, still warm and alive, but you see the life going from his eyes. You sit here, talking to each other about nothing just so it hears gentle voices as it goes, for a while.

Eventually, he’s gone. Quiet and at peace, no longer hurting. This time, when you look over to Yeonjun who still smooths over the deer’s skin even as he goes, guiding him delicately into whatever greets us when we go, you see death as a gentle thing.

༺ ꘏ ༻

Though you never seek him out, Yeonjun always finds you. In hidden places, away from prying eyes, he appears behind you and makes himself known. Well, you have a feeling that he watches you for a while before saying anything. It’s hard not to feel the strange tingling of his gaze over your form. It’s akin to the sixth sense that’s supposed to keep you safe out in the dark hearts of forests, an innate feeling that tells you some beast with a rotten, pale maw watches you between the trees.

Yeonjun doesn’t feel rotten, though, preternatural and eerie as he is. As you shirk your duties and talk with him for hours, you stare into ancient eyes and watch his crooked mouth move around his words and you feel an odd comfort. As if he’s the only one who’s ever understood you, or maybe that your strangeness pales beside him and for once you’re nothing but who you are. So many nights, the sun fell on your talking until the night insects buzzed from the grasses and your eyes were heavy.

Sometimes, as you dozed off with your back to a hay bale or a hardwood wall of the abandoned home beside yours with its sagging thatched roof, you caught such festering longing in his his eyes that you’d let your lashes fall and pretend to sleep so that you could imagine what it was that he longed for. No doubt his lost lover. When you imagine him, bound in bones and coming back to haunt the living for an eternity as he mourns her infinitely, searching for her in impossible places, your chest aches with a gnawing intensity.

It’s a terrible, cursed existence. Even the nothingness of death becomes a paradise beside it.

“Is it scary?” you ask into the air, sat criss-crossed on the thick duvet of the bed. He sits across from you, looking perfectly lazy. Moonlight pools in like sterling mist through the shutters.

“What?” He watches you, sitting in your plain dress, as though you’re the only thing in the world.

You’ve begun to wonder. Wonder about those looks he gives you.

Shifting, you fix the shoulder of your soft chemise where it’s slipped down when you catch his eyes lingering on it. His throat bobs. “Dying,” you elaborate. “Is it really nothing? After we go, all of it was for nothing?”

A slow smile tugs his full lips, made a bit red in the middle where he likes to worry it. It’s such a human habit to see on something so far from human. “Hardly,” he says. “It’s like going home, right where your soul is supposed to be. Who do you think rides with me?”

Furrowing your brows, you tilt your head toward one shoulder and let your hair pool there. “The riders are dead?” You had thought they were undead in some way like Yeonjun, other sorts of revenants come back to life with their own purposes. Then, are their creepy horses dead, too? A chill goes down your arms. Sometimes, sitting here with him when his face is made soft by the orange glow of the fire he puts on, you forget what he is.

“They are.” He nods, leaned back onto his elbows, his eyes alight with a hunger that makes your insides feel funny. “It doesn’t stop once we’ve died. You don’t need to be scared, my love. So many things end, but then so many things begin. The earth no longer holds you down, the weight of being is gone. You don’t know anything like it; you don’t know leaving behind the pleasures of earth to know the ones that only the afterlife can show you.”

His eyes laced with something entirely else, he adds, “And it’s not the end. Not for everything. For some it’s only the beginning, and for others, those who have not yet fulfilled their purpose, they come back to the flesh. They return.”

You can’t tell if he means himself, or something else. The weight in his eyes, dark, endlessly swirling pools, makes you wonder again why it is that he’s lingering here: the place that he had not visited once since the death of his lover, for the fact that it still hurts too much. Why his shadow of death, his fault or not, was tangled in your soul enough to brush its fingers over the things around you.

“It’s scary,” you say, breathy. The thought of eternity.

Soft hairs brush over his eyes as he tilts his head at you. “Do I scare you?”

“No.”

“No?” he echos, pushing himself up so that he leans back onto his palms. “Isn’t that strange? Pretty little thing says she’s not afraid of death, but her heart races when I’m near. Her sweet heart jumps at just the brush of my leg. Are you sure you’re telling me the truth, love?”

Your blood roars in your veins, inflaming your cheeks and making your head dizzy. Nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. Hair prickles on your skin. “Yes,” you breathe.

Feral delight sparks in his eyes, black as pitch. His smile turns up all feline at the crooked corners. “Crawl to me, then.”

Like how fire licks up oxygen in any room it is in, his words steal the breath right from your lungs. What does he think you are? You blink at him wide-eyed and dumb for a moment.

How can he say that as though it were nothing? Moreover, how does the ravenous flare in his eyes, his head tilted back as he watches you down his nose expectantly, do that to your belly?

Your mind glazes over with something thick and heady, and you damn the nerves in your belly and begin to crawl from your end of the bed to his. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, making sure you feel every inch of the taunt in his eyes as he trains them on you. When you’ve gotten to him through the thickness in the air, you settle into his lap and bracket his waist with your thighs.

Yeonjun takes the soft fat of your hips in his fingers. “Fuck,” he says. It sounds like he’s barely holding the gates on something endlessly consuming. Something that might break loose on the two of you, and leave you changed forever with its hungry, gnashing teeth. His head hits your collarbone. “Tell me to stop. Please, tell me to go. Because I don’t know how.”

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop. I want it, Yeonjun. I want this.”

He straightens, pupils blown and eyes as tense as his set jaw. “No, you don’t understand what you’re asking for. All I’ve ever done is ruin. All I’ll ever do is ruin. I won’t ruin you; not again.”

That rings bells somewhere outside the heavy fog that’s infiltrated your mind, but they don’t sound too alarming when he looks as though he wants to drag his teeth over your heart to taste its beating. It doesn’t touch the ground, when you want him to, so badly. So badly that you taste it on your tongue and it tinges your words as you tell him, “I do know what I’m asking for. I want you. Yeonjun. Don’t you want me too?” Voice and confidence wavering, you pull back. Maybe you’ve read this all wrong. A tickling shame crawls over your skull. “Do you not want me?”

“You think I don’t want you?” he says, straightening up and meeting your gaze. His breath is hot on your mouth. “I want you so fucking bad. You are in the marrow of my bones. Fuck, I have done nothing but want you, but I am foul. I will only hurt you.”

He takes your hand and places it over his chest, where a heart should be. Beneath your palm, you do not feel the thumping of an alive thing. Yeonjun has no heart. You knit your brows and examine the strain of his features. Does he think that you’ll be disgusted? Maybe the girl you were in that forest might’ve been, but being near Yeonjun has changed you in ways you couldn’t start to put your finger on. “I’m asking you to,” you say. “Show me what you want to do to me. What you’ve wanted to do to me.”

Searing silence burns between you as he drinks that in, and then he shoves you onto your back. Supporting himself with an arm beside your head, he curls his fingers into your hip and nudges your thighs wider. He doesn’t lift the hem of your chemise like you expect him to. No—Yeonjun begins to grind himself into your cunt through all the layers of your clothes. Though your dress is bunched up and his pants lay between any real contact, Yeonjun’s hard and that friction tastes fleetingly sweet.

“I want you to beg me for it,” he says, grinning down at you with cruel intention. “Beg me, and make it so pretty.”

You let little sounds linger in that back of your throat and become hungrier each time he grinds against you. It’s so much, mind swimming and sparks spraying up your spine, and yet each time it is not near enough. Damn that foxish smile on his face; you beg for him anyway. “Yeonjun,” you breathe, curling your fingers around the wrist of that hand with which he pins your hip. “P…lease, will you help me? It feels so good; I want more, please.”

He raises his eyebrows at you and an eager grind comes right over your throbbing clit. 

You know he wants more than that, but mortification already is making your voice unsteady and your cheeks burn. “Yeonjun,” you huff, hips wiggling.

The king of the undead delights fully in your shame and rewards you with more of those pointed, dry grinds. Your legs tremble; he’s giving you so little, and yet your need takes it and magnifies it into something grand.

Though he pretends he’s on some high ground, you hear his shuddering breaths each time his fucks his hips against you. He feels that roiling, liquid need in his belly just as vehemently as you do. The room fills with your breathy pants and grinding bodies. You catch your lip in your teeth and begin to meet him half-way. Your moans are low and sweet, and each one sends his jaw tighter. 

You twist and grind against each other like fumbling teens until you’re coiled up so tight that he has to pull himself away. Your throbbing cunt protests, but you know he doesn’t want you cumming like this.

“You want me to show you what I’ve wanted to do to you?” he says, working at his pants. His eyes are so drunk on you, and his cheeks betray his state. “Open your legs, my love. Let me show you a little death.”

Throat gone dry, you slowly let your thighs fall open. The dull throbbing between your thighs roars to life. He slides your skirt up your leg, stopping when he frees your knee to pepper a few hot kisses into it. Once he’s got it bunched up at your ribcage, he runs his tongue over his dry lips to wet them. “Fuck. Such a pretty pussy. I want to fucking eat you up.”

“Yeonjun,” you whine. His name is all you can muster out, anticipation sharpened to a knife point.

Flashing his teeth, he purrs, “You like that, you filthy thing. I bet you’d like for me to fuck you till your brain’s gone and all that’s left is my name. Isn’t that right? Is that what you want?”

Your thoughts stall and you nod, making your mouth into a filthy pout. God, how you want that. Maybe he’s right about you being filthy. Coming from him, it sounds like a delicious thing to be.

The pretty, leaking tip of his cock brushes your clit as he slides it up and down your slit to collect the mess there. Your thighs jump to close before your mind gets the better of it. He does this a few times—up and down, letting you feel and get used to the size and length of him all the way till his cockhead kisses your clit and you squeak.

“Are you comfortable, love?” he asks, shifting your hips with strong hands. “Do you need anything from me?”

It’s so at odds with his other, nastier words. Your head spins, the moonlight blurring. “I’m okay,” you tell him. “I… just want you. Want you to put it in, want to feel you.”

His cock catches on your hole, and he begins to push forward with promising pressure. But then he pulls back, smiling downturned. You whine; why can’t he save his capriciousness for later? You’d almost had it…

“I could give it to you, or I could not…” He hums. “Wouldn’t that be so cruel of me? To leave you wanting?”

You flutter around nothing. Every inch of your body buzzes. Alive. You are more alive now, at the promise of Death’s touch, than ever before. The irony might be something to wonder about if you weren’t dribbling down onto the bed sheets with crude need. “Stop it,” you say. Your voice is whiny. You’re glad you can hardly hear yourself past the pounding in your bloodstream.

That delights the King of Death. He wrinkles his nose at you, burning you alive with his eyes as he presses his palm to your belly and guides himself into you with his free hand. You wrap around each inch of him slowly. The air between you bows under the weight of your gazes; he holds your eyes the whole way, inch by inch until he’s seated fully into you with his groin flush to your body. He stretches you to fit, and yet it’s just right. You could ask for no more or no less; you might even think your body was made for him, were you not too busy circling your hips to feel him.

“Good?” he says, squeezing your hip. “Do you need a moment?”

Pursing your lips, you test out the shape of him with another wiggle. “Maybe… Maybe a second.” Truth be told, you need a moment to grapple with the sparks sprinkling over your mind more than you need a moment to adjust to his stretch. You let out a shuddering breath.

He traces circles into your belly, just beneath your navel. The pad of his thumb goes round and round, warm on your flesh. “As long as you need,” he says, but it’s more like a triumphant, playful coo. There’s that lopsided smirk. One day, you’d like to kiss it off him. Taking that hypnotizing finger, Yeonjun trails it up your stomach, over your ribcage. He hooks it beneath your dress and drags it higher, revealing the soft swells of your breasts to the air. You shudder, body so, so hot that your nipples peak and tighten against the cool air.

“Such pretty tits,” he says, brushing his knuckle up the underside of one. “Everything about you. Such a pretty, pretty body. God, I don’t know if I want to worship it or ruin it.” His breaths fan over your skin as he bends down and pops an eager nipple into his mouth, lavishing it before releasing it with a lewd pop and letting his mouth fall all over your breast. Lick here, nip there, until you’re squirming adequately and squeezing him like a virgin. Then he blows cool air over it and watches with eyes like a cat toying with its prey as you shudder harder, your chest jumping. “Fucking look at you,” he sneers.

“Junnie,” you say, lost for breath. You think you’ve walked yourself into the lion’s den.

His breathy laughs fall over your breast. Taking his teeth, he drags them over your skin, right over where your heart thunders a rhythm fully for him, and then he bites. Nothing more than a shallow mark, the shape of his teeth in your soft tit. He lingers there, admiring the sight before he straightens himself up again.

“Fine.” He pulls out of you slowly, but you know what comes after that, so you savor every second of it. “I suppose you’ve wanted after it long enough. Let me hear your sweet voice again, my love.”

Yeonjun fucks you just right. His cock nudges right up on your sweet spot as if he’s done this before. Like he knows where to find it. You gasp and whine—you’re just happy he’s finally giving you something. 

“Oh, fuck,” you mewl. His shoulders wear the red crescent marks of your nails. “That’s—so good right there.”

Ever egotistical and cocky, he croons, “Yeah?” Rolling himself back, he makes it his mission to hit it ruthlessly.

A sharp, pitchy sound comes tumbling past your lips. You bring your hand up over your mouth, letting your eyelids dust your burning cheeks so that you can brave the flipping in your spine and deep in your belly. It’s nearly insufferable—the way pleasure licks up your spine, how it spreads out into your veins and takes control of you.

“No,” Yeonjun growls. “Don’t you dare close your eyes. Let me see that look in your eyes when you cum.”

Your eyes are heavier than they’ve ever been, but you open them. The sight that greets you is worth the effort. Yeonjun’s lip twitches and then he throws his head back, the column of his neck on display as his Adam's apple jumps around a thick swallow.

If that sight wasn’t enough to send you teetering down into whatever depths of lust and ecstasy that he crawled out from, then the angle he hits as he pushes one of your thighs to your chest is. The world frays, deep tremors starting at one small point in your cunt and then exploding up through your stomach and down the back of your thighs. Your chest arches off the bed and you mewl helplessly, fighting and embracing your orgasm in an intoxicating death.

“Oh, fuck,” Yeonjun growls, strained with something whinier as he watches you shake beneath him. “Fuck. I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna cum…” His voice chokes as his hips become stuttered more than pointed, the slick sounds of your own release tangling up with his grunts and pants until he shudders and stills, cumming into your puffy, fluttering cunt.

You both catch your breaths as if there’s no air in the room left for a while. His hair’s damp on his forehead, as is yours on your neck, and his eyes droop lazily. More lazy and content than you’ve ever seen him.

Collecting you to his chest, where only your heart thumps away frantically, he presses his mouth to your ear and says, “Do you think death is so scary now?”

With your limbs nothing more than boneless and liquid pleasure floating slowly through your thoughts, you smile.

A little death can be more visceral than living, you think.

༺ ꘏ ༻

The tree stump beneath you makes your tailbone ache. You sit criss-crossed, watching Soobin work away at the soil and tend to that section of the fence that’s begun to rot and sag. Your mouth moves endlessly, filling the space that would otherwise just be made up of his grunts of hard work.

“You know, you ought to help me if you’re just going to sit and watch,” he says, straightening to swipe at his forehead, sweaty despite the cold in the air.

“Totally improper,” you say, smiling at him cheekily. “Are you saying that you can’t handle yourself, strong man?”

He glares at you with the venom only somebody made to put up with hours of chatter could muster. “What’s got you so talkative?” he says.

You know he means why you’re suddenly not glaring him away. You can’t tell him that you’ve spoken with Death himself, so instead you say, “Nothing.” Letting your legs dangle down, you smile at him.

Yeonjun hadn’t done any of it. It’s a comfort, to some degrees, to know that. It’s not your fault that they died. Being around them, being around Soobin, won’t make them turn up dead. The rest of them still don’t know that—and they wouldn’t believe it, anyway—but the black shadow hanging over your shoulders dissipates.

For the first time in so, so long, you do not feel marked by death.

“Sure.” His smile tilts. “A week ago, you wouldn’t even look at me.”

Rolling your eyes, you decide to give him a hard time. “Not true. You just have a way of getting on my nerves.”

“I take pride in that.”

“Take pride in what? Being insufferable?”

Crinkling his nose, he says, “Knowing how to bother you best.”

“Get back to work, stupid.” Your heart soars. It’s good to have friends. To let yourself have friends is an ever better thing. Is this how it is? To be with others and not feel like their burden, or like they’re crossing their fingers behind their back to ward off whatever bad things you might bring onto them? He’s made it his mission to hover around you no matter what, but this feels different.

Maybe, for so long, part of it has been your own gloom that’s obscured it all. Maybe if you didn’t bare your teeth to anybody who got too close, it could’ve been like this always. You hate to think that your own isolation could be some part your own fault. But how were you not to show your teeth when someone tried to reach their hand out to you?

It doesn’t matter now. You shove that all down and let yourself feel the slight warmth of the sun’s glow on your skin where it peeks through the clouds. It’s a nice day, you shouldn’t ruin it with those thoughts.

The sun’s begun making its descent when Soobin’s done. He takes a long drink of water, hissing with relief and crumpling down to the ground with his back to your stump.

“Are you making any way with that girl you were talking to me about?” you prompt.

Giving you a long look over his shoulder, he says, “Don’t.”

“What?” You laugh a little, raising your brows down at him. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You know what you’re doing,” he says, voice flat as he picks stickers out of his fingers.

Soobin’s had a thousand different crushes. There was that daughter of the shepherd, and then the wealthy merchant’s daughter and her long pretty hair, and then the neighbor… Well, you could go on. None of them ever really came to fruition for the poor guy. He thinks that it’s because he’s a poor farmer’s son, but you always tell him that it’s because he’s got an insistent mouth, and that he should be more grateful that you deal with him. Your lips turn up at the corners a little thinking about it—he’ll find the one eventually, but you like the indignant look on his face when you say it.

“I mean it!” you say, nudging him with your leg. “Tell me. I want to know.”

“You won’t even tell me what’s happening with you. Until one of us quits keeping secrets,” he says, placing accusation heavy over the words, “I’ll keep my dealings to myself. What’s it to you, anyway?”

Feeling the weight of his head as he lets it loll lazily against your thigh, you decide that it couldn’t hurt to tell him. The itch to tell somebody crawls under your skin. Especially to tell him. “You know the other day? When I was… being awful?”

His body shakes with a vindicated laugh. “If you’re nothing else, at least you’re self-aware.”

You skirt around that with your own, more awkward, laugh. It’s nice that he thinks so, but you don’t feel it. “Stop,” you huff and nudge him again. “I was foraging out where I usually go. But I guess I wandered out farther than I thought I did. You remember when they used to tell us stories, right? Like the bogeyman. That he’d come snatch us up if we didn’t listen.” Your mom especially had loved that one, back when she cared what became of you. Would she care again, if you told her that everything was fine? “Well, I don’t know if you remember the one about The Wild Hunt, but… Anyway, I was picking some stuff, and…”

Sitting up from his exhausted slouch, Soobin looks like he’s suddenly come back to life. “What?” he interrupts. His voice is strangely serious.

“What?” you say, brow creasing. “They travel here and there… but they were here. In the woods. Like, I heard them.”

Tersely, he asks, “What were you doing that deep in the woods?”

“I mean, I just kept on finding nice stuff until I just… was deeper.” You survey him. You hadn’t thought that he’d react like this. “So I ran, and then there was this guy,” you say, watching realization fall over his face. He knew those stories as much as you do—knew where you were going with this. He is as starkly superstitious as the rest of your people, you forgot. Pushing past the grimace on his face, you say, “And I knew that he was the king. The one from the stories. It was so weird; it’s like you can feel it. And I spoke to him, and then…”

Stood up now, he cuts you off once more. “Are you kidding?”

“Why are you being like that?” you say, messing with your skirts to quell the defensive bite in your tone. “I didn’t do anything.”

“You didn’t do anything? Are you trying to get killed?” He throws up his hard-working hands. “We have rules for a reason. Don’t go out into the forest, don’t make deals with faeries, don’t follow a banshee scream. And then you go and talk to the king of death? How am I not supposed to be upset about that? You know that…” Soobin blinks a few times as if second-guessing what he’s about to say, but he says it anyway. “You know that he’s the reason that they treat you how they do. You know that he’s the one who ruined your life. Why would you ever mess with that?”

You push yourself up from the ground, eyes burning. That stings like a cut. “He didn’t do it. None of it is his fault,” you say, furrowing your brows. “What are you trying to say, Soobin? Just say what you want to say. Come on.”

“He didn’t do anything?” He scoffs, letting a heavy silence hang suspended in the air for a moment before saying, “Is that what he told you? And you just believed it? Listen to yourself, does that make any sense? He’s played with your life like it’s some fucking toy, and now he’s come to rub it in your face. Think about it: do animals just fly into anybody else’s windows and die? Do the trees that they pick from just end up dead? It’s his fault that they all treat you the way you do.”

Mouth opening and closing, you don’t know what to say. 

He sees the hurt in your burning eyes and tries to reel it back in. “What I’m trying to say is—”

“I know what you’re saying,” you say, grabbing up the lunch you’ve been nibbling on. “I know exactly what you’re saying. I just never thought you’d say it out loud.”

“Say what?” Soobin says, his voice raising behind you as you storm off.

That you think it’s my fault, you want to say. That they all die because I am a plague, and you are a charity worker for being my friend. Instead, you just leave and try to choke down the tightness in your throat.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You curl your arms around yourself, the night biting cold. Yeonjun had dragged you from bed, and who knows what hour of the night it is? If the heaviness beneath your eyes is to judge it by, it’s far too deep in the dead of night to be outside with your boots half-laced and nothing but your sleep chemise on.

You might’ve just stayed wrapped up in your blankets if you weren’t so lonely as you’ve been. Soobin’s been scarce. The most you see of him is in the fields from morning to afternoons. You hope that he’ll stop by your doorstep and knock so that you can groan about it but swing the door open anyway each time, but he doesn’t. He thinks that you won’t want to see him, and so he allows you your space.

That couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s hard to be the one to come back after a conversation like that, though. You watch him from the windows and hope he understands at some point instead. It’s an awful lot easier.

Other than preparing meals and window watching, you’ve been up to nothing much at all. You hadn’t realized how much you had, but you feel him in his absence. 

“It’s cold…” you say. The fog of breath that punctuates it makes your point. Whatever he’s brought you out here for, you have no doubt it’ll be something strange. The grin on his face tells you as much.

Leading the way, he heads for the Darkwood. “Only you would come rushing out without a cloak for your shoulders.”

“Well, only you would drag me from my nice, warm bed at this time of night. For what?”

“Can’t anything be a surprise with you?” he says, shooting you a cheeky glance over his shoulder. “Surprises are fun.”

“Surprises!” you say, working your legs to catch him. “Not surprises that involve you bringing me out into the woods. You know, it’s awfully suspicious. Somebody who sees this might think that I am the type to… sneak out with men.”

“Aren’t you now?”

Your lips tug down. “You know what I mean.”

He laughs in his airy way, a twig snapping under his foot. You’re well in the woods, now. Probably somewhere near where you’d first met him.

Lifting a brow, you look at him expectantly. Maybe a will-o’-the-wisp will come floating through with its light bouncing off the trees. That would be a nice surprise, you admit.

Yeonjun circles you. His presence behind you tingles in the way it always does, but true chills erupt when his breath puffs against your ear. “Close your eyes. I have something I want to show you.”

Your mind wanders back to what Soobin had gotten so twisted up about. It might be naive and reckless and against everything you ever learned, but you let your eyes fall shut to blackness. If he was going to hurt you, you imagine he’d have had that opportunity a mind-numbing amount of times before.

“Are they shut?” he asks, waiting for your nod. His voice comes from in front of you now. “I want you to keep them shut. You can’t open your eyes, or it will all go away. Okay?”

“Okay,” you breathe, mind full of a bounty of questions. You don’t even know where to begin to assume what he’s got going on, so you stand there shifting your antsy feet.

There’s a strange, rustling sound that catches you off guard with your eyes closed. It drags on for a long moment. Curiosity pries at your eyes; you want nothing more than to just crack an eye open to spy the source of the ruckus. 

It’ll be gone if you do, anyway.

You let out a surprised squeak as something rises up beneath you, as if risen from nothing more than the dirt and roots of the forest floor, bringing you up from the earth. You wobble and send your hands out to find a perch.

A horse. It’s a horse, its mane so tangled and windswept, but matted and clumped with leaves that crunch under your palm when you find them. It reeks of mud—everything around you begins to smell of earth and decomposition.

You know that if you open your eyes, you’ll find yourself sat upon the pale white steed of the Undead King, its eyes white and its knobby knees almost as famous as the leader of The Hunt himself. It chuffs beneath you.

“Are you ready?” Yeonjun says over your shoulder. You can hear the feral grin in his voice. It’s the leader of The Hunt, a creature of folklore, that sits behind you now. He curls an arm around your waist and tugs you closer to him, securing you against the wall of his chest. “Hold on tight, my love.”

The call of the wild, that horn, bellows again like it had the first time you heard it. Rather than coming from nearby as you thought it would, it dances between trees far off just like it had that time, too. Your heart jumps up into your throat.

Taking off with a howl, the Wild Hunt follows it.

You dig your fingers into Yeonjun’s at your waist. Weight melts away, and you know you’re in the air. Your belly swoops in tandem with the howls and hoots of the riders, heart palpitating to the hoofbeats. How there’s hoofbeats as you ride through the air, you’re not sure. The ghostly fleet manifests around you in vivid imagery, though you squeeze your eyes shut. They are wild enough to imagine just what they might look like: with their clothes and flesh in tatters, with their eyes beady or pale, with their hounds piercing the air with their calls and running alongside them, they are a perfect personification of freedom.

Whip-lash sends you reeling, body going rigid. You grit your teeth and squeeze your eyes harder, wishing that you’ll touch ground soon and that everything would become real again.

Yeonjun feels you go stiff. Bringing his head back to your shoulder from his own delight, he says, “It’s okay. You’re okay. Let it into your bones. Do you think I would let it hurt you?”

He is their leader. If it got too much, you know Yeonjun would be there to catch you. Curling your fingers into his, you release that tension and allow their drumbeat to echo through you.

And when it does, your blood begins to sing along. The wind whips your cheeks and your hair, and you begin to laugh with them. The Hunt twists and turns and dances through the air, an apparition in the night, but nothing more than that.

It comes to a slow, eventually, until the noise and even your steed crumbles back down into the dirt it appeared from. Your eyes pop open hoping to catch at least a glimpse of them, but only the dark forest and pale moonlight answer. Your legs threaten to give out on you, veins still thrumming, but, oh, do you feel alive.

You feel more alive than you ever have, more than you ever could have hoped to have known. Mind spinning, you stumble. Yeonjun catches and steadies you before you can go scraping your knees on a rock.

“Oh my fucking god,” you say.

The laugh that Yeonjun breaks into has you sending him a glare, but you break too. Everything about him is ironic; and how ironic indeed that Death himself should show you how to be alive, rather than to just live?

༺ ꘏ ༻

The air is so fresh in your lungs when you step outside that it nearly burns. You clutch your basket of warm fig tarts. Songbirds trill and fly between tree tops that slowly become more bare the deeper you fall into the season, singing their sweet songs that sound like new beginnings.

Raising your hem from the ground churned up into mud from the afternoon’s trickle, you prance into town with a lively pep in your step. You spent all last night making these—Yeonjun had kept you company, watching you how he always does as you pored over making them just right. His cruel snicker when the jam had simmered over flame for too long and became too thick bounces off your bones in a sweet melody. You’ve come to adore his wicked delight, the way his smile cracks over his face and the facetious raise of his brows, more than you fear it.

Sending small smiles to the people that you pass, you stop by a huddle of kids digging sticks into the mud. They look up at you with curious eyes, stopping to gawk.

“Hey, guys,” you say, pulling back the cloth laid over the sweets. “I’ve made some fig tarts. Do you like fig? I bet you’ll like them; they’re sweet.”

The kids stand up, eyes big as they share a look. They don’t let out so much as a peep before they scurry off home.

You blink. Well, you’re used to weird reactions, but that was… different. Picking up your deflated shoulders and hesitant limbs, you make a shoddy attempt at not letting it dampen your good morning. You were expecting wary looks, anyway.

You head down a little further toward the far side of your home village, the side that breaks off after a fenceline into a great, grassy field. There’s a bustle, mothers washing their clothes in pails and hanging them up to dry and a few others whispering at each other lowly as they go about their days.

An old woman so old her back curves and her fingers have gone knobby makes her way to wherever the day’s duty demands her to be. Your neighbor—an eccentric old lady bound in her times. You decide on her: the elderly are forgotten by the young. She might enjoy knowing that her neighbors still know she exists.

“Hello,” you say, showing her your basket with a hopeful, excited heart. “I have some treats that I was wanting to give out. I know they might not be much, but would you like one? I’m not the best baker, but I do it often enough.” A face like that, dragged down by her years on this earth and not long to death, has no doubt spent many years making meals for her family. You imagine your goods would be nothing beside hers, but it’s the gesture, no?

“Oh, girl,” she says, voice crackling as she clutches her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “I’m afraid it’s best if you found yourself missing from this place. Hurry yourself up and spare the drama.”

The incessant cawing of a crow from a clawed tree fades into the background as you furrow your brows and lower your basket to ask, “...Huh?” Your belly goes up in knots; terrible knots done up tight and fast. You haven’t got a clue what she’s talking about. Elders always did speak a bit strange, though. It could be nothing much; she’s a stern old lady.

But her eyes are not angry and glaring in the way that a harrowed old hag might turn her nose up at the youth. They drag down with a cold pity.

“Listen to me, girl.” She points at you with one of those worn, sun-spotted hands. “You had best leave. The boy’s gone, and they are already not fond of you. Who will they point their fingers to?” the woman says. “I hardly know you, but I would hate to see it.”

The rest of her words fade into the roaring in your ears, the feral drumbeat of your heart like a wardrum in the cage of your ribs as it beats against them as if to escape from you. You don’t feel the basket in your hands, don’t feel the solidity of the earth beneath your feet, and don’t feel a single one of your thoughts like tangible things. They flit as if liquidated into a rotten, sick mush.

Nothing. You can think of nothing. Nothing real; nothing holding you to the earth.

“What?” Your voice hardly reaches your ears, but what does is weak and broken and like a plea for her to tell you that it’s not really what you think it is.

And if you could see or hear anything beyond your fraying little rift in reality, you would’ve heard the man coming up to you. You would’ve heard the words coming from his angry, sneering mouth, and would’ve done something when he picked up a pail of water, and you would’ve been shaken by the nasty ice water that runs down your frozen body and plasters your hair and clothes down as he pours it over you. But none of it cuts through your stupor.

He yells some awful, stabbing things at you, and a few others join him. They tell you that you are nothing but a plague, tell you to leave and to not come back here.

But this is your home. Where else would you go?

With your sopping wet dress clutched in your shaking fists as though that might keep you grounded, you choke down the tightening of your throat and sift through their faces, searching for his face. Those brown eyes, brown and always shining with nagging playfulness, do not come up anywhere. Jaw trembling, you search harder. Out on the field where he should be at this time of day, at your doorstep demanding that you go spend the day doing nothing with him, in someone’s yard helping them fix up a broken fence, no matter where you look, neither his broad silhouette nor his cheeky, dimpled face is there. You continue to stand stricken dumb, looking for him even though you know by the churning in your belly that it’s true, and you’re just hurting yourself trying to find him right where he should be.

Fine. Alive. Untouched by your disgusting, destructive presence.

When you can no longer fight the strangling tightness in your lungs and your dress is as heavy as your heart, you take off. The hem of your dress drags in mud and sticker bushes and catches on stray twigs, and you don’t know where you’re going, but you just run. You’ll give them what they want. 

You stumble, probably like some lost, undead thing, until you find yourself at the edge of the forest. Only then do you let the wall of whittle-edged tears roll down your face. And you assume you sound like a choking, dying animal with how you choke and heave on them, but he was the one you might’ve dropped your head and cried to, so what’s the use of making it pretty? No; you let it all fall as it is.

Soobin’s dead. Soobin’s dead, and it’s nobody else’s but your own fault. You clutch your chest to staunch that old ache that’s grown teeth and tears at your heart; you have and will always be the end of everything that comes near. You are just as much the plague that you began to pretend, to believe, you weren’t. It was your stupid hope that maybe you could have something and not watch it become carrion that drove that pick. It was by your hope that he’s gone.

The hair on your arms begins to raise. You pick your head up and find Yeonjun standing in front of you.

There’s a few beats of long, dreadful quiet as he takes in the state of you. He drags his eyes down and they become liquid flame—something different from the impious delight that he is made of. He becomes the King of Death.

“What happened?” he says. The chills on your arms prickle furiously at the words, furling out distant and yet furious like the center of the fire.

You shake your head, wiping your soaked cheek.

“What the fuck happened?” he growls again, taking your face into his hand. “Who did this? Who did this to you, my love? I need you to tell me who the fuck did this to you.”

Letting the venom in your mouth out, you shove his chest and say, “Get away from me. Don’t fucking touch me.”

Yeonjun’s face twists up, looking scalded. Not surprised, though. “Don’t do this,” he says. “Let me hold you while it hurts. Don’t push me away. I can’t… I won’t lose you again.”

All the pieces that you had been putting into the corners of your mind snap together at that. As many suspicions as you had, though, it feels sour hearing it confirmed from his mouth. That you are his dead past lover, reincarnated or whatever you are. That it was his presence—because even though he stayed away for centuries, a part of him still lingered with you—that now has torn down everything you ever thought you could love. He, standing there in front of you like a kicked puppy, is the ruination of your life in the flesh. The flipping of your stomach is nauseating.

“I hate you,” you spit. “I hate you so much.” You repeat it a few more times, and you sob it into his chest as he takes you into his arms. “Is this what you wanted? You’ve been waiting for this forever, haven’t you? To find me again, so that you can die and fucking leave me here. So that you can make me exactly what you are, while you get your peace. You are a liar and a thief. All you’ve ever done is steal and take. How could you do it? Huh? Tell me…” Your voice trembles and staggers off. “Tell me how you made love to me, how you made me believe that you loved me, and all you ever wanted was to save yourself? You betrayed me.”

Pulling back, Yeonjun says, “No.”

“Yes,” you say, stumbling back away from him with a shaking, accusatory finger pointed at him. “Yes you did.”

Fingers itching to reach out to you, he holds them back by curling them into fists. “No. That’s not fair. I have spent an eternity loving you. I spent the entirety of my immortal, monstrous life searching for you, just so that I might find you in any form. I would have been glad to find you as a leaf in a tree, as long as I found you. But, then, I find you alive. Alive and back, as if… it never happened.” He steps toward you, aching to be near you. His voice wavers. “Please, don’t do this to me, love. Please, just let me have you again. I’ve waited… I’ve waited and I’ve waited, and I finally have you, and now you’re looking at me like I… Like I’d ever hurt you. Finding death—finally getting to die would be worth nothing if you weren’t there with me. It was never about that.”

“I could never love you,” you say, matching his steps forward with steps away from him. “I could never love a monster that does… Does nothing but kill. Take.”  You know your words are cruel, but you need them to be. You need him to hurt, you need him to go so far away from you that never again will you cause another living thing’s death. 

“You did.” Yeonjun’s mouth cracks into a pained smile, sharp at the corners. “You loved me just as much as I love you, once.”

“Just leave me. Leave me, and I wish to never see you again. If you love me, then you’ll give me that.” 

He looks at you, clever eyes intense and glassy, for a long time. And then he says, “Would that make you happy? Would it make it so that you could live a happy life, and find yourself something to live for?”

What’s left for you? A small village that won’t ever embrace you? No, it wouldn’t fix your life. But you open your mouth and tell him, “Yes.”

“Okay,” he says, brushing his knuckles over your cheeks reverently. He swallows in your features, running over them for what he knows is the last time he’ll be seeing you—the very last time he’ll see the face of his undying love. When he finally opens his mouth again, his voice is gentle. “I’ll leave you. If my being here hurts you, then I won’t be selfish. I love you, darling.”

Don’t go, you want to tell him. Please don’t leave. Please, hold me. But your mouth is dry, and you let the radiant hurt in your chest stop you. You let him go.

༺ ꘏ ༻

There’s only one place you can think of going to. It’s the only place your vagrant feet take you.

His spot still is held sacred by the flattened, gold wheat stalks. Your best friend, still living here on Earth in at least one way even if he’s not here to listen to your stupid rambling. And he would maybe complain, but he’d always listen.

The last thing you’d done was fight with him. What an awful thing—what an awful way to repay him for being the only one who ever dared to get close.

You sit in your spot, beside his, and rest your chin on your knees. If only the ground beneath you would open up and swallow you whole. You’d deserve it.

What’s left for you? Is there a place in the world that would keep you happily once they see what you do? No. There is not. You wish you knew what to do; you wish you had somebody to ask.

Releasing a long, tight breath, you just sit and wait for something to give you answers. A gentle breeze makes your hair dance, but it does not whisper anything to your ears. Something’s circling over head, but it doesn’t caw in the cadence of his laughter.

The day moves along without you. You’re not sure how long you sit, but it stretches somewhere between a few minutes and eternity. No matter how long you wait, there are no answers. No matter how long you mull over it.

Conceding, you begin to push yourself up from the ground. A rustle in between the foliage stops you before you stand.

A tawny hare leaps out in front of you. It sniffs around you, nose twitching. Then it stands back on its haunches. It stares straight at you, an intelligent light in its eyes that knits your brows. The wild thing stands there with a purpose that is uncharacteristic of a forest animal.

But entirely familiar in the face of your best friend. That shine in its eyes as it stands there, nose still twitching, makes your chest tighten up.

“Hey,” you say, as if it might answer you. Your eyes well up with hot tears again. Of course, it doesn’t. 

Maybe you’ve gone mad, but you know that it’s him. That idiot, coming to show you that he’s okay in the afterlife—to visit one last time and to let you know that you shouldn’t worry for him or cry for him. Look at me, full of life once again, he seems to say. The hare blinks its beady eyes. It lingers there for a long time, the ease of peace found in his gaze that Soobin hadn’t had in this life, saying that there is still something waiting out there for us once we go. You reach out a hand. He does not flinch as you scratch behind his ear.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I’m glad to know you’re alright. I know what I need to do, now.”

He blinks.

You laugh a hoarse, breathy laugh, familiar in only the way that Soobin could achieve. “You look stupid.”

Indignantly, the hare stomps a bratty foot in a way reminiscent of one of Soobin’s huffs before it settles back down onto its forelegs and scurries off. He goes to live out this new form of life, because it’s true: life does not end in death. He’s shown you that.

Maybe, like this, he’ll find that pretty lady that loves him the way he deserves. That loser.

༺ ꘏ ༻

You spend only one night in your home and you know that what you’ve chosen is right. After spending your day out in the field, you sneak under night’s cover into your husk of a room and let yourself sleep there under the covers one last time. When morning breaks through the window, you gather your weary bones up and leave. 

You run into your mother on the way out. She doesn’t yell at you to leave, but her eyes have gone cold. Colder than you’re used to. You’ve killed again, in every way that counts. So you don’t bother with bidding her or any of them any grand goodbyes. You couldn’t handle the relief you might find falling over them, should you.

Plopping down to the floor, you take a few bites of the cheese and bread lathered in sweet jam that you’d swiped from the kitchen. The grass is long and willows in the wind, bending and dancing prettily. It’s so soft; you enjoy the feeling of it beneath your fingers in your quiet serenity. The scent of it, fresh over the baseness of dirt, you breathe into your lungs.

It would be the loveliest place to spend the rest of eternity.

For the first time, Yeonjun appears in front of you rather than behind you. He materializes from nothing, his elbow on his knee as casual as if he’d been sat there the whole time. The darkness beneath his eyes seems heavier, but then again you know that exact heaviness. It sits right in the very center of you.

You both are quiet for a bit. You let the tall grass whisper, instead.

“Bread?” you say and slant your lips into a smile. Bringing it up, you offer it to him.

His smile wrinkles his nose and curls at the edges. Entirely him. Yeonjun accepts the bread, ripping a bite out before throwing it away into the sea of green. Once he’s chewed, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss that’s utterly at odds with his sharp mouth. Your lips move over each other gently, save for an indulgent nip or bite here and there.

He pushes you back into a bed of sweetgrass, never letting your lips go. Not to breathe, not to say something that’ll pale in comparison to the sweetness of your mouths on one another. He kisses you until he’s had enough to fulfill a lifetime without it, and then some more.

“My love,” he whispers into your skin, his breath hot on your collarbone. “Mine,” he says, pressing a kiss into the column of your neck, and then he says it again with a hot kiss to the place where your dress suggests your breasts. He says it a handful more times as he pushes your skirts up your thighs. “My love forever. I waited for you so long, and I would do it again.” Lowering his voice to a honeyed whisper, he adds, “I would find you no matter what.”

Laughing softly, you run your fingers through his raven hair to better see his eyes. You know he would.

Gently giving you one more of his lingering kisses that make your skin tingle, right into your bare shoulder, he presses into you. You loose a soft breath, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The beating in your chest slows to a content purr as he begins languid thrusts in and out of you, rolling pointedly and unhurried.

Yeonjun makes love to you in a thousand dusted kisses and sweet words, your hands holding each other’s soft edges. Yeonjun traces the lines of you, taking the pads of his thumb down your cheeks and your lips and then his hand over the swell of your breasts and down your belly and over your thighs. Clamping down on him as your belly grows tight in the way it had the first time you had done this, your thighs begin to shake.

 Breathlessly, as you hurdle over the edge, all that you can say is, “I love you, ‘Junnie.” 

Yeonjun smiles at you and then presses his face into your neck. He doesn’t even brace himself against the grass to chase his own peak. Neither of you want this to end; you want to hold on to this moment and let it span forever. Slowly, Yeonjun rolls up into you until his hips finally stutter and he cums into you, his cheeks pink. The weight of him above you as he shakes with your shared ecstasy, and even as you both have come down and are nothing but lazy, is the only thing in this world. He is the only thing in this world.

Once you’ve both evened your breathing out, you roll apart and face each other, still just two forms bending the grass into your shapes. Blinking slowly and digesting his features one at a time—the angle of his eyes, softened but never tamed, the line of his nose, the line of his mouth always so proud and playful, and that pretty dot below his left eye—you let them solidify fully in your mind.

“Yeonjun,” you say, finally meeting his eyes across from you. “I want to go. I’m ready.”

The gentle, knowing look that he gives you soothes over the way your heart begins to race in your chest in rebellion. “I know,” he says.

Of course he had known. Yeonjun had been called here to ferry you into the afterlife. He had known the moment he appeared in front of you that his last soul to reap would be you; an ironic circle of karma that should be cruel, but you two make it something sweet. Chewing on your lip, you will your hands to not shake as you curl toward him. You’re no longer scared of going. You know that if you’ll be with him, it will be okay. It won’t be so scary. A hot tear rolls down your temple and then drops into your hair. “Will you be with me? I won’t be there alone?”

He tucks some hair behind your ear reverently and then leaves his hand there. “I don’t know,” he answers. “But I won’t leave you. I’ll stay right here with you.”

You lay there for a long time. Chatting and giggling and just looking into each other's eyes, until your heart becomes slow and all you feel is the wind singing in your blood. Yeonjun presses one final kiss to your forehead.

Maybe, in some years, somebody might dig up your bones and find you immortalized like this in your love. Your bones bowing toward each other, as if even death were not enough to stop you from reaching for each other. Or maybe they’ll just find yours, and Yeonjun still curling into them how you know he will for an eternity more.

Either way, the going is still slow and gentle, as death always is.

🪶 ⦂ tears. omfg i cried writing this which could totally be me being a bitch baby but it DAMN. omfg.

rꫀׁׅܻblogs & asks arꫀׁׅܻ always apprꫀׁׅܻciatꫀׁׅܻd!

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[misojunnie]

DELICATE ─ psh. ☆

does love ever cross the line?

# genre: rich kid!enemy!sunghoon x fem!reader, forbidden love, enemies to lovers, slow burn, family feud, non idol au

# warnings: substances, lots of pining/angst, cursing, insults, mature jokes, implied sex, I have no idea how businesses work plz don’t roast me

# featuring: sunghoon & enha! + le sserafim

# playlist: delicate by taylor swift, take care by beach house, love by kendrick lamar, babydoll by dominic fike, hurts so good by astrid s

# a/n: hello all! been a long time :,( my life has taken several turns since I started this account, and I've been so preoccupied with my own bs that running this blog is becoming harder than ever... hence my little disappearing act. but I don't want to disappoint u guys! this fic was supposed to be released several months but it completely slipped my mind :( I decided to log in once again to finally let you all see it! I hope you like it and I hope to be back again soon 💓 much love to all my dedicated readers and I appreciate you all more than you know!

# word count: 13.2k

# taglist: @lovialy @minniejenseo @powerpuffstuts @mnxnii @idkdykilr @ionlyreadforfanfics @heelovesmeknot @100520s @simjyunnie @scrumptiousloser @eneiyri @pinkkami @milkycloudtyg @enhypenlovre @pinkkami @m3chigo @saythenameseventeen178 @desistay @capri-cuntz.@taerifin @ohmykwonsoonyoung @vixensss

# unable to tag: @hohohobo

this was written upon anon request; check it out here!

when your father’s company cratered after a faulty business deal, a vendetta was formed between your family and the biggest export company in south korea. but that rivalry begins to falter when you fall in love with the ceo’s son.

[more under the cut!]

You hated the business world. 

It was ruthless. Bloodless. It had no heart and no compassion. It taught you that humans were created to tear their own kind apart; it was a dog eat dog world.

A couple years ago, your family’s company went bankrupt, and you blamed it all on the Park Company. Fine, maybe your father held some culpability for throwing his business away in a deal that was obviously so faulty. But naivete and malice were entirely different things altogether; one was mostly harmless. The other? Not so much.

The Park Company was the most ruthless corporation in the business world. Working in any kind of business guaranteed running into them sooner or later. And now, not only had they run your business into the ground, they owned over ¾ of your company’s wealth in stock. Not that it was worth much anyway.

Well, it turns out fixing your father’s mistake was a little harder than you thought. Reviving a company from the dead was difficult, especially when public opinion wasn’t exactly favorable. So you made the riskiest decision yet; to start from scratch. You invested all your family’s ruined fortune on establishing your dream hotel. Even if it was the last thing you did, you would have more than a ruined corporation as your legacy.

With ten cents to your name and a pipe dream, you managed to create what would later be the most successful hotel chain in South Korea. Your wealth grew, and so did your reputation. Some praised you for making such a comeback, some degraded you for your family’s mistakes. And it definitely didn’t help that your father became a raging drunkard after his failure, raving the streets like a maniac. You even considered having him taken out just so he’d stop damaging your reputation, but you decided against it. To you, it didn’t matter. Your success was your only concern.

Destroying your life was all in a day’s work for the Parks. They were so obscenely powerful, that losing a mere company like yours was like losing an eyelash. Meaningless. You were nothing to them.

You hated them with a vengeance. They didn’t even know your name.

Or so you thought.

☆☆☆

Awards banquets were Sunghoon’s least favorite part of being in business. Forget the ruthlessness and backstabbing, dressing up in a suit and pretending to be successful blew all that warfare out of the water.

“It’s too tight.”

“It’s fine. You’ll be fine. Just stop complaining.”

“I’m not kidding, Jake. Loosen it or I’ll kill you.” Jake sighed, tugging on the navy blue tie until it was hanging loosely around Sunghoon’s neck, a stark and messy contrast to his crisp black suit and neat button up.

“Jesus Christ. After fifteen years, you’d think you’d know how to tie a tie.” Jake said, shaking his head as his best friend checked his hair in the mirror. 

“Are you sure we have to go to this thing tonight?” Sunghoon huffed, brushing a stray piece of hair into place.

“Don’t be stupid. You’ve been going to these galas since you were six, and dragging me along with you.” Jake scoffed, pushing Sunghoon’s head from behind and ruining his hairstyle yet again, the latter glaring at him.

Jake Sim, heir to the Sim corporation. An airplane manufacturing company that was this close to going under when the Parks took pity and bought nearly all their stock. These days, their company was worth next to nothing, but young Sunghoon took Jake under his wing, and there was no escaping now, to his chagrin. Though they’d never admit it, they had grown very fond of each other.

“You love it.” Sunghoon teased, tearing his eyes away from the mirror after checking his hair a last time. “God, I can’t believe we’re still having these idiotic galas. Everyone just knows they’re a coverup for big corporations to distract from the fact that they’re abusing their poor workers.”

“Nobody cares these days. Put a bow on anything and the media will eat it up.” Jake said, adjusting his tie before slapping his friend on the shoulder. “Ready to ruin some lives? Destroy some young futures?”

“Not funny.” Sunghoon warned, pointing his finger at Jake while trying to tug on his shoes with the other hand. “You know how much I hate the company.”

“Say that as much as you want, but you’re still wearing shoes bought with your daddy’s blood money.” Sunghoon huffed.

“Hm...I suppose you’re right.” he said, putting his hands on his hips.

“C’mon, let’s get you to the ball, Prince Charming.” Jake dragged Sunghoon out of the room by the wrist, locking it behind him, Sunghoon in tow.

Sunghoon sighed. God, how he hated his life. A legacy built on deception, and nothing he could do about it. Him and Jake made their way to the elevators, his dull eyes disappearing behind the closing doors.

He didn’t belong anywhere. Certainly not here.

☆☆☆

On the other side of the city, you were having an entirely different conversation.

“Take that off, Chae.” you said, biting into an apple. Your red lipstick bled into the fruit as you stared judgingly at Chaewon’s enormous diamond necklace.

“But it’s so pretty.” she crossed her arms, but you gave her a stern glance and she turned around to change with a roll of her eyes. “And you, put that out.” you swatted at Jay’s hand, a lit cigarette perched between his two fingers, roiling smoke spilling from the top. “You’re gonna make my new dress smell like smoke.”

“Jeez, what’s got your panties in a twist?” Jay asked, putting out his cigarette on the corner of the coffee table, which made you frown. “No need to stress. You’ve done this business routine a million times over.”

“I’m just nervous, I guess.” you said, hands fidgeting in your lap.

“I thought you didn’t care what the Parks thought about you.”

“I don’t.” you said firmly, tongue poking into the flesh of your left cheek. “I just want things to go smoothly, that’s all.”

“So you’re not gonna stand up to those fuckers that ruined your life? No protest?” Jay asked, resting his chin on his hand. “You always wanted to take them down.”

“Of course I do. But tonight’s not the night.” you sighed, rubbing your forehead, smudging your foundation and cursing when you realized what you had done. “I just want to be put together, just for one night.”

“Well you certainly look the part, honey.” he said, eyes trailing over your floor length red gown. “You’re a proper businesswoman.”

“I hope so.” you laughed.

“You’re gonna kill it. I know it for a fact.” Jay said, pressing a kiss to your cheek before standing. “Now let’s get you to this ball.” You grinned up at him, getting to your feet and brushing the dust off your skirt with determination.

“Let’s show these people who the Queen company is.”

☆☆☆

When the email stated “an intimate gathering”, you didn’t exactly expect nearly 300 people crammed into a dancing hall. The building was bursting at the seams to hold all the milling guests as they sipped on champagne and dined on fine food, laughing boisterously, teeth chattering. You hid your mouth behind the rim of your glass. You didn’t want to talk to a single person tonight.

Across the room, Sunghoon was doing the same. He had just about enough of the noise, and was considering running to the bathroom to hide when his father clapped him on the back and engaged him in a conversation he didn’t care about.

You wished you could escape.

He wished he could escape.

You stood, leaving your empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter as you walked around the crowded hall, searching the crowd for anything of interest. Your eyes landed on the desserts, and you beelined for the table of sugary treats, hoping to at least find a bit of solace in them, head down as you avoided the public eye.

Your hand bumped into another’s when you reached for the tiramisu.

“Oh, excuse me.” he said softly. He was beautiful. Dark eyes, silken hair and pink lips. His posture was straight as a ruler, shoulders back and a kind look on his face. It was almost too cliche, running into this beautiful stranger. 

If only you didn’t know who he was.

You turned to look at him, eyes meeting. “It’s you.” you said, and he stiffened at the sight of your face. “I was wondering when we would meet.”

Sunghoon wasn’t expecting the daughter of the Queen Company to be so beautiful. Sure, he had seen pictures, but they had never done you justice. And putting a face to the name was suddenly making him dizzy.

“Hello.” he said politely, avoiding your eyes as he gulped, throat dry. “I’m Park Sunghoon. Son of the Park company president.”

“Oh, I know who you are.” you waved him off. “No need for introductions between us. Time is valuable, let’s not waste it.”

“And patience is a virtue, so let’s make time.” Sunghoon said, smiling a tight lipped smile with his hands behind his back.

You looked at him skeptically. You didn’t think it was possible for Sunghoon to be more of a prick than you expected him to be, but he had somehow done it.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” you said, holding out your hand for a handshake. “President of the Queen company.” Rather than shaking your hand, Sunghoon bowed his head, his lips brushing over your knuckles as he held your hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it.

“Charmed.” he said, and your brows raised instinctively.

“I’m sure.” you scoffed, pulling your hand away and rubbing it on the side of your dress in disgust. Sunghoon’s eye twitched. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m rather busy.”

“With what, buzzing around the dessert table?”

“With running a business.” you snapped, turning on your heel and walking away as fast as you could. Sunghoon watched, listening to the faint clicking of your off-brand heels against the marble floor, shaking his head the moment you were out of sight.

He totally fucked that up.

“Jesus, that guy is more of an asshole than I thought.” you huffed, taking your assigned seat and placing the desserts you had gathered on the table, Chaewon excitedly reaching for a mango pudding.

“What, is that even possible?” Jay asked, sparking up another cigarette. You swatted the lighter out of his hand, and he scowled.

“Apparently so.” you sighed, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. You couldn’t wait for this night to end. You could feel eyes on you from all sides, judging, watching your next move. Waiting for you to fuck up, waiting for you to make a mistake or a rash decision they could broadcast to the media.

“I think we started off of on the wrong foot.” you heard a voice say from behind you, and you craned your neck to meet the eyes of Park Sunghoon, yet again. Those damn dark eyes. Swimming with emotion.

“I think there’s a reason for that.” you responded sharply, quick as a whip.

“Let’s start over. What do you say?” he grinned, leaning his head down until he was at your level, ignoring the stares he received from your friends.

“I say I’d rather die than become acquainted with you. Sorry.” you said very unapologetically, pleased with the put-out expression on his face.

“Well,” he said, straightening up and adjusting his jacket indignantly. “Doesn’t someone have an enormous chip on her shoulder.” Your smug expression crashed, morphing into a scowl. “Pleasure to meet you, Ms. Y/l/n.” With that, he stalked away, nose turned up and an unpleasant look on his face.

“Stupid piece of shit.” Jay said, sparking up his cigarette with the lighter he retrieved from the floor. You didn’t try to stop him, just stewing in your own displeasure. You couldn’t believe that audacious bastard. Was he aware that his family was the sole reason for the ‘enormous chip on your shoulder’?

You tried not to let it get to you, and quickly gave up. Suddenly, this was feeling all too real, and you got to your feet, brushing off your dress, bunching it in your hands. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Bathroom.” you mumbled, pushing your way past to get to the exit.

☆☆☆

If you didn’t know better, you’d think Park Sunghoon’s spirit was haunting you on purpose. The only thing convincing you otherwise was the fact that he was alive and well –to your chagrin.

You sat, fuming from your office as his snotty face stared at you from a newly mounted billboard across the street, a wide smile on his face as he endorsed some brand of cologne. So not only was he a scumbag businessman, now he was some kind of model? It turned your stomach to think about it.

“I want that billboard down, now.” you grumbled, dropping your head onto your desk in despair as Jay watched you with amusement.

“I can get someone to set it on fire, if you want.”

“Not necessary, but I appreciate the thought.” you said, standing and pacing around the room restlessly. “We need to take them down.” Jay snorted, taking a seat in one of your office chairs, twirling around comfortably.

“What, take down the biggest corporation in the country? It’s not as easy as it seems, honey.” You glared at him, continuing to pace. “Look, don’t get me wrong. I wholeheartedly support your ventures to destroy Park Sunghoon, but don’t you think your fury is a bit misplaced? His father is the one that destroyed your company.”

“Evil by association.” you waved him off. “Plus, he’s rude.”

“Can’t disagree with that.” Jay took a long drag. You hadn’t even noticed that he lit a cigarette, and you rolled your eyes at him.

“You seriously need to stop smoking.”

“I’ll stop when you stop seeking vengeance.”

“...Touche.”

☆☆☆

You seriously needed a vacation from work. After five 16 hour shifts, the exhaustion was beginning to set in. You couldn’t even remember the last time you went out with friends. A couple of years ago, there wasn’t a weekend where you, Jay and Chaewon weren’t in some hole in the wall drinking until you forgot your failures. But ever since your company took off, you didn’t have time for that behavior. But that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy a good dive bar now and then.

You snuck through the entrance of your favorite dive bar on the East side of the city, your slip skirt waving in the wind as you nodded to the security. This was the only bar in South Korea that wouldn’t sell you out to the papers, and besides that, they made a damn good Manhattan.

There were less than 10 people in the whole place, an odd couple here or there and some folks in need of a pick-me-up. You took a seat in the middle of the bar, your usual seat at the end taken by a sodden boy with a big hood that covered his face.

“Hey, Won.” you greeted the bartender as he wiped his hands with a towel, smiling at your entrance.

“Hey, y/n.” he said, throwing the towel over his shoulder. You heard the man beside you stir. “Manhattan?”

“You know it.” Jungwon reached for a bottle of whiskey, expertly mixing and measuring like it was muscle memory, finishing your cocktail with a flourish and sliding it over the counter. You had gone to high school with Jungwon and Sunoo, the two men who owned the bar, and had been friends ever since. You trusted them.

“How’s the business?” he asked, leaning with his elbows resting on the marble. “Saw you on the news the other day. Said you stormed out of the Park’s gala.”

You sighed, “Yeah. It’s been a tough week.”

“I hear that,” he said, straightening up with a grin. “You’ll get through it, stronger than ever. You always do.” you smiled, pressing the rim of the glass to your lips.

“Thanks, Won.”

“No problem. Just kick those greedy bitches in the ass for me.” That elicited a chuckle from you, Jungwon smiling upon hearing your laugh. “I’ll go get Sunny. I’m sure he’ll wanna say hi.”

“I’d love that.” you said gratefully, watching as Jungwon weaved around the back of the bar and into the back room. You looked down, sipping your drink, lost in thought.

“What are you doing here?” A grating, angry voice interrupted your haze. You turned to the boy sitting beside you, and it felt like you lost your buzz in an instant.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.” you said, staring into the dark eyes of your nemesis yet again, this time foggy with drunkeness. “You seriously had to find the one place where I could escape your face?” he asked bitterly, taking another swig of his vodka soda.

“My face? There’s a sixty foot billboard of your face outside my window.” you grumbled, and he snorted gracelessly. You could tell by his hoodie being pulled forward and his bangs covering most of his face that he was trying to hide, just like you. “I’ve been going to this bar for four years.”

“Lucky you. I just found it last week.” he took another sip. You suddenly felt silly sitting multiple stools away from him, but you’d be damned before moving closer. “This is the only place that won’t sell me out to the press,” he sighed. “And their bartender is pretty damn good.” You observed the four empty glasses sitting beside him, the way he was slurring his words. Clearly he had come here for the same reason you had.

“Won’s a pro.” you said, averting your eyes. The Sunghoon before you was throwing you off. He had humanity, and you hated it. It gave you a reason to hate him a little less than before.

Jungwon emerged from the back, a bright faced brunette in tow. Grateful for the excuse to end the conversation with Sunghoon, you leapt out of your seat and rounded the bar to pull the man into a hug.

“Hey, Sunny!” you said brightly, and he grinned.

“I didn’t get a hug.” Jungwon rolled his eyes, reaching for a bottle of tequila to complete another order.

“How’ve you been?” Sunoo asked, releasing you to get a good look at your face. “Wow, it’s been awhile since you’ve been in here. You look all adult-like.” You scoffed, brushing him off. “Where’s Jay and Chae? I haven’t seen them in months.”

“I didn’t tell them I was coming.” you admitted.

“Ah, one of those nights?” he asked, and you nodded. “You busy working? I’ve seen you in the news, the company’s looking good.” Sunghoon snorted from beside you, and you resisted the urge to glare.

“Pretty busy, yeah. The business world is a battlefield right now.” you said with a pointed look at the man beside you who slammed his glass down on the counter.

“Another.” he muttered, and Jungwon looked him up and down skeptically.

“I think you’re done for the night. I’ve gotta cut you off.” Won said decisively, and Sunghoon looked up at him with glassy eyes.

“Fuck, whatever.” he said, getting up from his seat and drunkenly stumbling, tripping as he dismounted from the stool, using the counter to steady himself.

“He doesn’t look so good.” Sunoo said quietly, and you watched him, poking your tongue into the flesh of your cheek in confliction.

“You need help?” Jungwon said, ready to assist as he clapped a hand on Sunghoon’s shoulder, but the older boy shook him off frustratedly.

“I’m fine, get your hands off of me.” he stuttered, swiping at him.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help.” Jungwon said defensively, shaking his head as Sunghoon tried, failing, to make his way to the door. You huffed, setting your drink down and abandoning the last sip as you made your way to him.

“Hey, stop being an idiot. Let’s get you a taxi.” you chastised, and he scowled.

“I don’t want help from you.” Sunghoon mumbled, and you rolled your eyes.

“You’re drunk, Sunghoon. It’d be a nightmare if the news caught you wandering on the street.” That made him think, and he begrudgingly wrapped an arm around your shoulders, refusing to speak.

“You need help?” Sunoo called after you, and you waved back at him.

“Don’t worry, I know him. Put the Manhattan on my tab.”

“It’s on the house, angel. Get home safe.” Jungwon said, and you sent him a grateful wave as you attempted to get Sunghoon out the door, shutting it behind you.

“Why are you doing this?” Sunghoon said, almost incoherent. “You could’ve sold me out to the press. To get your revenge.” You pondered his question, then shrugged.

“I can’t say I don’t want to.” you admitted. “But you’re vulnerable right now. I know what it feels like to be blindsided when you’re defenseless. I wouldn’t do that to anyone. Clearly not even my worst enemy.” Sunghoon snorted.

“You’re a good person.” he mumbled, his eyes practically closed with the weight of his exhaustion and intoxication.

“Take notes.” you chuckled as you texted your driver, simultaneously attempting to get Sunghoon over to a bench. “I called a car for you, so just sit tight.” You both sat in silence, staring into the dark city, breath fogging in the air.

“I am sorry, y’know.” Sunghoon said, nose and cheeks red from the cold air. “About what my father did. I never would have condoned it if I had the power to stop him.” You stared at him blankly, before the corners of your lips turned up.

“Thanks. You must really be drunk.” He chuckled in response.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shook his head.

“Y’know, Sunghoon,” you started. “I hope you run the company the way you think it should be run. Stand up for yourself.” He didn’t respond to that, just staring at the floor, twiddling his thumbs. 

“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “I think I will.” A car pulled up to the curb, and you sighed in relief. Sunghoon stood up, insisting he was fine when you tried to help.

“Goodbye, Sunghoon.” He looked back at you in silence, before nodding.

“Get home safe.” And with that, he shut the door of the car, the engine rumbling as he turned the corner and disappeared into the night.

☆☆☆

Park Sunghoon was an idiot. And he was finally beginning to accept it.

He woke up with a pounding headache, grimacing and gripping his forehead in pain. It felt like there was an 80 decibel bass pounding his head, and he blamed it all on the vodka soda. And you, of course. You were making his head spin.

He stumbled out of bed, attempting to shove his feet into the slippers next to his bed, confused to find that they were pink and at least three sizes too small.

“Morning, sunshine.” a feminine voice called, and Sunghoon was beginning to realize that this wasn’t his home at all. He froze as a beautiful young woman stepped out from the bathroom, a lush robe wrapped around her body. “Feeling sober?”

“How did I get here?” Sunghoon asked, dropping back onto the bed as the woman snickered, reaching into her closet.

“You were on the floor whining and crying outside the office building. I took you home when the press got wind of your theatrics. Remind me to get a key to your apartment copied if you’re gonna keep acting like this.”

“You don’t need a key, Yunjin. Don’t be stupid.” Sunghoon rubbed his head, frustrated. He didn’t even remember going to the office in the first place, much less being picked up by her; aka the daughter of his father’s closest business partner, aka the woman he was predicted to wed if all things went his family’s way.

He wasn’t partial to the idea. Neither was she.

“A thank you would be nice.” Yunjin rolled her eyes, emerging from the closet fully dressed, already on the phone and pulling on a pair of high heels. “Now get out of my apartment. I have to get to work.” She tossed him a key and a fresh tee shirt from her closet. “Get dressed and lock up when you’re done.”

“Got it.” Sunghoon said, rubbing his eyes and pulling the tee shirt over his head. Yunjin looked back at him, tongue poking into her cheek.

“My mother still wants me to marry you, y’know.”

“Well she and my mother have that in common.” He rolled his eyes. She frowned.

“You’re too careless, Sunghoon.” The door shut, and Sunghoon was left to think about her words. His mind raced as he recalled the night before.

Your kindness.

Your smile.

How he apologized and didn’t think twice.

He shook his head, shuffling to the kitchen and opening the fridge, the cold tile pressing against his feet. Maybe he was too careless.

☆☆☆

The room felt stuffy, and so did your nose. You wondered if you were catching a cold, or if you were just allergic to business dinners.

“Hey, y/n.” Jake said, taking a seat beside you. You wiped your nose, flashing him a tight smile.

“Hey.” you replied, looking at your lap. Jake was one of the rare people you respected, and part of that was due to his company’s failure, like yours. He had built it back up to its former glory, but remained humble. You didn’t mind him. He was sweet.

“You seem bored.” he said, watching as you stared at the floor, clearly ambivalent toward what was happening around you.

“Astute observation.” you chuckled under your breath.

“I get it. These dinners can seem like a chore.” he said, picking up his wine glass by the stem. “Trust me, I’ve been going to them since I was six.”

“Lucky you.” you snickered. “Why do you even bother?” “Sunghoon always drags me here one way or another.” Your mood visibly dampened at the mention of his name, and you took a sip of your wine, hiding your mouth behind the lip of your glass. “How are things between you two?”

“If he dropped dead, I wouldn’t cry at his funeral.” you cleared your throat.

“But you wouldn’t cheer either?” Jake grinned, and you rolled your eyes.

“Whatever.”

“Baby steps.” he laughed, and you failed to suppress a smile. “I’m happy nonetheless. It’s nice to see you get along.” You wiped your nose again.

“That’s a stretch.” you scoffed. As if summoned to disprove you, the presence of Park Sunghoon suddenly entered your view, his hands tucked into his pockets. You couldn’t help but notice how nice he looked when his hair was pushed back.

“Mind if I borrow the lady for a moment?” he cleared his throat and Jake stood, flashing you a knowing look when Sunghoon wasn’t watching.

“Point taken.” you grumbled, as Jake snickered to himself, making himself busy on the other side of the room. After a moment of hesitation, Sunghoon took his seat.

“Hi.” he said slowly, and you nodded in acknowledgement. The energy was painfully awkward. “Um, I just wanted to say sorry about the other night. I haven’t really gotten a chance to contact you or anything, but I am sorry, and I should’ve called-”

“It’s fine.” you said tightly, shaking your head. “It happens.”

“Not to me.” he said defensively. “Look, I only apologize once in a blue moon, so just let it happen.” That elicited a chuckle from you.

“Alright. I accept your apology.” you said amusedly, and he let out a sigh of relief. You watched him blow a piece of hair out of his face, his lips parting for a moment to let out a breath. You averted your eyes when he caught you staring. He truly was beautiful.

Sunghoon’s thoughts were similar at the moment. While you avoided his gaze, he watched the way your eyelashes batted, pushing a strand of hair out of your face.

“I gotta go.” Sunghoon cleared his throat, and you nodded, eager for his exit. “Um. I’ll see you around, I guess.”

“Don’t sound so excited.” you said sardonically, and he rolled his eyes as he got up, giving you a dramatic bow as he walked away and towards another table. You watched him leave, eyes following his graceful figure and the way he smiled.

“You want to fuck him so bad.”

“Ew, Chae!” you yelped at the sudden interruption, waving off the smug girl leaning on your shoulder. “No way. Me and him? No, never. Don’t be silly.”

“Whatever you say.” she shrugged, taking his seat as she sipped on her third glass of red wine. “But the eyes don’t lie.” You glared up at her.

“I seriously hate you.”

☆☆☆

Three clinks of a wine glass, and your attention was at the front of the room. Sunghoon seemed to be giving a speech, and you brought your eyes to the stage. When you realized he was already looking at you, an unfamiliar feeling flooded your stomach. It felt something like dread.

“Welcome, everybody.” Sunghoon said, smiling warmly into the crowd, met with applause and good natured whoops. His father, however, was looking at him like he had just killed his cat, leading you to believe he wasn’t intended to make this speech.

And you were right. Sunghoon’s heart was pounding in his chest as he stared into the hordes, some faces familiar, some not.

“I’d like to thank you all for being here today.” Sunghoon said. “And I’d like to make a toast to the company and all of its potential. All it has accomplished, and all it will continue to accomplish.” The clinking of glasses resounded through the room as your frown deepened, your arms crossing over your chest. “And I would like to say, as the heir to the Park legacy, that I will try my hardest to steer this company towards kindness.” he said, with a fleeting glance towards you. “And so, cheers to the Park company. And cheers to ushering in a new era of ethical business.” The crowd, while mildly confused, burst into applause, their glasses rattling, champagne and wine alike spilling over the rims as people took celebratory gulps.

You shook your head, picking up the hem of your dress as you stood, walking to the exit with a smile on your face.

You sat on the steps outside the building, your knees pressed to your chest as you took a long drag of your cigarette. You told yourself you would quit, but something was itching at you that you couldn’t quite scratch, and nicotine seemed to do the trick momentarily. You were yearning for some peace.

“Flighty, aren’t you?” An amused voice said, the sound of light footsteps preceding it. You turned around, exhaling when you saw Sunghoon’s face towering over you, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.

“Nice speech.” you said, ignoring his comment.

“You mean that?”

“I do, actually.” Sunghoon chuckled, seating himself beside you with a grunt. “I didn’t say you could sit with me.”

“I don’t need your permission.” Sunghoon scoffed, folding his knees. You glared at him, but didn’t protest, taking another drag. “Put that out. I hate smoke.”

“I don’t need your permission.” you mocked him.

“Touche.” he said, resting his chin on his knees. “I suppose the both of us are equally headstrong.”

“Trust me, I’m more stubborn.” you laughed, ashing your cigarette and watching the sparks hit the floor. After a moment, you stubbed it out against the bottom of your shoe, rubbing the dark ash off with your thumb. Sunghoon noticed, but said nothing.

“I meant what I said in my speech, y’know. It wasn’t just to impress you.” you snorted at that. “I mean it! I do want to reform the company.”

“That’s admirable.” you nodded. “I’m glad to see my words had an effect.”

“Me too. See? I’ve only spent a couple days with you and I’m already becoming a better person.” Both of you went silent at his words, his eyes widening as he realized what he said. But he didn’t take it back, the two of you staring, searching through each other's eyes. You hesitated to say something, but there was no hesitation when he reached out for you, your lips colliding as he kissed you.

His hand ghosted across the back of your neck, resting at your nape, making the hairs rise. Your skin felt like it was on fire as he tilted his head, pulling you closer, one of his hands resting on your waist, his thumb rubbing over the fabric of your dress. After a breathless moment, you pulled away. Both of you stared at each other in silence, panting to regain your breath, hungry for more, but hesitating.

After a second, Sunghoon’s swollen lips split into a grin, and he began to laugh, leaning back on his hands as he snickered. You heaved out a sigh, but you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face.

“You are so fucking annoying.”

☆☆☆

You now had Park Sunghoon’s number. It had been three days since you kissed, and you hadn’t yet texted him. You wondered if he assumed you would.

But you didn’t have time to worry about that now. You had work to do.

“Jay, I need you to run a diagnostic on the hotel website and check for errors. And Chaewon, please call Mr. Choi, for the millionth time, and request some new cleaners. We need three dozen rooms cleaned before 10:0o pm.” you said, flipping through a checklist. You had been buzzing around your office drinking coffee and handling busy work since 4 am. It was sufficient to say that you were in business mode. “And both of you, be quick about it. I have a million more tasks to take care of.”

“Okay, Mom.” Jay rolled his eyes, getting out of his seat on the couch and you sent him a quick glare. “Since when have you taken anything seriously?”

“If you haven’t noticed, I have a business to run these days.” you said facetiously, and Jay placed an apologetic kiss on your cheek before running out of the door. “You too, Chae.” She shut her laptop, sending you a quick salute.

The minute the room was empty, you dropped onto your chair, letting your head loll backwards, closing your eyes. The minute you opened them, you were confronted with the enormous, cheesy grin of Park Sunghoon facing you from the billboard across the street. You huffed, getting to your feet and tugging down the blinds with a frown.

You could not get him out of your head.

As you sat in silence, stewing with rage at the fact that Sunghoon, of all people, was occupying your headspace, your landline rang, the little light flashing green as the phone vibrated. You picked it up with a sigh.

“Y/n speaking.”

“Why haven’t you called?” You froze, slamming the phone down and hanging up as quickly as your hands would move. That infuriating, smug voice, you’d recognize it anywhere. You stared at the phone blankly until it began to ring again, and after a moment of reluctance, you picked it up again. “What exactly is your problem?”

“How’d you get my number?” you said exhaustedly, spinning in your chair and getting tangled in the phone cord.

“I called your secretary.” you internally cursed Chaewon, letting out a deep breath through your nose. “I gave you my number so you’d text, you know.”

“I’m busy.”

“I’m busy too. I still found the time to call.”

“I wish you wouldn’t have.” you quipped. “What, you wanna see me?” You could hear him chuckle from the other end.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself. Vice prez told me you’ve been waiting on upper management’s approval for your budget. I’m here to take care of it.”

“Oh.” you replied embarrassedly, crossing your arms.

“Aw, don’t sound so disappointed, sweetheart.” he tutted. “We’re sending a representative over tonight to discuss business.”

“I’m assuming that’s you.” you said, and he hummed in response. “I look forward to it. And by the way, we aren’t close enough for pet names.” You hung up without allowing him time for a reply, taking a moment to collect yourself before you straightened your jacket and got back to work, a deep frown on your face.

Sunghoon, on the other end, was grinning like a fool.

☆☆☆

Three knocks resounded from your door, and you looked up from your laptop for the first time in hours, cracking your neck in the process. Rubbing the back of your neck, you called out into the empty room.

“Come in!” you said, and Chaewon’s head peeked through the door, her black bob swishing as she walked inside, her pink heels clicking against the floor.

“Park Sunghoon is here to see you.” she said, and you sighed, looking down once again. “He’s in the lobby. Says he’s getting impatient.”

“Let him in.” you waved her off, and she nodded. “Oh, and Chae? Give out my number one more time, and you’re so fired.” She grinned coyly, blowing you a kiss as she slipped through the door. You rolled your eyes. You were beginning to wonder if you had a single competent employee in your entire company.

It didn’t take long for Sunghoon to find your office. It felt like the air chilled when he walked through the door.

“Hey,” he said warmly in greeting, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked incredibly handsome in his tailored gray suit. You slapped yourself on the forehead internally, shifting in your chair uncomfortably. You were acting like an idiot.

“Hi.” you said tightly, straightening a pile of papers. He dropped onto the couch, kicking his feet up on the table. “Make yourself at home.” you said sarcastically.

He grinned, “Let’s talk business, sweetheart.”

“Remember what I said about the pet names?” you reminded him, getting up from your desk and slipping into the chair across from him.

“Aw, c’mon. Loosen up,” he urged you, leaning forward in his seat. “Now, whaddya got for me?” You looked down at the stack of papers in your hand.

“Well, due to necessary improvements, budget has increased this year. We’re in the process of funding a new computer system, and we’ll definitely need more support if we want to expand the branch in Seongbuk-gu. So, I’d say we’re looking at a couple hundred thousand, minimum.” you explained, sorting through your files.

“Boring.” Sunghoon mimed a yawn, standing up and walking to the makeshift bar on your side panel, unscrewing a bottle of whiskey.

“Can you please take this seriously?” you asked exasperatedly.

“I am,” he said defensively, pouring a sizable glass of whiskey. “I’m more of a vodka guy myself. I’ll have someone go on a grocery run next week and get you stocked.”

“Sunghoon.” you deadpanned, and he rolled his eyes.

“Aw, c’mon y/n. Aren’t I supposed to be the uptight one, and you the free willed?”

“You seem free willed enough for the two of us.” you grumbled.

“Alright,” he said, moving to sit back down on the couch. “I have a confession to make.” You stared at him expectantly. “Management approved the budget. I sent off the form yesterday and it was done by 9:00 am this morning.” You raised a brow.

“So…”

“So I came here just to see you, yes.” You smirked, and he groaned in annoyance before you even had a chance to respond.

“I fucking knew it!” you laughed, and he took a sip of his drink. “Park Sunghoon, you are a player.”

“Whatever.” he sassed, standing back up to refill his glass. “Promise to call me next time, and I won’t have to make any surprise visits.”

“I can’t make any promises.” you grinned. “But you can make me a drink.” He looked at you for a moment before chuckling, pouring a second glass of whiskey with a splash of sweet vermouth and bitters for a makeshift Manhattan.

“There’s no cherry, but I did my best.” he said, handing it to you.

“You remembered.” you said warmly, and he nodded. You took a sip. It was a bit too sweet for your taste, but you didn’t mind. You were smiling so brightly, he was itching with the urge to kiss your cheek, so he did. Your smile fell as you rubbed your cheek, Sunghoon avoiding eye contact with you as he sat back down.

You sat across from each other in momentary silence. The window was open, and the night air brushed against your cheeks. Sunghoon’s nose was pink from the cold.

“Do you like me, Sunghoon?” you asked, breaking the silence. He stared.

“Whoah,” he chuckled nervously, slender fingers toying with the rim of his cup. “You get straight to the point, huh?” You didn’t respond. “Let’s not talk about it.” You thought for a minute, before nodding, folding your knees and resting your chin on them.

“I’m okay with that.”

☆☆☆

Surprisingly enough, your friendship with Park Sunghoon was persistent if nothing else. In front of the press you still acted like enemies—you both agreed it was better for your respective companies if nobody knew you had become unlikely companions. But behind closed doors, you would smile when you saw him entering a room, and he would call you on a late night after a hard day of work.

Tonight was one of those nights. 

You tore your eyes away from your phone lighting up the black night, ringing on the table. You and Jay were sitting on the fire escape of your apartment complex, passing a lit cigarette back and forth and watching the smoke disappear into the evening sky. You could see all of Seoul from the penthouse.

“You gonna answer that?” Jay asked smugly, taking a long drag as he watched you stare at your phone in conflict. You turned it over.

“Nope.” you said, reaching for the cigarette and taking a drag until you felt lightheaded. “I don’t have time for him tonight.”

“You seem to be spending a lot of time together lately.” Jay replied, and you glared at him. “Hey, I’m not poking fun. I’m genuinely curious.” You turned away, staring at the glimmering skyline. “You’ve fallen for him, haven’t you?”

“No.” you brought the cig to your lips again. “No, I haven’t.”

“Then what is it?” “...I don’t know.” you admitted. Watching the cigarette burn into ashes in your unmoving hand, Jay began to light his own. “I used to hate him so much, Jay. And now, he’s something completely different than what I thought. He’s a good person.” you turned to look at the boy sitting beside you.

“I know,” he affirmed. “I know.”

“So,” you said, remembering your cigarette and ashing it on the railing, watching the gray ash fall to the ground several stories below. “What now?” Jay took a drag.

“I think that’s for you to decide, y/n. I think you’ve earned the right to let go.” His words touched you. Had you finally worked hard enough to look past those who had wronged you? You had achieved everything you dreamed of, and more.

Were you finally more than your own vengeance?

You didn’t respond, only grabbing your phone and wrapping your jacket a little tighter around your body to protect yourself from the cold breeze.

“I think I’m gonna call him.” you announced, and Jay chuckled.

“I had a feeling,” he said, stretching. “I’m gonna head home. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.” you said, watching as Jay walked out the door, giving you a little salute before shutting it behind him. You sighed, staring at your phone.

3 Missed Calls From Park Sunghoon.

You hesitated for a moment before pressing the call button, letting your phone rest on your lap as it rang. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” his muffled voice said through the phone.

“Hey.” you responded.

“I’m outside.” Your eyes widened, and you immediately ran to the edge of the fire escape, peering down to the entrance of your apartment building. Surely enough, there he was, his back resting against the wall, polished shoes tapping against the concrete.

“How long have you been waiting for?” you called, and he looked up, his face barely a speck from so high up.

“Not long.” he responded.

“How’d you know I’d answer?” you could barely make out his grin in the dark.

“You always do.” you rolled your eyes, retreating inside and tugging on a pair of flats. You took the elevator down, and when you entered the lobby, Sunghoon’s solemn face was the first thing you saw. His nose and cheeks were tinted red from the cold, and his hair was messy from the wind. You smiled, tucking your hands into your pockets.

“You wanna come upstairs?” you asked. “I’ll make tea.”

“Tea sounds nice.” he said quietly, smiling as he followed you to the elevator.

This was the first time Sunghoon had seen your apartment, and he was fascinated to say the least. As you fussed over the boiling water and choosing the right tea, he toyed with the perfumes on your coffee table, running his hands along your brown leather couch and smelling the fresh flowers you kept in glass vases. He was enchanted by this little space you had created for yourself. His apartment was just a bachelor pad, filled with expensive furniture and lacking life.

“I like your apartment.” he said, staring at a print of Marilyn Monroe that you kept on your wall. “It’s stylish.”

“Thanks. You want jasmine or oolong?”

“Jasmine, please. And bring a shot of vodka with it.” You snorted, pulling out two tea bags and pouring two shots, bringing them to the coffee table.

“So, what brings you to my side of the city?” you asked.

“I had a hard day.” Sunghoon knocked back the shot of vodka, wiping his lips. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” you said, throwing back your shot and setting the small glass cup on the table. You didn’t want to think of the implications of Sunghoon coming over in the middle of the night without any warning. It made your head hurt.

“I’m finding that, as of late,” Sunghoon began. “That you have a somewhat calming presence in my life.” You froze. “Lately I’ve been under a lot of stress, with remodeling the company and everything. My father’s been giving me hell about my new policies. I don’t think he likes my idea of ‘ethical new business’.” He let out a large exhale. “At the end of the day, you’re really the only one who understands me.” He smiled bittersweetly. “And, well, I’m grateful for your company lately. Spending time with you has been the only thing keeping me sane. It’s hard to imagine that we ever hated each other.”

You couldn’t think of a single thing to say. You felt like your heart was rising in your throat, and you cleared it, attempting to collect yourself. Sunghoon chuckled, looking at the floor with red cheeks.

“Is it cool that I said all that?” he said after a moment of silence. “Cause I know that it’s delicate.”

“Y’know, I used to hate you more than anyone in the world.” you laughed gently. “But I agree with you. These days, you’re the only thing keeping me sane.” Sunghoon gazed at you, but you were looking into your cup of tea. “And yeah, it’s delicate. But I don’t really care what anyone thinks but you.” You met his eyes. Those damn dark eyes. Swimming with emotion. And they were trained quite blatantly on your lips.

Before you could register it, he was reaching for your face, his rough palm caressing the soft skin of your cheek, pulling you into his embrace as he kissed you gently, his other hand on your waist.

You had kissed before, but nothing had felt as intimate as the moment you were sharing now. Those past kisses had been a fleeting moment, an impulse decision, but now Sunghoon was kissing you like you were the only thing in the universe, like you were all that mattered. His grip on your waist was bruising, as though he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go. You felt drunk on love and vodka, shifting yourself onto his lap as you tangled your hands in his hair. You were both breathless, hearts racing as you held each other tightly, losing yourselves in the taste of each other’s lips.

Sunghoon pulled away, his lips splitting into a smug smile as he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, your lips red and swollen as you attempted to catch your breath.

“Remember when you asked if I liked you?” he asked, hands trailing over your bare thighs, eyes trained on the way your eyes twinkled under the dim lighting and the thin tank top you were wearing underneath your jacket. “Well, I think I have my answer now.” you licked your lips, before grinning.

“You’re an asshole, Sunghoon.”

“Then I’m really lucky you like me.”

☆☆☆

You woke up to two things; Sunghoon’s face, and the sound of yelling.

His eyes were closed, his full lips slightly parted as he let out gentle snores, his dark hair sticking up. As much as you wanted to admire the way the morning light hit his skin, you stood up and walked to your balcony, peeking outside.

You yelped, slamming your glass doors shut as you ran inside, pulling on a pair of sweats, simultaneously shaking Sunghoon awake.

“Sunghoon, get up. The paparazzi are here.” you said frantically, attempting to retrieve a shirt from your closet when a pair of strong arms pulled you back into bed.

“Five more minutes.” he groaned from under the covers, and you fought back a smile, attempting to pry his grip off of you. His hands made their way to the straps of your bra, pulling and letting it snap back onto your skin. “Lace, huh? I didn’t notice.”

“I’m not kidding, get up.” you said, pushing him off of you and running to your closet to grab the top half of your tracksuit, pulling it over your head.

“What’s the rush?” he said, finally sitting up, ears perking when he heard the loud voices coming from outside. Peering out the window, his eyes widening.

“Oh shit,” he cursed, getting to his feet and hurriedly pulling on his shirt. “How’d they find us?” You shook your head, biting your lip as you thought about what to do.

“Not sure, but we should try to preserve our image.” you grabbed a snapback from your nightstand, putting it on his head to cover his face. “You go out the back, I’ll curse them out and keep ‘em distracted.”

“What happened to preserving your image?” he snorted, buckling his belt.

“Well, my reputation’s never been worse.” you said, tapping him on the nose. “So you must like me for me.” He smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Mm, I do.” he said, before tugging on his shoes. He blew you a kiss before running out your front door, shutting it behind him, making sure it didn’t slam. You watched him leave, your fingers tracing where he had kissed you, and you smiled for a moment before collecting yourself.

“Hey!” you yelled, stomping towards the paparazzi stationed outside the lobby of your apartment. They immediately whirled in your direction, cameras flashing as they all fought to get their questions out. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Ms. Y/l/n!” a reporter yelled. “Are you aware of the rising scandal between you and Park Sunghoon?” You scrunched up your nose.

“Park Sunghoon?” you repeated in disgust.

“Sunghoon was reported to have arrived at your home at midnight last night! Do you have anything to say to these accusations?”

“Do I have anything to say?” you scoffed. “You must be mistaken. Park Sunghoon is a pig, just like the rest of his family. I hope the media understands that I do not, and never will, have anything to do with a pompous asshole like him.” The paparazzi erupted into questions and flashing cameras, but you turned on your heel and sashayed back inside, waving them off as the sliding doors closed behind you, drowning out the noise.

On your face you wore a grimace.

☆☆☆

A newspaper slammed onto Sunghoon’s desk, his drowsy eyes snapping open at the sound. “‘Park Sunghoon is a pig, just like the rest of his family!’ States Queen Corporation’s CEO After Being Accused of an Illicit Affair with the Park Company’s Son”, stated the title. Sunghoon smiled momentarily, but his amused expression dropped when he saw the furious face of his father towering over him.

“Would you like to explain this?” he asked, his tone deceptively calm. Sunghoon was smart enough to know that meant he was enraged.

“Um, is there anything to explain?” Sunghoon said timidly. “She said it herself, we’re not involved.” Sunghoon’s father rubbed his temples.

“Well, obviously, Sunghoon. I’d hope you’re smart enough to not get involved with the one woman who could ruin our company.” Sunghoon winced internally. “We must do something about this issue. Y/n is the only threat to our company.”

“Surely she’ll leave us alone if we don’t encroach upon her business.” he attempted to reason, but his father looked at him as though he had gone insane.

“Absolutely not. We’ll have to speed up your engagement to Huh Yunjin.” Sunghoon leapt out of his seat.

“Father, you can’t be serious!” he said in disbelief.

“I won’t hear any complaints. The Huhs own the largest company in Korea, second to ourselves, and we can’t afford to make an enemy out of them. Merging our companies will give us total dominion over the business world.” his father said with finality. “Not to mention their only heir is a woman. We’ll control their company through you.” Sunghoon bit his lip.

“But I don’t want to marry her.” His father shook his head.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice.”

☆☆☆

A newspaper slammed onto your desk.

“Park Sunghoon, a pig? A likely story.” Jay snorted, slipping into the seat across from you. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, picking up the newspaper. “Late night, huh? So it must be true.”

“Shut up.” you said, but you couldn’t hold back the smile on your face. “Guess I went a little overboard, but it makes for a good story.” Jay raised his brows at you, taking a sip of his coffee. “Will you stop looking at me like that?”

“I think you’ve got a little crush.” He said in a sing-song voice. You snorted.

“I’m a grown woman, Jay. Us hooking up doesn’t mean I have feelings for him.” Jay shrugged.

“Say whatever you want, but it’s obvious that you like Park Sunghoon. There’s no denying it.” You were about to respond when your phone rang, and you shooed Jay out of your office as he mimed kissing childishly.

“Hello?” you asked, and a familiar voice responded.

“A pig, huh? A pompous asshole?” Sunghoon spoke smugly.

“I did what I had to do.” you shrugged, spinning in your office chair.

“Mm, sure.” he said, holding his phone to his ear with his shoulder as he jotted down notes. “Well, Ms. Y/l/n, I’m calling to let you know that the Parks are throwing a very exclusive fundraising gala tomorrow, and there’s an empty seat for a certain CEO if she’s so inclined.” you snorted.

“Oh, really? And would your family like to see me there?” “A little trouble would do them some good. Plus, I want to see you.” You blushed on the other side of the phone, covering your mouth with your hand. “And I’ve booked a private reservation for two at the shittiest bar on the East side,” he joked. “So?”

You thought for a moment. After your recent statement in the news, walking into a Park gala would be like walking into a den of tigers. But since when had you been afraid of stirring the corporate pot?

“I’ll be there.” you promised, and Sunghoon grinned, tucking a pen between his lips. “I should look for a dress.”

“I’ll have it taken care of.” He twirled his pen. “Just wait for my call.”

“See you tomorrow then.” you grinned.

“See you tomorrow, m’lady.”

☆☆☆

It was three hours and counting until the Parks’ big gala. You stared at the wall ahead of you while Chaewon tried on countless lavish dresses and Jay sorted through piles of patterned ties. Sunghoon had assured you that you could bring your closest friends, but you weren’t certain that his family would appreciate your troupe of misanthropes intruding upon their event.

“Cheetah print, or zebra print?” Chaewon asked you, holding two dresses against her body. You shook your head, biting the nail of your thumb.

“Neither. Pick something nice, Chae.”

“This is nice.” she protested, but put the dresses down and continued to look around. Jay noticed the way you stared vacantly ahead, stressfully chewing your nails, and he set down his ties, scooching in closer.

“Are you feeling okay?” he asked cautiously. “Nervous?”

“I couldn’t care less what those people think about me.” you said, and Jay chuckled at your classic behavior.

“Okay, so. What’s wrong?” His eyes held concern as he rubbed his thumb along your arm, and you sighed heavily.

“I do care what he thinks. And that’s the problem.” Jay let out a quiet sound of understanding. “I don’t understand. Why do I even care about him? The only thing on my mind for the past six years has been destroying that family.”

“Y/n,” he began. “You don’t have to punish yourself for forgiving someone.” You stopped biting your nails. “Especially someone with no fault in the situation.”

“But he’s one of them.” you mumbled.

“Does he seem like a good person?” Jay asked. Your eyes made contact for a moment, before you nodded and quickly looked away. “Then that’s all that matters.” You considered his words for a moment, before sighing, folding your hands.

“You’re right, you’re right. Thanks Jay.” 

“I’m always gonna be here for you. Try not to worry.” He patted you lightly on the back as he stood, and you gave him a tight smile. Your eyes were drawn to your bed, snug in the corner of your apartment, a large bag lying on top. Fabric peeked out from beneath the top, a shining sapphire blue. You held your head in your hands.

Trying not to worry was proving to be impossible.

On the other side of the city, Sunghoon was tightening his tie.

“You finally learned how to tie a tie.” Jake snorted, but Sunghoon didn’t laugh. He was staring vacantly out the window and into the horizon, zoned out on the skyline. “Hello? Earth to Sunghoon?”

“What?” Sunghoon snapped out of his trance, whipping around.

“Something on your mind?” Jake tucked his hands into the pockets of his ironed blazer. They were both dressed in their nicest suits in preparation for the night’s events. Sunghoon shook his head.

“I can’t stop thinking about her.” Sunghoon admitted, and Jake grew serious. “This whole time, I feel like I’ve been looking for something deeper than just being the heir to this bullshit company. When I’m with her…I feel like I found something real.” “Sunghoon,” Jake said tenderly. “As of a couple days ago, you’re engaged.” Sunghoon sighed. “You can’t do that to y/n.”

“I don’t want to get married.” Sunghoon said, his voice breaking, which he quickly covered up with a cough. “I don’t want to marry Yunjin, and she definitely doesn’t want to marry me.”

“As sad as it is, you don’t have a choice.” Jake said sympathetically. “I know you’re upset. But just try to keep it together for tonight.”

“Yeah, got it.” Sunghoon scoffed, fidgeting, adjusting his cufflinks. “After 21 years, I’ve become accustomed to putting away my emotions for my father’s benefit.” Jake watched sadly as his best friend adjusted his jacket, shaking his head before exiting his room and striding downstairs to where the gala was taking place.

☆☆☆

Your eyes scanned the luxurious room, full of familiar but unwelcoming faces. Chandeliers were draped from ceilings twenty feet high, crystals glimmering in the golden glow, sending fractals of light spiraling around the room. You were receiving dirty looks from every corner of the ballroom, judgemental whispers echoing. You tried your best to tune it out. Jay stood behind you, glaring back tenfold at every disapproving partygoer, Chaewon oblivious to it all as she enjoyed the decadence.

You needed to find Sunghoon or you would lose your mind.

His face shone from the other side of the room, and when your eyes connected it was like the rest of the world fell away. His warm, brown eyes captivated you as he quickly left whatever conversation he was a part of, weaving through the crowd to get to you. He was breathless by the time he made it through the sea of people.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey.” you responded unsteadily, looking over your shoulder to see his father watching you with a fierce glare. “Sunghoon, I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Since when have you cared what everyone else thinks?” he said with a bittersweet grin, and you chuckled, some of the tension relieved. “C’mon, I’ll show you the dance floor.” He tugged on your hand, whisking you away. You attempted to hide your face as you left with him.

Jake watched you leave, sipping gin from a crystal glass. Jay approached his side, picking up a bottle and emptying its contents into the largest glass he could find.

“They’re so fucked.” Jake said without thinking.

“I don’t know,” Jay said, taking a swig. “They seem like they really love each other. Who says love doesn’t conquer all?” “The business world.” Jake chuckled, looking at his reflection in the bottom of his glass. “I just hope he lets her down easy.”

“What do you mean?” When Jake looked up, Jay was staring at him inquisitively, brows furrowed. Jake’s face dropped, his heart in his throat.

“He hasn’t told her yet?” Jake asked hesitantly. Jay’s grip on his drink tightened. The two men stared at each other in silence, the tension palpable.

“...Told her what?”

☆☆☆

Sunghoon closed the towering, intricate wooden doors behind you as you entered the ballroom. Ceilings made of mirrors caused the light to bounce around the room like stars, and you watched, breathless. The smooth floor was slick under your stiletto heels.

“It’s beautiful.” you said, and Sunghoon watched you with a smile.

“A dance, m’lady?” he asked, offering his gloved hand to you. You took it with a grin, and he pulled you into his arms.

The two of you swayed, rocking back and forth in each other’s arms as he attempted to guide you in a waltz. You were uncoordinated, and you both giggled as you tripped over your feet. His thumb rubbed across your hand as he counted out the steps for you. There was no music playing, but you could both feel the rhythm in your head, like a grand orchestra was conducting a song just for you.

When you were alone, your head was suddenly clear. The stress from earlier melted away as he gazed into your eyes, and you rested your head on his shoulder, the two of you twirling as he hummed a song under his breath.

“You’re improving,” he joked. He was right, you were no longer tripping and stumbling. You had gained a sense of the rhythm, following his lead gracefully. He extended his hand, prompting you to spin, and you did.

“I have a good teacher.” you laughed, watching your gown twirl. The dress that Sunghoon had bought you was beautiful, trailing against the ground, the crystal detailing lighting up underneath the dappled golden light. Only then did you notice the sapphire shade of his tie, and how it perfectly matched your dress. “Let’s hope the press doesn’t get wind of our fashion faux pas.” you joked, gesturing to your matching attire.

“To be honest, I don’t really care.” he said, and his honesty made you gulp.

This was all too real for you. Your feelings for him were ripping you from the inside out, and you felt too nervous to speak. The feeling in your stomach was more akin to wasps than butterflies.

“Y/n.” he said seriously. “You know how I feel about you, don’t you?” He was overcome with guilt. He really didn’t want to do this to you, not now, not when he knew he’d have to break the news soon. It was too soon. His time with you was too short lived, he couldn’t let it go. Not when you were the only person who made him feel complete, the only person who made life feel like it was worth continuing.

“No, I don’t.” you grinned, baiting him to say the words himself, and he chuckled. “Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“Maybe it’s easier without words.” he said, unclasping his hand from yours so he could trace his fingers along your cheek. 

He dipped his head to kiss you, and your hands were tangled in his hair as he held you tightly. There was something desperate about the way he kissed you, holding you like you might slip through his fingers if he loosened his grip. The two of you kissed fervently, full of convolution and mixed emotions. He pulled away from you for a moment, but only for long enough to whisper,

“I love you.” You pulled away from him, his gaze intense. You always had a weakness for his eyes. It felt like they held galaxies. The weight of his words sunk upon you, and you opened your mouth to speak.

“I love you too.” you whispered.

☆☆☆

You and Sunghoon had parted ways after your illicit meeting, him fleeing to the front of the room to discuss with his father, you hesitantly retreating to your table. Chaewon was sipping vodka; Jay was nowhere to be seen.

“Everything okay?” she asked immediately, setting down her cup.

“I’m okay.” you assured her, your lips splitting into a bright smile despite your distressed exterior, and she let out a breath of relief, wrapping an arm around the back of your chair when you sat. “I can’t wait to get out of here.”

“Same.” she agreed, taking another swig of her drink. “Though I bet your reason is different than mine.” She sent you a wink, to which you shook your head amusedly.

Your eyes were drawn to Sunghoon, standing onstage with his father. He seemed nervous, and you wanted nothing more than to be standing beside him, but you knew you couldn’t. Not in public, and you were wondering if you two would go public one day.

You would do it the moment he asked, no hesitation. And that scared you.

You picked up a glass sitting on the table that you assumed was Jay’s, taking a large swig. It burned your throat, and you put it down with a wince. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a tall and elegant woman standing on stage, honey colored hair curling gracefully on her shoulders. Her floor length golden gown sparkled in the light.

“Welcome, valued guests.” a loud voice and feedback from the microphone snapped you back into reality, and your attention was drawn to the stage, where Sunghoon’s father was speaking with a cheesy, large grin. “Thank you all for attending our fundraising gala, graciously hosted by the Parks. We appreciate all of your generous donations.” he cleared his throat. “And on behalf of my lovely son, we have some news.” You began listening, setting down your cup.

“We are delighted to announce our own Sunghoon’s engagement.”

Your face paled. You felt like the world was crashing down around you, everything muffled. You could vaguely sense that Chaewon was talking to you, but you couldn’t process it. You felt like you were going to throw up.

“Sunghoon and Huh Yunjin of the Huh Company are set to wed in three months, and our companies will officially be merging.” Flashing cameras went off like grenades, the sound filling the room as the woman smiled for the camera, holding onto the arm of the man who told you he loved you. Despite the camera demanding his attention, his eyes were on you. And those beautiful eyes that you loved, they were devoid of feeling.

He stared at you, pale as a ghost, lips parted in silent surprise. The cameras snapped photos of him as he barely breathed, lost in the injured gaze of the woman who loved him. And you stood, striding towards the exit before you could even register what you were doing, ignoring the curious stares you were receiving. All you could see was the exit, the door that would lead you out of here.

The sound of cameras flashing and the hum of gossip silenced as you walked into the night, taking a deep and ragged breath. Tears spilled from your eyes before you could help it, and you swiped your palms over your face, smudging your makeup, sobbing unsteadily.

As Sunghoon watched you stand, he pulled himself away from the tight grip of Yunjin on his arm, eyes trained on your disappearing figure as panic rushed through his head. His father turned back towards him.

“What are you doing?” he asked quietly, urgently, as Sunghoon pushed through the crowds of paparazzi, jumping off the stage and running towards the exit. He burst through the doors, chasing you until he found your weeping figure running away.

“Y/n!” He chased after you. You knew you couldn’t outrun him, so you didn’t try. You just shook your head, turning away from him.

“Fuck off.” you replied harshly, and he grabbed your wrist.

“Please, I’m sorry, let me explain.” he begged.

“Explain?” you snapped. “Sunghoon, you’re engaged. There’s nothing to explain.”

“I don’t want to marry her.” he said desperately. “I never have, and I never will.”

“You told me you loved me,” you sobbed, wiping your eyes with your free hand, and Sunghoon’s eyes burned with tears and the cold wind.

“I do,” he said gently. “I love you more than anything.”

“Then why?” you said. “Why are you getting married?” “...I don’t have a choice. It’s for the company.” he said reluctantly, and you shook your eyes, pulling your wrist out of his grip and wiping your eyes for the last time.

“I can’t believe I thought you were different.” you laughed incredulously. “I thought you were different, but it turns out you’re exactly like your family.”

“Y/n, don’t say that.” he pleaded. “I’m not like them.”

“Yet you do what they say, slaving away for a company that does nothing but hurt people?” He went silent. “I should’ve known from the start that you would hurt me. God, I can’t believe I thought you really cared about me.” “I do.” he insisted, reaching for your hands, but you pulled away. “I care about you, I care about us-”

“There is no ‘us’, Sunghoon!” you yelled. “There never has been! Because you always knew that at the end, you’d leave me the minute someone told you to.” 

“That’s not true, y/n.” he shouted. “Everything we went through, that meant something to me. I meant everything I said, I’d do anything for you! I’d leave the company if you asked me to!” You scoffed.

“You wouldn’t do that for anyone, Sunghoon. You’re too much of a coward.” He didn’t respond, his hands hanging weakly at his sides. He felt numb.

A black car roared to life, approaching from the parking lot. The windows rolled down, and you were comforted to see Jay’s stony face in the driver's seat, Chaewon watching you from the back seat with concern. He nodded to the passenger side.

“Get in.” he said, requiring no explanation. He already knew.

You ran for the car, and Sunghoon came after you. You had one hand on the handle when he caught your wrist in his fingers.

“Please,” he begged, his voice a whisper in the night as his eyes pleaded with you. “Please, don’t leave.” You almost yielded, but instead you removed your hand from his, opening the door and sliding into your seat.

“Go.” you said quietly to Jay, and he accelerated, speeding out of the lot. His hand rested on top of yours, his thumb caressing the back of your hand. You silenced your tears, chin resting on your palm and staring out the window into the city to ignore how much your heart was aching.

☆☆☆

It had been four days since Park Sunghoon told you he was getting married to another woman. It had been three days since you called out of work sick, and two days since you blocked his number after countless missed calls. It had been only one day since you stopped crying yourself to sleep.

You weren’t used to being vulnerable. Since your father ruined both his career and your own, you were used to building up walls around yourself. You were filled with bitter irony that the person who tore those walls down was part of the family that hurt you so badly in the first place.

You felt like an absolute idiot, to say the least.

You flipped through a magazine, your hair up as you lounged in a salon chair. You had just gotten your nails done, and you tried not to smudge the gel as you flipped through pages of jewelry ads and gossip articles. When you stumbled across a promotion for cologne, Sunghoon’s handsome, smiling face decorating the page, you shut it with a sigh.

“Do you have any other magazines?” you asked the woman who came to do your hair, sharp nails gripping at the edges.

You strode down the bustling streets of Seoul, your fur coat clenched tightly around your body, a designer purse held in your free hand. You got plenty of stares as you walked down the street, some admiring, some judgemental. But you had learned not to care. You sighed, your warm breath fogging up the cold daylight, before dissipating.

The sound of screeching static froze you in place, and you turned to look at the towering screens lined up in the window of a store, all glitching. You stopped for a moment, waiting until they regained their sense, switching to a news channel.

An anchorwoman with a bad blowout and a gaudy diamond necklace was pointing very seriously at an image behind her, her other hand wrapped around a stack of papers as she read off a script.

“The business world- is sh-shocked,” she began, her voice skipping as the tvs froze and unfroze in sync. “At the alleged emancipation of Park Sunghoon from his family’s very successful enterprise. Mr. Park made a public statement this morning, claiming that he ‘would not continue to entertain unethical practices, and could not condon the idea of marrying purely for business’. Rumors are, according to inside sources from corporate high society, that he left his company for love.”

You stared quietly at the tv. A million thoughts were rushing through your head, but the majority of them were this;

You needed to find Sunghoon.

☆☆☆

The door to his apartment creaked open, Sunghoon peeking out from behind. His hair was matted to his forehead, sticking up in places, and his typical nice clothing was replaced by a white t-shirt and a pair of baggy sweats. He looked like hell, but it didn’t matter; he looked the most beautiful you’d ever seen him.

“You’re not a coward.” Was the first thing you said when he opened the door.

“I am,” he replied.

“You’re not, and I didn’t mean that. I was scared.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself to me.” he said, shaking his head. “It was all my fault. I fucked up, and I lose the only person I care about in this world because of it.” You stood up a little straighter, clenching your fists.

“At the end of the day, you’re really the only one who understands me.” you said firmly, and he smiled, recognizing his own words. “Sunghoon, I care about you more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. And that’s why I was so afraid of you hurting me.”

“I wish I could take it all back.” Sunghoon said, his hand tracing your cheek, too afraid to make contact. “I wasted so much of my life being complacent. You were the one that taught me to be brave.” You nodded, eyes watery. “I’m sorry that I made you mad.”

“I’m not mad.” you said very unconvincingly, and both of you laughed. 

You wiped your eyes furiously, hands trembling.

“I really do love you, Sunghoon.” you said shakily, and he pulled you into his arms. You melted into his warm embrace, his arms circling your waist, holding you tight. Your touch felt so familiar, and for the first time since you left him, he felt whole again, basking in the glory of your presence. He couldn’t help but kiss you, his finger under your chin as he lifted your face to his, pressing his lips against yours eagerly.

You had forgotten all the things you adored about kissing Sunghoon. The way his hands always held you so tightly, how he always tasted like honey chapstick, and the way he smiled against your lips when you lost your hands in his hair. You were both sick with love, and you were only just beginning to realize that you didn’t need a cure.

“I love you.” he mumbled between kisses, unable to pull away. “I loved you from the start, even when everyone told me not to. Nothing could, and nothing can, stop the way I feel about you.”

“I love you, Sunghoon,” you said, your tears wetting both your face and his. “And I hate you for even considering otherwise.” he chuckled, tapping your nose with his index finger.

“Well, my reputation’s never been worse,” you giggled at your own words being used against you, as he spun you around in his arms. “So you must like me for me.” You pressed a chaste kiss onto his lips with a glowing smile.

“Mm, you’re lucky that I do.”

☆☆☆

[bitchface24-7]

Hiii! How are you? I hope you had a wonderful day. Now, I'm here with an idea, I was thinking what if Jayce (and maybe Viktor, but I don't know how to make it work) traveled to another reality, like Ekko, but in this reality nothing of what happened happened. I mean, yeah, the explosion happens and blah blah blah, but in this world reader doesn't die (I love angst I'm sorry) and that helps Viktor not turn into the herald and try to kill everyone. I don't know, just a thought, you can use it to inspire yourself or not, that's perfectly fine. If you do write it thank you, and if you do not thank you anyways. Love your blog, keep on like that 😘

THE ONE’S THAT GOT AWAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: Jayce isn’t sure how he got here. Did the older Viktor he met who was a mage cast the spell wrong, was it when he and Viktor accepted fate in the cosmos, or was it his gift from the gods he no longer believes in, bringing him back to the two most important people in his life. One of them he died with. The other died much earlier.

warnings: MCD undeath (you're all alive now, hurrah! But the death with be mentioned), Jayce thinking he’s gone mad, crying, comfort, a world where EVERYONE IS ALIVE, poor Jayce; we’re so mean to him. Plot twist… Grammarly is my beta.

genre: m/f or m/m (with a realization of m/m/f or m/m/m)

p.s. Y'all just like putting my boy through the ringer!! Hopefully, he gets his peace here.

Jayce is scared. He's only in his early thirties and he's going to die. Everything is destroyed, their lab, their dreams, their future. All blowing in the wind like ashes, and the ground is stained with blood.

This was never supposed to happen. Hextech was meant to improve lives not become… what it became. You, Jayce, and Viktor were supposed to live long, happy lives. Maybe move out of the city, find a small town and live in a cozy cottage. Or even find a nice house in Piltover where you're in prime real estate. The markets and transit not too far from us.

But all of that is dead now. You died from a dormant virus in your body, it was waiting to strike when you were most happy. Your family has had it in their bloodline for years; and you didn't tell anyone.

You died in your sleep, painlessly, peacefully. Neither Jayce or Viktor knew until they went to your apartment to check on you, it wasn't like you to not come into the lab, not unless you told them before hand.

It was almost like you were sleeping. Your face was at ease, your body stiff. Jayce could lie to himself and say you were in a deep sleep, but he knew the truth. You were dead. Your chest wasn't moving, you were cold to the touch, and there was no pulse.

Viktor stood there horrified, before trying his best to find some sign of life. The more he looked, the more desperate he became. Jayce was frozen. He had finally asked you out on a date, it happened just a few days ago. You shared a kiss. Now you're dead.

Jayce silently walks to the home-phone attached to your wall and calls an ambulance, explains the situation in the most monotone voice he's ever produced, and quietly hangs the phone up; not even hearing what the phone opperator told him.

But he does hear Viktor crying, his hand over his mouth muffling sobs. Jayce walks over to him on autopilot and hugs him as tightly as he can and Viktor collapses into his arms.

They don't move until the paramedics come.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After that, everything went downhill. Sky went missing, Hextech was made into weaponry, he and Viktor’s relationship became strained, the council room explodes due to a bomb, Viktor dies, Jayce breaks his promise to destroy the hexcore, he uses it to revive Viktor, turns out Sky died due to the hexcore.

Viktor leaves.

And Jayce is all alone.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Viktor's become a herald of some kind; a messiah. Healing the ill and injured in the Under— Zaun. He talks to Jayce through Salo, mentions all his accomplishments, and wishes he had this power back then to save you.

Jayce winces.

He kills Salo and goes to the commune, he kills Viktor.

Then the Machine Herald is born.

Viktor tries to get Jayce to be his partner again, desperately missing him, and you. It doesn't work.

They fight, they reunite, they die together in a massive glow of white.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Jayce jolts up from his bed, frantically patting his face and his body. What the hell is going on?

He's alive? How is he alive?! He died with Viktor in the cosmos, he shouldn't be here right now! He's panicking until a familiar hum interrupts his thoughts.

“Hi, sweetheart! I know those meetings with the council are exhausting so I brought your coffee to yo— what happened?!” You gasp, and Jayce bursts into tears. You place the mug of coffee onto the dresser and rush over to Jayce to hug him.

You're here too, you're alive. Your hair is the same, your smile is still blindingly bright, and your signature scent washes over Jayce as he sobs even harder; barely breathing.

“Oh Jayce whats wrong? Was it a nightmare? You don't have to tell me, I'm right here. I'll always be here.”

Jayce’s cries become much louder at that and you start to panic. You've never seen Jayce cry like this— ever. This is gut-wrenching to see, and you're gonna need another set of hands to help you.

“Viktor! A little assistance please!”

Jayce's cries stop momentarily but pick up when the other man enters the bedroom. He's here too. He's alive too. And he looks so good, so healthy. He still has prominent cheek bones, and he still has dark circles under his eyes; but he looks like when Jayce first met him, if not even healthier. His posture is much better, his leg brace is gone, but he's still using his cane. His hair is longer too, with the blonde highlights he briefly saw before his chest was caved in due to his hammer.

A look of confusion sits on the mans face before a brief look of understanding flashes by. So quickly that if you blinked, you would've missed it.

“Oh my loves, what’s happened?” Viktor quietly asks as he goes to Jayce's other side, completing the goup hug. Jayce has never felt more safe as he has between you two.

“I don't know,” you state, a worried furrow of your brow gives away how scared you are, “I just came into the room and he broke down. Maybe it was a nightmare?”

Viktor nods before looking imploringly at Jayce, “Maybe it could be he’s been bottling everything up and finally reached his breaking point?”

Jayce squirms under the truthful accusation, and looks anywhere but to the two of you, “Jayce! You're allowed to come to us when you need it! I thought we agreed, no more suffering in silence.”

A light shrug is what you get for your reprimand, “Its a hard habit to break.”

You coo and run you hand through his dark hair, his beard tickles your nose when you kiss his cheek, “I know sweetheart, but we’re here for you. How about this,” you offer, “I make your favourite breakfast, Viktor stays here with you and then we all eat together. Sound good?”

Jayce wants to say no. He just got you back, and he can't handle losing you again, but at Viktors look— one he's well acquainted with when he wants to talk in private. He gives in and agrees to your bargain.

You give both of them a kiss on the forehead and leave the bedroom. Keeping the door open so you can hear them if they need anything from you.

Jayce sniffles and looks at Viktor, Viktor looks back at him in understanding. “You weren't expecting this, huh? Neither was I. Luckily for me I had my panic attack last night. I was able to find journals to read to realize where I was.”

“You’re my Viktor?”

“I’m your Viktor.”

Jayce sighs, “Where the hell are we, Viktor? They're alive. We’re in a room I’ve never seen before. You're the healthiest I've ever seen you, and your hair is different.”

“What did you think about before dying?”

A long silence is held before Jayce demurely responds, “A world where the three of us were happy. In the perfect house with our perfect lives. Nothing major has gone wrong, nobodies died, there was no war, Hextech succeeded. You know… the usual.”

Viktor just looks at the man and hugs him tightly, brushing his nose into the crook of his neck, “I thought along the same line. Now we’re here; I guess this is our happy ending? For all the pain and suffering we went through.”

Jayce sighs, he feels a headache forming, “Isn’t this wrong? We’re not… we’re not their Jayce and Viktor. We could be missing years of memories that we’ll never get to know about.”

Viktor chuckles, “We’re scientists Jayce. We write everything down, besides, I got them to tell us the story of how we all got together.”

“We… all… what? Write down— what are you saying?”

Viktor looks coyly at Jayce, “We wrote everything down, like a journal. And for all of us— you two started dating, but really nothing changed. And the things you two did for one another; you did for me too. You came to the hilarious realization that, you love me too.”

Jayce quirked an eyebrow, a little offended, “Hilarious?”

“You burst into the lab startling the two of us and yelled, “ARE WE ALL DATING?!” In a panicked, frenzied tone. They just looked at you and said, “I thought we were all on the same page, guess not.” And you fainted. I almost pissed myself in laughter.”

Jayce sputters, his face going red. He’s not that oblivious, is he? He thinks back on his interactions with you, with Viktor, and with the two of you together; and comes to a startling conclusion.

“Oh… oh no. I’m an idiot. How come I never realized?!”

Viktor pats his cheek in solidarity, “You’re a very intelligent man, Jayce Talis. But that doesn’t mean you’re smart in other areas of life.”

“Oh geez. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

The two men hear your voice from the kitchen, “C’mon you two, breakfast is ready! We still need to get our formal wear from the tailor for the Distinguished Innovators Competition later tonight. We’re the judges this time, we can’t be late and I want to see what Powder and Ekko invented!

Jayce is gobsmacked and Viktor chuckles at him, “Turns out perfecting Hextech makes us quite famous in the science world. We’re highly sought after guest speakers at the academy, explaining our success in transportation, ventilation, plant-life, and medicine. Our lovely partner is a professor at the academy for all students mandatory English class. Powder and Ekko are their favourite student’s; but they’ll never admit it.”

Jayce feels like crying again, this time in happiness, “This is really real. This is our life now?”

“It’s really real. Now c’mon, I’d rather not get hit with a spatula because I came late to eat.” Viktor gets up, gets his cane and leaves the room. Jayce sits there stunned for a few seconds before following him, getting his mug of coffee of the dresser.

When he sees you standing there, all proud of the food you made for them, Jayce’s heart melts.

He deserves this.

You all deserve this.

And with that, he eats the most delicious breakfast he’s ever had, with two people he adores.

AHHHH!!! This idea was so good! I hope I balanced out the angst and the fluff well. This is so *mwah* love ya ❤️

[onestepbackwards]

Love That Bites Pt. 14

This took. So long. I'm so sorry OTL But!!! It's done! I hope you all enjoy it! This chapter was suppose to be around 3000 words. It ended up being twice as long. Oops haha. I hope you all like this chapter though! Hopefully the next one won't take near as long (❁´◡`❁)

Summary: It was finally time for you to head home, but it seems Dracula wants to at least make sure you are healthy and safe before you go. A shame after you leave all your anxieties seem to hit you all at once...

CW: Anxiety attacks, slight mental breakdown, mentions of abusive relatives, brief mentions of injury, blossoming feelings

Word Count: 6384 Words!

Like this story? Please consider checking me out here! Likes, comments, and reblogs appreciated! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Taglist: @sisterofsin29 @str4wbang3l @nikkilovemark @ms-bakugo-blog @kittenlover614 @simpytheshrimpy69 @midgetdemon17 @just-nother-dreamer @adrakeshoard @tilldeathripsusapart @thedeadlynights @pumpkinvampie @bethleeham @mshope16 @sixsixtwenty @haleypearce @rvautomatic @tinystarfishgalaxy @marshmelloe @maorizon @ursamajor17 @sapphicsfordracula @dame-sunflowers @sleepyendymion @starrlo0ver @onewiththebeanbag

The @ 's are acting funky, so please lemme know if they work, or if i forgot anyone! Tumblr is not wanting to work properly as i finish this >:(

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-----

You were beginning to wonder if your life was a party, and you were the piñata.

In the span of less than a literal week, you had your shit kicked in since you couldn’t just fight off your step family, and accidentally revived an ancient ‘evil’ vampire that was your family’s immortal enemy.

Said immortal enemy then has tended to your health, Death threatened you, and now you somehow, by some stroke of luck, have convinced Dracula not to destroy all of humanity.

It… confused you.

Perhaps this really was a dream? Maybe you were actually still bleeding out on the floor of the castle or your bedroom?

By all means, you expected to possibly be dead after Dracula mentioned wanting to talk. You were in a way, ready to accept such a fate.

But his willingness to hear you out, and perhaps try not to kill people threw you for a loop.

A big loop.

One that had you questioning a lot, if you were being honest with yourself.

Had it always been that easy? Or were you genuinely just a special case? He did say he found you in particular fascinating.

One of your hands came up to rub your face as you felt your cheeks warm at the thought.

…Why did you have to find that kinda hot? Whatever, that wasn’t the point-

To be fair, given that the situation leading up to this point had already been weird and unusual, presumably even by your family’s standards. You doubted any of them would have had picnics with Dracula’s statue and run to his castle while critically injured.

But… you honestly couldn’t believe it was real. Dracula actually agreed not to try to destroy humanity. Somewhat.

Of course, that was his word alone, but…

…When you shook his hand, you couldn’t help but feel as if you had made a deal with the devil itself.

It was as if a part of you had a feeling deep in your chest that he would abide by the terms you both set.

But if you were being honest with yourself… you didn’t know if you could believe this. That the fact you even got him to agree was real.

You spent so much time worrying about it. Even before you ever found his statue, you had nightmares and days worrying about how you would handle Dracula if you had to confront him.

Was it all some plot? Some plan to make it hurt after betraying you?

Those pesky thoughts lingered, but you found it hard to believe them. Despite how often they popped up in your head, it was easy to counter them.

After all, why keep the Belmont alive after being slain so many times?

There were multiple opportunities to hurt you, kill you, torture you. Hell, if he wanted you as a prisoner, he didn’t have to give you such a lavish guest room.

Perhaps it was the fact everything you had been raised to believe at this point was now being called into question? After all, with everything happening, it felt like your world was spinning at a thousand miles an hour.

A part of you was probably also in shock.

Sure, your life has been hell up to this point, but it had a normalcy to it. You could expect to deal with dumb shit at home, and to fight evil monsters that were some of the worst of their kind when you did get to hunt.

It wasn’t fun, but it was normal.

This though? All the things you had happening to you?

Not normal at all, and it was hard to think.

Or maybe a bit too easy to do so.

It was as if a flood of thoughts swam in your mind, yet it was hard to comprehend so many of them.

“...At least the bed is comfy.” you mumbled, staring into the ceiling as you tried to calm your nerves. You still hadn’t completely calmed down since Dracula had talked to you.

Dracula had left not too long ago after you reached a… stable compromise?

He had said something about needing to check on some things, and to prepare to tell everyone about the deal you both came to.

You wondered just how much chaos that would stir.

A part of you felt a bit guilty. No doubt Dracula would have a lot of anger to deal with from some of his servants and the like. Many were already on edge with you just staying here, so you imagined the news wouldn’t go down without some outcry.

It was no secret many followed Dracula for his power, but it was also a well known fact many followed him because they hated humans. Hated hunters.

Though you doubted any public outbursts would be tolerated. Dracula no doubt would handle everything. You hoped.

If you were being honest though, a small part of you wanted to see the reaction on some of his servant’s faces. You bet some of the jaw dropping looks would be one to remember for years to come.

Unfortunately, you probably wouldn’t even be here to witness it.

Even if by some miracle you managed to possibly hold off the destruction of the world, you still had to deal with your step family, after all. Jason was already making your step brothers inquire about you, which was never a good sign.

You were lucky they backed off this long, and would probably give you a little longer before growing too restless.

After all, you did give them a bit of an ass kicking. Even if it was at the cost of your own health and mental well being, it was a long time coming.

That, and you doubted you would get such an opportunity so soon in the future. Best enjoy it before heading back and become their punching bag once again.

At least you probably wouldn’t have to worry about them trying to jump you like that any time soon. The fact they seemed to almost intentionally try and fatally injure you… it settled uncomfortably in your core.

Given you were willing to actually defend yourself for once, perhaps they won’t attempt something stupid like that again.

Despite that, you didn’t want to get your hopes up, either. Even if you showed you wouldn’t take a beating to that degree without fighting back, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t get creative with it for a possible next time.

Still, that didn’t change the fact you still had to go home. Sooner rather than later.

But… you’d be back. Hopefully.

That was one of the conditions Dracula asked for. He wanted you to come back. He wanted to see you again.

You tried not to think too deep about it. Surely, it was both to help keep the compromise in place, and to learn more about the current century, and all he had missed?

A part of you though couldn’t help but… daydream about the idea of him just wanting to see you. For you.

He said he found you fascinating, after all. But again, a part of you didn’t want to think too hard about it.

For all you knew, his version of ‘fascinating’ was simply seeing you as some sort of entertaining bug or something. Should you become a pest, all he had to do was squish you with his shoe.

…You didn’t want to believe that either, though. Not with how those ruby red eyes looked at you when he first was freed. How he asked who had hurt you.

The very thought of that moment had your heart racing again.

“Am I really that emotionally starved?” you mumbled to yourself once again. That question had been popping in your mind the more you thought about it, and how just one man/vampire made you flustered like a teenager having a crush.

When was the last time anyone had looked you in the eyes while injured, and asked who had hurt you? Then took care of you?

You hated to admit it, but Dracula had charm that a lot of people didn’t have nowadays. Or at least from most people you have met up to this point.

No doubt he had to have had it in order to be considered the King of the Night. You don’t just get that without some sort of charisma, you’d think.

…A part of you was going to miss it. You really had to return home, which is why you were dreading sleep.

Tomorrow you would head home. You would be back here, of course. A part of the agreement, after all.

But you didn’t want to go, almost like a small child not wanting to go to school.

“Ugh.”

Your chest pinged with anxiety every time you closed your eyes. It was hard to even relax enough just to rest.

–

By the time you felt your phone buzzing with an alarm to wake you up, you had nothing to show for what you ‘slept’, except for a migraine and a brewing anxiety attack.

Eyes heavy, you sat up in bed. A bed you were very much going to miss.

Even now, as you shuffled out of bed towards your bag, you could already feel yourself yearning to stay. Like a child who felt unwell and wanted to skip school, except 20x worse.

Grabbing your bag, you quickly went through the stuff you had, making sure everything was still here.

You trusted Dracula just fine with your bag, but you didn’t trust any other entity in this castle to not try and pull a fast one on you.

As much as it felt like some sort of Looney Tunes plot, you weren’t gonna put it past some disgruntled monster or entity to put a stick of dynamite in your bag or something hoping to blow you up.

Thankfully, you didn’t have much on you to begin with, but it didn’t hurt to be sure.

Tossing your bag to the side, you ran a hand over your face, trying to soothe your head and anxieties.

However, you nearly jumped when you heard a specific knock on the door. That same one you had grown familiar with.

Just how had Dracula known you were awake? Was he just guessing, or did he know? Did the castle tell him?

…Or perhaps he heard you thumping around. That was also possible. You decided not to think too much on it at the moment.

“Come in.”

The doorknob turned, before the door was pushed open, revealing Dracula himself.

He entered your room, giving you a polite nod before closing the door behind him, and walking up to the bed. Much like before, he pulled a chair close and sat in front of you.

A part of you wondered if he was doing that to seem more on an equal level as you, though you didn’t dare ask or point it out.

Getting comfortable, Dracula’s eyes seemed to see through you as he settled. Those ruby red eyes practically pierced you, and he didn’t even have to say a word for you to feel a bit small.

Yet, his words next were so gentle.

“How are you feeling?”

Despite it all, a small smile appeared on your face at his question. Your eyes dropped, and you looked over to the side.

“I’ll live. Head kinda hurts, and I didn’t sleep too well. A me issue, don’t worry.”

A flicker of a frown appeared on his face, before his face cooled back to a more neutral look.

“I see. What about your wounds? Any irritation? Are the stitches still holding up?”

You tried to ignore the warm feeling bubbling in your chest again at his concern, despite how hard it seemed to persist.

“They are healing nicely. I only feel a dull ache now compared to the pain I was in a few days ago.”

It was true. You barely felt your wounds compared to how you felt when you arrived. Dracula had done a lot to help them heal, going farther than most people have for you.

Dracula though, looked over your body, his eyes lingering where your wounds lay.

“May I see? I would like to check on them myself.”

Blinking, you leaned back onto the bed slightly, not too surprised.

“Yeah, sure. Here-”

Immediately, he was up from his chair, gently hovering over you from a slight distance. Far enough away to still give you some personal space, yet close enough to check over you.

He was quick, yet still just as gentle. It didn’t take much for him to remove your bandages, and look over your healing injuries, making sure to look over them thoroughly.

You hoped he didn’t think anything of the goosebumps showing up on your skin whenever his hands or nails briefly brushed against your skin. Hopefully he would assume you were chilled from the air, or were reacting to how cool his own skin was.

Another part of you hoped that thinking didn’t seem too pathetic.

And in an even deeper part of your mind… a part of you wondered what he would do if he did think you liked his touch. That was a part of your mind you tried not to linger on too much while Dracula’s face was less than a foot away from your own.

Dracula hummed a bit as he checked over your worst injuries, as well as your head injury. You may not have known him long, but you could assume he seemed pleased with your progress.

Most of your wounds had mostly healed up into scabs, instead of raw and fresh ripped flesh. Something that no doubt would have taken at least two weeks on its own without the help of the few potions Dracula has been giving you.

It would still take some time for them to completely heal, but you were no longer at a huge risk of infection, or had to stay in bed to heal.

Truly, you owed Dracula a great debt. Another thing you were… feeling odd about.

Before you could dwell too much on it though, Dracula was carefully placing your bandages back on.

“Good. They are healing quickly. I’m pleased with your progress.”

You gave him a smile as he sat back down, trying not to soak in his words too much. You were happy he was happy with your healing! A totally normal thing to want and achieve!

While you were trying to mentally downplay the buzz in your head from his ‘praise’, Dracula’s eyes looked over to your bag, which sat innocently on the bed next to you.

“Ah, were you still planning on returning to your home today?” he suddenly asked, bringing you out of your thoughts.

Trying to keep your anxiety about the mere thought of your ‘home’ in check, you nodded.

“Yeah, if I am away too long, it could cause some issues. It’s best if I leave today.”

Dracula leaned against his hand, his other on thrumming against the arm of the chair. You wondered if that was something he did often.

“And you’ll return?”

You nodded quickly.

“Of course. We agreed on that, right? Though…” you began, your hands playing with your shirt, “...It may take me a few weeks to a month to come back, but I will be back.”

Giving you a look, Dracula’s expression turned almost teasing.

“I would hope so, I would hate to have to hunt you down myself, Little Belmont.”

His tone was clearly joking in nature, with his lips curling into a grin that showed off his fangs.

You chuckled a bit, rubbing the back of your neck. However, the way he said it had heat rushing to your face.

God, why did you like the sound of that? Why? Why did your brain like it so much? You swear there had to be a deity out there who found your suffering hilarious.

You didn’t think you would be finding so much stuff about yourself when you arrived here a few days ago. Apparently you had interesting tastes, and were into things you hadn’t even considered before now.

No doubt you would be unpacking a lot of that later, possibly in the middle of a mental breakdown. It was too soon to tell.

Coughing a bit to try and stop those thoughts, you looked back at Dracula.

“Regardless, I will try to be here next month. I should be healed by then too…” You spoke, mumbling that last bit. Dracula gave you an odd look, and you had a feeling he wasn’t too sure of that, just as you were.

Sighing, Dracula then stood up, and much to your surprise, held a hand out to you. You stared at it for a moment, before looking back at his face as he began to speak.

“Well, are you ready to leave? If so, I shall escort you out myself.”

Your eyes flickered to his hand, which was still outstretched to you. After a moment, you took it.

“Trying to get rid of me so soon?” you joked, ignoring how your smaller, warmer hand easily slid into his larger, cooler one.

Dracula’s lips twitched upward as his hand gently curled around your own.

“Maybe I am? Someone has to get rid of the ‘Scary Vampire Hunter’ apparently haunting my castle.”

His words were pure jest, and that had the small smile on your face widening as he gently pulled you up to your feet.

“Can you walk?” He then asked, still clearly worried over you leaving so soon. You managed to stand on your feet without too much issue, and looked back up at him.

“Eh, I’m still a bit sore, but I can walk. I’ll be fine.”

It still actually hurt quite a bit, but hey, you have had worse.

Dracula also didn’t seem very convinced, but at this point, who was he to argue with you when you wished to leave?

Regardless, you were still a bit surprised to see him offer an arm to you after you managed to gain your balance.

“May I?”

Seeing Dracula offer his arm to you did not help the blossoming feelings in your chest. Why did the man who was humanity’s greatest enemy have to be such a gentleman??

Your face was hot, and you prayed to whatever god was listening that your blush wasn’t too noticeable.

“S-Sure.” You spoke, mentally hitting yourself with a hammer for stuttering.

Slowly, you reached out, nearly hesitating as your hand neared his arm. Gathering your resolve, you gently wrapped your own arm around his own.

He wasn’t as cold as you expected, despite him wearing a long sleeved shirt. Though it was hard for you to think as you registered just how big he was as you felt his muscles underneath said shirt.

Then, you nearly jumped when your bag was suddenly hovering in front of your face. You had nearly forgotten it on the bed behind you. Carefully, you grabbed it with your free hand with a quiet ‘thank you’.

“It is no issue at all. Shall we?” He spoke, looking down at you.

Oh stars, how he made you feel small.

“Yes.”

With that, he gently walked to the door, opening it with a flick of his wrist, and leading you out into the hall.

His pace was most likely slow for himself, given you were positive his stride easily would outdo yours. However, Dracula took his time so you could easily keep up.

You found you didn’t particularly mind. If anything, it gave you the perfect opportunity to admire the decor of his castle.

Castlevania had been described in many different ways from the journals you had read. Some said horrifying and confusing, while others spoke of it as if it were gorgeous, yet almost fake feeling.

You found yourself mentally describing it as hauntingly beautiful.

Just the hall outside your room was nothing less than extravagant. Dark red curtains hung above the giant windows that seemed to lead to a courtyard, while painting after painting adorned the walls between each window.

Each painting was unfamiliar to you, but they still astounded you all the same.

Dracula noticed your awe, and his lips curled into a smile.

“The castle, being connected to me, usually inherits my tastes. Though I’ve noticed it has a fondness for decorating on its own, and even has preferences. For instance…”

He paused in front of one of the massive windows overlooking a garden.

“The gardens always look a bit different, but it is fond of giant fountains. Nearly every iteration has one without my interference, though it is pleasing to see.”

You tried not to giggle at that. The thought of a sentient castle being fond of giant fountains and having decoration preferences was so silly, yet given what you were looking at, was very possible.

Dracula and you didn’t linger long at the window, but after that, Dracula almost enthusiastically pointed out different decorations and what some of them meant to him.

It was little things, such as his tastes in candelabras, or the story behind every other painting. Apparently there were many immortals who dabbled in the arts.

You wouldn’t lie. Walking through his castle was very… surreal.

This was a place you were supposed to storm through. A place you were supposed to look at with disgust and revulsion.

Yet, you were fascinated, despite being on edge.

Only one of your ancestors remarked on the beauty the castle had. Juste, you think was his name.

Juste had written how the castle had a strange charm to it, among all the horrors he saw. Apparently he had an eye for detail and decor, and briefly wrote about how he had found it fascinating before destroying Dracula’s wraith, thus destroying the castle.

You could kind of see what he meant now that you were seeing it first hand, even if it was most likely incredibly different than when your ancestor had run through here.

It didn’t take as long as you thought to get to the entrance hall, which was covered with a lush red carpet, and filled with different displays and extravagant furniture.

A part of you wondered if this was what some castles were like hundreds of years ago, just with a more modern touch. Maybe he’d tell you one day?

After all, you agreed to come back. You’d hopefully have plenty of opportunities for questions.

One thing though you did notice walking through the entry hall, was the uptick of monsters.

There were suits of armor you passed, where you could sense enchantments on them, each standing at attention.

That, and maids were here and there, cleaning or tidying up. You could tell most weren’t human just by looking at them, but that was none of your concern. At least not at the moment, so long as they didn’t attack you.

They kept their distance, but you felt all their stares. Some looked at you curious, before averting their eyes. While others gave you cold smiles. You suppose you didn’t blame them.

Ignoring their looks, you felt your heart pound in your chest the closer you got to the massive door.

It looked different.

Instead of a worn down door that looked as if it had been left to rot, was a magnificent massive door that looked warm and taken care of.

And imposing. Very imposing.

Then again, that was most likely the point, even if you were looking at it from the inside. You could only wonder how it looked outside…

You didn’t have to wonder long. The moment you both approached the giant door, it opened completely on its own, as if the castle itself was opening the door for its master.

Despite having been around Dracula a little bit, his impressive feats of magic and mastery over the castle still seemed to awe you.

A part of you also wondered if he was doing that on purpose to show off. You wouldn’t be surprised with how he would occasionally look at you after doing something with magic.

Magic itself wasn’t new to you, but all that he could do? Especially when it wasn’t combat related? It was a bit impressive, you’d admit it.

As he walked you through the large doorway, you noticed the courtyard between the entrance and the gate had also changed. What was overgrown, wild shrubbery and trees was now a full garden. The plants seemed alive, but in a way that was almost… unreal.

He guided you through the courtyard, his arm still entwined with your own.

It didn’t take long before you were at the gate, and he came to a stop. Looking down at you, he posed a question that had your heart thrum in your chest.

“Is this fine, or do you require assistance to your cabin?”

His question caught you off guard slightly. You hadn’t anticipated him asking, nor had you thought that far.

“N-No, I’ll be alright. Thank you.”

A part of you really really wanted to say yes, so this moment lasted a while longer. So you didn’t have to say farewell.

But the rational part of you screamed no. Even if you somewhat trusted this man, were you ready to let him know about your cabin? How to approach it? What if you both were followed? Did you want anyone possibly seeing any weaknesses in your defenses?

No, the hunter in your brain won out. You couldn’t risk anyone finding your defenses, or rummaging through the one sanctuary you had.

You just hoped Dracula wouldn’t take it personally if he or one of his underlings investigated your cabin and exploded or something from one of the traps or wards.

Dracula meanwhile gave you a long look. If you didn’t know any better, you’d even say it was disappointment you saw in those ruby colored eyes of his. With a sigh, he gently let your arm go from his own, turning to face you properly.

“Very well. I shall await your inevitable return. Do not keep me waiting too long, Little Belmont.”

You already missed him. How?

Slowly, you nodded your head.

“Of course. Um…”

A part of you felt so awkward already.

“See you soon?”

Mentally, you were smacking your head against the wall. Did you really just tell the Lord of Darkness ‘see you soon’? You wanted to explode.

However, most of your embarrassment almost melted completely away when he gave you a small smile.

“Indeed. See you soon.”

You stared at him for a moment, you both seemingly unable to look away. It wasn’t until a rumble of thunder broke your gaze away, and you stared at the long walk at the edge of the lake you would have to trek.

With a sigh, you turned, and began to walk.

Already, you were regretting not taking him up on his offer. But it had to be done this way.

RIght?

Your heart was heavy in your chest as you pushed forward with every step. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to look back as you crossed the edge of the lake towards the forest.

At least, you couldn’t until you reached the edge of the clearing.

Already you were tired, but you couldn’t help but finally look back behind you. Back towards Dracula’s castle.

Your eyes widened when you did.

The castle, something that should have horrified you, was gorgeous surrounded by clouds and the forest. Its image even seemed to eerily reflect back at the lake despite the clouds above.

And Dracula remained in front of it, watching you.

It was hard to see from so far away, but you could just barely make out his cloak spiraling out behind him in the wind. He was watching you leave.

Was it to make sure you were really fine? Was it genuine concern? Why else would he watch over you while you left?

…Did he actually enjoy your company? Did he already miss it?

It took more effort than you would like to admit to swallow down the warmth bubbling in your chest.

How silly.

No need to get your hopes up. You hoped that at least a few days away from this place might clear your head. Surely that’ll make these confusing feelings go away. Right? Right?

You just hoped this wouldn’t mess up how you perceived your cabin… You already came to terms with your sanctuary being next to an empty castle. Now it is alive, and its king has an interest in you and your motivations.

With a sigh, and one last long look at the castle (and its owner out front), you turned back to the woods.

Each step back was heavy, and you felt as if you were in a daze. If it weren’t for the fact you had been bewitched before and knew how it felt, you would have wondered if you had been enthralled by some sort of spell.

At least you were self aware enough to walk back to your peaceful abode with caution.

You checked your traps as you went, watching your step as you did so. Thankfully, most were undisturbed except for one or two traps. Those you suspect were simply disturbed by animals rather than monsters looking for a meal.

Well, you at least hoped that was the case. You didn’t sense any paranormal residue of any sort, but that wasn’t a guarantee…

Still, you took enough time to go over most you came across, and as your cabin came into view, you checked around the building.

It was tiring, but quick with how your mind was still a buzz. At least nothing seemed out of place.

Just… a few blood stains from when you were here last and critically injured. Oops.

You sighed, debating if you should leave it as a problem for future you. Not like this place and your home were lacking in blood stains if you looked hard enough. What were a few more?

Still, you didn’t just want to leave it there, so you at least cleaned it up a little bit so you wouldn’t come back to a gross smell. Well, at least a worse smell, anyway. The blood didn’t do your cabin any favors, but hey, it could be worse.

You’d clean it properly and make it spotless when you came back. Eventually. Hopefully. Maybe.

Whatever.

It didn’t take long, but it was clear what you were doing. Trying to keep yourself distracted while in this fog. Trying to buy time before you head home. Buying time before the reality of everything that had happened hit you.

You didn’t get as much time as you would have liked.

Thankfully, since everything else in your cabin was untouched after a quick sweep, you didn’t take much longer to leave said cabin. Even if you wanted more time, it was a weight off your shoulders that you didn’t have to worry about anything being… tampered with.

All you had to do was toss your bag in your car, set your whip aside, and drive off.

Should you be driving while in such a state? No, but you didn’t exactly have the luxury of keeping your home waiting much longer.

The drive itself wasn’t long, or at least, it didn’t feel like it. With each mile, the clouds began to part, and the sun began to shine. It was almost insane how much reach the castle had in terms of weather.

Or was it Dracula’s influence? You wondered if he’d tell you if you asked next time you saw him.

Next time. Right.

Your grip on the wheel tightened, and you could feel your anxiety peaking as you drove further from the cabin. From the castle. Only to grow closer to your home.

…Would they all be there? Your step family?

Dread was already pooling in your gut as you imagined them waiting for you at home. Would they be extra pissed? Would they do something reckless?

With the shit they pulled last time… You weren’t so sure you would be safe. Even if you scared them a bit, you feared you only pissed them off more. If they were willing to fatally injure you so blatantly in ‘training’...

You feared what they might do since they didn’t succeed, and you couldn’t do a thing about it until they acted.

Sweat began to form on your temple as your heart uncomfortably began to beat faster. You felt ill. Felt like you were cornered by a pack of werewolves who were starved for a meal, and you weren’t even at your house yet.

Yet as your city came into view, you felt worse.

Would they scream at you? Yell at you? Call you worthless?

Or would Jason lash out, and finally attack you? You knew he had been holding himself back, but after last time…

What about your home? Was it in good condition? Or did they start destroying things? You wouldn’t be surprised if your room was destroyed.

Worse… would they kick you out?

You had no real legal standing if they kicked you out. All your family’s artifacts, weapons, and history… gone.

They would never give it back to you, or any of your living family members across the globe. No doubt they would simply will everything to themselves if anything happened to one of them.

Why did your mother leave everything to them?

It wasn’t fair.

You were beginning to feel even worse thinking about it.

Still, you forced yourself to swallow what felt like bile rising from your throat as you pulled onto your street outside of the city. Getting sick wouldn’t solve any of your problems, and would most likely make things worse.

But you could barely fight the rising panic as your family home came into view.

It was never so daunting and imposing before now. A place filled with light in your childhood now brought you nothing but terror and anxiety just looking at it as you drove closer.

As you pulled into your driveway though, you paused, and stopped your car.

No cars were outside.

No cars were outside.

No cars in the driveway or out front, and if you were lucky, not in the garage either. But at least your step brothers were gone.

The way your body practically sagged in relief. Even if somehow Jason was home, that was better than having to confront all three at the same time after getting back right away.

Taking a deep breath, you turned off the engine, and climbed out of the car. You only grabbed your bag, keeping anything else locked inside.

It took a few moments to gather your courage, before you slowly unlocked and opened the front door.

You waited a few moments, holding your breath as each tense moment passed.

Nothing.

It was dark, and you heard all the familiar creaks, but no footsteps. No sounds of a TV. No talking in the distance.

Carefully, you stepped inside, and quietly closed the door behind you.

There was still nothing.

Were you truly home alone?

A part of you wanted to relax, but the hunter in you stayed alert. With silent footsteps, you headed to the garage just to be safe. There was no one on the way there, and when you opened the garage door?

Nothing.

Closing it, you laid your back against the door, hand over your heart as you tried to calm down.

You were actually home alone for once.

Did they have a hunt? Need supplies and go shopping since you were gone?

Either way, it didn’t matter. You were home alone, and that was most important at the moment. You could let your guard down for a little while.

At least, until whenever they came home.

With a huge weight temporarily off your shoulders, you made your way to your room, a small plan in mind.

First, you needed to change clothes. You were thankful for the clothes Dracula had lent you, but… what you had on was a little dated. Even if you liked how the loose, puffy shirt looked on you, and the comfortable pants… No doubt there would be questions why you were wearing clothing that was popular in a different century.

Then you needed to shower, and write down some stuff you needed to do going forward. Maybe even get some sleep before anyone gets home…

Sitting down on your bed with a messy plan in mind, you reached into your bag to get your dirty clothes out for you to wash later.

As you rummaged through it, you froze when you felt something new inside it.

Thoughts ran through your mind as your blood ran cold. Have you been had? Did someone plant a bomb or a weapon in your bag? Did Dracula betray you?

Carefully, your hand grasped the cool object, before slowly pulling out of your bag.

You couldn’t help the small gasp that left your mouth when you pulled out a potion bottle.

“When…?”

Looking over the bottle, you noticed a tag attached to the cork, and gently held it still as you made out the intricate cursive on the note.

‘I figured you could use this. It should be enough to finish healing your wounds. I hope you put it to good use.

Sincerely,

~VDT.’

You didn’t notice you were beginning to cry, until your vision became blurry with hot tears.

“VDT…. Vlad… Dracula Țepeș…?” You asked out loud with a sniffle.

He didn’t betray you. At some point, he must have slipped this in your bag after his last visit as he escorted you out. How?

It was a silly question to ask, given the immense power he held… but…

You sniffled again, tears hitting your leg as everything slowly began to hit you at once.

Despite it all…

…Dracula went out of his way to heal you, and even made sure you had something for when you got home.

More tears began to form as you carefully cradled the small note to your chest.

Dracula at least cared about you, when no one else did.

That thought both thrilled and terrified you to the core.

…Because you were certain you cared for him back.

[bones4thecats]

Hi again, i don’t know if I can still request using the emoji coded prompt bc I don’t see you mentioning it in the re-blog if it still open can I request 🐰 14th prompt with Lu bu 🦅 pls

❥· Your Shimmering Smile, Lu Bu × S/O

Character(s): Lu Bu (🦅) A/N: This was such a fun request! I love Lu Bu so much, so thank you for such a wonderful choice in prompts, @mynonopotato! Hope you enjoy it! ✎ Summary: After losing you years ago from an attack arranged by Cao Cao, Lu Bu morns, leading to his death. But, he finds you again, happy to be reunited with his love, and happy to receive the kisses you always gave him.

Prompt: “A kiss here. A kiss there. Ah! Now, there’s the smile I’ve been hoping to see!”

┍━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━┑

🦅 Ever since you first met Lu Bu, he was quite the stoic man. The only time you ever saw him smile with genuine joy was when he was fighting or when he was spending quality time with you. Which, due to the events when you both were alive, was rare.

🦅 The same went for that day, the day you died. Lu Bu was busy handling his men, making sure they were working to make sure the camp was protected. As he did this, you were in your non-permanent hut, one made by his hands and his hands alone. You were making sure your pregnancy went smoothly, your groups doctor alongside you.

🦅 The doctor had left your hut minutes prior, going to grab some herbs to make a tea to help the pain, everyone heard your scream. Lu Bu, scared something happened to you, ran to find you. He slammed the door open and saw you there, above you was one of 'his men'. Anger flashed in his eyes as he lunged, grabbing the man's wrist and crushing it in his grip.

🦅 "Who are you." He asked, loosening his grip enough for the unknown male to answer him. Lu Bu could hear Chen Gong and his other men trying to revive you, the doctor running in as quick as he could to lead the healing. "I said; WHO. ARE. YOU."

🦅 "Cao Cao will find you... and he will kill you too-" The man began to speak, only to be cut off when Lu Bu punched his head in. "Tell him he can try."

🦅 Snapping out of his anger, Lu Bu turned around, looking at the doctor as he tried healing you. He covered your bleeding wounds, in an attempt to keep you breathing. But, the amount of blood coming out was too much.

🦅 "Bu..." Your shaky voice said, making Lu Bu stare at you in shock. "Please... live..."

🦅 Everyone moved away, realizing they couldn't save you, and began to tear up as you cupped the face of your husband. You smiled gently and hummed as he kissed your lips, knowing it was the last time he would ever be able to do it in life. And, just like that, you were gone.

🦅 Standing up with you in his arms, he stared at his men coldly and promised to live for you, and that they needed to take Cao Cao down, no matter the way. He killed you, so Lu Bu would kill him.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

🦅 He couldn't go on anymore. It's been almost a year, and he was getting tired. You were no longer beside him, giving him love when he won a battle, help him fix up any minor wounds he got from training or from a real battle, you were just... gone.

🦅 His expression was blank as he was brought to be executed, his head hung low as Cao Cao spoke down to him. He smirked as Lu Bu refused a reply, seeing the lack of words to be a sign to go further.

🦅 "I bet you feel bad that your little wife died first-"

🦅 "Shut you damn mouth, you ancient furball!" Lu Bu screamed back. The other men who followed Lu Bu yelled as well, angered that this man dared to offend you when you weren't there to defend yourself. It was like twisting the knife impaled in someone's back. It was completely wrong and dishonorable

🦅 Cao Cao scoffed, rolling his eyes as he nodded for his followers to hang the enemies. They did as they were told, bringing an end to not only the warlord, but the entire army that followed him.

▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰▰

🦅 Light covered his closed eyes, blinking to try looking around. Why am I not dead? He wondered. I was just hung, I should be dead.

🦅 Eventually, he could open his eyes, and when he did, his eyes went to become the size of saucers. He looked directly in front of him and broke out a shaky breath, fingers shaking as he saw a human-shaped figure in front of him.

🦅 It was you.

🦅 Turning around, you smiled, that same gentle smile you did that long time ago. Opening your arms, Lu Bu ran towards you, and wrapped his arms around your form, lifting you as he began to cry. Tears began to wet your outfit as he sobbed.

🦅 Instead of teasing your husband and talking as if nothing happened, you just stayed smiling and began to run your hands through his hair, comforting the man. He just stayed there, holding you and crying, oblivious to the rest of his army joining you both in the afterlife.

🦅 You then lightly tugged his hair, a motion that made him pull his face from your chest to look into your eyes. Your eyes lit up with a shine that Lu Bu missed and you leaned forwards, kissing his face all over.

🦅 "A kiss here." You said as you kissed his left cheek before moving to his right cheek. "A kiss there." Then, you looked at his face, and, instead of seeing his cold eyes, you saw his smile. A smile that wasn't filled with bloodlust, no, a smile that was filled with unconditional love.

🦅 "Ah! Now, there's the smile I've been hoping to see." You said, kissing Lu Bu's lips, to which he happily reciprocated.

🦅 "I love you..."

🦅 "I love you too, Bu."

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🦴 Copyright © 2025 by Bones4thecats on Tumblr. All Right Reserved. 🦴

[haithhegimp]

Jason Todd is Mentally Sixteen During Under The Red Hood*

(The overly long introduction is all in brackets! You will not experience too much confusion should you choose to skip, so feel free to skip. The content of the post will be under the cut.

*As always with the DCU, consistency is far more dead than the Waynes could ever be. This post is about Jason's timeline from UTRH, and only UTRH. I will use a couple of sources from other places for information we cannot confirm from UTRH, but can vaguely assume are true there. However I will not be talking about the timelines from other media, and especially not other continuities, in this post. I will also be interpreting certain scenes, and that ultimately makes this post somewhat subjective.

I love UTRH a lot, and I found that most other Jason fans love it too. We often use it as a major content source and base a lot of our opinions and feelings surrounding Jason on it. However, in hyperfixating and re-reading it several times over, I have realised that a lot of us miss a major detail that gets exposition-ed to us in Chapter 14/[Batman(1940) Annual #25]!

Of course, if you've come to the same conclusions as I have, and choose to ignore them, then absolutely more power to you. I'm not here to police which canon you folks choose to stitch together and treat as your own, if you choose to interact with canon at all. These are all just comics, have fun!

On top of that, it sometimes gets vague and up to interpretation (which is honestly an aspect I kind of like) so this can all be considered my own opinion if you personally disagree with an interpretation I make <3

Anyways, a lot of us enjoy the angst factor that comes out of Jason being young, but not many of us realise exactly how young he is. This is something I wish to explain to you folks for your content consumption pleasure ^^

Overly long introduction done, yo!)

1. Jason dies at 15 years old.

I am so sorry, I could not find a primary source for this.

Secondary Source A- Word of mouth. Various different Tumblr and Reddit posts I have found when looking this up have listed Jason as being 15 when he dies. Including this post from @thebatmanfiles-blog, this post from @fuckyeahjasontodd, this post from @oh-mother-of-darkness, and these posts from u/GooderCand and u/InDarknessOftFindI

Secondary Source B- Jason's death certificate from [The Batman Files]

Not to be mistaken for [Batman Secret Files], Matthew K. Manning's [The Batman Files] is not a canon DC property work, to my knowledge. (It's honestly kind of confusing, but I'm listing this as a secondary source because I am... pretty sure that [The Batman Files] is not a canon DC property, it is not available on the DC Database Fanwiki or the Official DC Website).

2. Jason Is Revived Six Months After His Death

[Under The Red Hood #14] / [Batman (1940) Annual #25] *(This is just a fun fact, feel free to skip. The page of Jason being alive is taken directly from the, at the time unreleased, [Batman #428: Robin Lives!], with only being slightly recoloured. Due to the gimmick of Jason's death, [Batman (1940) #428] had two different versions drawn out, and though I wasn't able to find any interviews or comments about this on shallow research, it's nice to imagine that the producers of UTRH wanted to showcase Aparo and DeCarlo's unseen efforts ^^)

Jason was originally supposed to live (according to the narration)-- we can use this to say that his injuries (by comic book logic) were non-fatal.

Jason, in his coffin, is shown with the same injuries as his dying-but-not-supposed-to-die-body-- we can use this to say he is biologically 15 when revived.

After Revival Jason's Chronological Age- 15.5 Jason's Biological Age- 15 Jason's Mental Age- 15

3. Jason Gets Into A Coma For One Year

[Under The Red Hood #14] / [Batman (1940) Annual #25]

After digging himself out of the grave, Jason is hit by a car (man, he cannot catch a break)

He is hospitalized and operated on, before going into a coma for One Year

General-Comic-Book-Logic and Actual Research (I sincerely apologize but I'm not looking through genuine medical documents to verify this one, I'm just gonna trust the basic google search) both agree that coma patients do not mentally age

This means Jason's mental age stagnates for One Year

One Year After Revival Jason's Chronological Age- 16.5 Jason's Biological Age- 16 Jason's Mental Age- 15

4. Jason Spends Two Years Catatonic*

[Under The Red Hood #14] / [Batman (1940) Annual #25] *The original describes this state as Jason being run by his instincts, without reason, clarity, or memory. Fans have labeled this as catatonia. I will be referring to this state as catatonia for convenience sake.

Jason wakes up from his coma, but is catatonic

He spends One Year being homeless and living off of instincts (man, he CANNOT catch a break)

[Under The Red Hood #14] / [Batman (1940) Annual #25]

An international game of telephone occurs when a thug sees Jason doing some Robin moves

The Al Ghul's are at the end of the line and kidnap Jason

They keep him, in his catatonic state, for One Year

It is unclear, at this point, whether Jason's catatonia has impaired his mental aging

Three Years After Revival Jason's Chronological Age- 18.5 Jason's Biological Age- 18 Jason's Mental Age- ???

5. Jason Gets Dunked Into The Lazarus Pit

[Under The Red Hood #14] / [Batman (1940) Annual #25]

Here is where my interpretation comes in,

Jason's first words upon leaving the Pit are ["What!? What is happening to me!?"]

Jason, while running away with Talia asks, ["Talia?! What the hell do you-- Where was--!"]

Both of these show Jason being confused about his situation, and unsure of his surroundings. Especially the confusion in ["Talia?!"] means that he is surprised/confused to see her.

All of this goes to say-- he doesn't have any memory of how he came to be in this situation, and he doesn't have any memory of his time being catatonic.

HOWEVER!!! The possible counter-argument is that during his remembering sequence, Talia is a figure on screen, which has the mild implication that she is something he remembers?? This contradicts my interpretation but also has less evidence.

[Under The Red Hood #14] / [Batman (1940) Annual #25]

Jason remembers his death and the events leading up to it, but there is no mention of whether or not he remembers his years being catatonic.

I interpret this as him not remembering.

With My Interpretations, Three Years After Revival Jason's Chronological Age- 18.5 Jason's Biological Age- 18 Jason's Mental Age- 15

6. Jason Prepares For Being Red Hood

[Under The Red Hood #14] / [Batman (1940) Annual #25]

We get that... and then the BTS of Hush. That's literally all we get.

It's so unclear, I'm sorry it's really sort of impossible to give you even a vague estimate of how much time passes.

I've been trying to comb through the rest of UTRH to find things but we only get clear time stamps after Jason's debut as Red Hood. (i may have missed something, though! feel free to lmk if youve found a time stamp in UTRH before Jason's debut)

I only have my personal thoughts that it was probably a year or less between this and Jason's debut.

For the purposes of this post, we'll just say that roughly a year passes with training and preparation.

7. Jason Debuts As Red Hood

[Under The Red Hood #1] / [Batman (1940) #635]

So, at the start of Under The Red Hood, Four-ish Years After Revival Jason's Chronological Age- 19 - 20 Jason's Biological Age- 19 Jason's Mental Age- 16

And alternatively, if you mentally age him during his catatonic era, Jason's (alt) Mental Age- 18

(Now it is time for the Overly Long Conclusion! These will just be more of my personal thoughts and comments, and will be within brackets as well ^^

Honestly, despite me piecing this version of canon together, I don't usually subscribe to it lol. I find UTRH Jason attractive, and canon is what you choose to Frankenstein together, so I usually place him as actually around 19.

But if you consider the events of UTRH through the lense of a deeply traumatized and angsty teenager, that happens to have way too much power? It feels... oddly logical? Like, through this perspective, I look at Jason telling Bruce that he's the better Batman in quite possibly the most dramatic way ever and I go, "Oh of course he would, he's sixteen. I would say shit like that at sixteen if I had even half the baggage."

TBH, I don't think that Winnick actually considered this timeline when writing UTRH Jason, but it fits together really funnily well with his character.

It also makes everything quite a lot more tragic. With this perspective, its more than just losing his teenagehood to shitty circumstances. He is actively and presently still a teenager, a child, when in shitty circumstances. Jason is a sixteen year old child when his father slits his throat.

Actual For Realsies Not Just By Technicality Teenage Crime Lord is absolutely insane, deeply tragic, and more than a little bit funny to me.

If you read through all of this, I'd absolutely love to hear your thoughts and perspectives. Whether you see where I'm coming from, whether you have a completely different perspective, or whether you like thinking of this only sometimes! Hell, even if it's just to cry with me over The Tragedy of Jason Todd, I'd love to chat.

Thank you for your time, if you made it all the way through! Overly Long Conclusion done, yo!)

[My Drawing, lol]

[the-sonic-crew]

Hey Everyone! It's Sonic ;D You can talk to most anyone in our world~! The amazing and talented mods:

👀- @rednexxsaysthing (Blog creator)

💛- @happyfacelol

🦆- @bootyshakerrr9000

🐜- @ap0th3osis

💀- @edgyhedgie

🌒- @itzvio

Characters, rules, schedule, and other fun stuff below!

Sonic~ Good for goofy questions, good for advice on anything but feelings, good for cheering you on, gets off topic

Tails~ Good for academic questions, good for advice on bullies/jerks, good for tips on mental health

Knuckles~ Good if you need someone to feel angry with you, good at listening, sometimes good with advice

Amy~ Good listener, good advice, sometimes gets off topic with questions, good for mental health advice

Dr. Eggman~ Good at being an asshole

Shadow~ Good at listening, good advice if he likes you, good for food recs

Rouge~ Good for fashion opinions, not good at listening, good at promoting body positivity

Omega~ Only responds in binary code, good at listening, holds all the knowledge in the world.

Silver~ Good at answering questions about the future, good at helping with anxiety, good at listening

Blaze~ Good at giving advice, sometimes gets suspicious if you ask really personal questions

Vector~ Likes talking about himself and his agency (and his kids), good at listening and giving advice on self esteem

Espio~ Great at listening, great at advice, won't tell you much about himself

Charmy~ Not good at listening or advice, very hyperactive, loves meeting new people and answering questions

Cream~ Good at listening, very sweet, loves talking about her friends

Vanilla~ Good at listening and advice, very sweet, loves talking about her daughter and friends

Metal Sonic~ Doesn't talk, only responds in motions

Whisper~ Helpful, good advice, nervous

Tangle~ Bouncy, excited, empathetic

Maria~ Sweet, gives good advice, a ghost

Dr. Starline~ Evil, sassy, snarky

Big~ Huge, dorky, lovable idiot. (we use BIGGEST TEXT for him)

Agent Stone~ Will somehow always find a way to make the conversation about Dr. Robotnik Froggy~ Translator for whatever the fuck he says Surge~ Cocky, angry, cusses a lot Kit~ Shy, smart, anxiety ridden

Cosmo~ Kind, patient, dead

Rules:

1. Don't bring up politics please

2. If you're a zoo, sexist, racist, homophobe, transphobe, etc. Get off our page

3. Keep in mind we have no affiliation with SEGA at all, no characters belong to us, and since some of the lore is a little wonky lots of answers will be head-canons

4. BE KIND TO THE MODS! If you have any issues, you can send an ask to @rednexxsaysthing

5. OC asks take a varied amount of time depending on the mod, bear with them

If you happen to send an ask that is too intense or violent (with no trigger warnings, or even with trigger warnings if they're extreme) then I'll send you a message and kindly let you know

(If you're in anon mode it'll just be deleted and unanswered)

You get THREE (3) warnings, if you use them up you will be blocked

This does not go for asks about YOUR PERSONAL mental health, but things where people are brutally torturing the characters is a bit over the top.

Thank you!

Message from one of the Anons on here!:

Just remember everyone! Its ok to feel worthless everyone has those kind of moments where you just want to disappear, what matters is you get help, you reach out to whoever you want to talk to

Its also ok to cry, holding in your tears is not good and i am speaking from experience, it hurts more to hold in your tears than to let them out

You all deserve so much more in life no matter what anyone says keep chasing your dreams and prove everyone wrong!

Schedule!

Monday: Revive Maria Monday

Tuesday: Tap Tails Tuesday

Wednesday: Whack Eggman wednesday

Thursday: Throw Silver Thursday

Friday: Flick Sonic Friday

Saturday: Serenade Shadow and Sacrifice Sonic Saturday

Sunday: Throw Starline in a Lake Sunday

Credits for pics: Pinterest, and @astroke

[glitteringobliteration]

this might be an unpopular opinion. i’ve been seeing (and posting) a lot about buddy dawn since finishing the episode (which, expected! makes total sense given all of the everything about the end of the episode). but i think something important to keep in mind is that we shouldn’t be treating him like a soft little cinnamon roll baby boy now just bc he’s dead.

the same exact thing happened with lucy frostblade and yolanda badgood. another blog on here (i can’t find it at the moment, i’ll tag them) made a post about this phenomenon and how it shows up in reality too, and it’s exactly what emily was referring to when she was saying (as wanda childa) that the complicated women’s podcast episode about lucy was “nothing she could get her rocks off to.”

we start almost romanticizing these characters and people once they’re gone, but they were complex individuals with full lives, with the capacity to be good and bad.

buddy dawn’s death doesn’t negate the actions we‘ve seen him take in the show thus far. yes he was brought up in a highly restrictive environment and his beliefs have been shaped by his surroundings, and we can’t fault him for that. he was just a transfer student in the wrong place at the wrong time. he was used as a pawn in kipperlilly’s game, and that should make us upset for his sake. but i don’t think we should be waxing poetic about him just yet. right now he’s still just a cleric of helio who got fucked by his circumstances. we don’t know anything else yet.

he did deserve better. we’re obviously allowed to feel upset or overwhelmed by what happened during the episode. but he’s probably going to get revived and we’ll learn more next week. everybody pls calm down (i’m guilty as well i’m talking to myself too)

[entwinedmoon]

This month is the 40th anniversary of John Torrington’s exhumation and autopsy. I’ve been doing real-time daily updates over on this post to show just how long and drawn out the process was. It took over a week, starting from when Beattie arrived on Beechey to when they first started digging to when they finally got the coffin open. Right now, those updates are in a bit of a lull because, after they dug down to the coffin, they had to wait for permits to move onto the next part, so there won’t be another Daily Torrington Dig update until August 17.

While we’re waiting for Beattie to get his permits to crack open a cold one (Torrington’s coffin) with the boys (his scientific research team), you can check out my Torrington blog posts to keep the spirit of the season going. The posts Sacred to the Memory of and A Star Is Born would be especially applicable right now as they explore Torrington’s death, exhumation, autopsy, and the media’s response to the photographs of his well-preserved body.

But there’s something else I wanted to share here, another type of media response that I’ve known about (and had a copy of) for a while. I shared it years ago on Twitter, thinking it would get a laugh there, but that was, er, not the reaction I received, so I’d held off on sharing it anywhere else because I thought most people would find it inappropriate. However, I was reminded recently by a friend (don’t know if they want to be tagged here or not, so I’ll go with not) about the existence of this particular piece, and I realized that this might be something that would be more appreciated here on Tumblr, where we like to photoshop Torrington’s corpse into memes, ship him with the guy he’s buried next to, and want to see what he would think of Takis and flavored vapes.

The article I’m referring to is the story about Torrington that appeared in the Weekly World News.

If you’re not familiar with the Weekly World News, it was a notorious tabloid that made up absurd stories and pretended it was real news. Some news stories were actually true—so it wasn’t completely like today’s The Onion—but there were also plenty of clearly fictional articles, featuring bizarre, often supernatural stories, such as Elvis sightings, a double-decker bus mysteriously found at the South Pole (“scientists” claimed aliens did it), or Bat Boy, a boy who was part bat, part boy.

Torrington’s level of fame within the cultural consciousness of the time meant that he, too, got to experience the tabloid treatment.

(CW: pictures of Torrington’s mummified body beneath the cut)

Published on March 3, 1992, was this front-page story:

Man buried in 1845 brought back to life!

Sailor’s coffin frozen in arctic ice 147 years!

Hush-hush new drug revives corpse, say doctors!

Yes, according to the Weekly World News, John Torrington was brought back to life in 1992. There’s even a full article all about how it happened.

MAN FROZEN SINCE 1845 BROUGHT BACK TO LIFE!

Scientists revive seaman trapped in ice 147 years!

Sailor back from the dead still thinks James K. Polk is President of the U.S.!

By Cal Sanders, Special Correspondent

The perfectly preserved corpse of a British sailor who was buried in an icy grave after he died on an Arctic expedition in 1845 has been revived by scientists—147 years later!

And while Petty Officer John Torrington’s health is fragile at best, the team of doctors who illegally plucked him from his grave and brought him back to life say he is aware of his surroundings, walking with help and might very well be able to lead a normal life “if this man has the psychological strength to adapt to the 20th century.”

“It’s hard to believe but this man thinks James K. Polk is President of the United States and insists that horses and sailing ships are the best and fastest ways to travel,” Dr. Hermann Richter said in his report on the experiment that brought Torrington back to life.

“Electric lights literally scare the hell out of him and to be perfectly frank about it, he hasn’t quite decided if he’s dead or alive. About the best we can do at this point is take his recovery one day at a time.

“If Torrington survives we will have produced a living piece of history. If he dies, at least we’ll be able to say that we tried to do something that might ultimately have benefited all mankind.”

The decision to steal Torrington’s corpse from its grave in northern Canada couldn’t have come easy for the Richter team, which issued its report to selected European newspapers “from an undisclosed clinic in Germany.”

For starters, the young man’s grave has stood as an unofficial monument to the courage and determination of 128 adventurers led by British explorer Sir John Franklin—adventurers who gave up their lives to chart the last 300-mile-leg of the treacherous Northwest Passage between 1845 and 1848. Torrington’s body was exhumed once before, in 1983, but it was carefully reburied after scientists took a small tissue sample to determine the cause of death. As it turned out, Torrington died from lead poisoning after eating provisions out of tins that were sealed with the dangerous and often lethal metal. Needless to say, news that Richter and his associates secretly exhumed the body a second time, smuggled it into Germany and succeeded in bringing it back to life have infuriated many experts, some of whom consider the theft of the body criminal. Richter himself insisted that Torrington is in good hands and will be free to go when he is strong enough.

The doctor went on the say that he understands why the experiment might sound extreme to some people but he believes that the revival of Torrington “furthered the best interests of medicine and science.” Richter’s report did not include any of the techniques that were used to revive Torrington but it did mention “an exciting new drug” that might one day make such revivals routine.

Because he died of lead poisoning, it is also believed that Richter and his team somehow cleansed Torrington’s tissue of the deadly metal before bringing him back to life. For the record, Torrington was a man of 20 when he died. Now he looks like a man of 80, photos supplied by Richter show.

“A century and a half of death is enough to age anyone,” said Richter.

There’s a lot to unpack here—the morally dubious German doctor with a mysterious, Frankenstein-esque resurrection method; the burial and exhumation dates both being off by one year for some reason; the short, skinny guy in the obvious bald cap that they thought would pass as Torrington; and so much more. Interestingly, a lot of the article seems to focus more on how scandalous it is that Dr. Richter stole Torrington’s body, as if the writer thought that the revival of a long-dead corpse wasn’t enough of a scoop. Also, I’m not sure if Torrington would even have been aware that Polk was president in 1845—was he the sort of guy who paid attention to international politics? Wouldn’t it have made more sense for him to think Victoria was still queen?

Many people might be offended by such an article, but the Weekly World News never cared about who they offended. Unsurprisingly, one of those who did take umbrage with the story was Dr. Owen Beattie.

In a short article in the Times-Colonist Metro about a week after the Weekly World News story ran, we got to hear Owen Beattie’s reaction.

HEE-(T)HAW . . . It was standard checkout rag fare. “Man Buried in 1845 brought back to life” shouted a recent front page of Weekly World News. “Hush-Hush New Drug Revives Corpse,” it continued.

These startling revelations bore some significance for both the wax museum’s Ken Lane and University of Alberta anthropologist Owen Beattie. The man purportedly thawed like last night’s dinner was John Torrington, one of three sailors from the Franklin expedition buried on Beechy [sic] Island. The Franklin expedition—and John Torrington—feature large in the wax museum’s arresting Frozen in Time expedition. Torrington’s body was exhumed from its Arctic grave in ’84 by Dr. Beattie, who determined death was from lead poisoning.

Neither Ken nor the anthropologist felt their respective professional worlds crumbled with the News article. (It ran with a photo of an emaciated looking chap being assisted by doctors and reports that Torrington is terrified of electric lights, still believes Polk is the U.S. president, and horses are the only way to go.) Ken shrugged it off with a what-can-you-expect-from-a-checkout-rag laugh. The anthropologist wasn’t quite so forgiving.

He refused to comment on it at all, insisting that his research speaks for itself. Apparently John Torrington was quite dead when he was exhumed and equally so when buried after the autopsy. But then that’s not the sort of stuff that sells check-out rags.

While it’s perfectly understandable that Beattie would not appreciate something like the Weekly World News’ fake story, what I find most interesting about this snippet is that there was a wax museum with a Franklin Expedition exhibit that included Torrington??? Does that mean there was a Torrington wax figure???? Where is it now????? Can I buy it?????????

These very important questions aside, it’s fascinating to see that Torrington was well known enough to make it into a “checkout rag.” Maybe it’s not the legacy he would have wanted, but at least it’s worth a good laugh.

[heaven-s-black-box]

Notes- Worlds Collide; Anemo Boys minus Aether x gn!reader

Return to File

Recovery date: September 20th, 2024

Description: ok, fourth time?! I rlly am addicted to ur blog atp ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ so uh this time, maybe the reader and the anemo boys meeting their deceased friends and family? Separately ofc, but maybe not for aether bc I don't rmb him having any deceased friends or family. Thank you, and as always, feel free to delete if this is too angsty for u!! (i think i might come back a lot, so can i be ⭐️ anon? If u allow, ofc!) aaaaaa im so sry i forgot to say that for the anemo boys, i meant that if they're decreased friends and family were still alive what would their relationship be with the reader aaaaaaa in sry😭😭

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with researcher ⭐️, we thank them for their contributions. So glad to have you back! I will say it's funny that you were worried it would be too angsty, and I think I made it angstier because bringing the dead back/ making it so they never died would seriously change our character and their stories. So I found other ways for them to meet reader!

Back to directory

Venti

Unfortunately, retroactively reviving the nameless bard would cause a lot of problems

But, Venti likes to think about how your lives might play out if he were here somehow

He thinks you’d get along

You’d love the bard’s lyre playing

If you sing/play an instrument with Venti, he’ll totally write songs for the three of you

Likes to think you’d play pranks on the bard with him, maybe you would, or maybe you’d scold him

If you ever got married the Bard would be his best man

Xiao

Once fell asleep to Cloud Retainer’s dream machine

He “awoke” to thundering laughter and a hand slamming against a table

You were sitting against a tree, his head in your lap, and his fellow yaksha were sat around the nearby table

Bosacius is slamming one of his hands against the table as he’s doubled over laughing

Indarias is laughing too, she’s leaning against Bonanus who’s trying not to spill her wine

Menogias is trying to use one of Cloud Retainers many inventions to grill fish with Pervases

It’s when he starts to sit up that you realize he’s awake

He notices your clothes are different, they must have been made by Menogias

Before he can say anything, he’s called up to play his flute

You join the other Yaksha at the table as he starts to play, and as he closes his eyes he sees many others approaching from the distance

Kazuha

Having settled in Inzauma with you, he finds his sleep to be deeper and more restful

This results in him dreaming more, finally able to indulge in the deep sleep required

On this night, he opens his eyes to find you crouched down with a white cat

It’s his friend's, though he thinks it’s odd it’s not standing guard of his grave

Then his friend speaks from above him, calling you adorable

He looks up to find him lounging in the tree branches

His friend looks down at him and calls him lucky, asking to be invited to the wedding

Before Kazuha can say anything else, his friend jumps down and challenges you to a sparring match

You eagerly agree, declaring the winner Kazuha’s best friend

He sits back to watch, joined by the cat, with a fond smile

Heizou

Heizou dreams of his friend often when the festival where they met rolls around

This year you attended together and left an offering at his friends grave after

Maybe that’s why tonight he doesn’t think this is quite a dream

It feels too real

You lean against him, leaning across him to talk animatedly with his friend

He should feel embarrassed as you swap stories

He should remind you to eat your food that’s growing cold

Instead he places a kiss on the top of your head and turns to his friend

Two can play at this game, he cuts in with an embarrassing story of his own

You’re thrilled, and Heizou finds himself keeping you up right on your stool as you laugh so hard it shakes

He’s glad you got to meet his friend, and he thanks whatever power gave him this chance

Wanderer

It’s a gift from Nahida

When you agree to spend the rest of your life/ forever with him

That night you dream of the furnace, and Niwa and his family

The boy, his first friend, is there as well though he’s grown

Niwa pours you some more tea as you happily discuss your most recent trip together to Sumeru

It all feels so comfortable, Wanderer finds himself slumping against the table

The boy struggles to peel a bulle fruit, and you gently take it from him to help

Niwa elbows him and whispers something about children

He rolls his eyes

The boy sets the bulle fruit in the middle for you all to share

The next morning Wanderer finds his pillow stained with tears

[brynthewriter]

Masterpost

Hi everyone! If you don't know me, my main blog is @op-sys-chaos and I write both original content and fanfiction. I wanted to have a blog specifically to talk about the things I'm writing, so that's this!

If you'd like to quickly recieve updates for any of my works, please subscribe to the individual post I'll be making for each of these that are incomplete! (I'll make a subscription post and a discussions post so people can have a place to follow for updates and a place to talk about it for each without spamming the subscribed people.) Updates will not be consistent for any of these.

Without further ado, here's the masterlist of everything I've created or am working on, with links attached to the titles and lists for the associated posts below:

Fics:

The Pit Made Me Do It (And I'm So Sorry)

Would you sacrifice someone’s life for the sake of your own sanity? What if it wasn’t your choice? Recovering from the Madness induced by the Pit now giving way to the second stage of revival. Pit Rage. A primal state numb to the world and driven only by the desire of one goal. Said goal once complete, would give Jason his emotions, his sanity, his life back. It should be easy, at least it would be if his goal was anything else. But the Pits cost is steep, and so is the burden of a mind set on watching the light drain from the eyes of Timothy Drake.

Chapters: 9/12

Words: 24,409

Fandom: DC

Beta reader: @batfambrainrotbeloved (they also wrote the summary for the fic!)

An AU where the Lazarus Pit effects work differently and it affects Jason Todd's journey.

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Discussion Post

When You Break The Universe, The Universe Breaks You

Tim fractured the universe with a magical spell to swap his place with the place of Jason Todd moments before his death. What will happen?

Works Total in Series: 3

The Fragmentation (completed, chapters: 2/2, words: 2,376, written together but mostly by @brucewaynehater101)

Fragmented Universe: the Hope of a Wraith (chapters: 3/?, words: 6,246, written by me)

Fragmented Universe: It Simply Ends (completed, chapters: 1/1, words: 5,032, written by @brucewaynehater101)

Words Total: 13,654

Fandom: DC

Beta reader: @brucewaynehater101 and I are beta reading each others' fics in this series! @batfambrainrotbeloved is also helping to beta for the Hope of a Wraith.

A massive series of many AUs based off of that description! I’m writing this in collaboration with @brucewaynehater101 so go check them out!

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A Message From the Dead

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne are long-lost twins. Damian thinks Danny died at 6. Danny thinks Damian is still in the League of Assassins. When a video message informing him of Danny's existence arrives in Bruce Wayne's inbox, having been auto-sent after 3 days of Danny being away from his computer, can he find his son in time?

Works Total in Series: 4

A Message From the Dead (completed, chapters: 1/1, words: 459, written by me)

A Message From the Dead: Looking for a Ghost (chapters: 2/?, words: 1,759, written by me)

A Message From the Dead: Biggest Regret (chapters: 1/?, words: 1,877, written by @rin-may-1103)

A Message From the Dead: A Sister's Love (chapters: 1/?, words: 686, written by me)

Words Total: 4,781

Fandom: DC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

Based off a prompt I posted on my main blog, @op-sys-chaos, I decided to write this out as a full fic. Other people also wrote their own versions, so I offered for them to join me in posting them together on AO3! So far, @thevoidstaredback and @rin-may-1103 are the only two people involved in the series, but if anyone else wants to be involved, let me know!

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Not So Artificial Intelligence

Technus traps Danny in the Batcomputer. For his own safety, he pretends to be a new AI system on their computer. This has consequences.

Chapters: 3/?

Words: 3,077

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

DPxDC fic based on this prompt by @corkinavoid!!

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Weirdly Competent

Danny Fenton studied medicine under Frostbite. Because of this, he has a lot of medical expertise when it comes to working with a lot of different species, including Kryptonians and Martians. The doctors on the Watchtower who hired him did not know that he had experience and thought he was just talking back, so they fired him on day one. A few days later they tried one of his suggestions. To their surprise, it worked. The Justice League now has questions about Danny, starting with "Why the hell did you fire him??"

Chapters: 5/?

Words: 3,017

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: @soupteeth

DPxDC Doctor!Danny fic based on this prompt by @bet-on-me-13!!

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A King, a Demon, and a Cult Walk Into a Summoning Circle

Danny is sacrificed by a cult to a demon as the batfamily rushes to save him. The terrifying demon demands that they put him back where they found him immediately.

Chapters: 2/?

Words: 2,030

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

Danny being a casual badass without lifting a finger, based on this prompt I wrote!

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Discussion Post

Twins, or What It Takes to be Resurrected

Danny Fenton and Damian Wayne were twins, separated at 7 years old when Talia saw Danny's hesitation to kill and let him choose a normal life. Now, Damian Wayne has found his brother, and has come to him for help. Because Damian is dead, and his long lost twin is his only hope for resurrection. All Danny has to do to bring Damian back is to convincingly pretend to be his brother, who he hasn't seen for the better part of a decade, at a fancy gala. Can he do it, or will the twins be caught?

Chapters: 7/10

Words: 12,329

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

A demon twins au based on this prompt I wrote where Damian is dead and Danny has to pretend to be his long lost brother in order to bring him back.

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In Another Life

Danny Fenton died young. Wanting another chance at life, he reincarnated as Dick Grayson, not realizing that he would keep his powers when he did so. How does this affect the timeline? You'll see :)

Chapters: 13/22

Words: 25,919

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

Based on this prompt by by @indingojazz, @stealingyourbones, and me! Danny Fenton dies at 16 and, after dying so young, decides he wants another chance at life. So he reincarnates, becoming a young boy named Dick Grayson. Surely, his past won't ever become relevant. ...Right?

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Goodbye. Love, Tim

If you want pure angst, only read chapter one. The first line of this summary is for you. If you're like me and you want angst to have a happy ending, read the whole thing! The whole summary is for you. Tim's had enough. Enough of the murder attempts. Enough of his siblings doubting him. So he calls them to say he's leaving. Or, at least, that's what Dick hears Tim say over the phone. But is that really what he feels?

Chapters: 5/5

Words: 3,986

Fandom: DC

Beta reader: no beta reader, though I did give two people a sneak peek before posting it!

Obligatory "Tim's had enough and leaves the batfamily fic" but with a twist. If you just want the angst of him leaving, read chapter 1. But if you want the twist and the happy ending, read the whole thing! I promise it gets better. I also tried to use only canon content for this rather than making the batfamily treat Tim worse like most of these fics do.

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Watching Waynes

Dick Grayson has a great idea. Bruce has been acting like an idiot in public for a long time, and no one takes him seriously enough to think he's Batman. So what if the whole family did that? And what better way to do it than together? Taking inspiration from Keeping Up with the Kardashians, Dick convinces his family to create a reality TV show with him, centered around their lives. One which they would use to show the public that they're just too ridiculous to ever be superheroes. This story will follow a different format from the rest of my fics, since I'm actually describing the episodes. I'll mention things like camera angles and cuts between camera shots in the story. It may be a bit of a weird format to read it in, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I'll also include people reflecting on the episodes at the end, whether it's the Waynes looking at what they've done or their superhero friends laughing at their nonsense. I hope you all enjoy!!

Chapters: 1/?

Words: 6,274

Fandom: DC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

Based on this prompt by @fckbatmanhiskidsareminenow, the Waynes create a reality show called Watching Waynes. It's based on the concept of Keeping Up with the Kardashians, where a film crew follows these celebrities around and films all of their nonsense.

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What Did He Do to Save Me?

Danny Fenton was reincarnated as Bruce Wayne's oldest biological child. This wouldn't be an issue for anyone, except Damian was born with a hole in his heart that could only be fixed by Danny splitting his core in half. Now, Danny is perpetually exhausted and barely able to move. But despite all of that, he still loves his siblings. And he's about to find out how much they love him back, when Damian finds out the lengths Danny went to to save him as a baby and decides to return the favor.

Chapters: 3/?

Words: 7,114

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

Based on this prompt by @hyperfixationherewecome and me! Danny Fenton as Danny Wayne sickfic, where the very person he became sick saving fights to save him in return!

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To Be a Parent

(title is a work in progress, I'd love suggestions!)

Jazz and Jason’s one night stand was just that, as far as Jason knew: a one night stand. They hadn’t exchanged numbers or last names, so he never expected to see her again. But to his surprise, he ran into her nearly six years later with a five year old girl named Ellie who, judging by the timing, is almost certainly his. Jason is a father. And he’s not sure he’s ready for it. Now, Jason is involved in Jazz’s life, trying to help raise his daughter and bonding with the woman he once fell for. But will it become something more? Or will Jason’s life as the Red Hood drag everything down? Jazz’s little sister Ellie, Danny’s clone, was dying. The only way to save her was to de-age her and put her core into the body of an unborn baby, allowing her to be born and live her life again. Jazz always wanted a kid anyway, so she volunteered to be the one to have the kid and raise Ellie. For the next five years, she raised her daughter as a single mother in college,. But now, the man she hooked up with is back in her life, and Jazz can’t say she’s upset about it. But can he handle her family’s weirdness? Or will he run before Jazz can get to know him better?

Chapters: 4/?

Words: 4,151 (910 written by @sistertotheknowitall)

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

Based on this prompt by @sistertotheknowitall, Jazz and Jason raise their daughter, a reborn Ellie. I'm also going to make this be an eventual Jazz/Jason/Roy fic because why not. I'm starting out with just Jazz/Jason though.

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Clones and Their Consequences

Danny Fenton is Bruce Wayne's clone, and the people who cloned him activated and then brainwashed Zur En Arrh to be a killer. Specifically, to kill Batman. Danny managed to regain control of his body and get away, being adopted by the Fentons. But while taking down a GIW base with Dani, he finds his creators, who activate Zur En Arrh once more. Will Danny ever be free of Zur En Arrh? Can Dani save her clone template's clone template from her clone template? ...And how on earth are they going to figure out that complicated dynamic? Will Batman learn about his clone? How will he react?

Chapters: 1/?

Words: 1,053

Fandom: DPxDC

Beta reader: n/a, message me if you want to!

Danny is a clone of Bruce Wayne, whose Zur En Arrh alternate personality was brainwashed to kill Bruce. He spent a lone time free. But when he gets rebrainwashed, Dani must free him before Danny can kill Bruce. And after that, they must find a way to get rid of Zur En Arrh.

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Original Works:

(I've posted all of these on StoryForge, so the links all redirect there. If you don't have an account, you should make one; it's free, and the platform is helping small writers get published!)

Aegis

When one of the leaders of the world's top hero team crashes back to the ground after a fight, everyone assumes he's dead. There was no way he survived at the speed he was falling. Except he did. And he woke up in a crater, no memory of his past and one of the leaders of the world's most infamous villain team standing over him, reaching out a hand. What happens when an amnesiac hero whose friends think he's dead is found by a group of supervillains? Especially when those supervillains have more to their story than meets the eye...

Chapters: Prologue only, on hiatus

Words: 657

Beta read by people in the discord server for it, message me if you want the link!

(I'm writing out character backstories in full before I write out any more of Aegis, so the novel itself is on hiatus. Please note, I will likely be making an audiobook version of it myself once it’s done and posting it on like YouTube or something. But you’re still welcome to do your own version of it if you want! Ik some people love making podfics and some people read exclusively audio content so I wanted to clarify.)

Feather: Hero of Old

Feather was a well-known hero 60 years ago. So how did they end up on a modern-day superhero team? This is Feather's journey that led up to them joining the Order of Aegis.

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 3,758

Beta read by people in the discord server for it, message me if you want the link!

Backstory for Aegis character Feather

Aberration and Maximum Security... House Arrest?

Before he joined the Order of Aegis, Aberration had a... complicated past. Although, after living for over 2000 years, who wouldn't? However, the most complicated part of his past was the part where he got stuck in jail for 400 years and how that sentence got downgraded to maximum security house arrest after some time. This is the story of how that happened. Trigger warnings: serial killer, jail, graphic descriptions of murder, miscellaneous violence. See story description for ways to avoid the triggering parts

Chapters: 8/8

Words: 20,056

Beta read by people in the discord server for it, message me if you want the link!

Backstory for Aegis character Aberration

The Queens of Saveria

So, I got inspired by @theactorbat on TikTok and wrote a short story. It's a story about two women who are pulled away from their girlfriends and into an arranged marriage with each other. They come up with a creative solution to make sure everyone's happy (and no, the solution is not them mutually running away with the one they love), and they get to have a happy ending. If you like fluffy romance stories, give it a read!

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 4,293

Not beta read, and finished already, but if you have edits let me know! It's basically a first draft since I barely edited it.

This is a short story I wrote in response to a writing prompt. It's very much a rough draft but if you want a short cute queer story, enjoy!

Gavin Song and The Hunted

Based on this writing prompt: "The leader of a group of vigilantes" [note: I completely ignored the "leader" part of this prompt] "has to reveal who they were before they put on the mask to save their crew. But they know their crew will never see them the same way once they know..." (Writing prompt by @your_local_writer_friend on TikTok/Instagram.) A team of vigilantes known as The Hunted lost a friend of theirs, Gavin Song, a long time ago. But when they get their first lead on him in a decade, their most mysterious team member starts freaking out. Why, and how is he connected to Gavin?

Chapters: 1/1

Words: 9,419

Not beta read, and finished already, but if you have edits let me know! It's basically a first draft since I barely edited it.

A short one-shot vigilante superhero story based on a writing prompt!

Works in Progress:

Level Clear

Doomed time loop, kind of. Not finished yet, but I’m in the editing stage now!

Narrators Inc.

Work in progress (by which I mean I have maybe half a chapter and a vague direction for the rest of the story). Basically, it's a story where the narrator showed up late and is desperately trying to figure out what's happening while attempting to narrate the story

Vegaciel Academy

Magic school murder mystery. Credit to my high school friend group for helping create this story; we were all going to write it together and outlined the characters and plot together. The project ended up being abandoned, but I got everyone else's permission to write it myself because I like the idea so much. It's been a while since I worked on it but I think I finished a chapter? I'm not sure if I'll post the chapters one at a time or wait until I finish the whole thing

The Helmund Labs Incident

A massive, interconnected 4-person backstory for Aegis! To be posted soon.

Other Notable Things:

I'm beta-reading @batfambrainrotbeloved's fic The Drake's Spoiled Brat and I highly recommend it!! It's really good :)

I hope y'all enjoy the stories I have created/am creating! If you want to see the writing prompts that interest me that I might work on in the future, I'll keep reblogging those on my main blog, but I'm mostly planning to keep this blog for stories I'm actually in the process of writing.

[mothers-special-fucking-boy]

A vengeful soul rises from the Lake.

Filled with Rage, Sorrow, and Grief.

Alone in this world, he rises from the water.

Make them remember who you once were, Jason.

SUBJECT_NAME: Jason Voorhees

LOCATION_DETAILS: Unknown, Assumed to be Purgatory.

ORIGIN_LOCATION: Camp Crystal Lake

ASSIGNED_SITE: Area 51

A Vengeful Husk, Revived by unknown methods. Jason Voorhees is the son of Pamela Voorhees, a very well-known serial killer, who went on a killing spree after Jason supposedly drowned due to unattentive camp counselors, killing 9 people before being decapitated by ========.

Jason survived being drowned in crystal lake by some means, starting his own killer killing spree after he knew of his mother's death, her soul now forever wandering besides the killer, said killer seemly asking her for advice and permission to kill certain individuals, which is most times always granted.

Jason, while being able to be damaged, seems to have a reduced reaction to damage and incredible healing factor, various methods of killing the Hunter have been attempted, all failing, further attempts are authorized.

DO NOT LOSE SIGHT OF THE SUBJECT, despite its size, Jason is able to simply dissapear when out of view, assumed to have incredible stealth abilities, If the Subject dissapears from your vision, assume the worse and run.

INTERACTION_GUIDELINES

1. Use of Sexual, Offensive, Or/And Use of any material that could be classified as "Not Safe for Work" is strictly Prohibited.

2. Use if any inadequate language, Such as Slurs, Are forbidden of being used while in work hours.

If any of these Guidelines are broken. You will be Terminated from any interactions. (Blocked)

The one responsible for this subject is @jestervsm, Any questions about Jason are to be directed to him.

Just call them by "mod" once its necessary.

Jason Voorhees is completely Mute, being unable of apeech. However, Jason will use Sign Language, and it shall be signilalled in documents as

["Message Translation Here."]

Actions will be described with

(Actions Translation Here)

Any Notes assigned by the Mod will be placed as

/ / Mod Note Here

#Or in the Tags

< People who Often Interact are Found Here >

<< Headcanons >> Note: The 8th, 9th and 10th movie are not regarded in this blog's lore. Because they suck.

TAGGED_INFORMATION_DESCRIPTION

#Mother's Call:

And in the dark, one asks the unseen. Unable to see the dead approaching.

(Ask Answering)

#Lakeside Chase:

And in a flash, the killer finds its prey. For now, let the chase begin

(RP Reblog Chains)

#Whispering Water:

In the wind of the camp, a whistle flies in the wind. A call to the unseen.

(Text Posts)

#Painted Cabins:

And in the massacre, the art is stained, red tainting the art of the fallen.

(Art Sharing)

CREDITS

@mangosoda114-art for the Profile Picture.

All of the dividers are here

The Friday The 13th Franchise for making this cool ass character

And Forsaken for inspiring me to make this blog :]

[ask-funnybunnydoll]

Hi!

I think I have to move on.

You may have noticed that all of a sudden my posts have become less and less frequent. That's not on purpose I simply don't have the motivation to keep this ask blog going. I made this blog at the peak of my TADC hyperfixation because I knew it would give me the boost to work. At the start I made like, what? 2 a day, wowzas! Then it became like every other day posts. It's not that I don't enjoy the blog, the ship, the asks. Hell, the asks were the best part of this, I love just seeing what you guys come up with for these three and I get to do the even more fun part of drawing the answer.

But I still have no motivation to keep this going. And I have fixated on something else if you follow my main.

So, thank you for being here and still liking my posts even if I hadn't posted often. This was the most fun I've had and being my first ask blog I ever created just makes it more important to me.

I probably won't ever revive this blog but I'll keep it open for you. And if you want to see what the story I originally planned out was gonna be then check below the cut! Or if you wanna stay curious and theorize then just scroll by. Thank you again, hope ya have a great day and year. I hope my shit was at least okay to you.

I'm not gonna lie. Most of the stuff was just created along the way of drawing. I was like, huh this would be cool let's add that in. And ofc I didn't get to any juicy lore in this but it would've been rushed because I didn't plan beforehand... which you probably could tell xd

For Pomni, here's the plot twist: she's dead and her conscience was updated into the game to keep her somewhat alive. She worked in the place that created the game, she even took part in putting people in there. The entire game was just an expirement to test if immortality was possible, but of course.. everyone goes insane in there so they have to keep on and keep on trying with more and more people to get anywhere. They wait until someone goes to edge of absolute insanity and that's when they take them out of the game, their bodies are still kept alive and they go back to normal. They forget everything that happened while in the game. For Pomni she died just after her conscience was converted to the game, for others they were forced to go while alive. Who killed Pomni? Well, her boss, the head of the experimentation. Why? Idk 😭

For Jax, I gave him a dark story. He was isolated in his home and kept away from the outside world, which is why he lacks empathy, because he simply doesn't know how to feel that way when he never really had knowledge of emotions outside or even inside his home. His father was emotionally and physically ab4sive so.. that didn't help. He latched onto his mother the most but they never saw eachother often. That's all I had for him in mind.

For Ragatha, she lived in the country on her own land with her husband. Yup! She had a husband and a daughter too. Husband was a total jerk and she couldn't leave because she didn't want their kid to experience separated parents. She's a doll in the game because it resembles the doll she made for her daughter.

I also had some plot that I made up in my mind. Like.... Pomni at the end would be the last one alone in the digital circus. That being since she's dead she would just be yknow. Dead if she left the game. Jax and Ragatha leave but only because Pomni forces them. Again don't know how, I probably would have made it up while I went along with the story. So, Pomni is just there alone, with Caine. And she lives like that for eternity. She doesn't go insane anymore and it isn't as lonely as it used to feel like. It would feel like home kind of. But she would be there, longing for her partners forever unless she decides one day to just. Yknow, die..

Also since Jax and Ragatha would forget everything after they leave the game, they just don't remember they were in a relationship and would live their lives like before. Sad and lonely.

Goodness, I forget I make the most sad stories ever sometimes 😭

[kalinara]

(Schism #5)

So this scan is a repost, but I'm inspired to talk about the Schism today.

The thing that ultimately fascinates me about the Schism storyline, as a fanatic Cyclops blogger, is that Logan is ultimately right.

Now I can quibble about Logan's particular suitability in being the one to attack Scott on this. I can point out that Idie's particular situation, the spark that ignited this particular fight, wasn't one in which a child was specifically sent into danger but unforeseen circumstances.

But ultimately, he is right. The path that Scott's Utopia is going down, at this point in the story, is a dark one. It's sympathetic and understandable, of course. The mutants are a dying race. Scott's the man holding everything about their survival on his shoulders. The circumstances of Dark Reign, which drove them to Utopia to begin with, the corruption of the government that targets them at the best of times, the very recent loss of Kurt, as much needed bringer of moral perspective, and Nathan, everything Hope...

It's too much and at this point in the story, Scott is losing the thread. He's so focused on survival that he's lost sight of everything else. Given his upbringing, Scott's always going to have trouble seeing the problem with sending kids into battle - but generally he does remember that kids are kids and need more than that.

Except at this point, he doesn't. He needs Logan to remind him.

So yeah, the crux of the Schism is that Logan is right.

But Logan is also Logan. And that's what ruins everything.

Because Scott, while he's not yet in a place to acknowledge Logan's point, is willing to meet him halfway here. In this panel, he's offering a solution. He's offering elections and the chance to each plead their case.

And okay, granted, Logan's not the best public speaker and Scott's got a lot of trust on his side. But I think if he made a public appeal, there's no way that characters like Storm, or possibly even Emma, wouldn't have backed him up.

And we know Scott's serious about elections because that's a thread that's held through later. In Rosenberg's run, when the bulk of the team is missing/presumed dead, the newly revived Cyclops comes to a realization that his team of dregs and remnants includes a lot of experienced leader types and that his own decision-making may not be the best. They end up agreeing to vote on the major decisions and that holds true.

Later, the Krakoan X-Men's membership is determined entirely by vote. And when Scott makes the decision to expose mutant resurrection, he's ready to accept the consequences if he's voted out.

So there's no reason to think that Scott wouldn't have complied with an election he lost. The tragedy is, if Logan had agreed to the elections, he very likely could have brought EVERYONE back to the mansion. Not just his half.

But Logan doesn't really care about ultimate solutions. I think he does genuinely care about the kids. But mostly, I think he wants to punish Scott.

And that's kind of been the driving element of his relationship with Scott ever since. It's why the mansion, where Scott is not welcome even before the mess with the Phoenix, is named the "Jean Grey School." Because Logan wants to drive home to Scott that Scott isn't the man that Jean loved anymore. (Even before this, Logan has interestingly felt entitled to call Scott out on his failures as a spouse - see the creepy window perching in Astonishing X-Men.)

It is funny in retrospect how as soon as both Jean and Scott are alive and in the same place again, with Jean having full knowledge of everything that happened in her absence and all of her husband's mistakes and failures, the first thing she does is shove her tongue down his throat. But then Jean's always had a pretty clear idea of the man she married. Far better than Logan ever did.

Because Logan, at his core, is an egotist. Admittedly, one with a lot of self-loathing, but I've blogged about that tendency before. The thing is, Logan is a romantic at heart. His love of Jean has always had a kind of Lancelot-esque courtly romance aspect. And I think ultimately, he convinced himself that he could only have lost Jean to a better man. A paragon of virtue.

(The funny thing about comparing Logan to Lancelot is that, names aside, I don't think Jean is the Guinevere of this scenario. In the weird Camelot metaphor that the X-Men occasionally fall into, she is absolutely King Arthur.)

And we see this especially in the comics of the late 90s, into the early 00s. Even when Scott comes back a bit wrong. Even after Jean dies. Even once he starts shacking up with Emma. Logan basically treats Scott the same way he treats Steve Rogers.

But Scott's not Steve Rogers. He's never been. He presents a good face, especially in the 90s, but even before that, he's been a trainwreck as often as he's been a paladin. He's a traumatized child soldier who'd been constantly shoved into high pressure positions of authority since before he could drink or vote. Look at his reaction to Thunderbird's death and realize things only got worse from there.

I've said before, that I think ultimately, if Logan had only realized that Scott was less Steve Rogers and more Laura Kinney, he'd have handled this so much better. (Maybe not, he's never been that great with his own daughter either, after all.)

But that's the crux of things. The Schism happened because Logan was right, but also because he had to punish Scott for failing to be the man Logan believed he was. And everything else, like AvX, and the culture of persecution (from a man who damn well knows what it's like to have murdered under someone else's control) comes out of that desire.

When it comes down to it, maybe that's the reason why the Throuple works so well, at least in concept, when the Jean/Logan side of it ended up a non-entity. Because Logan has that courtly romantic love of Jean, but he only gets this passionate about Scott.

[agonydefying]

Black Rock Shooter RP blog

hi uuuuuhhh it's kris back with another fucking 2am impulse blog

this one's for my girl black rock shooter... from black rock shooter. specifically the 2012 anime verse, about 13-15 years after canon.

sideblog to @djsangos so i'll follow back from there

same rules as all my other blogs apply, 18+ only, no personals, you get the gist

i get fucking lazier and lazier with every pinned post but can you blame me? i do this shit too fucking often lmao

ooc/rules carrd

stats below cut:

did a toon me picrew of my own interpretation of her design until i feel like actualy drawing one, whenever that is, so here's this for now:

it's fucking impossible to get her asymmetrical twintails with any fucking picrew man i'm doing my best

This blog takes place about 13-15 years after the ending of the 2012 anime. Run as if BRS is the one running the blog, all posts should be assumed to be in-character unless preceded with “//”, tagged “#ooc”, or otherwise stated.

Name: Black★Rock Shooter

Nickname/s: BRS, or, alternatively, “Rock.”

Age: about 27-ish

Pronouns: she/her

RELATIONSHIPS

Mato Kuroi: Human counterpart

Dead Master (Yomi Takanashi’s other self): they have a… situationship?

The other… other selves: Acquaintances, adversaries, friends. All those words mean the same thing in the Hollow World.

LAST SEEN ON B★RS..

(Note: some of this is canon, some is headcanon extrapolated from canon, and some is just straight headcanon)

True to her promise, BRS continues to bear Mato’s pain and fight for her sake in the Hollow World, though their situation isn’t as dire as it once was. In her adolescence, Mato’s continued repression and ignorance of her pain and grief meant that it was all pushed onto BRS to bear, causing her to become progressively more powerful and ruthless, indiscriminately slaughtering other selves, freeing them and their human counterparts from the pain they bore… and the memories of said pain. This all reached a head when Mato, determined to save Yomi from her own pain, fused with BRS in the Hollow World to stop her from killing Dead Master… but she was too late. Seeing Dead Master as Yomi, impaled on BRS’s blade, Mato couldn’t take that pain, and the trauma it caused pushed BRS over the edge, driving her insane and transforming her into something overpowered and nigh-invincible. At Mato’s declaration that she wanted to feel pain, she promised she’d show her just that, beating her counterpart to a pulp until Mato, realizing that she really couldn’t make it through life without hurting anyone herself, finally fought back, snapping BRS out of her frenzy. With Mato’s friends’ other selves having been revived, restoring their memories, the two part ways, with BRS telling Mato that she fights for her because she loves her.

Now, in adulthood, Mato does her best not to run from her pain, to let herself feel it and deal with it. This doesn’t leave BRS out of a job, however, and she dutifully fights for Mato’s sake as she always has, in the endless battlefield of the Hollow World. But it’s safe to say that both of them are at least a bit healthier due to Mato’s efforts.

Mato herself is now a professional basketball player, turning what was once her hobby into a career. She still remains close with her friends, and is dating Yomi, though her travels for games mean she’s not always able to spend as much time with everyone as she’d like.

Though the majority of BRS’s interactions with her fellow other selves involve violence, there isn’t necessarily any hatred in their battles. They’re generally able to have civil conversations whenever they’re not trying to rip each other’s heads off. They’re friends. Probably.

BRS sees glimpses of Mato’s life in her dreams, just as Mato sees BRS in hers. A literal world apart, they don’t see much of each other otherwise, but that doesn’t mean either of their love for their counterpart has waned.

anyway that’s where i’m calling this it’s 2am bye

[simplepotatofarmer]

I recently saw re-blog about the Omela joke, and what makes it particularly layered, and honestly really funny is the fact that part of the story is the fact that the narrator introduced to child because of the fact the readers will most likely expect there to be a dangerous price to a utopia. It’s kept ambiguous if the child is actually real or if it’s just something that the narrator created because the audience expected it.

Honestly, it’s really does also add to the small problem when it comes to fanfiction believing at the biggest solution is to kill one of the Discduo to end the conflict since one can make the argument that they’re just a part of a bigger problem with the server. Like even if one of them is dead, how does it fix every problem in the server? I mean, Tommy being an exiled doesn’t fix everything, especially since there were still conflict like the butcher army. Same thing when Dream was in the prison now it’s just the egg and later on Wilbur.

I will admit it’s a bit bit of a a ramble mess based on a realization based on a joke, but I just really think that that comparison to those who walk away from Omela is such a perfect way to explain everything about the conflict and why that type of thinking doesn’t work for a long-term

yeah, that's exactly it!

c!dream believes that c!tommy is root cause of the problems on the server. and honestly? he had reason to believe that. the disc conflicts were almost all initiated by tommy (after tommy had traded the discs to dream fairly) for example. dream is solution orientated to fault. he wants to fix things and this desire gets warped into needing to control everything. but despite dream's reasons and there being some truth to it, solving the 'tommy problem' was never going to fix everything. and dream does know this because his other priorities lie with.... everything else regarding the revive book and dreamXD and the resets.

the reverse can be said about c!tommy, too. c!dream has become the symbol of all his problems because dream has genuinely caused him great distress and harm! a lot of tommy's problems do, in fact, stem from his relationship with dream. but just as many of them stem from his toxic relationship with c!wilbur, if not more of them. because dream has always been a bit of a blunt tool wearing tommy down while wilbur was much more subtle about his control and abuse. and tommy does have moments when he clearly realizes this! he does understand it's not just dream but dream is a sort of... less complicated boogeyman to point at.

neither of their problems will be solved by the other dying.

and honestly? neither would the server's problems. there's things outside of the two of them that would cause strife and unrest. not just the egg or wilbur but things like the cookie outpost and las nevadas and unethical slime cloning and people having nukes.

but i do think the server always kinda depended on the two of them being okay. tommy included here but dream especially. nothing can be right or fixed unless dream has a chance to grow and change and that honestly hinges on tommy doing the same and the finale shows that. they were so close.

(and obviously that doesn't mean either one has to forgive the other, like i'm heading this off at the pass but it does mean learning to let go and move on and be okay and at peace with yourself.)